I don't even have that many followers so I feel kinda silly making an introduction post but fuck it here we goo✨
I'm Sunny, 21 and I love to share my current hyperfixations on here.
Right now it's mostly Bad Omens but if you scroll too far down my blog you might see some other fandoms.
I honestly like ANYTHING and I'm always open for new stuff so if you have something you love and wanna share I'm your girl!!!
I'm a really big anime and kpop fan too besides various metal and alternative bands and artists for example so feel free to yap about any of your interests in different types of media. I can assure you if I haven't watched it or listened to it I'm still definitely interested and I can get into almost about anything (I'm very easily impressed and satisfied lol).
English is not my first language but I think I manage quiet well but just so you are aware of the occasional grammar or whatever mistake.
I don't write or create anything of my own but I'm kinda planning on getting into a lil writing not sure if I'll actually do it tho but I have a LOT of thoughts I would love to share so maybe one day.
And last but not least:
I'm a proud part of the LGBTQ+ community myself and DO NOT support any type of hate or negativity surrounding that or any other literal HUMAN RIGHTS!
I'm AGAINST war AGAINST guns AGAINST TRUMP AND ANY OTHER FASCIST GOVERNMENT so don't even try to talk to me if u support or condone any of that I WILL block you if you even try!
The days after that kitchen conversation settle into a careful, tender rhythm; the kind you’ve come to cherish in the two years since everything changed. Mornings begin the same way they have since you moved into this house: Kara’s small feet pattering down the hallway before the sun is fully up, her voice a sleepy but insistent demand for “Daddy pancakes with extra smiley faces and chocolate chip eyes that actually smile, not the weird ones from last time.”
Noah is always the first one out of bed, hair tousled and eyes still heavy with the remnants of whatever late-night melody kept him in the studio, but he moves with that quiet, unwavering devotion that never fails to make your chest ache in the best possible way. You watch from the doorway, still in one of his old hoodies that smells like him and the faint chlorine from the backyard pool, as he lifts her onto the counter with effortless strength. Her curls are a wild halo from sleep, Bee tucked securely under one arm like a loyal knight, while she “helps” stir the batter with a wooden spoon that’s twice the size of her hand, sending flour dusting across the granite like fresh snow.
Today is no different on the surface, except for the undercurrent of everything unsaid still humming softly between you and Noah. The conversation about another baby lingers like a gentle shadow in the corners of the room; beautiful in its possibility, terrifying in its weight, not resolved but not ignored.
You want it.
God, you want it.
The image of Kara as a big sister, protective and bossy and overflowing with love, fills you with a warmth that makes your eyes sting. But the fear still whispers in the quiet moments between pancake flips and giggles, reminding you of those lonely early years when you wondered if you were enough, if you could ever trust someone enough to share the weight again.
Kara chatters through breakfast at the kitchen table, her little legs swinging under the chair, maple syrup already smudged across one cheek like war paint. She talks a mile a minute about her plans for the day: showing her teacher the new drawing she made of “Daddy singing with bees on stage and a big guitar that shoots sparkles,” trading her special rainbow stickers at recess with her best friend Mia, and demanding you pick her up early so she can swim in the backyard pool before dinner and practice her “super loud princess voice” for the next time Uncle Jolly, Uncle Nick and Uncle Folio visits. Noah listens like every word is the most important thing he’ll hear all day, leaning forward with his elbows on the table, asking thoughtful questions about her friends and promising to practice her princess voice with dramatic flair during his next studio session. “We’ll make it so loud the neighbors will think there’s a concert in the backyard,” he says solemnly, earning a delighted giggle that lights up her whole face.
You watch them both across the table, gratitude swelling so fiercely in your chest it almost hurts.
This is your routine now.
This is your life.
The one you built together after years of fear and distance. Mornings like this, with syrup-sticky fingers and laughter echoing off the walls, feel like the reward for every hard choice and every leap of faith and it’s more than you ever let yourself dream of during those lonely early years when it was just you and a tiny baby who looked so much like the man you’d convinced yourself you’d never see again.
After breakfast, the three of you move through the familiar, comforting dance of getting ready for the day. Kara insists on wearing her sparkly rain boots even though the sky is a clear, brilliant blue, stamping her feet proudly on the tile until the lights flash. Noah kneels down without hesitation, helping her zip her favorite jacket, the one with the bee patches you sewed on together last month, while she tells him a very serious story about how Bun-Bun had a nightmare about dragons last night and needed extra cuddles. You pack her lunch with the care of someone who knows every preference by heart: apple slices cut into stars because that’s how she likes them now (no circles, “they’re boring, Mommy”), a cheese stick, carrot sticks with ranch in the little dipper container, and the special note you always slip in with a doodle of a bee wearing sunglasses. Noah kisses the top of her head, breathing her in for a second longer than usual, before you all pile into the car for the short drive to school. Kara sings along to one of his songs from the backseat, off-key and proud, her voice filling the car with pure joy. You catch Noah’s hand on the gear shift, squeezing once. He squeezes back, thumb brushing your knuckles in that silent I’m here, we’re okay gesture that has become your language.
The school drop-off is quick and sweet, the kind of moment you treasure because it feels so wonderfully normal. Kara hugs you both tightly at the curb, her small arms surprisingly strong, then bounds toward her classroom with her backpack bouncing against her back, turning once at the door to wave with both hands like she’s sending you off on a grand adventure across the ocean. You and Noah linger in the parking lot for a moment longer than usual, watching until she disappears inside the colorful doors. He pulls you close right there beside the car, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, his breath warm against your skin.
“She’s going to be the best big sister,” he murmurs against your hair, the words carrying both quiet hope and that familiar ache you’ve come to recognize in his voice; the one that surfaces when he thinks about all the firsts he missed with Kara. You don’t answer right away, just lean into him, letting the solid warmth of his body chase away the morning chill and the lingering whispers of fear from last night.
The rest of the morning passes in comfortable domesticity, the kind of steady routine that feels like healing. You work from home on merch orders at the dining table, finalizing designs for the next drop, simple, elegant tees with subtle bee motifs that fans have been requesting since Kara’s influence started showing up in Bad Omens’ social media posts. Noah disappears into his home studio for a few hours of writing, the faint strum of his guitar drifting down the hall like a lullaby. He emerges around lunchtime with takeout from your favorite Thai place and a new melody on his phone he wants your opinion on, humming it softly while you eat together at the kitchen island.
You talk about everything and nothing: Kara’s latest obsession with drawing dragons that look suspiciously like Jolly with extra “fluffy hair,” the upcoming band meeting where they’ll discuss the next album cycle, how the pool filter needs cleaning before summer really hits and the backyard becomes her kingdom again. The conversation about the baby hovers unspoken but present between you, a gentle tension that neither of you pushes today. There’s time. For now, there’s just this; your life, steady and full and yours.
Until your phone rings mid-afternoon, sharp and insistent against the quiet hum of the house.
The school’s number flashes on the screen, and your stomach drops like a stone. Noah looks up from his laptop across the room, brow furrowing instantly as you answer, his body already tensing like he senses the shift in the air.
“Mrs. Davis? This is the front office at Oakridge Elementary. Kara’s complaining of a stomachache and she’s running a bit of a fever, nothing alarming on our end, but we think it’s best if someone picks her up. She’s resting comfortably in the nurse’s office with her stuffed animal.”
You’re already standing, heart hammering against your ribs. “We’re on our way. Thank you so much, tell her Mommy and Daddy are coming.”
Noah is moving before you even hang up, grabbing his keys from the hook by the door and shrugging on his hoodie in one fluid, worried motion. Deep lines of concern etch across his forehead, the same protective fear you’ve seen flash in his eyes since that terrifying night in Oregon when Kara spiked a fever and he was half a world away on a bus. “Let’s go. I’ll drive, I know the fastest route.”
