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hi, I'm V and this blog is mainly about bad omens, I write real person fiction

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[idwtmoney]

COME BACK HOME

pairing: boyfriend!noah x f!reader

warnings: fluff, nsfw (swering, explicit sexual content)

summary: after months apart due to tour, noah unexpectedly comes home early to surprise his girlfriend.

word count: 3.3k

AN: okay, this is my first published fic and was originally written in my native language and then translated into english, so if anything sounds weird or doesn’t make sense, please let me know! and also was originally supposed to be just fluff, but then I got the idea to throw some smut in there, so that’s it.

a special thanks to my bestie @dethroneme, who watched this idea come to life and helped me so much

taglist: @icybansheesoul

Noah and you had been dating for a little over three years, and the hardest part of your relationship was always when it was time for him to leave for tour, which usually lasted for months.

For you, though, Noah was only five days away from coming home.

Usually, the band spends their last few days in each city sightseeing and exploring new places before heading home. But this time, Noah missed you so much that he didn't stay to celebrate the end of the tour with the rest of the band.

As soon as the final show was over, he already had his bags packed and headed straight to the airport, eager to get back to you and surprise you. He was coming home to you.

When the taxi pulled up in front of the apartment building you shared, a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation settled in his chest.

He could've easily unlocked the door - after all, he still had his key. But he wanted to surprise you. Instead, Noah pressed the doorbell over and over until he finally heard an angry, muffled, "For fuck's sake!" from the other side of the door. He couldn't help but smile.

God, he misses you like hell. And your pretty angry face.

When you opened the door, you looked more than ready to curse out whoever had the nerve to keep ringing your doorbell, Noah could tell just by the look on your face. But the second your eyes met his, your expression softened as you realized who was standing in front of you. Your eyes went wide, instantly filling with tears.

"Noah!" you gasped, startled. "What are you doing here?"

"I mean..." he said with a smug little grin. "I'm pretty sure I still live here, pretty girl."

You practically launched yourself into Noah's arms, hugging him so tightly that he dropped his bags onto the floor.

He wrapped an arm around your waist and hugged you back just as tightly. Burying his face in the crook of your neck, he breathed in your sweet perfume, a scent he'd missed more than he could put into words.

"I missed you so much, baby..." Noah murmured, still holding you close. "I couldn't wait another five days to be with you again." he pulled back just enough to press a soft, gentle kiss to your lips.

"I can't believe you're actually here," you said, cupping his face in both of your hands. "You could've told me. I would've picked you up from the airport."

"Babe..." Noah smiled. "The only thing I needed was to be home with you. Besides, I wanted to surprise you." He gently set you back down before reaching for his bags.

Once you were both inside the apartment, Noah noticed a few new framed photos scattered around the place. In one of them, you were lying against his chest with your face buried against him, while one of his arms was wrapped around your waist and he was kissing the top of your head. In another one, you were both sitting in the car on the way to Ruffilo's wedding. Noah was wearing a suit with a burgundy tie, and your long strappy dress matched it perfectly.

"Why don't you take a shower while I make us something to eat?" you suggested, glancing at the time. "It's almost lunch. Then we can lie down and watch a few episodes of Attack on Titan."

"You know me so well, Y/N." He walked over to you and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. "You're the best.” You gave him a shy little smile.

Noah headed straight to your bathroom, where he took a long, relaxing shower. The only thing on his mind was how comforting it felt to be home again, without having to worry about schedules or the nonstop pace of tour life.

The band had grown so much over the past few years since the release of The Death of Peace of Mind. He could hardly believe how quickly everything had happened, or that they had built such a huge fanbase all over the world. Most of the time, it was exhausting trying to keep up with everything at once: the press, the label's expectations, the fans demands, and all the rumors constantly being spread about them.

He believed the one thing that made him feel at peace through all the chaos was you. The relationship the two of you had built over the years was more than he could have ever asked for. Knowing he had a home to come back to and someone whose arms always made everything feel a little lighter whenever life got too overwhelming.

And that was exactly what had led him to make the easiest, yet most important decision of his life. That's why, tucked away at the bottom of his bag, was a small ring box, waiting for the right moment.

Noah had been home for a few days now. It was a cool sunday in Los Angeles, and the two of you had spent the day doing absolutely nothing, curled up on the couch, lazily watching whatever happened to be on TV. At the moment, you were lying comfortably with your legs draped across Noah's lap, mindlessly scrolling through your instagram feed.

"What do you think about going out for dinner tonight?" Noah asked out of nowhere.

You looked up from your phone to find him watching you with a hesitant expression. If you didn't know him so well, you probably wouldn't have noticed it, but he looked a little nervous.

"I think that's a great idea, babe." You studied his face for a moment. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine, love," he replied with a small smile. "It's been a while since we've done something like that. I think it'd be nice for us." He gave your ankle a gentle squeeze before turning his attention back to the TV.

Before getting up to start getting ready, you pressed a kiss to Noah's cheek and headed to the bedroom.

While you were in the shower, Noah pulled out his phone and texted Nicholas.

TEXTS ON

Noah: It's happening today, dude. I think I'm gonna shit my pants off.

Ruffilo: There's no way this goes wrong.

Ruffilo: I just need to know one thing.

Noah: What?

Ruffilo: Does the place you're having dinner at have cameras?

Ruffilo: I'd really love to watch you cry. It'd make great material for my best man speech.

Noah: Fuck you. I'm not gonna cry.

Ruffilo: My brother in christ, you don't even believe that.

Noah: 🖕🏻

TEXTS OFF

By the time Noah walked into the bedroom, you were already out of the shower and finishing getting dressed.

"You look beautiful," Noah said, wrapping his arms around you from behind and pressing a kiss to your neck. You were wearing a purple dress that complemented your skin perfectly, with a slit that reached halfway up your right thigh.

"I'm not even ready yet." You smiled as you turned to face him. "You should hurry up because our reservation is in less than an hour."

"We've still got about forty minutes before we have to leave," he said, flashing you the same shameless grin he always did. "And I can think of a few things we could do until then."

"Noah..." You pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "The sooner we get there..." Another kiss, this time just below his ear. "...the more time we'll have when we get back home." One last kiss against the pulse point on his neck. "Now get out of here and let me finish getting ready." You turned him around and gently pushed him toward the bathroom.

"You're so mean" Noah pouted dramatically as he closed the door behind him. You laughed to yourself as you started laying everything out to do your makeup.

Almost forty minutes later, the two of you arrived at your favorite italian restaurant and the best one in the city. It was nearly empty, except for a few couples and a family that was probably celebrating someone's birthday.

The hostess led you to a table tucked away in a quieter corner, giving you a little more privacy. A few moments later, the waiter arrived with your menus. You ordered a glass of red wine and Noah went with water since he was driving.

Dinner went by easily. You talked about random things, and Noah filled you in on everything that had happened during the tour. While you waited for dessert, he remembered one particular story.

"...and then Folio straight up hit the guy in the head with a drumstick," Noah laughed, explaining how Nick had been tossing drumsticks into the crowd during Noah's speech and accidentally nailed one of the security guards instead.

"Honestly, it was only a matter of time before something like that happened. I mean... we're talking about Folio." You wiped a tear from the corner of your eye as you laughed, picturing the whole scene.

Once the laughter finally died down, Noah looked at you with an expression that was both nervous and affection. He reached across the table, took your hand in his, and tranced gentle circles over it.

Meanwhile, his heart was pounding in his chest. With the amount of adrenaline running through him, he felt like he could run a marathon.

"You know..." he began. "There's something I want to tell you before we go home." You frowned, trying to figure out where this was going.

"That's the second time you've looked at me like that today, babe." You gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "You're starting to worry me. What's going on?"

He smiled nervously and brought your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss against your knuckles.

"There's nothing to worry about," he reassured you. "I just need to get something off my chest. I've been thinking about it for a few weeks now." You looked at him, completely confused, trying to figure out what the hell he was talking about.

"Then just tell me already. You're making me anxious." You bit your bottom lip, trying to calm your nerves. He let out a quiet, nasal laugh before speaking again.

"Y/N... I knew it was you from the moment we met. From the second you cussed me out after I hit your car at that red light and threatened to beat the shit out of me if I didn't pay for the damage.” He laughed at the memory, and so did you.

"Well, obviously I yelled at you." You rolled your eyes, cutting him off. "Imagine you're sitting at a red light and some idiot crashes into your car because he wasn't paying attention."

"I was paying attention! You slammed on the brakes out of nowhere and-"

"You know that's not what happened, Noah."

"Okay, okay!" he laughed, giving up. "But what I was trying to say before you interrupted me, princess... is that I'm grateful for that day, because it gave me everything we have now."

He laced his fingers with yours.

"And ever since Ruffilo's wedding, I've been thinking about how I could make what we have even more special." Your eyes widened as he let go of your hand and reached into the pocket of his blazer, pulling out a small black box.

"Noah..." you whispered, your vision already blurred with tears.

"Let me finish, pretty girl... or I think I'm gonna pass out," he laughed nervously as he opened the box with slightly trembling hands. Inside were two rings. One was a simple band, which you assumed was his. The other featured a small deep red diamond in your favorite color.

"There's nothing I want more than to spend the rest of my life with you, baby." His voice caught in his throat. "You're on my mind every single fucking day. Everything reminds me of you. Everything I do, I do thinking about you. You're permanently wired into my nervous system." He smiled through watery eyes. "You're my home, Y/N. What I feel for you is so much bigger than you could ever imagine... and this ring is just a tiny symbol of that."

Tears brimmed in your eyes as you covered your mouth with your free hand, completely overwhelmed by what was happening.

"Marry me, princess." Noah's voice shook just as much as yours probably would have. "Would you give me the honor of making me the happiest man in the world and spend the rest of your life with me?"

"Yes." You laughed through your tears. "Of course I'll marry you, my love.” Noah let out a relieved sigh and gently slipped the ring onto your finger.

Then he got up from his chair and sat beside you, cupping your face as if you were the most precious thing in his world before pulling you into a deep kiss.

"I love you," Noah whispered as he pulled away, his eyes never leaving yours.

Ever since you got out of the car, Noah hadn't been able to keep his hands off you. Right now, you were trying to unlock the apartment door while he made the task nearly impossible, trailing wet kisses along your neck with one arm wrapped around your waist, pressing your back against his chest.

"I'm never going to get this door open if you keep doing that."

"I think you'll figure it out, pretty girl," he murmured, tightening his grip around your waist.

"You son of a b-” You were cut off by the click of the lock. The two of you stepped inside, the door shutting behind you with a dull thud as you stumbled toward the bedroom, nearly tripping over chairs and bumping into the hallway table.

"Tonight we're celebrating the best way possible, babe," he murmured against your lips as he gently lowered you onto the bed. "I'm not stopping until I've made you come three times." A soft moan escaped your lips as he slipped a hand beneath the slit of your dress, resting it against the inside of your thigh.

"I haven't even done anything yet, and you're already making those noises, babe?" he teased, slowly stroking you over your panties. "I bet these are already soaked, aren't they?" It was a rhetorical question. He could already feel the damp fabric beneath his fingertips.

"You really shouldn't be teasing me this much after promising to make me come so many times."

"But where's the fun in getting straight to the point, pretty girl?" he said with a grin as he slid your panties down your legs before pulling your dress over your head, leaving you completely naked since you weren't wearing a bra. "I want to watch you fall apart.”

Noah stared at you without the slightest hint of shame, openly admiring every inch of your body.

"You're beautiful," he whispered as he gently pulled your legs closer to the edge of the bed before kneeling in front of you. "I've been looking forward to fucking you for the first time as my fiancée. But first... I want a taste of you."

He didn't even give you a chance to answer. Noah lifted your legs onto his shoulders before burying himself between your thighs. A muffled cry escaped your lips the moment you felt his tongue move against you. He alternated between slow licks and gentle sucks on your clit. Instinctively, you tried to close your legs around his head, desperate to ease the growing pressure coiling low in your stomach, but he wouldn't let you, keeping your thighs spread apart.

"No, uh-uh, pretty girl," he murmured against your skin. "You're going to take everything I'm giving you."

While one hand held your left leg open, the other wandered over your hip, up your waist, until it came to rest on one of your breasts. He gave it a gentle squeeze before lightly pinching your nipple, sending another wave of pleasure through your body until your orgasm crashed over you without warning.

You tangled your fingers in Noah's hair, making him look up at you. Then you pulled him into a kiss, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your release.

Noah took advantage of the position, letting his hands trail slowly down your body until they reached between your thighs. He slipped two fingers inside you, moving them in and out at an unhurried pace. Still sensitive from your first orgasm, you could already feel another one building.

"That's it, baby," he murmured against your ear, a low groan escaping him as he felt you clench around his fingers. "Feels good, right?" he asked before pressing a kiss to your collarbone.

All you could do was nod, unable to form a coherent sentence. He chuckled softly and picked up the pace.

"I know you've got one more for me, babe." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Give it to me." You couldn't hold back any longer, melting for him all over again.

The two of you stayed like that until your breathing finally settled. Then Noah stood up and pulled his shirt over his head. He shot you a teasing look as he unbuckled his belt.

"You got one more in you, baby? Or are you about to fall asleep already?" You had the terrible habit of falling asleep after coming, and Noah never missed a chance to tease you about it.

"You're finding yourself way too funny today, aren't you?" you raised an eyebrow at him as he finished taking off his boxers.

"I think I've earned it." He flashed you a cocky grin. "It's not every day a beautiful woman says yes to being your fiancée." He winked before sitting back against the headboard.

"C'mere, gorgeous." You crawled over until you were settled in his lap. Looking at him with nothing but tenderness, you cupped his cheek in your hand. Your eyes filled with tears for what felt like the thousandth time that night, and Noah melted beneath your touch.

"I love you, rockstar," you whispered as you lifted yourself slightly, guiding him inside you.

"Love you more, grumpy," he breathed, a quiet hiss leaving his lips as he felt you wrap around him.

One of his hands settled on your hip, guiding your movements, while the other rested against the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your chests were pressed together.

Taking advantage of how close you were, Noah brushed gentle kisses across your chin, the tip of your nose, and your cheeks. Between kisses, he whispered little compliments that went straight to your heart, making your chest ache with the intensity of the moment.

When he noticed your movements becoming uneven, he gently took over. A low moan slipped past his lips as you clenched around him again, and it didn't take long before the two of you came together.

You rested your forehead against his shoulder while Noah slowly rubbed soothing circles over your back, his head tipped back against the wall. Neither of you said a word. There was nothing left to say.

After a few minutes of simply holding each other, Noah carefully lifted you off his lap and walked into the bathroom to grab a towel, gently cleaning the both of you. Once he was done, he adjusted the air conditioning before climbing back into bed. He pulled the covers over the two of you and gathered you into his arms. You rested your palm against his chest and draped one of your legs comfortably over his, already half asleep.

"Thank you for trusting me with your heart, baby," he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head, not entirely sure if you were still awake to hear him. "I promise I'll make you the happiest woman in the world."

Instead of answering, you simply lifted your head and placed a soft, loving kiss on his cheek. The two of you ended the night just like that, wrapped up in each other, trading quiet touches and gentle affection, ready to spend the rest of your lives together.

thanks for reading <3 please, let me know what you think 💜

[httpconcrete]

ECHOES OF NIGHT - PART 2 - CHAPTER TWO

Pairing: dad! Noah Sebastian x reader

author's note: Once again, I'm so thankful for all the support EON part 2 is receiving, thank you so much for all the love!!

masterlist

The kitchen feels smaller tonight, even though nothing has changed about the space itself. The same wide island where Kara once stood on tiptoes to “help” stir pancake batter two years ago, the same fridge covered in her evolving artwork: purple family portraits that have grown more detailed with time, with stick-figure versions of you, Noah, and herself holding hands under increasingly elaborate suns, complete with bees buzzing overhead and sparkly rain boots on everyone’s feet. You stand at the island now, arms wrapped tightly around your middle, fingers tracing the edge of her latest drawing like it might anchor you to the present and quiet the whirlwind in your chest.

Dinner is long over. The house has settled into that gentle post-tour hush you’ve come to crave after months of rumbling equipment trucks, echoing arenas, and the constant low buzz of life on the road. The low hum of the fridge, the faint creak of floorboards upstairs where Kara is finally asleep after demanding three stories and an extra song about brave bees, the distant murmur of the city beyond the windows. Noah wipes down the counters with slow, deliberate movements, giving you time. He always does that now. He’s learned when to push and when to wait, just like you’ve learned how to let him in without the walls slamming shut out of old habit.

You’ve been thinking about his words since he said them earlier in the golden afternoon light, the quiet confession that had settled deep in your bones: I want another baby with you.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” you start, your voice soft but carrying that heavier edge you can’t quite hide tonight. The words feel heavy on your tongue, laced with two years of love, growth, and the lingering shadows you’ve never fully outrun.

Noah sets the dish towel down and turns to face you fully. His boba eyes meet yours across the island, a flicker of hope and nerves twisting there in equal measure. He leans against the opposite side, arms resting on the cool granite, giving you space but clearly aching to close the distance. “Yeah?”

You exhale shakily, finally meeting his gaze head-on. 

The last two years flash through your mind in a rush of vivid snapshots: the chaotic move from Oregon to LA, where Kara’s eyes had lit up like stars at the sight of her new room with the bee-themed walls you’d painted together late into the night while Noah steadied the ladder and cracked jokes to keep her giggling; the first full tour where you officially stepped into the role of the band’s merch coordinator, juggling inventory spreadsheets on your laptop in green rooms while keeping a curious toddler entertained with sticker charts and stories about “tour bus magic”; the quiet nights in cramped hotel rooms where Noah would collapse beside you after shows, sweat still clinging to his skin, pulling you close like you were the only thing keeping him grounded amid the chaos of screaming crowds and endless travel.

Kara has grown so much in that time, her routine now a beautiful, chaotic rhythm you’ve all settled into like a well-worn favorite song. Mornings start with her bounding into your shared bed (or the tour bus bunk when you’re on the road), her wild curls a halo around her sleepy face as she demands “Daddy pancakes with extra smiley faces and chocolate chip eyes.” Noah makes them religiously whenever he’s home; sometimes deliberately burning the edges just to hear her dramatic giggles and declarations that “they’re adventure pancakes now!”; School drop-offs are followed by backyard adventures where she rules over her stuffed animal kingdom like a tiny queen, narrating epic battles between Bee, Bun-Bun, and whatever new plastic dinosaur she’s claimed as Sir Stomp that week. Evenings wind down with storytime, her little body curled against Noah’s chest as he does all the voices with theatrical flair, her insisting on “just one more chapter, Daddy, please” until her eyelids grow heavy and she drifts off mid-sentence about brave bees flying to the moon.

She’s bolder now, more confident than the three-year-old who once poked his neck tattoos with wide-eyed judgment in that grocery store aisle. She’s learned to swim without floaties in the backyard pool, proudly showing off to her “uncles” during visits and earning cheers that make her beam with pride. She’s started asking deeper questions during car rides or quiet moments; why Daddy has to leave sometimes for “big stages with loud lights,” why the fans scream his name like he’s a superhero, why she has his nose but your smile. Two years of watching her bloom has been everything you never dared dream of. And yet the fear still lingers, sharp and insistent, like an old scar that aches when the weather turns.

“It’s not that I don’t want it,” you continue, the words tumbling out in a rush now that the dam has cracked. “God, Noah, part of me does. so much. Watching you with her these last two years… the way she lights up when you walk through the door after a long day at the studio, how you’ve become her safe place, her storyteller, her superhero who makes ceiling pancakes and sings the bee song perfectly off-key even when you’re exhausted from rehearsals… it makes me ache for more of that. For us to give her a sibling to boss around and protect. For you to have all the firsts you missed: the kicks, the cravings, the overwhelming joy of that first cry in the delivery room.”

You pause, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat. Your gaze drops to the floor, tracing the familiar grain of the wood you’ve walked a thousand times during late-night feedings or anxious pacing when Kara had nightmares after a particularly loud show.

“But I’m scared. Really scared.”

The words land heavy in the quiet kitchen, thick with the weight of everything unsaid. You see the way Noah’s shoulders tense slightly, a flicker of hurt crossing his handsome features before he schools it into something gentler. He steps closer but stops just short of touching you, leaning against the island, his hands flexing at his sides like he wants to reach for you but is giving you the room you need.

“Talk to me,” he says gently, though his voice carries that raw undercurrent you’ve come to recognize as the place where his own vulnerabilities live. “What are you scared of, babe? All of it. I want to hear it.”

Your fingers tighten on your arms until your knuckles whiten. The memories flood in unbidden; the raw panic of those early pregnancy days alone in your old bathroom, staring at those two pink lines while your world tilted on its axis; the bone-deep exhaustion of solo parenting through colic nights and teething fevers while wondering if you were enough; the quiet tears in the shower so Kara wouldn’t hear you breaking. “Everything,” you whisper. “I’m scared of doing it again, the pregnancy aches, the exhaustion that makes you feel like you’re moving through molasses, the fear that something could go wrong and I wouldn’t know how to fix it. But mostly… I’m scared of what it would mean for us. For Kara. For you.”

You look up at him, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “These last two years have been this beautiful, hard-won balance. We finally got to a place where the distance doesn’t tear us apart anymore. You chose us over the tour when it mattered most, flying home in the middle of everything because Kara needed you. You’ve been here for the tantrums in the green room, the milestones like her first lost tooth on stage side, and the late nights when she wakes up scared from a bad dream. Kara’s routine is stable now, but another baby… it changes everything again. Sleepless nights multiplied, endless diapers, the constant worry that you’re not splitting yourself evenly enough between them. What if the label pushes back harder next time, saying a family of four is too much for the road? What if touring with two kids becomes logistically impossible? What if I can’t be the merch girl and the present mom at the same time without dropping something important?”

Your voice cracks on the last words, raw and trembling. “And what if… what if you realize it’s too much? I kept Kara from you for three years because I was terrified you’d leave or resent me. I built those walls high because I didn’t trust that you’d stay through the hard parts. Now we’re here, and it’s good; so fucking good, with our routines and our little traditions and the way Kara calls you Daddy like it’s the most natural thing in the world, but part of me still waits for the other shoe to drop. Another baby would mean trusting you with even more of my heart. Trusting that you won’t miss the important parts this time, even when the world and the tours and the expectations pull at you from every direction. I know that’s unfair. I know you’ve proven yourself over and over, showing up in ways I never dared hope for. But the fear is still there, Noah. It lives in me, quiet most days, but loud when I let myself imagine it all again.”

Noah’s jaw tightens visibly. 

Sadness blooms sharp and deep across his features; not anger, never anger directed at you, but a quiet, aching hurt that settles in the lines around his eyes and makes your chest constrict painfully. He looks away for a long second, jaw working as he processes the sting of it: the implication that after everything, after choosing you both, after putting his name on her birth certificate, after two years of showing up, he still carries some shadow of that old doubt in your heart.

“I get it,” he says finally, his voice low and rough, like the words scrape against something tender inside him. He meets your eyes again, and the raw vulnerability there nearly undoes you completely. “I do. You carried her alone for so long. You made every hard choice by yourself because you didn’t trust me enough to let me in back then. And now… even after I flew home in the middle of a tour, dropping everything because she was sick and you were falling apart, even after I put my name on her birth certificate and fought for both of you, even after two years of choosing you both every single day, some part of you is still waiting for me to disappear when it gets hard again.”

You feel your face crumple, fresh tears burning hot behind your eyes. “Noah-”

“No, let me finish, please.” He steps around the island, stopping just short of touching you, though his hands flex at his sides like every instinct is screaming to pull you close. “It hurts. It hurts because I love you so much it feels like my chest is cracking open sometimes, like there’s not enough room for how big this feeling is. Because Kara is my whole world, the greatest gift I never knew I needed, and the idea of another little one… God, I want it so bad I can taste it. I want to be there for the cravings and the ultrasounds and the 3 a.m. feeds where I’m the one rocking them while you finally get some sleep. I want to watch you grow round and glowing and exhausted with our baby and know I’m not missing a single second of it. I want Kara to be the best big sister in the world: bossy and protective and full of love, teaching them all her bee facts and how to make Sir Stomp dance.”

His voice wavers, the sadness deepening into something exposed and achingly tender. “But I understand why you’re scared. I do. I missed so much of her beginning. You had to be strong enough for both of you when I wasn’t even a thought in your life. That fear you carry? It makes complete sense. It’s not unfair, it’s what kept you and her safe for years when you had no one else. I just… I wish you could see how much I’ve changed. How much we’ve changed together. I’m not the guy who left after one night anymore, chasing a dream that didn’t include diapers and midnight feedings. I’m the one who wants to build a life with you. The one who would burn every tour date to the ground if it meant being here when you need me. The one who lies awake some nights just listening to you both breathe because it still feels like a miracle that I get to do that.”

Tears slip freely down your cheeks now. You reach for him then, hands fisting in the soft fabric of his hoodie, pulling him close like you need the solid warmth of him to steady the storm inside you. Noah wraps his arms around you immediately, one hand splaying across your back while the other cradles the back of your head, burying his face in your hair. He holds you like you might slip away, like he’s afraid the fear might pull you under if he lets go even for a second.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper against his chest, your voice muffled and thick with emotion. “I do trust you. I trust you more than anyone in this world. You’ve shown me over and over what that looks like. But becoming a mom again… it brings it all rushing back. The panic of those first months alone, staring at pregnancy tests in a campus bathroom while my whole future shifted. The nights I cried in the shower because I was terrified I wasn’t enough for her, that I was failing her by giving her only half a family. The fear that one day you’d wake up and realize this life wasn’t what you signed up for when you met a nervous girl at a show four years ago and invited her back to your hotel room just to talk.”

Noah pulls back just enough to cup your face in his hands, his thumbs gently wiping away the tears tracking down your cheeks. His own eyes are wet, glistening in the soft kitchen light, the sadness lingering there but softened by the deep, unwavering love that has always won out between you. “I signed up for you,” he says fiercely, his forehead resting against yours, breath mingling warm and steady. “All of it. The beautiful parts and the terrifying ones. The late nights and the laughter and the fear. I missed Kara’s beginning, and that ache will always be there, a quiet shadow in the corner of my heart. But I’m not missing ours. Not this time. Not ever. If you’re not ready, we wait. We take all the time you need. If you decide you never want another, I’ll love the family we have with everything I am, Kara, you, our routines, our imperfect perfect life. But if even a small part of you wants this too… I’m here. Every craving. Every fear. Every joy. Every 3 a.m. feeding and every milestone. We do it together, love. No more oceans. No more waiting on the other side of a screen. Just us.”

You stand like that for a long time, wrapped in each other in the quiet kitchen, the weight of two years of healing and growth and lingering scars settling between you like a shared blanket. Upstairs, Kara sleeps soundly in her room, dreaming of bees and big sisters and the family that finally feels whole and unbreakable.

Later, after Noah has slipped upstairs to check on her one more time; his low, murmured goodnight carrying faintly down the hall even though she’s already deep in sleep, you slip into the guest room with your phone, needing to hear your mom’s voice. She answers on the second ring, warm and steady like she always has been, the familiar anchor you’ve leaned on through every storm.

“Hey, sweetheart. How’s my grandbaby doing after that tour? She sounded so excited in her last video about the pool adventures.”

You sink onto the edge of the bed, knees drawn up, and the words spill out before you can stop them; the conversation with Noah in the golden afternoon light, the raw ache in his eyes when he talked about the firsts he missed, your own swirling fears that feel both valid and unfair all at once. You tell her how much you want it too, how the idea of another baby with him fills you with a terrifying, beautiful longing that makes your chest tight. How you can already picture Kara as a big sister: protective and bossy and full of endless love, teaching a little sibling all her bee facts and how to make Sir Stomp dance in the backyard. How Noah has been everything you never dared hope for these past two years: present, patient, choosing you both even when the label grumbled and the tours pulled.

But the fear is still there, sharp and insistent, refusing to be ignored. The panic of those early days alone. The exhaustion. The worry that you won’t be able to balance it all again without something cracking.

Your mom listens without interrupting once, her breathing steady on the other end of the line. When you finally run out of words, she sighs softly, the sound full of maternal understanding. “Oh, honey. Wanting it and being scared don’t cancel each other out. They can live in the same heart, side by side, fighting for space. You’ve carried so much alone for so long. It makes complete sense that trusting him with even more of that responsibility, with another piece of your heart, feels huge. It brings back all those old shadows, doesn’t it? The nights you wondered if you were enough, if you were failing her by giving her only one parent.”

You nod even though she can’t see you, fresh tears slipping free and tracking down your cheeks. “It does. I keep remembering how terrified I was back then, staring at those two pink lines and knowing exactly who the father was but too scared to reach out. And now… I want this with him. I want to see him experience it all; the first kicks, the cravings, the joy of holding a newborn. I want Kara to have a sibling to love and protect. But what if it’s too much? What if the fear wins again and I push him away without meaning to?”

“That fear doesn’t make you weak, sweetheart,” your mom says gently, her voice wrapping around you like a warm blanket. “It makes you human. And from everything you’ve told me these past two years. how he flew home mid-tour when Kara was sick, how he’s been there for every milestone since, how he looks at you both like you’re his whole universe, he’s shown up. Every single time. Maybe this is the next step in trusting that he always will. You don’t have to decide tonight. You don’t have to be fearless. Just honest with him, and with yourself. Wanting another baby doesn’t erase the scars. It just means you’re ready to build something new on top of them.”

You let out a shaky breath, the ache in your chest easing just a fraction. “I do want it, Mom. I want our family to grow. I can picture it; Kara being the best big sister, Noah finally getting all those firsts he missed. It’s beautiful and terrifying all at once. I just… I need time to sit with the fear first. To let it breathe without letting it win.”

“That’s okay,” she says, warm and reassuring. “You’ve got time. And you’ve got him. And you’ve got me, always. Call anytime, day or night. I love you, sweetheart. Give my grandbaby an extra hug from Nana.”