You nod, gratitude and love swelling so fiercely in your chest it almost hurts as you follow him out to the car. He’s already in the driver’s seat by the time you slide into the passenger side, the engine roaring to life with a low growl. His hands grip the wheel tightly, knuckles pale under the tattoos, jaw set in that determined line you’ve come to love and rely on. The drive to the school is short, barely ten minutes on a normal day, but it feels endless today, the usual streets stretching longer under the weight of worry. Noah’s knee bounces slightly beneath the wheel, a restless rhythm he can’t quite control, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror every few seconds like he’s already imagining Kara curled up small and miserable in the backseat.
“She was fine this morning,” he says, voice tight with that raw, paternal worry that always tugs at something deep inside you. “Running around the backyard, laughing, demanding extra syrup on her pancakes. What if it’s something more than a little bug? What if we should have kept her home today? I should have noticed if she wasn’t feeling right at breakfast, maybe she was quieter than usual, or-”
You reach over and rest your hand on his thigh, squeezing gently, your thumb tracing soothing circles over the worn fabric of his sweatpants. “Hey. Breathe, babe. Kids get sick. It happens fast sometimes. We caught it as soon as the school called and you’re here now. That’s what matters most.” Your voice stays steady for him, even as your own heart races with that familiar maternal panic. Admiration fills you as you watch him navigate the turns; this man who once commanded stages in front of thousands of screaming fans, now white-knuckling the wheel and muttering under his breath because his little girl has a stomachache. He chose this life. He chooses it every single day, without hesitation.
He exhales sharply, covering your hand with his own for a brief, grounding moment at a red light. His palm is warm, calloused from years of guitar strings, and it steadies you both. “I know. I just… I hate when she’s hurting. I hate not being able to fix it instantly with a hug or a song or one of those ridiculous voices she loves. After missing so much of her early years, it feels bigger now. Like I’m still catching up, like every little thing is a reminder that I wasn’t there when she needed me most.”
You squeeze his thigh again, heart so full it feels like it might overflow. “You’re not catching up anymore, Noah. You’re here. You’re her dad in every single way that counts, the one who makes the magic soup and does the dragon voices and shows up the second the phone rings. And you’re incredible at it. I see it every day. I’m so grateful for you.”
He glances over at you briefly, the worry softening just a fraction into something warmer, more vulnerable, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that way that still makes your stomach flutter after all this time. “Thank you for saying that. I needed to hear it today. More than you know.”
The school comes into view around the next bend, the familiar brick building with its colorful playground flags waving in the breeze. Noah parks quickly but carefully in the visitor spot, both of you hurrying inside hand-in-hand. The nurse’s office is bright and cheerful, walls covered in posters of smiling cartoon characters and encouraging messages about handwashing. Kara is sitting on the edge of the small cot, looking small and miserable with flushed cheeks and a downturned mouth, Bee clutched tightly in her lap like a shield against the yucky feelings. The second she sees you both in the doorway, her face crumples completely, big tears welling up in her eyes.
“Daddy… Mommy… my tummy hurts and it’s all yucky inside. I want to go home.”
Noah crosses the room in two long strides and scoops her up without hesitation, holding her close against his chest like she’s the most precious thing in the universe. “I’ve got you, bug. Daddy’s here. We’re taking you home right now, okay? Medicine, cuddles on the couch, magic soup, whatever you need. No more yucky tummy today.”
Kara buries her face in his neck, her small arms wrapping around him tightly as another wave of discomfort makes her whimper softly. You sign her out at the front desk quickly, exchanging polite thanks with the nurse while your eyes stay fixed on them; gratitude swelling again in your chest as you watch Noah rub soothing circles on her back, murmuring nonsense about brave bees flying to find special healing flowers and magic soup that will make everything better in no time. He carries her to the car like she weighs nothing at all, buckling her carefully into her booster seat with gentle, practiced hands while you slide into the passenger side.
The drive home is quieter, the tension easing slightly now that she’s safe in the car with you both. Kara dozes fitfully in the back, one hand still loosely holding Bee, her breathing a little shallow but steadier than before. Noah’s hand finds yours across the console almost immediately, lacing your fingers together tightly. You watch him drive, focused and worried, jaw set, but so undeniably present, and feel a rush of love so strong it steals your breath for a moment. This is the man who once stood on massive stages under blinding lights, commanding crowds with his voice. Now he’s white-knuckling the wheel on a suburban street because his daughter has a stomachache, murmuring quiet reassurances even though she’s half-asleep. He chose this. He chooses it every single day, without hesitation or regret.
“You’re a good dad,” you whisper when you’re almost home, the words slipping out unbidden from that deep well of gratitude inside you. “The best one. I see it every day, in the routines, in the way you worry this much, in how you show up the second anything happens. I’m so grateful, Noah. For all of it. For you.”
He squeezes your hand, his eyes soft despite the worry lines etched around them. “I’m grateful for you. For trusting me enough to build this life together. Even when it’s scary. Even when the fear creeps back in.”
Back at the house, you settle Kara on the big sectional couch with a mountain of her favorite blankets and pillows, her head eventually finding its way into your lap as you rub slow circles on her back. Noah disappears into the kitchen to make the promised magic soup, chicken noodle with extra star-shaped pasta because that’s what makes it “extra magic”, and you hear him humming one of her favorite lullabies under his breath while the pot simmers. The fear from last night still lingers in the back of your mind, the what-ifs about another baby swirling like quiet storm clouds, but watching him now, so steady and loving even in these small, ordinary moments, it feels a little less overwhelming. A little more possible. A little more like something you could face together, the way you’ve faced everything else these past two years.
Kara drifts off again between spoonfuls of soup, her flushed cheek warm against your thigh, one small hand loosely fisted in your shirt like she’s afraid you’ll disappear. Noah sits on the floor beside the couch, long legs stretched out, one hand resting protectively on her leg while the other reaches for yours across the cushions. The afternoon stretches quiet and warm around your little family, the soft glow of the TV playing her favorite show on low volume, the angst of unspoken futures mixing gently with the simple, profound gratitude of right now.
Boyfriend Noah who sees the “say all your partner’s favorite words on the phone to see their reaction” videos and wants to try that with you except he’s a little shit, so he ragebaits you instead.
You’re sitting together on the couch, legs intertwined, and he says “oh Jolly’s calling, one sec.” You think nothing of it, picking back up in the paragraph of the book you’re reading.
“Hey man, what’s up? Oh shit yeah, I meant to tell you, I was thinking of making some setlist changes. Glass Houses might be getting a little tired, don’t you think? Or maybe Nowhere to Go?”
Noah can barely keep a giggle from coming out when he sees your face scrunch into a displeased little pout, but there’s no verbal reaction, so he keeps pushing. He knows exactly which ones are your favorites, which ones you’d probably threaten his life over cutting from the set.
“We do What Do You Want From Me all the time now, that one could go. Or Anything More than Human.”
You raise one singular eyebrow and shoot him a Look™️ over the top of your book, but your attention flicks back to reading in a split second. Time to kick it up a notch.
“I know everyone loves Artificial Suicide, but it’s a lot, cutting that one might have to happen.”
That certainly gets your attention. He watches from the corner of his eye as you sit up, untangling your legs from his and looking him dead in the eyes before mouthing “absolutely fucking not” to him. You set your book to the side and look at him with an expression that says ‘you’re on thin ice’ loud and clear.
“We can always cut Limi-”
“Unless you wanna meet the business end of your sword collection, I’d suggest you don’t finish that sentence.”
A sly smirk melts across his face as he turns his phone to face you and you see a blank screen where Jolly’s contact picture should be. He watches your gears turn and bursts out laughing when your jaw drops open and you fling a couch pillow at him.
“You little shit!” You scream, launching yourself out of your blanket nest and into his lap to give him a noogie while you laugh, the sound of it bright and loud filling the living room.
“But baby, you look so good when you threaten to stab me to death!” He laughs, fluffy brown hair messy around his face while trying to fend you off from biting him.
He feels your teeth scrape his skin and tries to suppress a shiver, but judging by the evil glint in your eye he definitely failed.