When you hang up, the ache feels lighter, more manageable. Down the hall, you hear Noah’s low voice murmuring one last goodnight to Kara, even though she’s already fast asleep. You press a hand to your stomach, imagining for a moment what it might feel like again, the flutter of new life, the shared joy, the fear met with his steady presence.

The fear is still there, sharp and real. But so is the hope.

And for the first time tonight, they don’t feel quite so impossible to hold at the same time.

taglist: @theanarchymuse95 | @platespaghetti | @enbytarin | @heavilyfadingpower | @pipidoll | @swimming-selfishes | @lowergroundfloor | @shayseeker | @mrslumi | @itsfarbettertolearn | @branika182 | @leosunshine | @chipotlebagnoah | @buttercupbabyyy | @chey-h | @mushrumink | @haileebluee | @alwaysfightforwhoyouare | @flowery-mess | @r3prise | @lost-in-stereo72

[silent-stories]

I had the weirdest Noah related nightmare. In my dream I was scrolling online and came across an article about how the singer of bad omens has completely lost his mind. The article stated that Noah was in the midst of possible mental breakdown. He had shaved his hair into a buzzcut, dyed it and the rest of the body hair bright red. He also had gotten a lot of piercings, full ears, multiple nose rings, eyebrow rings, lip rings and multiple face tattoos. In the article there was a short interview with Jolly who said that they don’t know what to do with him. Noah had woken up one morning and said he felt he is spiritually a porcupine and went to a piercer after that. He also wants more piercings so his outsides would match his inside. I’m traumatised. There were photos of how he looked like. I recently had a concussion. I hope this isn’t my new normal when it comes to dreams.

Noah: "I feel like a porcupine"

Jolly: "we don't know what to do with him :("

ASHSHAHHA

[runningincircl3s]

if sugardaddy!noah knows dethrone is your favourite song of theirs live of course he doesn’t mind paying a ten thousand dollar fine for going over time!! he wants his girl to have a good night!!

[runningincircl3s]

tumblr pls pls pls don’t ruin the quality

credits x / @/ionaventures_ on instagram

[givemesomethingbeautiful]

This is so funny to me lmaoooo.

Everyone is screaming and losing their mind, security is stressed af and Noah is just there like: 😄😄😄

[runningincircl3s]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZNRosPUnn/

I just need to say I love your writing so much. You’re my favourite fic writer so I know if you were to do something with this idea then you’d do it so incredibly well. <3

I know you’ve already got a million stories in circuit so I don’t mean to ask for more but I feel like a story with this kind of criminal Noah plot would be so interesting and you’d be able to make it into some kind of story I would become addicted to (like all your others 😭😭)

okay first of all, thank you thank you!!! i know @r3prise is working on a story like this called ego 🤭 although i don't think she's posted anything for it yet besides a teaser!

second, holy shit i've accidentally just spent an hour researching and getting lost in a plot for a story i may never write 🫣 however, now i have it, i might as well share it! and if i do ever get a chance to write it in the future then i might, but theres no promises!! <3 (this ended up being so much longer than i planned, i can’t keep anything short ever, i got so distracted so i had to kinda just wrap it up at the end lmao)

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

It all started when you were pretty young, in your early twenties. Your friends had all moved away after finishing college to start their lives but you were stuck behind in a shitty town with a shitty job, and spend far too much time online. One evening, you somehow stumble across a website.

prisonerpenpals.com

Out of curiosity, you scroll through. There are hundreds of faces, most of them look scary and intimidating until you come across him...

He had long brown hair and the prettiest eyes you'd ever seen. Out of every profile you had seen, his was the one you stopped and clicked on.

Name: Noah S. Davis Age: 24 Sentence: 15 years Time served: 4 Looking for: someone to talk to, nothing more

For some reason, you decide to write to him. You introduce yourself, tell him just a little about you, and then you ask him a little about himself and what lifes like inside.

Weeks pass, and you forgot you had even sent the letter until one evening, six weeks later, you come home to see an envelope had been put through your door. You open it, and are met with handwriting that so clearly belonged to a man.

For the first couple months, it felt a little awkward, you weren't sure how to talk to him or what to say, but he always had something to write about. Eventually, you get to know each other, and you both begin to look forward to recieving your letters.

A year passes, he tells you all about prison life- or only the ordinary parts. He talks about the library, the jobs, the never ending boredom. But he never talks about whatever put him in there. You tell him about your terrible boss, your family, how your neighbours dog keeps jumping over your fence. You tell him little things that no one else would care about, but he does. And then at the end of one of his letters, he asks- I'm guessing you've seen my mugshot, but I've never seen a photo of you. Would ever send me one? I've been picturing you in my mind all this time, it'd just be nice to finally know :)

You spend an embarassingly long time trying to choose a photo. Not because you're trying to impress him... totally not because you feel yourself falling for him! You settle on one that your friend took of you last year at the beach, one of the rare pictures where you feel like you look the most like you, and you tuck it into the evelope alongside another letter and send it off, trying not to overthink.

A week or so later, you recieve another letter from him. You open it as soon as it comes through the door and right at the top, in his messy handwriting, it says "Well, you're nothing like I imagined." Your stomach dropped, and you almost put the letter down, until you read, "You're prettier." Then your cheeks burned.

The rest of the letter was normal, he talked about a book he read in the library, and a fight that he watched break out, how the coffee in there sucks. And right at the bottom of the letter, he wrote "I hope you don't mind, your pictures on my wall now. It makes this place look less like a prison."

Eventually, your letters turn into phone calls after a couple years. When you first get a call from an unknown number, you almost ignore it, until you remember his last letter. "I finally got approved for phone calls. If you're free next Thursday around seven... I'll try" and that boy stayed true to his word.

The first call is painfully awkward, he has fifteen minutes, but he doesn't know what to say. It was strange finally hearing his voice after writing to him for so long. But it didn't take long for it to feel natural, and after that it became a part of your routine. Every Thursday, if the phones were working and he got the time slot, he'd call, and you'd chat for a little while.

Years pass by just like this, you smile every time you see a letter through your door, or something in a store that reminds you of him. He sent you a card for your birthday (though it came a couple days late), with something you love (an animal or a flower) hand drawn on the front. Every time you think about him, your heart feels soft and full. It's a feeling you've never felt for anyone before.

Then, one day, you get an envelope that feels thicker than usual. You open it up and begin to read it. "Hey, I've rewritten this letter about six times now. I just don't know how to say it, but I had my parole hearing last week..." Your heart starts pounding so you skip ahead before you can stop yourself, until you read, "They approved it."

You gasped out loud, your heart fluttering. He's getting out. The rest of the letter was surprisingly flat, he didn't sound excited about it at all. If anything, he sounded nervous. He went on to roughly explain what happened withoug giving away too much. He had given evidence against someone who used to run part of an organisation he used to work for, putting a lot of people behind bars, and if anyone found out, he'd be a dead man in no time. It worried you, making you wonder if there was anything you could do to help- which brings you to the next page of his letter.

"...Which brings me to the part I've been avoiding. My release plan has kinda fallen through. The place I was meant to stay at isn't an option anymore. My parole officer is trying to sort something else, but because of the case, nowhere is particulary keen to take me. They think I'll either be recognised or found by... 'old friends'."

You could already tell what was coming, you just didn't want to assume, and suddenly you realised you'd been holding your breath.

"I feel embarrassed even writing this. Please don't feel guilty if the answers no, in fact I'd almost prefer you said no. It would probably be the sensible decision... but if you had a spare couch, or even just a floor... would you consider letting me stay for a while until I find my feet? I'd pay rent as soon as I'm working, I'll buy my own food, I'll keep out of your way. I don't expect anything from you. You've already given me more than I ever thought I'd have. You gave me six years of company, I don't think I would've made it this long in here if it wasn't for you. So even if the answers no, thank you anyway. You have no idea just what you mean to me. I'd still write you if you'd let me, I've memorised your phone number so I could even call you when I'm out. I just thought I'd rather ask you than spend the rest of my life wondering if I should have."

You were so excited, you were practically shaking as you began writing back.

Noah,

First of all… congratulations!! :) I’m so happy for you, I think I’ve read the words “They approved it” about fifty times already. I might’ve even cried a little, but don’t let that get to your head.

Then, after a page of full of your excitement, you finally gave him your answer…

“And yes! Obviously yes. You don’t even have to ask, you can stay with me for as long as you need. I have a spare room, although it’s currently full of boxes and things I’ve been meaning to sort through for a few months. I’ll clear it out before you get here, I promise. So no, you’re not sleeping on the sofa. You’re having an actual bed. After all these years, you deserve somewhere warm and comfy to sleep :)”

A few days later, he calls. You both discuss the arrangement, and how it’d work since you live quite a few hours away from him- which is why you had never visited him. You were both quite glad this was the case though, because he told you the people that would be looking for him would never look there.

On his release day, you drove all the way to pick him up. You spent weeks imagining this moment, since you first arranged having him stay with you. You imagined seeing him, running over and giving him a big hug… but as you pull into the parking lot, you suddenly forget the entire plan, because now he’s standing right there.

Or you assume it’s him, he’s the only person standing outside the gate with a duffel bag at his feet. But he looked different… the only picture you had seen of his was his mugshot that had been taken almost ten years ago. But god, he has certainly changed.

The first thing you noticed was his haircut. His long brown hair was now gone, it was short and even looked darker than before. You knew he had cut it, he told you some guy did it for him in there, but you didn’t know what it looked like.

Then you noticed his build. A few years ago he told you he’d really gotten into fitness and using the gym equipment, and it’s clearly done him good. You had to tear your eyes away from his biceps as you parked up.

He recognised your car, you had told him what it looked like a few days ago so he’d be prepared. And as he started to wander over, your heart began to race. You stepped out, and neither of you knew what to say, which was funny as if you hadn’t spent the last six years writing to each other and talking over the phone. After a moment, he opened his arms, and you stepped into them.

If only you knew then, what would be in store for you…

Because Noah’s past can’t be put behind him until he knows for sure what happened to his best friend, Nick Ruffilo. After Noah’s arrest, he never heard from him again. He doesn’t know if he’s dead or alive, if he’s still involved in a life he never wanted to be a part of or if he got out and was now living peacefully under a new name.

But Noah loved Nick like a brother, and he’s willing to risk it all- sleepless nights, bloody knuckles and busted lips, getting tangled back up in that life again- just to find out what happened to him, even if it killed him.

[httpconcrete]

ECHOES OF NIGHT - PART 2 - CHAPTER ONE

Pairing: dad! Noah Sebastian x reader

author's note: Once again, I'm so thankful for all the support EON part 1 received, thank you so much for all the love!!

masterlist

The late afternoon sun filtered through the tall windows of their Los Angeles home, casting long golden beams across the hardwood floors. Dust motes danced lazily in the light, undisturbed by the quiet rhythm of a family finally settled after months on the road. Bad Omens had wrapped their latest tour two weeks ago, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the house breathed with them; no suitcases stacked by the door, no frantic last-minute packing, no tearful airport goodbyes. Just home.

Noah stood barefoot in the kitchen, sleeves of his faded black hoodie pushed up to his elbows, stirring a pot of spaghetti sauce with the same focused intensity he once reserved for late-night studio sessions. The scent of garlic, basil, and simmering tomatoes filled the air, mingling with the faint sweetness of the chocolate chip cookies baking in the oven; Kara’s request after she’d declared tour bus food “not real food, Daddy.”

Two years.

It still hit him sometimes, like a quiet wave rolling in during the still moments. Two years since that chaotic grocery store aisle had upended his entire world. Two years since he’d crouched down to a three-year-old girl with his eyes and his nose and felt his heart crack open in the best possible way. Two years of learning how to be a father, a partner, a man who chose his family over everything else.

Kara Y/L/N Davis was six now, almost seven, as she loved to remind anyone who would listen, even though she just turned six. She was a whirlwind of sparkles, questions, and boundless energy, with curls that refused to be tamed and a smile that could light up an entire arena. In the two years since they’d made it official, she had grown into a little girl who collected rocks “because they have secrets,” who demanded bedtime stories with “real dragons, not the boring ones,” and who had somehow charmed the entire Bad Omens crew into being her personal army of uncles.

The transition hadn’t been seamless, but it had been theirs.

The first year had been a beautiful kind of chaos. Moving from Oregon to LA had meant packing up the small apartment Y/N had built her life in, saying goodbye to familiar daycare routines, and stepping into a world where Noah’s fame sometimes cast long shadows. But they’d faced it together. Y/N had become the band’s official merch coordinator, handling designs, online shops, and tour logistics with a quiet efficiency that left the guys in awe. It meant she and Kara traveled with them, turning tour buses into rolling homes filled with crayons, sticker charts, and late-night FaceTime calls to grandparents when the time zones got tricky.

Kara’s adventures during those two years were the kind of stories Noah would tell for the rest of his life.

There was the time in Europe when she’d snuck backstage during soundcheck, climbed onto Folio’s drum kit, and declared herself “the loudest princess in the whole band.” The crew had cheered so loudly the venue security had come running. Or the night in New York when she’d lost her first tooth right before a show and insisted on showing it to the entire audience from the side of the stage, holding it up like a trophy while Noah beamed with pride from the mic; even though the fans weren’t able to see from the pit. She’d started calling the band “my uncles” with such authority that even the most hardened roadies melted when she demanded group hugs after shows.

There were quieter milestones too. The first time she’d read an entire book by herself, The Very Hungry Caterpillar, and insisted on reading it to Noah before bed, her little finger tracing each word with fierce concentration. The way she’d comforted Y/N during a particularly rough bout of tour exhaustion by making her a “get better card” covered in glitter and bee stickers. The endless questions about the world: Why is the sky blue? Why do bees dance? Why can’t Daddy stay home forever?

They had grown together, the three of them, in ways Noah still marveled at.

Y/N had blossomed in the role of partner and mother on the road. She balanced tour life with a grace that left him in awe; mediating toddler meltdowns in green rooms, designing merch with Davis that fans went crazy for, and somehow still finding time to steal quiet moments with him in hotel rooms after shows. Their relationship had deepened into something steady and profound. Late-night talks about the future, lazy mornings tangled in sheets when Kara slept in, the way she looked at him like he was her safe place after years of carrying everything alone. They fought sometimes: about tour schedules, about how much to shield Kara from the public eye, but they always came back to each other, stronger.

Kara had grown from the tiny chaos goblin who’d once poked his tattoos in a grocery store into a confident, empathetic little girl who protected her stuffed animals with the same ferocity she showed when defending her “uncles” from imaginary monsters. She’d started kindergarten last fall, coming home with drawings of their family that always included a tall figure with neck tattoos and a smile. She’d learned to swim in their backyard pool, mastered riding a bike with training wheels, and developed an encyclopedic knowledge of every Bad Omens song lyric (much to the band’s amusement when she’d belt them out during rehearsals).

Noah had changed too. The man who once poured everything into music and late nights now prioritized school drop-offs when they were home, bedtime routines, and quiet family dinners. He still wrote and performed with a passion that hadn’t dimmed, but it was different now; every song carried a piece of them. The ache of the missed years had never fully left him, but it had softened into something he could carry without it breaking him.

Until moments like this.

He watched Kara through the glass doors, crouched in the grass with her toys, her laughter carrying on the breeze. She was narrating an epic battle, Bee leading the charge against Sir Stomp, the dinosaur. Her curls bounced with every dramatic gesture, and that familiar pull tugged at his chest: the quiet grief for all the moments he’d never get back.

Y/N’s arms slid around his waist from behind, her chin resting on his shoulder. She’d always known when he drifted into those thoughts.

“You’re doing that thing again,” she murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his neck.

“What thing?”

“Staring at her like she’s going to disappear if you blink.”

Noah let out a breathy chuckle, but it didn’t quite hide the weight behind it. He turned in her arms, hands settling on her hips as he pulled her closer. “I can’t help it. She’s… God, she’s so big now. Talking in full sentences, making up stories, asking questions that make me realize how much I still don’t know. Two years, and it still feels like I blinked and she went from three to six.”

Y/N searched his face, her expression soft with understanding. “Tell me.”

He glanced back at Kara for a moment before meeting her eyes again. “I keep thinking about the beginning. The parts I missed. Rubbing your back when the nausea hit. Watching your belly grow. That first ultrasound. Hearing her heartbeat for the first time. I wasn’t there for any of it. I wasn’t the one holding your hand in the delivery room, or changing her first diaper, or rocking her at 3 a.m. when nothing else worked. I see the videos and photos, and I’m grateful for them, but… it’s not the same. I missed her first smile. Her first word. Those wobbly first steps across the living room. I missed being scared with you when she got her first fever, or celebrating when she finally slept through the night.”

His voice cracked slightly, and he swallowed hard. Y/N’s hand came up to cup his cheek, thumb brushing gently over his skin.

“I know I can’t change that,” he continued, voice quieter now. “And I’m so fucking thankful for what we have. You gave her the best start. You were everything she needed when I couldn’t be. But there’s this ache, Y/N. This space where I wish I could go back and do it all with you. Experience every little thing. Not just hear about it later.”

He paused, searching her eyes. The kitchen smelled like dinner and cookies, the house filled with the kind of peace he’d fought hard for. Kara’s laughter drifted in again, bright and alive.

“I want it again,” Noah whispered, the words finally spilling out after months of turning them over in his mind. “Another baby. Not because Kara isn’t enough… She’s my whole world, the greatest gift I never knew I needed. But I want the chance to be there from the start this time. To feel every kick. To watch you glow through the pregnancy. To hold our child the second they’re born. To see Kara as a big sister, the world’s sweetest, most dramatic big sister. I want to build more memories with you. All of them.”

Y/N’s breath caught, her eyes shimmering with emotion. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned in, forehead resting against his.

“Another baby,” she repeated softly, like she was tasting the possibility.

Noah nodded, vulnerable in a way only she ever saw. “I know it’s a lot. Touring, life, everything we’ve built. But I can’t stop thinking about it. About us growing this family together. About giving Kara someone to boss around and protect. About doing it right this time. From the very first heartbeat.”

Outside, Kara let out another triumphant laugh as Sir Stomp claimed victory. Inside, Noah held Y/N close, heart laid bare, waiting for her answer in the quiet space between them.

The life they’d built these past two years had been everything and more. But in that golden afternoon light, with their daughter’s joy filling the house and the future stretching wide open before them, Noah dared to hope for one more chapter; one they could write together, from the very beginning.

taglist: @theanarchymuse95 | @platespaghetti | @enbytarin | @heavilyfadingpower | @pipidoll | @swimming-selfishes | @lowergroundfloor | @shayseeker | @mrslumi | @itsfarbettertolearn | @branika182 | @leosunshine | @chipotlebagnoah | @buttercupbabyyy | @chey-h | @mushrumink | @haileebluee

[dress-a-blade-up-in-red]

Burning Out

Noah Sebastian x GN!Reader

Summary: Boyfriend!Noah has a panic attack after a disaster while shooting a music video and shuts down. There's one thing in the world that can comfort him in that moment, and that one thing is you.

Content Warning: Detailed description of a severe panic attack (Pls take care of yourself and do not read if you think you may be triggered)

Masterlist Taglist 

The crew moved steadily through the warehouse carrying large wooden structures, wheeled cases, props, and camera equipment. Orie, the band's video producer, directed them all as they gathered everything needed to build the set. Lighting panels and LEDs shined bright, heating up the room. Techs finished setting up the drumset and amps for the performance shot as the guys ran around getting ready to start filming.

Noah looked in the mirror, running a hand through his hair and adjusting the collar of his shirt for the 1,000th time. Shoot days always stressed him out. This band, this whole project was his entire life. He took on a lot more than being the frontman. From producing the music, to finances and taxes, to touring and travel logistics, to meetings with the label, he was heavily involved in it all. It was a lot, but no one would care about it as much as he did. This was a huge video for them to pull off. Indoor and outdoor scenes, several extras, CGI, complex sets, and a rather small budget to get it all done with. Everything had to look perfect. Everything had to run smoothly.

Orie called the band out to begin blocking for the performance takes while the crew continued to build the structure for the narrative scenes. Noah took one last glance at his reflection then stepped out of the dressing area, heading towards the platform. They arranged themselves on the set as cameras and lights were positioned around them. Bright beams flashed in Noah’s eyes as they adjusted and aimed streams of light to get the shot just right. His hands fidgeted in his pockets as he took in the scene around him. People bustled around. The warehouse was packed with actors and supplies and tools. Dozens of eyes looked at him from behind cameras and through monitors. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.

“Alright we’re ready” Orie announced.

Everyone settled in their places and the song began to play through the speakers. Noah tried his best to get out of his head and let go, singing along softly with the track. Orie’s voice rose over the sound, telling the cameramen where to go, directing Noah on which lens to look into.

Across the warehouse, two men carefully maneuvered a large panel, their sight blocked by the towering structure. A third waved his arms, directing them. They carefully crawled forward step by step, narrowly avoiding various obstacles within the space. A panicked voice rang out for them to stop but it was too late. The wall hit a light bar hanging from the ceiling. Glass bulbs shattered and parts of the fixture crashed to the ground, breaking to pieces on impact. The band stopped suddenly at the sound and the music was cut off. Orie turned around, letting out a string of curses.

Noah took in the damage, seeing the lights broken within the 3 walls they had set up. His hands tangled in his hair and he let out a long “fuuuck” under his breath. The lights were rented, and even if they hadn’t been, the equipment cost thousands of dollars. Thousands of dollars the band didn’t have to shell out to replace them on top of completing the project and paying everyone for their time on the music video. People gathered around the mess, crew members pointed fingers at each other, voices were raised. Orie and some other members of the film crew stepped towards Noah, directing questions of what to do his way.

He knew they were talking to him, but he heard none of it. Just a loud whirring in his ears. His heart was beating a million miles a minute and he struggled to suck in enough air to fill his lungs. His chest tightened. The faces in front of him became blurry, his vision tunneling into a hazy pinhole. He kneeled to the ground, suddenly feeling unsteady, and sat on the heels of his boots.

“Noah…Noah?” Someone repeated his name in front of him.

Ruffilo looked over his shoulder, seeing his best friend, and knew immediately. He made his way over to the group surrounding him.

“Alright guys c’mon, give him some space” he said firmly, standing between Noah and the concerned faces crowding him. Folio and Jolly watched nervously from the side. Ruffilo knelt in front of him and braced a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, Noah..buddy” he spoke gently.

Noah panted. He licked his lips and tried to respond, the words caught beneath the knot in his throat. Thoughts raced through his head. He began to wonder if this was because of the shoot, or if something was seriously wrong with him. He felt like he might die. Nick put his other hand on Noah’s shoulder, shaking him slightly and calling his name again. Nick's voice sounded like he was under water. He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t explain it. Couldn’t catch his breath. So he choked out the only thing he could think to say.

“Y/n.”

Nick parted his lips and closed them again, looking over his shoulder as if looking for you in the crowd of buzzing people. 

_________________________________

You rushed back and forth at work, juggling several tasks simultaneously. Voices called, machines whirred, laughter bubbled. You stepped into the hall for a moment before heading to tackle your next order of business, letting out a sigh at the brief moment of silence. Your phone buzzed several times in your pocket, and you slipped a hand back to check it. “Ruffilo 🐱” appeared on the screen, informing you of 3 messages from him. Probably a meme. Probably an unflattering candid picture of Noah from across the room at the music video shoot they were at. You would answer him later, you thought, far too busy at the time. However, moments later your phone started to ring. Ruffilo’s name filled your screen, and he almost never called. If it was important enough he’d leave a voicemail you told yourself and kept walking. Your hand braced the doorhandle and you were ready to jump back into work when your phone rang a second time. You pulled it out to see Nick calling once more. Now your pulse spiked and butterflies erupted in your stomach. You stepped into a quiet corner and answered.

“Hey Nick, I’m at work. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah umm, just Noah, he’s…how fast can you get here?”

“Where?” you asked without hesitation.

“Warehouse on 5th” he responded.

You hung up abruptly, not even bothering to ask what was going on. You knew shoot days were hard for Noah, he had been stressed since several nights before. He got more worked up over their videos than he did shows. You ran to the staff room and grabbed your bag, paying no mind to the tasks you had awaiting you. You rushed into your manager’s office, chirping a quick “I’ve got to go. Emergency.” before slipping out. It was hard to explain the caliber of some of the situations Noah got into to other people who were outside of “Bad Omens Land.” You were never sure they could understand. His job wasn’t just any ordinary job, not just another day at the office. He had hundreds of thousands of people putting pressure on him to perform, to deliver. Sometimes it was way too much.

You sped, making questionable decisions on which traffic laws to follow, in order to make it the few blocks it was to the warehouse. You barely put the car in park before you were rushing towards the open overhead door. You locked eyes with Folio, muttering a quick “Where is he?” before Folio pointed to the back corner.

The sight of him was like a punch to the gut. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his eyes were glassy and red, bracing himself up with his hands on his thighs. You jogged over, dodging bodies and film equipment, and knelt in front of him, cupping his face in your hands and pulling his gaze to yours.

“Noah, I’m here baby, you’re okay” you said softly. 

His hands traveled up to hold your wrists and he pressed his forehead to yours. You urged him to get up and scanned the vast building for a quieter space, pulling him along into the dressing room. He sat on the couch and hung his head in his hands, still breathing rapidly. You kneeled between his thighs and pulled him up to look at you.

“Let’s breathe, okay? In and out,” you modeled for him, “in……and out.”

He breathed along with you, unsteady and choked at first, then settled into a pattern of deep breaths. You unbuttoned the tight collar of his shirt and the few beneath it to make him feel less constricted and rubbed soothing patterns on his arms. His hands shook slightly and sweat beaded on his forehead. He had yet to say a word. You didn’t ask him to. You just held him as he calmed and came back to earth. Nick peered in the door and you gave him a nod, confirming everything was okay. 

Noah’s voice cracked as he tried to speak, gravely from the dryness.

“Ca..can you lay with me for a second?”

It might have seemed silly to an outsider, but you knew the deep pressure helped to calm him down and ground him. He laid back on the couch and you maneuvered over Noah, laying across his chest with your head tucked under his chin. His arms wrapped tightly around you, and you nuzzled into him. You let your weight blanket over his body and listened to the sound of his heartbeat slowly returning to a normal rhythm. A few quiet moments passed. You sat up and he followed suit, leaning back on the cushions of the couch.

“I’m gonna grab you some water” you said softly, patting his thigh as you stood up.

He sipped the water quietly and you sat next to him, rubbing soothing circles on his back. He leaned into you, laying his head on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Noah muttered.

“You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for.” Your heart broke at his words. 

“You had to leave work to come here, we didn’t even finish any of the performance shots, I couldn’t help at all in the situation out there, I just froze, I…” he gestured to the door, “I feel pathetic.”

You shifted sideways, making sure he looked you in the eye.

“You are NOT pathetic. In the slightest. It’s amazing that you were even able to organize this whole thing. You have a very stressful job, and you don’t give yourself enough credit for that. You deserve some patience, some grace for that.”

“I was getting through it just fine and then they broke the lights and I just…just spiraled. I'm freaking out about the budget, and having to break it to the lighting company because I’m the one who handles all of that. I have to pull all this money out of my ass somehow because we still need to finish this music video and God knows if anyone will even like the fuckin song!” Noah fumed.

You could see him getting worked up again, tears welled up in his eyes.

“Hey” you called to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, “It sucks… but it’s gonna get figured out. You make some calls, make due with what equipment you have intact for today, and you make up the money some other way. I don’t know, an acoustic show somewhere, a spring merch drop, anything really, it’s just gonna take some thought.”

Noah nodded his head, his soft brown eyes meeting yours. He leaned in, pulling you in for a kiss with a finger under your chin.

“All that you need to do right now is take some deep breaths, go out there, lip sync for the video, and do your little arm waves and dances” you said with a smirk.

He feigned being offended and scoffed, then his lips curled into a soft smile.

“There’s my boy” you said, cupping his cheek and planting a quick peck on his lips.

Noah gathered himself and stood up, stretching before holding a hand out to you. He began heading towards the door before you called out for him to wait, pulling him towards you and restoring the buttons on his shirt. You followed him out of the dressing room, his head held high and shoulders back now in contrast from when you’d arrived. The crew looked in the direction of you two as you made your way over.

“Let’s get this shit rolling,” Noah called out to them.

You stood on the outskirts, watching as Noah oozed confidence before the cameras, and smiled to yourself.

Author's Note: I posted the poll for you to choose the next fic and Y'ALL VOTED FOR NOAH TO SUFFER LMAO fear not I am actively working on the Folio fic as well, it will be posted probably Wednesday, if not than during the weekend. I love you all XOXO Lila

TAGLIST: @platespaghetti @r3prise @branika182 @itsfarbettertolearn @nixsxxx @takeme1st @sleepycactus-omens @icybansheesoul @anything-morethan-human @fear-its-beauty @mapsychoticimagination @anonymousspirit @copper-locks @babeomens @booksnchaos @chey-n @foliosdrumstick @heavilyfadingpower @nikki-plum

[takeme1st]

Getting away with it - N.S.

AN: This is the product of a conversation with @copper-locks about Mr. Concrete on his knees and 1,5 hour of free time. I take no responsibility... hehe. Also, if I didn't tag you and you have asked to be tagged its because I assumed that it was only for my ongoing series "Somewhere down the line"! Also not proofread because I just can't with smut. Ok thats it, hope you'll enjoy. <3

Warnings: NSFW! 18+, MDNI, hand job, masturbation (f), voyeurism, slight dom/sub dynamic (kinda switch I guess but m sub), established relationship, unprotected sex. I think that's it? It's filth, basically.

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x F! reader.

Words: 2.8 k

The party had finally started to thin out sometime after 1 AM. Music still pulsed faintly behind the closed doors of the venue as the two of you stepped out into the cool night air, the summer heat finally giving way to something easier to breathe.