“Hm,” you hum, “and here I was thinking that maybe once I finish a few chapters I could make out with my handsome boyfriend, but noooo-”
“Wait, no, I didn’t mean it sweetheart, baby please-”
Sooo... Since 2S got way, way more attention than either me or @copper-locks could've ever imagined... We decided to give you two teeny, tiny teasers. Thank you again for hyping us up! We're very nervous but also very exited. We so hope you'll like it. All readers POVs will be written by Daisy, all Noah POVs by me. See you Friday! :)
Being into metal and kpop at the same time can't be real wdym I'm dying over whatever new hairstyle my beautiful barbie princess jimin is presenting but also what new nerdy ass prop noah is gonna show us IM OVULATING EITHER WAY🫨🫨🫨
Part 6 [Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5]
Summary: Fic based on this thought i had.
CW: smut [face sitting, unprotected p in v], swearing.
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (+18 only)
A/N: Hi everyone! I'll leave a shorter chapter than usual because i felt like it could be a cute picture on its own, just the two of them alone for the first time in a while ahahahahah. I hope you like it 💜
@runningincircl3s just published her fantastic first chapter for a similar fic "summerboy" so does @choillysblog with her oneshot "booked together" 💜
PS. If I forgot to add someone to the taglist, or you'd like to be added for the first time, please let me know in the comments!
Disclaimer: These are fictionalized versions of the band members. Their actions and personalities in this story are entirely products of my imagination and are not intended to represent the real people in any way.
You woke up to the low hums of the ship slowly coming back to life. Outside your door you could hear low murmurs of the passengers talking, the thuds of the flips-flops against the carpeted floor.
You drew a deep breath in, trying to stretch your heavy limbs before realising that Noah’s arm was tightly enveloping your waist, your back flushed against his chest.
Images from last night flashed behind your eyes. The sweet sounds coming from him, the way his skin felt under your fingertips, the look of complete surrender he gave you.
It was so tempting to give in and wake him up with your mouth on his neck, teeth grazing across his skin. You just imagined how that would feel, hearing his grovel voice still laced with the remnants of sleep.
Before you could act on it, you felt Noah stir behind you, nuzzling his face in your hair exhaling deeply.
That could wait. You thought. You could allow yourself a bit more time just here, with him by your side.
A satisfied breath left you before settling again in his arms, letting his regular breaths lulled you back to sleep.
Some time had passed, before you woke up again. This time, by the sensation of kisses trailing down your jawline, coming down to your neck.
“Noah, you’re tickling me” you giggled as your arm reached blindly behind you, hooking onto his neck.
He hummed, before stopping for a second, his lips still lingering on your skin. “I can’t help it,” he whispered, “you’re too cute when you’re sleeping.”
You snickered, before turning around in his arms, now facing him. “Have you been watching me?” you asked
“Maybe…” he smirked. “I needed to make up for last night, I wasn’t allowed to do anything to you, was I?”
“Yeah, but you could’ve woken me up” you pouted.
He snorted. “You would’ve eventually.” His hands found your hair; his slender fingers started to comb through them.
Having your hair played with, elicited a pleased hum from you. Closing your eyes, you instinctively reached for Noah.
“C’mere” he whispered, settling on his back, welcoming your smaller frame beside him.
You gladly accepted the silent invitation, nestling your head on the crook of his neck, your hand splayed on his chest.
“Could we stay here for a little while?” you asked, completely melting into his embrace.
“As long as you want, honey” he answered, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head.
You took your time to savour the moment, to feel every little detail. You could tell that the sun had already risen for a few hours now by the loud chatter coming from outside the room.
Those signs of life were a stark contrast with the intimate scene that was unfolding in your room. The warmth radiating from Noah’s body, the contrast between his tone body and your softer features, your skin to skin contact.
Images from last night flashed through your mind. His pretty little face contorted by pleasure, the way your name sounded moaned from him, the sounds you managed to coax out of him.
You turned your head towards him, chin lightly pressed against his pec.
“Hi”
“Hey” he answered, looking down at you.
Your fingers started tracing the tattoos adorning his chest and stomach.
“I’d stay here all day if I could” you mumbled, laying your head on his chest once again.
“Who says we can’t?” Noah asked, brows furrowed.
“Our good judgment.. we can’t just disappear for a whole day. On a cruise ship of all places”
“What does that mean? I wanna be with you though.”
“You already are Noah, I am quite literally on top of you.”
“That’s not good enough…” he smirked, tightening his hold on you. His free fingers tangled with yours still on his chest.
“You are already wearing this gorgeous set, babe,” Noah started peppering kisses from your intertwined hands, slowly making his way up your arm. “And to be honest, you didn’t give me any chance to appreciate it last night.” Once his mouth reached your neck, he shifted his weight, rolling over, until he was hovering above you.
“I must say, burgundy looks gorgeous on you.”
Before you could react, his lips found your neck, trailing a string of open mouth kisses. The warmth of his tongue on your skin made your skin prickle with goosebumps.
“Noah…” you whimpered.
“Tell me stop, and I’ll do it Y/N”
Your hands flew at the nape of his neck, gripping onto his hair strands, pinning him down. “Please don’t…” you added.
“Good, because I can’t wait to make you feel so good babe.” he answered, now looking at you.
Your faces merely inches away. Noah’s hair was pulled forward, shadowing his features. His brown irises were so deep in colour that they felt like one with his black pupils. His swollen lips slightly ajar allowing air to come through.
You pulled in, reaching for his lips but instead, colliding straight with his nose.
“Ouch” you both said it in unison.
For a fraction of a second, both of you stared, frozen, at each other. Then, the absurdity of the situation hit. Noah’s intense gaze shattered instantly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as a breathless laugh escaped him. You burst out laughing too, the sound loud and bright in the quiet room.
“Are you ok?” Noah asked through the giggles, shoulders shaking.
“I completely missed”
“Clearly” his laugh now filling the room, joining yours.
You covered your face, hiding the crimson hue that was quickly spreading all over your face.
“I feel like a 15 year old again, trying to kiss for the first time.” Your heart thudded loudly in your chest.
“All I’m hearing is that I make you nervous” he beamed, a smug expression painted on his face.
“Oh c’mon Noah” you swatted at his chest, rolling your eyes. “That’s not true.”
“Oh no… You don’t take that from me, hun. I’ll take that as a victory” he says, proudly nodding his head.
Noah leaned in again. However, this time he delicately rested his forehead against yours, both of your chests still bubbling from laughter.
“Let’s try that again” his lips brushed against yours as he spoke.
The kiss was slow, soft. The lingering taste of your laughter still on your lips, you could feel the slight smile on Noah, pressing onto you. Your hands softened, caressing his chest before sliding up his back, lacing together.
Noah let out a pleased hum, the vibration of the sound going straight to your chest. One of his hands slid up from your waist, cradling your cheek, his thumb caressing your cheekbone.
It wasn’t rushed, it wasn’t hungry anymore. The kiss was the seal of something more: being safe in each other’s presence.
When he pulled back, his deep, intense gaze from earlier had softened to glimmering eyes. A newfound softness in them.
“See..” he started “it’s all good without the blunt force trauma.”
A fit of giggles left you, your head fell back heavily on the pillows.
For a moment, you just laid there, taking a moment to catch your breath, basking in the comfortable silence that fell on the room.
Your phone buzzed, lighting up. The screen read 09:45.
“We should probably get going Noah,” you cut through, beginning to stir. Leaving a soft kiss on his chest.
“We probably should buuut….” he groaned. Unceremoniously, he put his dead weight onto you, hiding his face into the crook of your neck “...we could stay here just a few more minutes.” You felt his warm breath tickling your soft skin.
“Noah, the others will wonder where we are” worry started to seep through your voice.
“Let them wonder, darling.” His hand came up, essentially caging yours onto his chest. “Our friends can wait a bit…”
Pinned against the mattress, you understood that there was no way you actually could convince him with your words, to leave the bed. Looking up at him, a smirk tugged at your lips.
There was always a way to outsmart him. Right?
You softened into your pillows, while your hands started wandering around his naked frame, sliding up to his sides, before hearing his breath catching in his throat.
“You’re right” you stated, your voice dropping an octave. “We could do something more fun than breakfast” a wicked smile tugged at your lips.
Reaching up at him, you tilted your head, beginning to leave deliberate kisses along his jawline.