“Taxi’s two minutes away,” Noah said, glancing down at his phone.

You only hummed in response. You knew exactly what you were doing. You'd known it all evening.

The dress wasn’t something you would normally wear. It hugged your figure more than what you would normally reach for, the neckline lower, the hem shorter. You had found it two days earlier when you were out shopping for the release party for a friend's album. Every time you’d caught Noah looking, only for him to immediately look somewhere else, it had sent a little thrill through you.

He’d been unusually quiet all night. Not distant. Just… tense.

The taxi pulled up to the curb and you slid into the back seat together, the driver greeting you before pulling away into the sleeping city. For the first few minutes, neither of you spoke. Streetlights flashed across the windows, illuminating Noah’s face. His jaw was tight enough that you wondered if it hurt.

“You’ve been quiet,” you said eventually, unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

“I’m fine.”

“Liar.”

His eyes flicked towards you for half a second before returning to the window.

“I’m serious.”

“I know.”

You crossed one leg over the other, deliberately casual, smoothing a hand over the fabric of your dress. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught him noticing. Just for a second. You rummaged in your little hand bag, pulling your lip gloss out. You reapplied it unnecessarily slowly. 

Noah looked away again, exhaling slowly through his nose.

“…You’re making this really difficult.”

You tilted your head, pretending innocence.

“Making what difficult?”

He laughed once, it was short, quiet, almost disbelieving, before dragging a hand over his face.

“You know exactly what.”

You smiled sweetly at him, uncrossing your legs and keeping them spread apart. You stopped pretending, letting your hand settle on the top part of his thigh. He looked down at your hand, and then back at you with a warning look in his eyes. You moved your hand higher, squeezing his thigh through his dress trousers before flexing your hand. Noah pinched his nose, letting out a deep breath. 

You knew exactly what you were doing, and you loved every minute. You kept patting his thigh, making sure your movements were slow enough not to catch the attention of the driver. You moved your hand higher up, casually looking out of the window of your side of the car. Noah caught your wrist. You looked at him with disapproval. He met your gaze, eyes pleading for you to stop. 

It became clear to him that his attempt was futile. He let go of your wrist and you allowed your hand to settle right over his crotch. For a moment, you didn’t move. You could almost feel Noah letting out a breath of relief. The streets outside looked familiar now, you must only be around ten minutes from home. Plenty of time. You bit your lip to hold back a chuckle as you started to palm him over his pants. He was already hard. Poor guy’s probably had a semi since you stepped out of your walk-in closet earlier that night. You shuffled closer at the pretence of putting your bag down on the floor. 

You glanced at the rearview mirror. The driver was totally oblivious. Good. You turned your attention to Noah’s face. His jaw was clenched tight and his eyes closed. His chest rising and falling rapidly. It was obvious that he was using every ounce of restraint in him. Your nimble fingers reached the zipper of his pants, slowly unzipping it. You let the button stay buttoned. With a sly grin, you slid your hands into the opening, letting it settle on the fabric of his boxers. His hips jerked involuntarily. 

“Good boy,” you cooed quietly. 

Your palm found his pulsating arousal, taking a hold of it. You continued to slowly, casually palm over his hard length. You could feel him becoming harder by the second. When you closed your fingers around him, it only took a few pumps before you could feel his whole body jerk. Noah exhaled sharply through his nose, jaw still clenched as he came. As you felt the sudden wetness of the fabric, you withdrew your hand with a satisfied hum. Noah kept his eyes closed as he tried to catch his breath. 

You leaned forwards, mouth just by his ear. 

“Did you make a mess in your pants, hmm?” your whisper scarcely more than a breath. 

He just nodded as he reached down to zip his pants back up. 

The second the front door closes behind you, you feel his body pressed against yours. His large hands found your hips, his lips on the side of your neck. You exhale, melting into him. 

“You think you can get away with that?” he hummed against your neck. 

“I know I can.” 

His grip on your hips hardened. He spun you around so that you were facing him. A second later he had effortlessly scooped you up on his shoulder. 

“Put me down!” 

“Nu-uh.” 

He held onto you with one large hand in the ditch of your knees. Your hands found his broad back, banging on it to let you down. You suddenly felt a sharp smack against your ass, the sensation making your pussy throb. The effort not to moan out loud felt ridiculous. As if he knew, Noah chuckled as he made his way up the stairs with you over his shoulder. 

“Motherfucker…” you mumbled. 

“Hmm?” 

The smirk on his face faltered for a second when he put you down and got a good look at your face. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his face down to yours. The kiss was a mess of clashing teeth and the two of you trying to catch the same breath. 

The tip of Noah’s tongue traced your bottom lip, silently asking for entrance. You let him in, and met his tongue with your own. You lightly bit down on his tongue the moment you felt him challenge you. He whimpered. 

Breaking the kiss, you placed both hands on his chest. 

“You think you’re in charge?” you purred. “With that mess in your pants?” 

You shook your head as you pushed him up against a wall, your fingers fiddling with the buttons of his shirt. Your mouth found his lips again, smashing against him. He rewarded you with a quiet moan when you bit down on his lower lip. You trailed messy, open mouthed kisses from the corner of his mouth down to his neck. He groaned as you bit down on the tattooed apple on his neck, directly soothing the marks with the tip of your tongue. 

You felt his hands travel from your hips down to cup your ass. You allowed it. That was until he gave your ass a firm squeeze. 

You pressed your lips to his earlobe, leaving a small kiss behind. You tut-tutted. 

“Have I given you permission to touch me?” you whispered. 

Noah gulped and withdrew his hands immediately. 

“No…” he whispered. 

You continued to kiss the spot right under his ear, sending shivers down his spine. 

“So…” 

Kiss. 

“Why are you…” 

Another kiss. 

“Taking liberties?” 

He let out a shaky breath. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You chuckled, a hand lazily traveling down his body to the button of his trousers. You undid it before reaching for the zipper. The fabric fell to the floor, pooling around his feet. You placed your fingertips over his boxers, against the outline of his throbbing cock. The touch was feather light, yet he still twitched under your hand. 

“I think…” you cooed. “I think you need a lesson.” 

He let out a shaky breath. 

You pointed to the armchair in the corner of your bedroom, the one you curled up to read books in. 

“Put that in front of the bed.” 

Noah unwillingly walked away from you, but he did what he was told and placed the armchair at the end of your shared bed. 

“Sit.” 

He did. Such a good boy. 

You slipped your thong off and climbed into bed, still in your dress and heels. You settled at the end of the bed, both feet coming to a rest on his knees. You hoisted your dress up just an inch. 

“You don’t get to touch me,” you stated. 

He nodded. 

“Or yourself.” 

He almost looked like he wanted to argue, but didn’t. Noah closed his eyes for a second, as if bracing himself. 

“Okay,” he said as he opened his eyes. 

You smiled sweetly at him before letting one of your hands run down your body, gliding against the fabric of your little black dress. You leaned back on your other arm, keeping your eyes locked on him as your hand reached your chest. You moved your fingers in circular motions over your breast before giving your tit a squeeze. Then you slid the shoulder straps of your dress down, the top part of the dress bunching around your waist. 

Noah gulped as you bared your chest to him. You returned your hand to your breast, squeezing and massaging it. You brought your fingers to your mouth, wetting them, before starting to roll your nipple between your fingers. A soft moan escaped you as you started to roll it between your fingertips. Noah’s eyes widened. You let your head fall back as you continued to pinch and roll the sensitive bud, making the prettiest little sounds that went straight to Noah’s head. He wanted nothing else than to reach out, to touch you. But he didn’t. 

The sight of you leaning back on your elbows, playing with your tit and bringing the fingers of your other hand to your lips made him gulp. When you stuck two fingers into your mouth and hollowed your cheeks around them as your eyes bore into his, Noah felt like he could cum again right there and then.  

You pulled the fingers from your mouth with a pop, smiling slyly at him. You let your hand wander down your body. His eyes followed it until it reached your core. You ran two fingers against your slick folds. You were practically dripping. 

Noah groaned as you started to circle your clit. 

“What’s the matter baby?” you breathed. “Don’t you like what you see?” 

His pupils were blown wide when he lifted his gaze from your dripping pussy to your eyes. 

“Please…” he begged. 

“You’re gonna watch. You’re gonna be a good boy and watch.” 

He flexed his neck and looked down again. You rubbed faster and faster circles on your bundle of nerves, it made you clench around nothing. With your other hand, you pushed two fingers into yourself, curling them to find that perfect spot. 

Noah twitched, reaching out for you. You stopped moving directly. 

“If you move… If you touch me… If you touch yourself, I will stop. Understood?” 

He swallowed. 

“Understood.” 

“My sweet, pretty boy,” you cooed as you started fucking yourself again. “I bet you're desperate for me to touch you.” 

Noah just nodded, gaze transfixed on the way your fingers moved in and out of yourself. You could feel the heat pooling in your stomach, the tight coil about to snap. You circled your clit faster, Noah’s name spilling from your lips as in prayer. The addition of his name made it almost unbearable for him, his cock straining painfully against the fabric of his boxers. You fucked yourself faster, chasing that high. One look at Noah’s face did it for you. Eyes completely black, jaw a little slack, desire etched into every millimetre of his features. Your orgasm washed over you, your whole body convulsing as you fell back onto the bed. 

And then you felt a hand on your shin. Your head snapped back up. 

“Did I say you can touch me?” 

He was leaning forwards, shirt wide open to reveal the heavy rise and fall of his tattooed chest. You could see the outline of him in his grey boxers. A stain and a wet patch was prominent. For a second you wanted to lurch forward to relieve him. But you didn’t. 

“Baby… Sweetheart… please.” 

“Have you earnt it?” 

“I have!” 

“I’m not sure…” you teased. 

He once again closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“I need it so bad,” he said. 

“Beg for it,” you spat. 

“Please… Please sweetheart… Let me touch you.” 

A crooked smile tugged at the corners of your lips. 

“Take off your clothes.” 

He did. 

“On your knees.” 

Noah looked at you for a moment, almost hesitantly, before standing up.

He took a step sideways before slowly sinking to the floor beside the armchair, arms slack against his side. The image before you made your breath hitch. 

Noah’s knees dug into the soft rug under the bed, legs spread open as he came to rest on the balls of his feet. The muscles in his thigh flexed, making them appear bigger than usual. His erection laid as if glued to his abs. The tip was an angry red colour, precum making it glisten. He looked up towards you, neck exposed. Your eyes drifted over the little freckles on his broad shoulders. Your mouth went dry when he brought both hands together in front of him, flexing his lower arms. 

He locked eyes with you. 

“Please,” he said simply. 

You tilted forward just enough to reach him. You cupped his cheek in one hand. Noah leaned tentatively into the touch. When you didn’t tell him off he pressed a small kiss in the palm of your hand. 

“Back against the headboard,” you whispered. 

You quickly slipped out of your dress and shoes as Noah made his way onto the bed. He looked at you with something close to reverence as you straddled his lap. 

“Can I touch you?” he whispered. 

You smiled. 

“As much as you want.” 

He cupped your face in both hands, bringing your face to his. The kiss was surprisingly sweet and tender. The two of you simply kissed for a moment, his soft lips massaging yours. He hooked an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. 

You reached down between your bodies, wrapping your hand around his hard cock. You stroked it slowly, your thumb brushing against his sensitive tip. He gasped into your mouth. 

You lifted yourself up, guiding him to your entrance with your hand. Both of you shuddered as you lowered yourself down on him. The stretch was so familiar and so delicious. Noah closed his eyes and let his head fall backwards to the headboard as you started to move on his lap. 

“Fuck…” he sighed. “You feel so fucking perfect.” 

Both of his hands found your hips, helping you settle into a slow rhythm. He moaned your name as you circled your hips on top of him. You grabbed a hold of his broad shoulders, feeling the muscle under his skin move. 

“So tight. So good.” 

You clenched around him with every bounce. The only sound in the room was the squelching sound of your pussy stretching around him and both of your heavy breathing. You loved riding Noah, since the angle allowed him to get so deep, his tip hitting that perfect spot with every stroke. 

He snaked a hand down to where your bodies met. His thumb found your clit instantly. He rubbed lazy, slow circles on it. 

“Oh my god…” you moaned. 

“I’m so close,” he said. “Not gonna… not gonna last.” 

You moaned his name as he sped up, rubbing your clit with just the right amount of pressure. Your second orgasm washed over you without warning and you collapsed in his arms, his name spilling from your lips. Noah moved his hips more and more erratically before tensing up, shooting hot ropes of cum onto your walls. 

You remained in his arms as the both of you tried to catch your breath. Your face was buried in his shoulder, one of his large hands cradling the back of your head whilst the other caressed your back. 

“Fucking hell,” he croaked. “I don’t know where that came from sweetheart, but I’m down any day.” 

You could only laugh, hiding your face in your hands. 

---

Tags: @platespaghetti @copper-locks@mrslumi@itsfarbettertolearn@thedeathofpeaceofmymind@dyingtol0ve@chipotlebagnoah@peace-of-mind-is-less-than-never@beartoooth@idwtmoney @theanarchymuse95 @chey-h @mushrumink @dress-a-blade-up-in-red @kenjipepsi1

[runningincircl3s]

here's a little sugardaddy!noah x stripper!reader thing that somehow came to me while i was listening to nerv by thornhill, i don't know why, and i don't know how i ended up with this, but hey! here it is <3

wc: 6.3k warnings: NSFW, smut (blowjob), i've never been to a strip club so i don't know what goes down in there but i took my best guess! and i know reader probably breaks a lot of rules lmao, also this hasn't been proof read and i wrote this over three separate days so if theres any mistakes... i'm just a girl

i wanted this to be a lot longer, but i'm thinking about a potential part two instead, just because i wanted to post this tonight ;) also i originally wanted this to be porn with no plot but for some reason my brain can't write if there's not an entire backstory and shit so i end up with too much plot not enough porn ?? this could also be a part of the velvet universe! possibly before noah meets velvet!reader <3

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Noah stood in the shower with one hand braced against the black tile wall, his head bowed as hot water ran down the back of his neck. Steam filled the bathroom like fog, blurring the full body mirror opposite the glass. 

Good. He didn’t particularly want to look at himself right now. Not after eight hours on a red-eye flight from London while his body ran on nothing but a cheap protein bar and two coffees. He hadn’t slept, he couldn’t sleep, and his body couldn’t even tell what time it was anymore. 

He tilted his head back, his eyes fluttering shut as the water ran through his hair before spiralling down the drain, carrying away the smell of airplane and weeks spent living out of a suitcase. His muscles ached from sleeping in cramped bunks on the tour buses, hauling heavy luggage through terminals and sitting in vans and planes for hours on end. 

He straightened up and rolled one shoulder, letting out a groan when it cracked loudly. 

So fucking old. He thought to himself. Though thirty wasn’t old, not in the slightest, it just felt that way after six weeks on the road, travelling through Europe. 

He landed just less than an hour ago, and he dropped his bags by the front door and immediately headed into the bathroom. He’d deal with unpacking later, he’d deal with missed calls and emails and whatever else was waiting for him later. 

After shutting off the shower, he finally noticed just how quiet his apartment (penthouse, he’s just humble) was. He stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped low around his waist, droplets of water disappearing into the expensive rug beneath his feet as he made his way into the kitchen. The place looked exactly how he’d left it, spotless, almost too clean- despite him telling his cleaner not to bother coming while he was on tour, but still paid her anyway. 

He stopped beside the kitchen island, and opened the fridge. Inside, he found a couple bottled waters, half a lemon and expired oat milk. He stared at it for a moment before shutting the door again. 

Food could wait. Everything could wait. 

He shook his head, and was about to make his way to the bedroom when his phone buzzed on the counter. 

Davis: Land safe?

He unlocked his phone and typed with tired fingers. 

Noah: Yeah. Got back an hour ago. 

Davis: Good. Get some rest dude, you deserve it 

He huffed a humourless laugh and tossed his phone back onto the counter. 

If only it worked like that. 

He knew he needed sleep, he was exhausted, every muscle in his body was screaming for rest, his eyelids burned and his head felt heavy… but he knew himself too well. If he climbed into bed right now, he’d stare up at the ceiling, eventually reach for his phone and scroll through twitter, reading comments he shouldn’t read. Maybe eventually he’d move into the studio and open up his laptop, start tweaking some demos for the next album, then start panicking about the next album. Worrying whether it’s good enough, thinking about streams and people’s expectations until the pressure would send him into a spiral. 

His brain didn’t know how to stop when he was at home, or at least not on it’s own. 

So he dragged his suitcase into the bedroom, and dropped it onto the bed. He dug through it until he pulled out a pair of black jeans, a tshirt that didn’t cling to him, and a pair of boxers that he hoped were clean. He quickly got dressed and half heartedly dried his hair with his towel before reaching for his black baseball cap that had dropped onto the floor. 

He caught his reflection in the mirror as he adjusted it on his head- his bloodshot eyes and dark circles, the way tour seemed to physically age him another thirty years. 

He just stared at himself for a moment before his eye caught his suitcase in the reflection. He should stay home, he should unpack, he knew that. Any sensible person would’ve climbed into bed and slept for twelve hours… instead, Noah found himself wandering towards the front door and reaching for his car keys. 

Because there was only one thing he could think about during the entire flight home. Not his bed, not the new album, not even seeing his friends. It was you. 

He didn’t have your number, he never asked for it, it never felt right, because everything about the two of you existed within the walls of the club. There was something comforting about that, though. There were no expectations, no texts late at night, no need to wonder if he was bothering you on your day off. He just had to turn up to the club, walk through the doors and you were there. 

But sometimes you weren’t. 

And if you weren’t, he’d nurse a whiskey, chat to the bartender for a while, tip the girls who came over to say hello then head home. But he knew that wouldn’t be the case tonight, since he knew for sure that you were working. Before he left for Europe, the bartender told him that you’d picked up Thursdays now that one of the other girls had left. So before he even left for the tour, he knew exactly where he’d be on the night he came home. 

He barely remembered getting in his car, but now he was at the club, walking up the door with his head down.

“Look who finally decided to come home!” The bouncer grinned, making Noah look up and give a tired smile. 

“It’s been a long six weeks.” Noah sighed, and the bouncer nodded his head before stepping aside to let him through. 

“Good to have you back.” 

“Good to be back.” He said with a nod, though he wasn’t entirely sure that was true. 

But it didn’t matter anymore once he stepped inside, the smell of perfume, cologne and alcohol all mixed together as coloured lights swept across the room. Nothing had changed in the time he’d been gone, everything was still in the same place, they were still playing the same music, the same bartender was polishing glasses behind the counter. 

He let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding, then his eyes found you. You were on the stage, you must’ve been halfway through your first set tonight. 

He smiled to himself when he saw what you were wearing. The most gorgeous lacey lilac two piece that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. He wondered just how many outfits you had, since last time you were in emerald, and before that it was red, baby pink, silver, and he could never forget when you were in black the first time he came here.

You looked beautiful as ever tonight. Your hair was even curled, and it gently bounced as you moved beneath the lights. The crowd was eating it up- there were a group of businessmen at the front who looked hypnotised, and a couple guys he guessed were rather drunk, throwing handfuls of bills onto the stage. 

You gave a polite smile, gracious and professional as you twirled around the pole again. Oh how he had missed watching you…

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite rockstar.” Noah looked over to see one of the girls who worked here, Lila, smiling brightly and looping an arm loosely through his. “You’ve been gone forever.” 

“Six weeks.” He nodded. 

“See,” she pouted, “Forever!” 

He laughed softly, a warm smile creeping onto his lips. 

“Good to see you.” He said. 

“You too.” She said, before stepping back to take a proper look at him. “...Shit. You look exhausted.” 

“I am.” He quietly admitted. 

“You want some company?” She asked casually. And there was no pressure, because she knew the answer already. 

“I appreciate it,” Noah said with an apologetic smile, “But…”

Her eyes followed his, and they led straight to you. She laughed, though he could tell she was a little disappointed. 

“I should’ve known.” 

He scratched the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish. 

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologise,” she said, playfully nudging his shoulder, “She’s been wondering when you’d come back. I think your booth’s empty if you’re heading over there.” 

He nodded his head. 

“Thanks.” 

Lila gave him a smile, gently squeezing his arm, before turning around to head back into the crows. But Noah just managed to call out,

“Wait!” 

She slowly turned around, and Noah was already reaching into his pocket for his wallet, then he handed her a little stack of bills. 

“Have a good night.” 

…

Noah sat in the secluded booth that had somehow become his over the past year, he had his hand wrapped around a glass of whiskey that he’d been nursing for the past ten minutes while he watched you. 

You had no idea he was there, or maybe you did, he couldn’t tell. Still, he didn’t wave or try to catch your eye. He didn’t want to pull your attention away from your work. Not when this was your stage, your time, he was quite content to sit in the dark corner with his drink, letting his thoughts start to slow down.

And like usual in this place, he completely lost track of time. It was impossible not to when you would spin so effortlessly beneath the lights, when the way you moved your hips were hypnotic. He sank back into his seat, his legs spread beneath the table as his fingers tapped against his glass. 

Then before he knew it, your set was over. He watched you flash that professional smile before disappearing behind the velvet curtain at the back of the stage. He smiled to himself, then finally took another sip of his drink, which had now been watered down by the melted ice, though he didn’t mind. 

He was too busy imagining you backstage with the other girls, kicking off the towering heels for a few blessed minutes, complaining to the other girls about how your feet hurt- he’d heard that complaint from you enough times. He imagined you touching up your makeup, fixing your hair, drinking half a bottle of water in one go.

“So you finally remembered where we keep the door.” A warm and teasing voice spoke. "I thought maybe you found a better club."

He suddenly looked up, and there you were. Your lipstick had been reapplied, though it was a little smudged on the bottom, the pretty little outfit you had on had been covered up by an oversized black zip up hoodie, the hood pulled up over your head while the sleeves drowned you. And clearly you were giving your feet a break, since you were walking around in a pair of fluffy pink sliders. 

You looked human, like a regular person, not the dazzling performer he and everyone else had just watched on the stage. 

You slid into the booth, letting out a sigh as you sat down, resting your feet in his lap. But when you looked at him properly… your smiled disappeared. 

“Jesus, Noah.” You winced. 

“What?”

“You look like shit.” 

He scoffed, setting his glass back down onto the table. 

“Wow, thanks. Here I was thinking you were coming over to say welcome home.” 

You smiled, tilting your head.

“Where have you been?” You asked softly, and he rubbed his eyes. 

“Europe. Got back two hours ago.” 

“And you came straight here?”

He nodded. 

“I showered first, didn’t think you’d want me smelling like airports.” 

You let out a soft chuckle, a smile tugging at your lips. 

“Well, thank you for that.”

“I thought you’d appreciate the effort.” He smirked. 

“I do.” You nudged one of his knees gently with your slipper. “You look a lot cleaner than the last time you stumbled in after a flight.”

He smiled, the corners of his tired eyes softening. God, he’d missed this, he missed someone talking to him like he was just… Noah.

You studied him for another second, then your smile faded and your voice softened. 

“How long have you actually been awake?”

He shrugged.

“I don’t know.”

“Noah.”

“Well, I slept for maybe…” He squinted as he thought. “Fifteen minutes on the plane?”

You frowned. Poor thing. He looked so tired and so tense, and instead of being tucked up in bed he was here. You didn’t wonder why, you knew exactly why he was here, even if he never told you. 

You leaned back into the booth, stretching one arm over the backrest before glancing towards the stage

“Y’know, I’m on my break at the moment. I’ve got about…” You checked the clock mounted above the bar. “Forty minutes until I gotta go back out there. There was a guy asking if I could give his friend a private dance.” You looked back at him, and he was nodding slowly. “And I was going to spend it backstage until I saw you.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm.” You nodded, and thoughtfully tapped your long nails against the table. “Y'know... one of our private rooms are empty.”

His eyebrow lifted as he picked his glass back up. 

“And you look like you could use a dance.” You added.

He smiled into his whiskey.

“I probably could.”

You watched him for another second, thinking something over in your mind. 

“…Or.” You rested your chin in your palm. “I could give you a massage instead. You look pretty tense.”

He scoffed. 

“You’re telling me. I’ve spent six weeks sleeping in a tour bus.”

You frowned. 

“Must be pretty hard for a big guy like you,” you half teased, “I’m guessing the plane wasn’t much better?”

He shook his head. 

“I can tell.” You said softly, “I’ve got some massage oil in my locker.”

He looked at you, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“You do?”

“My back gets tight after dancing.” You sighed.

“Huh.” He hummed. “You offer this to everyone?”

You laughed outright.

“God, no.” You shook your head, “I’d never get any work done.”

He smiled.

“So why me?”

You met his eyes, not sure how to answer that without getting too soppy with it.

“I guess it’s just your lucky day.” You smirked, before reaching over to touch his tense shoulder, “I think I know just what you need.”

He smiled, small and tired, but grateful. 

“Thanks. That sounds good.”

You pushed yourself up from the booth, pulling your hoodie down so it covered your ass.

“Go upstairs, room three,” you instructed, “I’ll grab the oil from my locker, I’ll just be two minutes.”

He nodded, already reaching for his wallet.

“How much do I owe you?”

You looked almost offended.

“Noah.”

“What?”

“I’m on my break.”

“I know, but-”

“No.” You folded your arms. “This one’s not work.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but you pointed a finger at him before he could. 

“Don’t.”

A reluctant laugh escaped him.

“I wasn’t going to.”

You rolled your eyes fondly.

“The only thing you owe me… is keeping this a secret.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded. 

You turned towards the staff corridor, then glanced back over your shoulder with a smile.

“And Noah?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you’re home.”

…

Room three was at the end of the corridor, far enough from the main floor that the music had softened and you could just hear the bass thump through the walls.

Noah had barely been inside for thirty seconds before he heard the quiet knock, then the door opened just enough for you to step in.

“Sorry,” you smiled. “One of the girls cornered me to complain about a customer.”

He chuckled.

“It’s okay.”

You nudged the door shut with your foot before holding up a pair of heels that looked more like a torture device.

“So, I have a very important question.”

Noah tilted his head. 

“I’m listening.”

You lifted the heels slightly.

“Do you want me to look…” You made little quotation marks with your fingers. “‘Professional.’ Y’know, lingerie and heels.”

Then you liften and wiggled one foot in the fluffy pink sliders you were already wearing.

“Or… do you mind if I stay like this?”

Noah looked at the heels, then at your hoodie, then at the slippers.

“Is that even a question?”

“Your massage, your choice.” You shrugged. 

He laughed softly.

“You’re on your break, sweetheart. You’ve been working all evening, I’d rather you were comfortable.”

A smile spread slowly across your face.

“I knew I liked you.”

“You weren’t sure before?”

“I was about… seventy percent sure.”

“Only seventy?”

“Yup. Congratulations.” You tossed the heels onto the armchair in the corner dramatically. “You’ve just earned the remaining thirty.”

He laughed, the sound warm enough to make your heart squeeze. Then you walked over to the small table and set the bottle of massage oil down beside a folded towel. Then you looked back at him.

“Okay.” You clapped your hands together once. “Get your ass over here, pretty boy.”

He raised an eyebrow as he wandered over. 

“Bossing me around already?” 

“Mm, I know you love it.” You smirked, pointing down at the plush red L-shaped couch. “Sit.”

Noah huffed a laugh, but still obeyed. He lowered himself onto the corner of the couch with a groan, and in here you could see him better. The dark circles under his eyes were impossible to miss, and there was still that tightness in his shoulders, like he didn’t know how to let them relax. 

You stepped in between his knees, studying him for a second as a frown tugged at your mouth. 

“Wow, you really do look rough.” 

“Aren’t you just full of compliments tonight.” Noah scoffed, a playful smile on his lips. 

You ignored that, and instead reached for his baseball cap, and lifted it from his head, setting it on the table beside the bottle of oil. His dark hair fell messily across his forehead, flattened from drying beneath the cap. 

“That’s better.” You smiled. 

You watched as his expression suddenly changed, he almost looked a little shy, and his hand started to rise towards his hair. 

“Nope.” You stopped him, catching his wrist before he could fix it. 

“It’s a mess.” He chuckled. 

“Well, in that case,” you settled onto one of his thighs, facing him, “Can I fix it?”

His eyes met yours, and his voice softened, like he’d been caught off guard. 

“...Yeah.” 

You smiled, and slowly slid your fingers into the dark strands at the back of his head, combing through his hair. As you did so, your long nails scratched gently at his scalp- and Noah’s reaction was immediate. His eyes fell shut, and a long breath escaped him. 

“Oh…” He let out a breathy moan. 

A tiny smile spread across your face as your hands slowly moved up his head, now brushing through the top of his hair. 

“That feel good?” You asked. 

“Mm… don’t stop.” 

You laughed softly and continued, your fingers slowly and gently moving through his hair. Little by little, you felt the tension leave him, his jaw relaxed and his head tipped forward ever so slightly, leaning into your touch.without even noticing. 

Then when you were finally satisfied, you brushed one last strand back from his forehead. 

“Much better,” you smiled, then carefully got up off his lap, “Alright, take your shirt off.” 

He couldn’t help but grin as he reached for the hem. 

“Remind me which one of us works at the strip club?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, as he pulled it up over his head in one motion before dropping it onto the arm of the couch.

You opened your mouth to say something… but nothing came out. 

…Oh. Wow. 

You’d seen him come in wearing tank tops before, the occasional tight t-shirt… but nothing could’ve prepared you for this. 

He wasn’t enormous, he didn’t look intimidating. He just looked… strong and masculine. Comfortably and naturally. His big broad shoulders tapered into a slutty little waist (sorry), his arms defined from years of lifting equipment instead of chasing impossible proportions at the gym. There were tattoos across his chest and stomach, your eyes drifted over them before settling on the gentle rise and fall of his breathing.