Noah let out a low grunt, deliberately meeting his head with your mouth. His cocky expression completely melted into a softer one, his eyes fluttering closed.
There we go.
Seizing the moment, you held onto Noah tightly. By shifting your hips and the full force of your weight, you managed to flip the two of you. The mattress caught Noah’s back and now you were the one hovering over him, straddling his hips.
Just to add a triumphant move, you pinned his wrist above his head.
You met his eyes with a victorious yet breathless laugh.
Noah stood there for a second, blinking at you. You could see that, behind those eyes, he was catching up with what just happened.
With one last nod, you released the hold you had on his wrists. As you were about to get off the bed, Noah quickly grabbed your arms. A dark playful expression now painted on his face.
“We’re playing dirty, aren’t we darling?” he murmured. His voice was a low growl that sent a shiver down your spine.
“I had to” you answered, putting on your best innocent tone possible. “You are relentless sometimes” you concluded, batting your eyes at him.
Putting your weight on your knees, Noah took the chance to grip the plush skin on your hips.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he smiled wickedly at you.
Looking at him, your witty remark died on your tongue.
“You don’t start anything you can’t finish, my love” he chuckled.
“I…I didn’t start anything..” you whispered, arousal starting to pool at your core.
“Is that so?” he snickered. “And those pretty little hips that you kept wiggling while acting all cute and innocent… what were those?”
Your breath hitched in your throat. You blinked at him, mind way too hazy to have a decent come back.
“C’mon darling, as much as I enjoy seeing you in those lancy underwear, I can’t wait to taste you… so take those off, please”
You blindly followed his request, clumsily taking off your panties, balancing with one your hands planted on his broad chest.
You saw in real time Noah’s pupils dilating, completely overtaking his brown colour.
“You look divine darling” he murmured, wetting his lips.
A soft moan left your lips.
He guided your hips upward, sliding himself down the bed until you were positioned over his chest, your core hovering right above his face.
Your breath hitched as you realized exactly what he was doing. You were completely exposed to his gaze.
Noah looked up at you, his eyes completely focused on your face, gauging every single little reaction on your part.
“Noah…” even with your best effort, your tone betrayed the worried tone laced with his name. Your body went rigid the moment you caught up with what Noah wanted to do.
He seemed to understand immediately. “Is there something wrong, babe?”
Years of insecurities washed over you. You stammered over your words, as if every word buried wanted to come out at the same time.
Seeing your distress, Noah started carefully caressing your thighs, trying to reassure you.
“Firstly, let’s just tackle the most important question: Y/N do you want to try this, with me?”
You shyly nodded. “Please, darling, use your words, this is important” he corrected.
“Yes, I would like to try it, with you.”
“Good” he smiled sweetly at you “Now, you can take our own time, our own pace, if anything… ANYTHING feels off, you just say it, understood?”
Hearing those words almost brought you to tears. His tone melted something you. You looked down at him, trying to convey all the gratitude you had towards him for taking care of you.
You nodded vigorously.
Still with his hands on your hips, Noah started to leave wet, sloppy kisses on your inner thighs. Every kiss was given with such reverence. He was in no rush, just taking his time easing you into the sensation. Occasionally, his teeth would nip down just a bit, a sharp contrast to the soft sweep of his tongue that made you shudder.
Following the gentle curvature of your thigh muscle, he reached your core.
His hand shifted, grabbing your ass cheeks, before giving them a slap. You jolted from the surprise, a broken whine tore from you.
“C’mon angel, when you’re ready, sit on my face… let me make you feel good as you did with me last night.”
Still very unsure of what to do, you hesitated just a second more before deciding to trust him.
Very slowly, you lowered yourself coming into contact with his tongue. Noah traced a long, deliberately slow stroke through your folds. You gasped, knees buckling. Your hands flew forward, gripping on the headboard of bed.
A pleased hum left Noah, the vibration going straight to your core. His fingers dug deeper into your asscheeks, anchoring you even more to his face. As promised, he took his sweet time. Diligently, he lapped your folds alternating between agonizingly slow strokes and lazy circles against your clit.
“Noah, that feels so good” you moaned. Your head flew back, your eyes shutting completely.
That spurred him on even more. He added even more pressure, his nose pressing into your clit, working in tandem with his quicker tongue movements.
Your hips started matching the rhythm set by Noah. Pleasure slowly building in your belly.
“Noah…fuck, you’re so good” you cried, arching your back, your knees starting to give into the overwhelming pleasure coiling.
Looking down at him, you could see his half - lidded eyes tracking you, watching the way your eyelids fluttered shut and the crimson flush creeping down your neck.
He seemed intoxicated by the sight in front of him.
“Take what’s your princess, ride my face.” he rasped.
You didn’t need to be told twice. Your hand found the few strands of Noah’s hair splayed on the mattress gripping onto them, tightly.
Abandoning all hesitation, you began frantically grinding your hips down into his mouth, completely consumed by chasing your high.
Noah met you with every stroke, every roll of your hips. He flattened his tongue out, offering you the most friction possible.
The lewd sounds of your heat against his tongue filled the room, mixing with your heavy pants.
“I’m…I’m close… fuck” you sobbed. Unceremoniously, you grabbed Noah’s arm, before guiding his hand onto your tit. “Please” you moaned “touch me.”
Skilfully, Noah freed your breast from the lace bra, before kneading your skin, finding your perked nipple. He started playing with it, twisting it between his fingertips.
“Yeah, just like that babe. Your hand feels so good.” you whined, tossing your head back.
Your legs started to shake uncontrollably, your movements became erratic, irregular, as the tension coiled, ready to snap. The final wave hit you all at once, and you came hard, crying Noah’s name out loud into the quiet room while he diligently lapped every last drop of your juices riding it out with you, until your shaking dialed down.
With your breath still uneven from your orgasm, you looked down. You found Noah beaming at you. His mouth and his chin glistening with your arousal. Those eyes were quickly becoming a comforting presence. Looking down at his messy hair and his satisfied smile, you couldn’t help but smile right back at him.
Sliding back down onto him, you couldn't help but notice his hard cock poking at your inner thigh. The white linen as the only thin barrier separating the two. Still, the contact with your skin made Noah whimper.
“Oh honey,” you said, “I think we need to fix that.”
Nipping at his clavicle, you started tracing your fingertips on his body. Noah’s breathing became shallower, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
Yet, you could feel that he wasn't giving into it just yet. His muscles were still a bit stiff.
Before finishing the whole thought, Noah grabbed your wrist, pinning it where it was.
“Please” he said through gritted teeth. “Please, let me be inside you” he cried.
“Of course pretty boy” you cooed, thighs clenching instinctively as heat started to pool on your lower belly.
With one swift motion, you took off the fabric that still covered Noah’s lower half.
His hard cock sprung free, hitting your warm center, eliciting a groan leaving the both of you.
Diligently, you positioned yourself, ready to take him. “Wait” he exclaimed.
“What’s wrong?” You quipped worried.
“Nothing, nothing’s wrong” he was quick to reassure you “I just…” he looked up at you, his cheeks flushed from embarrassment “could I be on top?”
His hand came up to you back, drawing small circles.
“Getting bossy, are we?” You joked, but leaning into the touch nonetheless.
A genuine smile tugged at his lips “I wanna hold you…” he answered, just for his facial features quickly morphing into a smug. “...because I want to watch your every expression while I rail my cock into your pretty little pussy.”
The contrast between the softness of his touch and his words made your head spin. A soft moan left your lips.
Without saying another word, you shifted your weight so that your back hit the mattress.
Noah followed you, his hands never leaving your body. He promptly positioned himself between your legs. His tip nudging your entrance.
He let his cock slide up and down through your folds, coating himself with your slick.
“Look at you princess, already so wet for me.” His dark gaze darted between your legs and your face. “You’re so beautiful, splayed out like that. I can’t wait to see your face while I’m deep inside you.”
He gripped your thighs, his palms warm and grounding against you. He guided your legs behind his back until your ankles met.
Your heart raced in your chest, beating frantically against your ribcage. Your warm center throbbing. You were getting more and more impatient. “Noah please…” you cried as you wiggled your hips against his swollen tip. “I wanna feel you.”