He looked like he took care of himself.

Maybe not as obsessively as some of the other guys you’d seen in here, who make their muscles and bodies their whole personality. But you could tell he put work into his body anyway. 

“You okay?” His voice pulled you back.

You suddenly met his eyes.

“Hm?”

“You’re staring.”

Heat crept into your cheeks.

“Yeah…” A laugh escaped you. “I wasn’t expecting…”

He looked down at himself, confused as to what you’re laughing at.

“What?”

“You look…” You searched for a word that didn’t sound ridiculous. “…really good.”

He gave an awkward little shrug.

“I’ve definitely looked better.”

You shook your head. 

“You know what’s funny?” You asked. 

“What?”

“I’m used to people staring at me. It’s literally my job.”

He nodded slowly, and you smiled to yourself. 

“It’s kind of nice that the tables have turned for once.” You added. 

A soft flush appeared across the tops of his cheeks.

“You’ve made me self-conscious now.” He said, half joking. 

“I promise I’m not judging you.” You insisted, “You’re just… wow.” 

Without thinking, your fingertips hovered near one of the letters tattooed just below his chest, then you paused.

“Can I?”

He glanced down at your hand before nodding.

“Yeah.”

Your fingertips rested lightly against his skin, tracing the edge of the ink with a featherlight touch. Then his stomach tightened involuntarily beneath your hand, and you immediately looked up.

“Sorry.”

“No.” A sheepish smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I’m just…”

“Ticklish?” You smirked. 

“...A little.” He said quietly. 

You smiled warmly.

“Wow, Noah Sebastian's ticklish?”

“Don’t go spreading that around.”

“I don’t know…” You tilted your head thoughtfully. “It’s kind of adorable.”

He groaned.

“I liked you better five minutes ago when you were being nice.”

You scoffed, shaking your head, remembering you were on a time limit. So you turned to pick up the massage oil. 

“Lay flat for me, on your stomach.” 

He obeyed without another word, and you took a step closer to the couch. You then shrugged off your hoodie, not wanting to cover it in oil. 

“Alright.” You said as you tossed it on top of Noah’s tshirt. 

He looked back over his shoulder at you. 

“If anything hurts, tell me. I’m not a professional, so promise you won’t sue me or the club if… I dunno, I break your shoulder or something.”

“I promise.” He laughed, folding his arms and resting his head on them. 

You looked at the couch… then at him… then at the couch. 

“…This is going to be awkward.” You said under your breath. 

“What is?”

“The angle.”

He frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t really reach your shoulders from here, not comfortably at least, so...” You sighed dramatically. “I’m going to have to climb up there.”

“Up there?” 

“On you.” You clarified. 

He bit back a smile.

“I have complete faith in you.”

“Yeah, well you shouldn’t.”

He heard you muttering to yourself as you tried to work out the least ridiculous way to do it.

“Left knee… no… that’s worse.” 

Finally, you carefully climbed onto the couch behind him, balancing yourself with one hand on the backrest.

“This feels very undignified.”

“I wish I could see what you’re doing.”

“Trust me, you don’t.”

Another second of shuffling followed…

“There.” You settled yourself down rather comfortably on his butt, your knees on either side of his hips. The position felt quite ridiculous, but it gave you the perfect leverage to reach his broad shoulders. 

He couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“…Are you comfortable?”

“I think so.” You smiled, pouring a little oil into your hands, warming it between your palms before reaching for his shoulders. 

“You ready?”

“Mhm.” He nodded into his arms.

Your thumbs pressed gently into the muscles beside his neck, and you immediately felt how tight they were. You worked slowly, using steady pressure rather than force, following the lines of muscle across his upper back. You didn’t realise you were rocking your hips with every movement, but Noah suddenly went very still. 

Every time you leaned forward to put more pressure into your hands, your hips roled, pressing your warm core firmly against the curve of his ass. After a couple of minutes, you felt him move underneath you, his muscles tensing instead of relaxing. 

“You okay down there?” You asked, still rocking slightly as you massaged lower down his back.

Noah’s voice came out a little strained.

“…Yeah. Just… keep going.”

You smiled, completely unaware of this effect you were having on him right now. Your hips continued to roll with the rhythm of the massage, rubbing your barely covered pussy against him over and over. The thin fabric of your thong did almost nothing to hide how warm you felt against him, even through his jeans.

Noah’s hands clenched into fists. His cock was now fully hard, trapped underneath him and grinding against the couch with every little movement you made. The pressure was driving him insane, and he wasn’t even sure you were doing it on purpose. 

You leaned forward again, your breasts brushing against his back this time as you worked on his spine, and let out a soft, focused hum.

“God, your back is so tight…”

Noah let out a quiet, broken sound that he tried (and failed) to disguise as a normal groan. Then, you finally sat back on his butt, still straddling him, and gently patted his side.

“Alright, big guy. Time to flip over. I wanna do your front too.”

Noah didn’t move right away.

“…Uh, okay. Maybe give me a second.” He mumbled into his arm, his voice hoarse.

You tilted your head, curiously.

“Why?” You chuckled.

He let out an embarrassed laugh.

“Because if I turn over right now, you’re going to see exactly what your little massage has done to me.”

A wicked smirk spread across your face. 

“Oh really?” You purred, “You got hard from me sitting on you like this and rubbing your back? Poor baby, were you that wound up?”

“You’ve been rocking your hips on me for the last five minutes,” he rasped, fingers digging into the couch, “What the fuck did you expect?” 

You laughed softly, biting your lip as you leaned forward, pressing your tits against his back while your hands slid down his sides. 

“Mm, I bet your dick's aching, huh?” You whispered, your lips brushing the shell of his ear, “Trapped underneath you, where you can’t touch it… bet you wish it was my hand wrapped around it, hm?”

“You’re enjoying this way too much.” Noah grumbled, but there was no real complaint in his voice, just strained arousal. 

“I am,” you smirked, sitting up straight and giving his ass a playful squeeze with your thighs. “It’s not every day I get to make a big, sexy guy like you this desperate just by giving him a back massage.” 

You finally climbed off of him, wiping your hands with the folded towel on the table, then looked back over at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes. 

“C’mon, turn over for me,” you said, tapping his side, “Let me see what I did to you.” 

Noah hesitated for a second, then slowly rolled onto his back. And the moment he did, the very obvious, very thick bulge in his jeans was impossible to ignore. Your eyes widened before you let out a delighted little laugh. 

“Wow,” you breathed, staring at him openly, “This all for me, huh?”

You reached out and trailed one finger lightly over up the length of his bulge, not enough pressure to satisfy, just enough to tease. And his hips twitched, a quiet curse slipping his lips. 

“Baby…” He warned, his eyes dark. 

But you just smirked, and swung your leg around him so you straddled him again. You settled your weight on him and slowly rolled your hips forward, grinding your barely covered pussy along the thick length of his cock through his jeans, and you had to bite your lip as your clit rubbed so deliciously against him. 

“I’m glad to see you’re enjoying your massage.” You teased, your voice sweet as you started working your hands over his chest and shoulders again. Your thumbs circled his pecs, brushing over his nipples while your hips kept up that slow rhythm.

Noah’s hands flexed at his sides, his jaw tight as he fought to keep his restraint, and he tried to keep his hands off of you.

“You’re playing a dangerous game.” He warned. 

You leaned down, pressing your tits against his chest as you massaged his shoulders, rolling your hips in a way that dragged your pussy right over the head of his cock with every movement.

“Am I?” You asked innocently, lips brushing his collarbone. “I’m just trying to be nice and help you relax all these tight, hard muscles…”

You sat up again, bracing your hands on his chest as you started rocking harder, grinding down on him with more pressure. The friction was perfect- your clit rubbing against his bulge over and over while you pretended to focus on massaging his abs. You almost forgot that you shouldn't be doing this here.

Noah’s breathing grew ragged. His cock throbbed hard beneath you, leaking precum into his boxers.

“Fuck… baby,” he groaned, his eyes fluttering shut for a second. “You’re gonna make me cum if you keep doing that.”

You bit your lip and rolled your hips even slower, dragging your wet pussy along his entire length.

“Good,” you whispered, voice dripping with the teasing sweetness you know how to do so well. “I want to feel how much you like it.”

You kept going, grinding and rolling and pressing down harder with every pass, your own breathing getting heavier as you worked yourself against him. Your hands never stopped moving, sliding over his chest, his tummy, his shoulders, all while you rode his clothed cock like you were in his bed instead of a private room at the work.

Noah’s hands finally snapped up, making you jump as he gripped your hips hard, fingers digging into your soft flesh to stop your movement completely.

“Sorry- fuck, stop moving,” he rasped, his voice strained and desperate. His cock was twitching beneath you, and he felt right on the edge. “I’m serious. I’m about two seconds away from cumming in my pants like a fucking teenager.”

You looked down at him with a satisfied little smirk, still gently rocking despite his tight grip.

“Aww, poor thing,” you cooed, leaning down to kiss the corner of his mouth. “You really are that worked up, huh? Just from me sitting on your lap and giving you a massage?”

Noah let out a shaky breath, thumbs stroking your hips even as he held you still.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he breathed, his eyes dark with lust. “Keep teasing me like this and I won’t be responsible for what happens.”

You couldn’t help but smirk, and with one last kiss to his neck, you pressed your finger to his lips as if to shush him. 

“Not a sound. Sit up.” You instructed as you stood yourself. 

You turned your back to him for a moment as you gathered your hair and tied it into a ponytail. Then you turned back around, and dropped gracefully to your knees between his spread thighs. You looked up at him, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“You can’t tell anyone about this,” you warned him as your fingers already started working his zipper, “If anyone finds out I did this- any of this- I could lose my job.” 

Noah nodded quickly, his jaw clenched and eyes half lidded as he watched you. 

You pulled his cock free from his trousers. He was rock hard, big, thick and heavy, the head already glistening with precum. You wrapped your hand around the base and gave him one slow, firm stroke, watching his thighs tense.

Then you leaned in and took him into your mouth.

Noah’s head fell back against the back of couch, a silent, strangled groan caught in his throat as you started sucking him, slow, wet, and sloppy. You took him as deep as you could, gagging softly when he hit the back of your throat, then pulled back with a wet pop, strings of spit connecting your lips to his cock.

You looked up at him again, eyes watery but determined, and whispered,

“Not a sound, Noah. Or I stop.”

Noah nodded desperately, biting his lip hard.

You immediately went back down, taking him deeper this time. Loud, wet, filthy sounds filled the private room as you bobbed your head fast. Spit ran down his thick shaft messily, dripping onto his balls while you worked him.

You pulled off just long enough to look up into his eyes and spit on his cock, then stroked him fast and tight while your tongue swirled around the sensitive head, licking up every drop of precum like it was your favourite little treat.

“Fuck… baby-” Noah choked out in a broken whisper, one hand flying to your ponytail.

You moaned around his cock in response, the vibration making his hips jerk. Then you pushed yourself further, relaxing your throat and sinking all the way down until your nose nuzzled against his pelvis. You held him there, your throat fluttering and squeezing around him, glossy lips stretched wide around the base of his cock.

Noah’s whole body tensed, and his thighs started shaking.

You pulled back with a gasp, strings of thick spit connecting your mouth to his cock, leaving a ring of sparkly lips gloss at his base, then you immediately went back to sucking him hard and fast- sloppy, messy, and just straight up pornographic. Your hand stroked the base in time with your mouth while your other hand gently rolled and squeezed his heavy balls.

Fuck, Noah was losing it. His breathing was ragged, his chest heaving, fingers tightening almost painfully in your hair as he fought to stay quiet and in control. His cock throbbed on your tongue, leaking constantly, then you looked up at him with teary, cockdrunk eyes and moaned again, sucking harder, hollowing your cheeks as you took him as deep as you could.

And that was all it took. Barely three minutes after you’d started, Noah’s hips rutted and his grip on your hair turned almost painful.

“I’m- shit, I’m cumming-” He gasped, his strained voice barely a whisper.

You moaned eagerly and pushed him deep into your throat just as he came. Hot ropes of cum spilled down your throat as his cock throbbed in your mouth. You swallowed around him greedily, milking every drop while he trembled and whimpered quietly above you. Even after he finished, you kept sucking gently, cleaning him up with soft and lazy licks until he was twitching and oversensitive.

When you finally pulled off, you wiped the corner of your mouth with your thumb and looked up at him with a wicked little smile.

“Already?” You teased softly, your voice sweet and mocking. “I thought big rockstars like you had better stamina than that, baby. You came so fast… did my mouth feel that good?”

Noah let out a breathless, embarrassed laugh, dragging a hand down his flushed face.

“You’re evil,” he muttered, still trying to catch his breath. “Absolute fucking evil.”

You giggled and kissed the tip of his softening cock before tucking him back into his pants.

“Worth every penny you’re about to spend on me tonight, though… right?” 

Noah sat up slowly, his eyes still dark and hungry as he looked at you kneeling between his legs. He cupped your face with one big hand, his thumb brushing over your swollen, glossy lips.

“Come home with me instead,” he said, his voice rough. “Right now. Fuck the rest of your shift.”

You bit your lip, glancing at the clock on the wall.

“Noah… I would but I promised this guy a lap dance in like five minutes. I can’t just-”

“I don’t care,” he cut in, leaning forward so his forehead rested against yours. “I’ll pay for it. I’ll pay triple what he was going to give you. I’ll cover all your house fees for the whole night, plus whatever tip you would’ve made. Fuck it, I’ll even pay the club an extra 2k if it means they’ll let you leave early..”

You raised an eyebrow, a little surprised by how quickly and casually he was throwing out numbers.

“Noah… that’s a lot of money.” You said as you stood up, only to be pulled down into his lap again. 

“I don’t care,” he said immediately, one hand sliding up to cup your jaw. “I’ve been stuck on a fucking tour bus for six weeks jerking off to the thought of you every night. I just came down your throat in under three minutes like a desperate loser. I need to return the favour. I need you tonight. All night. In my bed. On my tongue. Riding my cock until sunrise.”

He leaned in, brushing his lips against yours as he kept talking.

“I promise I’ll make it worth it for you, princess. Five thousand. Six if you want. Whatever it takes so you can walk out that door with me right now and not worry about losing money.” His thumb stroked your bottom lip, hsi eyes burning into yours. “So what do you say? Let me spoil you properly. Come home with me tonight and I promise I’ll take care of everything- the club, the money, you. All of it.”

You felt heat pool between your legs at how insistent and generous he was being. The way he was willing to throw money at the situation just to have you. So you smiled slowly, leaning in to kiss him.

“Okay,” you whispered against his mouth. “I’ll go tell everyone I’m sick or something. Give me five minutes.”

Noah’s grip on your hips tightened, and he kissed you harder, deep and possessive.

“Good girl,” he said. “I’ll be waiting in the car for you... and baby?” He pulled back just enough to look at you, a filthy little smirk on his lips. “Bring that pretty mouth with you. I’m nowhere near done using it tonight.”