“I’ve got you,” he murmured reassuringly, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’ve got you, baby.”
Putting most of his weight on his forearms, he then pushed himself achingly slow into you. You felt every single bit of him. All of him. Every little ridge, the heavy stretch of his veins protruding. You felt so full, it knocked the air out of your lungs.
You let out a broken gasp while your hands gripped his shoulders. Looking up at him, Noah had his pupils blown wide, a pink hue peppering his cheeks while he was so focused on gauging your expression.
He started moving, his thrusts were slow, calculated, deliberate. He made sure you felt him, every single inch going in and out of you.
“God, you’re so tight” he choked out, completely burying himself into you. He stalled for a second. His forehead coming to rest gently against yours.
“You feel perfect honey, so warm” he shuddered. Then, he gripped your thighs once more before adding “wrap your legs tighter around me, baby.” You blindly obliged, your mind hazy with the sensation of him deep inside you. “Yeah, just like that.”
He stayed still for a moment, just letting you adjust to the stretch of him. His breath was uneven against your lips, his chest rising and falling heavily against yours.
“Can I move, darling?” he reached for your hand, lacing your fingers together. Thumb caressing softly the back of your hand.
You simply nodded, too overwhelmed to speak. A light whimper left you, as you felt him withdrawing, before sliding all the way in.
The sensation made your back arch, meeting his chest, your head firmly pressed against your pillow. “Noah…” you moaned.
He welcomed that reaction with a soft smile on his lips. “Yeah… you like that?” he breathlessly asked.
He rolled his hips, smacking them against yours. Hitting that sweet spot, you rolled your eyes, head falling behind.
“Look at me sweetheart, I wanna see those pretty little eyes of yours.” He gently prodded.
You forced your eyes open, meeting his deep gaze. “Hey” he whispered, with a soft smile on his lips.
His thrusts picked up a steady rhythm, each roll of his hips hitting your sensitive spot deliciously well.
“Fuck, Noah…,” you choked out, your hands digging into the muscle of his back.
His chest heaved, a rumbling growl bubbling up in his throat. His brows were knitted together in intense concentration, his lips ajar as his gaze dropped down, fixating on where your bodies came together.
“You’re taking me so well, Y/N,” he moaned. “You’re so good to me, baby.”
That praise went straight to your head, making your walls clench instinctively around him. Noah gasped, his head dropping back for a second. He stilled for a fraction of a second as he fought for control.
You were growing impatient: "I can take more, Noah… please… more,” you whimpered, your hips lifting off the mattress, begging.
Noah let out a breathy laugh against your jaw. “You want more, sweetheart?” he murmured. “I love how needy you get for me. Let me fill you up, then. Take every fucking inch I give you.”
Without breaking eye contact, he gently hooked his arms beneath your knees, guiding your legs up until your ankles rested over his broad shoulders.
The shift in angle exposed you completely, making your breath catch in your throat. You instinctively closed your thighs out of embarrassment.
Noah was quick to catch you “Nah, uh… you don’t have anything to hide it from me babygirl” he cooed as he gently spread your legs, his gaze dropping to your core. “Look at you, so fucking perfect for me” he rasped.
From this new angle, when he slid back inside you, the sensation was devastating. You let out a broken cry as he buried himself all the way to the hilt.
“Yeah, just like that,” Noah rasped, his hands gripping your waist to anchor you. He set a quicker pace this time, the wet sounds of skin slapping against skin echoing through the quiet room. “Look at you…your pussy taking my cock perfectly. You feel so damn good.”
His breathing became ragged, sweat starting to cover his features, making his collarbone glisten. “I’m not gonna last long… I’m so close,” he breathed, his voice breaking.
Desperate to drive you over the edge with him, Noah slid one hand down between your pressed bodies. His warm thumb found your swollen clit. He started circling it, his digit applying just the right amount of pressure.
The stimulation made your senses overload. Your vision blurred, your fingers tangling desperately in the sheets as a violent wave of heat coiled in your stomach.
“Noah, Noah!” you sobbed as your legs started shaking.
“I’ve got you,” he encouraged, his thumb working faster against your clit as his thrusts turned heavy and frantic. “Come for me, Y/N, give it to me.”
Your body arched violently off the bed as the tidal wave of your orgasm washed over you, your walls squeezing him mercilessly.
Feeling you clenching around him was the final straw for him. Noah let out a guttural sound, thrusting deep one last time as hot ropes of cum spilled inside you. His head fell forwards, strands of hair stuck onto his sweat stricken forehead. He kept thrusting into you, shallower this time, riding out the aftershocks with you.
The room fell into a thick silence, broken only by the both of you panting, trying to calm the erratic paces of your hearts, beating violently against your chests.
Noah carefully laid down your legs from his shoulders, easing his weight down so he wouldn't crush you. He pulled you flush against his chest and nestled his face deep into the crook of your neck. His breath was hot against your collarbone as he pressed lingering kisses to your damp skin.
“My beautiful girl,” he whispered, his voice a feather light whisper against you as his thumb gently stroked your hip.
Warnings: probably some mistakes, i didn’t fully proofread talks of self-doubt, anxiety and a mention of panic attacks, nick is a sweetheart. Noah may be a little jealous. I overuse ellipses... Noahs stupid and infatuated. Implied chubby!reader. Some cameos that are probably ooc but who tf cares. no smut in this chapter (wink wink) a little suggestive.
You lean against the cold wood of the bedroom door, your heart pounding so loud you can’t hear yourself think. Your chest heaves. What the fuck was that? What did you just do? You feel the comings of a panic attack begin, you shake your head to try and calm yourself. It was just a slip up. You’re both tired. That’s all it was, right? You rationalize with yourself, taking as deep of breaths as possible. After stewing in your own thoughts for a moment, you finally make your way to the bed. Exhaustion grips at your chest, fighting the simmering anxiety that lingers. You manage to go to sleep at some point, though you don’t remember much of it.
At some point, you feel the ghosting of hands on your waist, hesitant and gentle. You chide yourself at how quickly you recognize them. Still in a sleep-ridden daze, you feel yourself pulled against a firm chest. You feel his warm breath on your neck, how your legs tangle under the thick duvet. You allow yourself to melt into the touch. Your head leans back against his shoulder, hands resting on his arms as they circle your frame. You trace the tattoos on his wrist and forearm, feeling the way his muscles ripple as trail further up. Maybe this wasn’t so bad, maybe this could––
The quakes and loud chimes of your 7:30 alarm makes you jolt upright. Once again, your heart is pounding. You look around, finding your bed empty and cold. Of course it was a dream. You run your hands along your face, dragging them down in a weak attempt to snap yourself out of your daze. Deciding a shower would be the best option right now, you stumble into the en-suite and start the water. You analyze your face in the mirror, the bags under your eyes from the fretful sleep, and how your face is still flushed from the dream. Sighing deeply, you step into the warm shower. You take extra time to stew in your own thoughts, repeating last night over and over in your head.
After the long shower, you throw on clothes that are comfortable but still presentable. You stare at the closed door to your bedroom, debating on just staying in here all day. It’s almost 9 o’clock. If what Noah said was true, then he already got up and went for a run. Listening intently, you don’t hear anyone else in the house. You take a deep breath, twisting the doorknob and peaking outside. The hallway is empty, and as you make your way to the railing the living room is also quiet. Maybe they went out for some work?
You tiptoe downstairs. The studio door is wide open, no signs of anyone. You breath of sigh of relief, making your way into the kitchen. You grab a bottle out of water from the fridge, cracking it open and taking a long sip to soothe your aching throat.
“Hey.” You yelp when a voice cuts through the echoing silence of the house. You turn around, only to be met with the last person you wanted to see.
Noah sits at the small dining table by the fireplace, nursing some sort of smoothie in a styrofoam cup. He’s got the look of a kicked puppy on his face, it makes your chest ache.
“Noah... Hi.” Your voice is shakier than you wanted it to be, and you clear your throat to try and steady it.