[flowery-mess]

Oh seeing videos of Damiano from his concert hurts so much, I miss wild Måneskin shows

[thememedaddy]

[paradiiddle]

patterns [girldad!noah]

Noah plans to embarrass his daughter at school to scare a boy away.

Dad!Noah x Wife!reader

Content warning: none

Word count: 600+

A/N: Just a little blurb bc I'm still not over his ugly outfit.

You were no fashion police, but at one glance, you knew it was a disaster.

With a grin so blindingly wide, your 6’3 heavily tattooed husband stood in front of you, proudly showing his revolutionary pattern-on-pattern ensemble. Noah’s big hands rested on his hips as he twirled like a princess— a princess who looked like a hobo dressed in a striped long-sleeve shirt paired with black metal band shorts with a totally unreadable print and, of course, his favorite grimy slip-ons.

“Pretty cool, huh?” He asked, voice so smug as if he had just made a fashion breakthrough.

You only shook your head in response, groaning as you rubbed your forehead. You had been with Noah for 12 years now, yet you still had not gotten used to his sudden bursts of cringe-worthy antics now and then.

“That Austin kid is gonna stay away from my baby girl after today,” he added, showing his overprotective girl-dad self once again.

You had just finished lunch at home, and Noah was preparing to run some errands for you and pick up your daughter from school along the way.

It was supposed to be your turn to accomplish those, but your husband insisted on doing them instead after your 10-year-old had gushed about this ‘cute boy with hazel eyes’ in her class over dinner last night. Apparently, the said boy— Austin— had told her she was pretty, which made Noah stop mid-bite, his brows raising in both curiosity and disapproval.

“Noah, you’re just gonna embarrass her!” And me, you wanted to add.

He was already making heads turn at the school with his head-to-toe ink; you didn’t wanna know how the other parents would react to this abomination of an outfit.

But maybe you were just thinking about it too much.

“Babe, that’s the point,” he snickered. “No sane boy would ever want to go near my little girl again if her father looks this cool.”

You couldn’t help but snort. Nothing about him at the time was close to cool. If anything, he looked like a dork.

Your kind of dork.

He continued, “I’d do this over and over again until she’s 18.”

“She’s gonna hate you so much,” you said between giggles before pulling his head down to peck his lips before combing your fingers through his growing hair.

“Nah, she’s 10, I can just buy her forgiveness with a brand-new iPad.”

You swatted his chest. “Stop spoiling your daughter!”

“Baby, let me enjoy this while I still can,” he countered, smirking as he placed a kiss against your head, his arms tightly wrapped around your shoulders. 

Huffing, he continued to whine. “It seemed like yesterday when I was building her unicorn castle in the backyard... she was squealing, running away from daddy tickles... Now, she’s telling us a boy likes her? And she likes it? What’s next? She’s gonna go on a date? She gonna marry this Justin kid?"

“Austin,” you corrected, trying to hold back a laugh.

He groaned, resting his chin on the crown of your head. “Before we know it, my princess is gonna be off to college, and I have no one left to spoil rotten.”

You chuckled against his chest, your hands gently rubbing his back like you’re soothing a baby.

An overdramatic baby.

As Noah quieted down, you looked up at his pouting face. A smirk tugged at your lips as an idea popped into your mind.

Just to appease your whining husband, and perhaps, save you and your daughter from the humiliation today.

“Baby, how about you lose these ugly clothes…” You paused, letting your hand rest against the small of his back. Biting your lip, you playfully batted your lashes at him before dropping what could be the best thing your husband had heard all day.

Or perhaps, all year. 

“…And I give you another one to spoil then?”

###

© 2026 paradiiddle | masterlist

[english-fucker]

stupid fucking fish boy looking all hot n shit

[httpconcrete]

ECHOES OF NIGHT - Chapter 21 - FINALE

Pairing: dad! Noah Sebastian x ex!hookup reader

Series summary: Noah didn’t expect that his one night stand from 2020 would keep a secret from him for years. But now, in 2024, as Bad Omens is back in Oregon, he wasn’t expecting to run into you while trying to buy some energy drink so he could endure the tour.

You looked even prettier, yes, but what caught his attention wasn’t your beauty, or the fact that you looked like you’d just seen a ghost just by looking at him.

It was, in fact, the little girl holding your hand, telling you she liked his hoodie. He really wasn’t prepared for was seeing himself reflected in that little girl who loved bees and cookies, not expecting to change his entire life for good.

author's note: It's not really the end of EON as I plan to keep posting more about our favorite little family and their life together. I'm so thankful for all of your support!

masterlist

Chapter Twenty-One

Morning light spilled gently through the half-drawn curtains of your small Portland apartment, casting warm golden stripes across the worn living room rug. The space that had felt so hollow and echoing during the long weeks of Noah’s absence now hummed with quiet life. The scent of coffee brewing mixed with the sweet buttery aroma of pancakes on the stove. For the first time in what felt like forever, the air did not carry the sharp edge of worry or the heavy silence of missing someone. It felt like home, or at least the beginning of one.

Noah stood at the stove, sleeves of his black hoodie pushed up to his elbows, revealing the familiar ink that mapped his arms. The sweatpants you had lent him rode high on his ankles, making him look endearingly ridiculous and impossibly dear at the same time. He wielded the spatula like a conductor’s baton, flipping pancakes with theatrical flair while Kara sat cross-legged on the counter beside him, her sparkly rain boots (worn indoors, cause, of course) kicking happily against the cabinet doors. Bee was tucked securely under one arm, its fuzzy wings slightly damp from where Kara had been hugging it through the night.

“Higher, Daddy! Make this one do a flip like a superhero!” Kara commanded, her voice still a little raspy but bursting with that unstoppable three-going-on-four energy. Her cheeks held a faint flush, but the fever had broken sometime in the early hours, thanks to the antibiotics, the nebulizer treatment, and most importantly the solid, steady presence of her father wrapped around her like a human shield.

Noah grinned, that soft crooked smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and never failed to make your heart stutter. “Superhero pancake, coming right up. Watch this, bug.” He gave the pan an ambitious toss. The pancake sailed in a wobbly arc, landed with a soft plop half on the plate and half on the counter, chocolate chips scattering like confetti. Kara threw her head back and laughed, the full-bellied, uninhibited sound that had been missing for days. It filled the kitchen like sunlight.

“Almost!” Noah declared, sliding the slightly crumpled pancake onto her plate and carefully arranging extra chocolate chips into an enormous, lopsided smiley face with big buck teeth. “Ceiling pancake attempt number four: technical success. Aesthetic… we’re working on it.”

Kara clapped her hands, Bee bouncing along with the motion. “It’s the happiest one yet! Look, Mommy! Daddy gave him big teeth like he’s laughing at a joke.”

You leaned against the doorframe, arms wrapped loosely around yourself, just drinking in the scene. Your body still ached with residual exhaustion from the urgent care night, but watching them together mended something deep inside your chest. Noah glanced over his shoulder, his expression softening instantly when his eyes met yours.

“Morning, love,” he said, voice low and warm, like it was a secret meant only for you. He reached out with his free hand, and you crossed the room without hesitation, letting him pull you into his side. His arm settled around your waist, thumb brushing slow circles against your hip through your sleep shirt.

You pressed a kiss to Kara’s forehead, cool and clammy now, no longer burning, and she tilted her head up with a beaming smile. “Mommy, sit! Daddy’s making special ones for you too. With extra syrup rivers.”

Noah plated a stack for you, adding a slightly crooked smiley face that made your eyes sting with sudden, grateful tears. The three of you ate at the tiny kitchen table, knees bumping, Kara chattering nonstop about how the pancakes tasted better when Daddy made them because “they have magic in them.” Noah listened like every word was gospel, asking questions, laughing at her dramatic retellings of Bluey episodes, and stealing glances at you that carried entire conversations of relief and love.

After breakfast, Kara insisted on “helping” clean up, which mostly meant smearing syrup across the counter and demanding Noah lift her so she could reach the sink. He obliged without complaint, holding her securely while she splashed water everywhere, her giggles echoing off the walls. You snapped a quick photo on your phone, the image blurry from laughter but perfect in its imperfection.

When Kara’s energy started to flag, Noah carried her to the couch, bundling her in blankets and propping pillows around her like a tiny fortress. “Rest time, Queen Bee,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her curls. “Daddy and Mommy are right here. Close your eyes for a bit, okay?”

She nodded sleepily, clutching Bee and Bun-Bun, already drifting as a Bluey episode played softly on the TV. Noah watched her for a long moment, his hand resting gently on her back, before turning to you. His eyes held a depth of emotion that made your breath catch.

He took your hand and led you back to the couch, pulling you down so you were curled against his chest, legs tangled together. The apartment felt cocooned in quiet intimacy, the rain from last night reduced to a soft patter against the windows.

“I meant every word I said last night,” Noah began, his voice low and rough with exhaustion and sincerity. His fingers traced idle patterns along your arm, grounding both of you. “I’m done choosing anything over you two. The tour, the label, the expectations, none of it matters if it costs me this. I flew home because nothing, no stage, no crowd, no career milestone, could ever be worth missing another night like last night. Kara reaching for me through a screen, you carrying everything alone again. I can’t do that to us anymore.”

You swallowed thickly, pressing your face into the soft fabric of his hoodie, inhaling the familiar scent of him mixed with airport travel and faint chlorine from memories of the LA pool. “I was terrified, Noah. Not just about her fever. About everything. The distance made every fear louder. I kept thinking about the three years I hid her, how I convinced myself it was safer, and then wondering if I’d ruined our chance at this. What if the band needs you? What if the fans turn ugly again? What if being a dad and being with me complicates everything too much?”

His arms tightened around you, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head. You felt his heartbeat, steady and strong beneath your cheek.

“I know those fears. They’ve kept me up every night on that bus. I replayed every missed call, every time her voice sounded smaller through the phone. The guilt of those three lost years, it eats at me. You protected her when I wasn’t there to do it. You built this beautiful, strong life for her on your own, and I will never stop being grateful for that. But I’m here now. Not as a visitor. Not as someone who shows up when it’s convenient. As her dad. As your partner. I love you, Y/N. Not just because you’re the mother of my child, but because you’re you. The woman who laughed at my dumb jokes in that hotel room four years ago. The one who raised our daughter to be fearless and kind and obsessed with bees. The one who still let me in even after all the fear and time apart. You make me want to be the man she deserves to look up to. The man you deserve to lean on.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks, soaking into his hoodie. You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, which were bright with unshed tears of his own. “I love you too. So much it still scares me sometimes. I spent years convincing myself I could do it alone, that loving her loudly enough would fill every gap. But these last weeks showed me how much brighter it is with you here. The ceiling pancakes, the way she lights up when you walk into a room. I don’t want to go back to doing it without you. I’m ready to move. To build this with you in LA. No more hiding. No more oceans between us.”

Noah’s hand cupped your jaw, thumb gently wiping away your tears. “No more oceans,” he echoed, voice thick. “We’re packing this place up together. Slowly, on her timeline. We’ll paint her room whatever color she wants, probably something with bees and sparkles. I’ll be there for every daycare drop-off, every tantrum, every bedtime story. And for you. The quiet nights when it all feels heavy. The good mornings and the hard ones. We’re doing this as a family. Messy, real, forever.”

The space between you vanished. The kiss started soft, reverent, almost hesitant, like both of you were afraid the moment might shatter. But it deepened quickly, years of longing and weeks of separation pouring out. His lips moved against yours with quiet desperation and profound relief, hands sliding into your hair as yours fisted his hoodie. It tasted of salt from shared tears, maple syrup from breakfast, and the unshakable promise of choosing each other every single day. When you finally parted, foreheads resting together, breaths mingling, Noah let out a shaky laugh.

“God, I’ve wanted to do that properly for so long,” he whispered. “Not rushed in a kitchen or stolen in an airport. Just us.”

You smiled, watery and bright. “We’ve got time now. All the time.”

A small voice interrupted from the couch. “Mommy? Daddy? Are you kissing again?”

Kara had woken, rubbing her eyes with one fist, Bee dangling from the other. Her smile was sleepy but genuine, the kind that lit up her whole face and mirrored Noah’s so perfectly it still took your breath away.

Noah opened his arms without hesitation. “Come here, bug.”

She scrambled over, nestling between you with a contented sigh, her small body warm and trusting. Noah wrapped one arm around her and the other around you, pulling you both close. Kara patted his chest importantly. “You stayed. No more airplane for a long time?”

“No more airplanes for a while,” he confirmed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Daddy’s home. We’re gonna pack up all your toys and go back to the sunny house with the pool. You can have your own big room, and we’ll make pancakes every single morning. Deal?”

“Deal!” Kara declared, then yawned hugely. “But first, more Bluey. And you have to do the voices, Daddy. The ones that make Bee laugh.”

Noah chuckled, the sound rumbling through all three of you. “Anything for my girls.”

You spent the rest of the morning like that, tangled on the couch, Kara drifting in and out of sleepy contentment while Noah performed ridiculous voices for every character. You caught him watching you both with quiet awe, like he still could not believe this was real. When Kara demanded a group hug, the three of you squeezed together until she squealed with laughter, her tiny arms surprisingly strong around both your necks.

Later, as she napped again, Noah helped you start sorting through a few boxes, Kara’s drawings, her favorite clothes, the little Supergirl costume. Every item came with a story: the time she tried to “fly” off the couch, the crayon portrait she had drawn of “Daddy before I met him” with wild dark hair and a big smile. Noah listened to each one, eyes shining, adding his own memories from the short time they had together in LA.

By afternoon, the rain had stopped completely. Sunlight streamed in, warming the apartment. Kara woke demanding “outside time,” so the three of you bundled up for a short walk around the complex. She rode on Noah’s shoulders, pointing out every puddle and bird, her laughter ringing clear. You walked beside them, Noah’s free hand laced with yours, swinging gently.

As the sun dipped lower, painting the sky in soft oranges and pinks, you returned home. Noah cooked a simple dinner while you gave Kara her medicine. Bedtime was slow and sweet: Noah reading two stories instead of one, complete with sound effects, until Kara’s eyes grew heavy. She reached for both of you, pulling you close for goodnight kisses.

“Love you, Mommy. Love you, Daddy. We’re a family forever, right?”

“Forever,” you both whispered.

Once she was asleep, Noah pulled you into the hallway, backing you gently against the wall. The second kiss was slower, deeper, filled with the quiet joy of survival and new beginnings. His hands roamed your back, yours tangled in his hair, bodies pressed close like you could seal the promise physically.

When you broke apart, he rested his forehead against yours again. “Thank you for letting me be here. For trusting me with both of you.”

“Thank you for coming home,” you replied.

The night settled softly around your little family. Tomorrow would bring more packing, more plans, more steps toward the house in LA with the pool and the future you had chosen together. But for tonight, in this imperfect apartment filled with syrup-sticky counters and crayon drawings and love so big it filled every corner, everything was exactly as it should be.

Noah Sebastian had found his way back to the one-night stand that changed everything.

And now, the three of you were finally, beautifully, home.

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[sundayniche]

nothing screams girlhood more than reading fanfics late at night in bed