“Listen...” Noah stands slowly, as if trying not to scare a frightened kitten. “About last night.” He sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have cornered you like that. I was,” He pauses, watching your face intently. He sighs once again. “I was... tired. And I shouldn’t have put you in that position.”
You nod slowly, “I uhm-” You try to find the words. Confrontation was never your strong suit, unless it was in a venue with bitchy old men. “It’s fine. I was... also tired and I wasn’t thinking straight. I’m sorry too.”
Noah squints at that, barely noticeable, but he doesn’t push further. He nods, giving you a small, apologetic smile.
“I know we’re still on break, but I’ve got a song I wanted to keep working on. You... wanna join me in the studio?”
You take a deep breath, nodding wordlessly. The two of you makes your way to the studio, settling down in the rolling chairs. His back faces you as he sets up whatever project he’s working on. The Logic session is already filled with more tracks than you can count, hundreds of audio files strewn out rhymically. You scoot close enough to see, but far enough that would be considered a professional distance.
The next few hours is filled with listening, brainstorming, and passing headphones back and forth. The tension in the room slowly dissipates as the day goes on. You watch as he riffs on the guitar, finding that perfect rhythm. Later in the day, you set up a make-shift vocal booth, recording his siren-like vocals. The lyrics are somewhat messy and more fit for the demo that this is. Despite not being a great songwriter, you manage to give him a few ideas to bounce off of. You keep yourself tucked in the work, not letting your eyes or thoughts wander. This is better. Professional. Safe.
The rest of your week looks similar. Noah decides to let you mix the still in progress song alone in the studio. Something about not worrying about his feedback. On Thursday, you end up visiting one of the larger studios they’d be recording in later. You examine everything while the managers and Noah talk. You try to commit every detail to memory, the order of the patch bay, the huge analog console, the outboard racks, and everything else that has you buzzing with excitement. Too caught up in the studio, you don’t notice how Noah’s gaze follows you around the space. From behind the credenza, he watches you with a soft smile, barely absorbing the words of the studio managers before Jolly elbows him.
Friday is spent as a rest day after a week of long hours and dramatics. The rest of the band and crew come over around the afternoon, the house bustling. Davis talks to Noah about the future merch drops, scrolling through designs on his iPad. Jolly and Nick sit quietly in the living room, watching whatever weird show is on tv. With his usual energy, Folio stands in the kitchen with you helping you as you cook, but not without talking your ear off. You notice when he gets excited about something, his voice gets a bit southern. It makes you smile. Folio helps cut up vegetables, with your instructions. He talks about the recent songs he’s discovered, the drum covers he’s been wanting to learn, and raves about these fancy cigars he was gifted.
Once dinner is ready, a simple pasta dish, everyone fills in around the living room, enjoying the meal in comfortable silence. Folio seems attached to your hip tonight, even Jolly has to tell him off for smothering you. You wave it off, enjoying the friendly atmosphere.
Around 8pm, Davis declares he’s going to go get alcohol, that this Friday night was too boring. Around 20 minutes later, he returns with various canned drinks and a bottle of vodka, to which Noah cringes.
Deciding you need the distraction, you take one of the whiteclaws. Jolly gives you a look, “I thought you didn’t drink? Are you even old enough to drink?” You roll your eyes, shoving his shoulder.
“I do drink! On occasion.” You bite your tongue, not mentioning the part where you need to forget what happened this week.
As the night goes on, one white turns in three, which turns into a spinning room and way too many giggles. It had been awhile since you last drank, which accounted for why you were significantly more tipsy than the rest of the guys.
Noah retires to his room early, his gaze lingering on you as you dance with Folio. Your moves are stumbled and you cling to his hands for life. But you were as happy as could be.
As midnight rolls around, the happy buzz turns into a tired, slurred, headache. Ever the sweetheart, Nick decides to help you up to your room, cooing at you drunken mumbles.
He guides you to the bed, sitting you down and stabilizing you by your shoulders. His grey eyes search your glassy ones, noticing the somber look as your pulled away from the distracting fun.
“What’s wrong, Hun?” He asks, grabbing a trashcan and setting it down beside the bed.
“Noah and I almost kissed...” The words tumble out before you can stop them, you cover your mouth instantly. Nick freezes for a moment, before laughing softly. He straightens up when he sees your pouty face.
“Okay Okay, I’m sorry for laughing.” He sits down next to you, wrapping a friendly arm around your shoulder. “How... did that make you feel?” He askes.
“I.. hm. I don’t know. I do think he’s attractive, but I just-” You sigh. “I can’t lose this job. This is the best things that's ever happened, and if I fuck this up-”
“Okay. Lets stop here before you announce it to the whole house,” He smiles, which makes you realize you were talking a lot louder than you realize.
“Get some rest. We can talk about this later, if you want. But not while your drunk.” After that, he gently guides you to lay back, pulling the comforter over your frame.
You nod softly, mumbling a thank you as he steps out of the room.
The walls spin and bend as you lay still, it makes your head hurt more. After a few minutes of breathing, the spinning behind your eyes stops and you fall asleep.
You sleep like a log, waking up in the same position Nick left you in. Your head pounds and your throat is uncomfortably dry. Finding your footing through the bright morning lights, you make your way downstairs. Your hair is messy and your eyes are no doubt bloodshot.
Noah greets you, already shoving an ibuprofen and water into yours hands. You take it without a word, the cool water waking you up a bit more.
“Thanks...” you mumble, shielding your eyes from the bright sunlight outside the back door.
Noah only chuckles, guiding you with a gentle hand on the shoulder towards the couch. You notice Nick is still here, and you curl up into the cushion next to him, your knees tucked to your chest.
“Sleep well?”
“Absolutely not.”
Nick laughs aloud at that one, tapping the cap of your water bottle to tell you to drink some.
After slowly waking up and easing the hungover headache, you decide to shower. The warm water helps wash away the gross feeling on the skin that the alcohol leaves. You stay under the gentle stream longer than you probably should, still looking back to that night a week ago. The way his hands held yours against his chest, the way his gentle breath lingered on your skin. If you close your eyes, you can still feel the thrumming of his heart under your fingertips.
Once you’ve finally had enough of wallowing in your own self-pity, you dry yourself off and get dressed in a simple, all black outfit. You make your way downstairs, hoping to find something to snack on, only to see Nicholas hopping off the couch to meet you at the bottom of the steps.
“...Everything alright?” You raise an eyebrow, stepping off the final carpeted step to meet him.
“Your car is here, finally. I was wondering if you wanted to go for a drive and get some food. My treat. It’ll help you learn the area.” He offers with a smile, but something in his voice tells you there's an ulterior motive.
You think for a second. Food does sound good, especially free food. But driving in LA? Not so much. You concede, sighing softly, “Fine.”
The two of you gather your things, stepping outside in the hot LA weather. You smile at the sight of your car. The blacked-out Challenger Hellcat, that was a graduation gift from your family. She starts up just fine, thanks to the stupidly expensive transportation service the band hired. You settle into the leather seat, letting the car warm up for a moment.
The drive was... not as bad as you expected. Nick guides you out of the neighborhood and through the main area and tells you where all the stores nearby are, as well as the places to get cheap but good food.
Eventually, he pops the serene bubble of light conversation, “So, you wanna talk about what happened with Noah?”
You look over at him for a moment, before turning back to the traffic in front of you with a sigh.
“I don’t know.”
Nick takes a breath, turning down the radio so he can’t talk clearly, “Listen, I’m not gonna tell you what you should or shouldn’t do. And I don’t wanna lie to you either.”
Your stomach sinks, and the traffic comes to a standstill from whatever accident happened in front of you.
“Nick, you’re scaring me.”
Nick sighs again, adjusting in his seat, “Y/n, we weren’t-” He pauses to think, “The band wasn’t looking for a new engineer. Could Noah use the help? Absolutely. And you’ve proved that. But it wasn’t exactly an active search when we met.”
Your heart races, “What are you talking about?”
“We got sent the roster for the crew after the venue changed. And when Noah saw you, its like his world went technicolor. And he only got worse after he looked at your work.” He smiles softly, his voice gentle.
“A whole six weeks of him raving about you constantly, always finding a way to bring up the work you had done in your university.”
You stare straight ahead, trying to stop the world from spinning. Your fingers tap against the steering wheel anxiously. Luckily, the traffic is stopped completely, so you don’t have to worry about crashing as you put the car in Park.
Nick notices your anxious and stunned silence, “Honestly, I think he was a bigger fan of you, than you were of him. He was practically buzzing when we got to the venue finally.”
This can’t be right... What would make him so interested in you? Sure, you did good work and enjoyed your job, but you didn’t exactly think of yourself as his type. You had seen his previous girlfriends through old photos that made their way into your Instagram feed. They were all skinny and seemed athletic. They looked like models. Sure, you could at least acknowledge that you seemed to be conventionally attractive. You had your fair share of guys flirting with you, wanted or unwanted. But Noah? The man who was the epitome of your type? There was no way.
“I... I don’t understand.” A part of you deep down does. You were hired because Noah liked you and wanted an excuse to be around you. But you needed to hear it. Needed to know if it was true.
“Y/n.” Nick says, turning towards you in his seat. “This doesn’t mean that you were a personality hire or anything like that. You are, and I know you will be, a valuable addition to the team. But...” He smiles, “If you want something with Noah, if you like him. You’re not going to lose your job over it. There’s a reason the contract you signed didn’t say anything about it.”
Your breath catches, your lip quivers slightly. You don’t even know why you’re crying. Relief? Acceptance? You push away the tears, taking a deep breath that turns into a soft laugh.
“I’ve known Noah since we were kids. I’ve seen him through countless relationships, good and bad.” He pauses, making sure you’re paying attention. “I’ve never seen him so enamored by someone.”
The tears come back up at that, and you thank whatever forces that there’s so much traffic because you can’t even see the road through them.
“Really?” Your voice is small and shaky, eyes bleary.
“Seriously. It was fucking annoying on the busses. Anytime someone mentioned work he brought you up.” He laughs.
You laugh as well, wiping the tears and straightening yourself up. Nick gives you a soft smile when you finally turn to him and you return it, finally taking a deep breath.
With amazing timing, whatever accident has had you held up for almost 30 minutes clears up. The drive continues smoothly, your consciousness now feeling somewhat lighter. You and Nick decide on some sort of drive through fry shop he recommended for food. The place seems a little run down but man, the food is good. It lifts your spirits. The two of you sit in the parking lot while you eat, chatting about various topics until his phone chimes.
“Shit, Nadine needs me home. You wanna drive me? You could meet her. It’s not far from here.” He smiles at the mention of his fiancée, and you’re pulling out of the space before you can even think.
Nick directs you through the less busy streets of this area. True to his words, it's no longer than 10 minutes before you’re pulling into the driveway of his cozy home. The rumble of the engine stops, and part of you cringes at the sound of your too-loud Challenger disrupting whatever serene neighborhood you stumbled into.
Nick gets out, and Nadine is already stepping out of the front door. The couple greet each other warmly, and it makes you smile.
“Nadine, this is Y/N. The one Noah was tormenting us over.” Nick teases sarcastically.
“It’s nice to meet you.” You smile, greeting her warmly.
“It’s nice to finally meet you! Noah wouldn’t shut up about you on tour.” She says, laughing softly. Her hand tattoos peak out from under her sweater, clearly dressed for a cool house and not the summer heat.
Nick interjects, “Do you wanna come in and meet the cats? You mentioned you liked them.” He looks to his lady for permission, and she nods.
You originally only stayed to meet her, but the idea of meeting their cats overrides your planes. You agree immediately, following them into their home.
The house is cozy and cluttered in a way that makes it feel lived in and homey, not messy. It's a contrast to Noah’s habit of being a neat freak.
You and the couple talk for longer than you meant to, surrounded by their cats and a comfortable atmosphere. It’s only when your phone chimes that you realize it's almost 6pm.
“Shit. I should get back to the house.” You stand, carefully moving the kitty off your lap, much to both your dismay. “Thank you, guys, for having me.” The couple return the sentiment and walk you out to your car. Nadine pesters Nick to give her your number, and you smile, thankful that she seemed to enjoy our company.
Once the three of you finally decide to stop chatting, you get into your car, waving goodbye and waiting until they get back inside to start your car. It’s these moments that make you regret your impulsive muffler delete. You check your phone, seeing a text from Noah that said they were going to Davis's house, attached was the address. Your shoulders slump, remembering you actually have to drive again. Why couldn’t human teleport yet?
Once again, the drive isn’t that bad. You play some music and sing along the whole time. Your mind constantly thinks back to Noah and the conversation you had with his best friend. You know Nick wouldn’t lie about something like this, but you can’t help but still feel like it doesn’t make sense. You weren’t famous, you weren’t the stereotypical model material, and you certainly didn’t look like his exes. Could he really feel this way about you?
You don’t have the time to think as you pull into Davis’s driveway, only certain when you see him and Noah’s cars out front. You take a deep breath, leaning your forehead against the steering wheel. Maybe you should just go back to the house. It would be easier, plus you wouldn’t have to drive at night. Were you ready to see him? It was easy to be around him when you had the idea that that night was just a fluke of tiredness, but now? You couldn’t. You weren’t ready for this.
Your hand is already reaching for the gear shift when a pair of knuckles is tapping at your car window. You jump, seeing Noah’s stupidly handsome and smiley face through the glass. He motions for you to roll down the window.
“You gonna rev it? Or just sit in there the whole night?” He teases, clearly high energy tonight.
“Noah, it's almost 8pm! We’re in a neighborhood!”
Noah just shrugs, challenging you further.
You smirk, flipping it into neutral and revving the engine. You cringe as the car roars through the cul de sac, the supercharger whining with every rev. Noah seems happy, smiling like an idiot. Once the rpm’s drop, you drop it back into Park and shut it off.
Noah opens the door for you and steps back, you're not sure whether he’s admiring you or the car.
“I still can’t get over your car. Definitely not what I’d expect from you.”
“Why not? Women can’t drive muscle cars?” You tease him, feigning hurt as he sighs, not even trying to argue.
You drop the act, admiring his clearly good mood. You’re about to speak when Davis and someone you haven’t met yet come out to see what all the noise was.
“Was that a fucking Hellcat?!” The mystery man asks, and you smile, leaning against your most prized possession.
The man, who Noah introduces as Jordan, admires your car for a moment before you all head inside. Once again, Noah’s large hand rests on your back as he guides you inside Davis’s home.
You’re immediately greeted by Max, a small blonde dog who seems all too interested in your smell.
“Aww Hi! I think you smell the kitties, huh?” You smile, using your classic baby voice you only use for animals as you crouch down to his level.
“Kitties?” Noah asks, kneeling next to you to pet Max.
“Mhm! I went to Nick’s place and met his cats. And Nadine.”
Noah’s face seems to fall for a second, and you barely catch it before he smiles again, picking up Max and smothering him with kisses. You stand as well, but you’re quickly pulled into a hug by Davis. You can practically feel Noah’s gaze burning a hole through your back at the affection. Was it always like this?
Davis pulls back, giving Noah a smug look. Seriously, was it always like this? You look between the two men, which seems to snap them out of whatever staring contest they’re having. You’re about to follow Davis into the kitchen when your wrist is snatched from behind you and you’re pulled into a firm chest. Noah’s arms wrap around you like a snake’s and for once, you let yourself melt into it. He smells good, his cologne seems heavier than usual and you’d recognize the Dior Sauvage anywhere.
The two of you stay like that for a while, a reconciliation of some sort. Or maybe a quiet confession. Noah’s lips on your shoulder snap you out of your haze as your breath hitches. Ever so gently, they travel up to your pulse point, making your knees weak. They settle on the soft thrum of your heartbeat, not sucking or biting, just sitting there. It doesn’t feel sexual, it just feels... soft. His stubble tickles your sensitive neck, and it makes you giggle involuntarily as you pull away.
“If you guys are gonna have sex, at least do it in the spare room!” Davis yells from around the corner, making both of you blush red. Noah laughs, breaking the spell you two have found yourself in.
You pull away fully now to look up at him. His cheeks are flushed a cute pink and his pupils are dilated so much you can’t even see the soft brown. With shaky hands, you cup his face, and he leans into your touch like a kitten. He steps closer, his own hands finding your waist beneath your hoodie. He leans a little closer, his eyes flickering to your lips. You decide to tease him a little further.
When he leans in, barely inches away and ready to kiss you, you cover his lips. It makes him look at you, eyebrows furrowed together.
“You have some explaining to do first. But not here.” You smirk, pointing at him with your free hand as he pouts, shoulders shrugging.
You smile, giving in just a little and stepping onto your tiptoes to kiss his burning on cheek. He beams at that, his pretty smile on display. Noah takes your hand and simply holds it for a moment; you take the opportunity to trace along his hand tattoos.
Speak of the devil, the sound of a tattoo machine makes you perk up. You follow the sound, dragging Noah along with you to where you guess is the living room and kitchen. Noah laughs as you pull him along by the hand, snooping out the sound of a tattoo machine.
As you round the corner, you’re met with Davis on a tattoo table, and Jordan tattooing him. They both wave, Davis with a slight cringe as the needle grazes a particularly painful spot on his leg.
“Jordan wanted to try out a new style, so he asked if we wanted free tattoos.” Noah lifts his pants' leg to reveal his own fresh ink, safely wrapped in second skin. You hum, admiring the style.
Jordan speaks up, dry wiping Davis’s leg which makes him groan dramatically. “Do you want one? We’ve got time, if you’re up for it.”
You perk up, instinctively looking to Noah as if for permission.
“Don’t ask me, you’re an adult.” Noah laughs, stepping aside to take a sip of Redbull.
You nod enthusiastically to Jordan, who nods back. You’re practically vibrating with excitement, having not gotten a tattoo in ages.
After Jordan finishes Davis’s tattoo, he cleans up the station and calls you over. Davis hands you a flash sheet, clearly a collaboration between the two of them. You vaguely remember seeing Jordan in the old Omens’ streams, and how he usually does a lot of trad work, so seeing these much more cyber looking styles of Pokémon surprises you. You decide on the Snorlax, and Jordan steps away to print the stencil in a few sizes.
“You’ve eaten today, right?” Noah asks, his hand rubbing your shoulder gently.
You nod, smiling, “Yeah. Nick and I went to some sort of loaded fry drive thru place. It was really good!”
Noah nods at that, clearly a little relieved since he hasn’t seen you all day.
Jordan finishes printing and prepping the station. You decide on a stencil size and placement, going for your calf since you still have ideas for the rest of your body. Noah is by your side the whole time, despite you telling him it wasn’t that bad.
The small tattoo doesn’t take very long, the little snorlax now wrapped up in second skin as you hobble off the table.
The rest of the night is spent with laughter and random conversations. The whole time, Noah has you tucked into his side on the couch; his arm wrapped around your shoulder possessively. After hours of talking and laughing, your head feels heavy and your eyelids begin to close without your permission. You feel a large hand cradle your head and guide it onto his broad shoulder. You smile, nuzzling into his shirt as you inhale his scent.
Eventually, Davis decides it’s time for bed. Jordan had packed up a few hours earlier, leaving the three of us in the living room until one in the morning. Noah picks you up with an ease that makes your heart do a few backflips. He holds you bridal style as he carries you out and into the passenger seat of his car.
“Noooo... My car...” You mumble, but you’re clearly not in any state to drive.
“We’ll come get it tomorrow, sleepy. It’s safe.” Noah assures, kissing your forehead and buckling your seatbelt.
You try not to sleep on the way back to the house, you really do. But after too many days of being up past midnight, you can’t help it. In your half-asleep daze, you feel Noah carry you into the house and up the stairs. You feel him stop abruptly, debating whether to bring you to his room, or to leave you in the guest room.
“Y’er room...” You murmur into his neck, and he kisses your shoulder once more. You open your eyes when you hear the door to his room close, groaning at the bright purple Led lights from under his bed.
“Sorry, baby.” He whispers, setting you down on the bed ever so gently. He dims the lights to the lowest setting.
You want to sleep immediately but the wires of your bra are poking you and your jeans are too annoying. You sit up reluctantly, which makes Noah worried.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah... I just need to go change.”
“Wait, here.” He turns around for a moment before handing you one of his shirts and a pair of basketball shorts. “You can change in the bathroom, if you want. Or I can turn around.”
You contemplate it; you’re too tired to walk right now. And even lugging these jeans off feels like work.
You stand up, “Can you... help me?” You ask shyly, “I’m too tired.”
Noah takes a breath, but he nods immediately and steps closer.
“Arms up.” He says, pulling off your hoodie. He tries not to stare, and it makes you giggle softly.
“C’mon. We’re adults, no?” You tease, and he laughs breathlessly.
He unhooks your black bra, pulling the straps down your arm. You see his Adams apple bob at the sight, and it would turn you on if you weren’t dead on your feet right now. When he’s finally done admiring, he slips on the well oversized shirt, the hems reaching your thighs.
You unbutton your jeans and Noah kneels down to untie your shoes. Your hands rest on his shoulders as he pulls your shoes and jeans off. Leaving you in your underwear and his shirt. When he comes back up, you can see his flushed face, and the way his ears are as red as the gaming chair behind him.
“I can sleep like this. Unless you can’t behave.” You raise an eyebrow, its fun to tease him, the small pout on his lips and the slouch in his shoulders making you laugh.
“I can behave. I promise.” He assures and guides you back onto the bed.
You make yourself comfortable under the warm covers, shivering from the cold room. Noah tucks in behind you, one arm under your neck and the other wrapped around your waist. His face nuzzles against the nape of your neck, and he hums softly. His warmth spreads to you as he presses light kisses to your neck and shoulders. You could interrogate him about everything in the morning. But right now, you feel safe. You feel happy.
AN: It's Wednesday my friends! That means new SDTL. I hope you like it! <3 And as usual, let me know if you want to be added to my taglist.
Warnings: Established relationship, pregnancy, implied intimacy, fluff!!! <3
Pairing: Noah Sebastian x F! reader.
Words: 3.2 k
The greenroom buzzed with the familiar pre-show energy.
Crew members drifted in and out with clipboards tucked underneath their arms, a guitar tech hurried past with one guitar in each hand. There was laughter and the sound of someone swearing loudly, having obviously just lost at table tennis. Someone else called out that doors had just opened.
To an outsider, it probably seemed hectic and stressful. But to you, it felt familiar. Comfortable. It was organised chaos. From afar, you could hear the muffled sound of thousands of footsteps and voices as fans filled the arena. You glanced at your clock. Three hours until Bad Omens went on.
You found Noah already sprawled out on one of the black leather sofas, scrolling on his phone with one arm lazily draped across the backrest. The moment he spotted you, he crooked a finger.
“C’mere.”
Without a second thought, you made your way across the room and sank down beside him. Rather than sitting properly, you tucked your feet beneath you and leaned back against his side, fitting right into the space beneath his arm. His arm slipped around you, tucking itself beneath yours. His hand came to rest over your stomach, long fingers splayed over the fabric of the hoodie he’d stolen hours before. You let out a content little sigh.
For a while, neither of you said anything. You simply sat there, watching the chaos around you whilst Noah traced circles over your stomach with his thumb. Then you felt him shift slightly behind you. Noah leaned forward ever so slightly until the tip of his nose brushed against your hair. He lingered there for a second, drawing in a slow, quiet breath.
A laugh bubbled out of you and you turned your head sideways to look at him.
“...Did you just sniff me?”
He didn’t look remotely embarrassed.
“Maybe.”
“Why?”
He gave a small shrug.
“You smell nice.”
“I’m wearing the same perfume I always wear,” you laughed.
”Mhm,” he shook his head. ”It’s not that.”
”Then what?”
”It’s just…” He let out a quiet breath. ”It’s hard to explain.”
”Try.”
He frowned faintly, searching for something that seemed just out of reach.
“…Home,” he murmured eventually. “You smell like home.”
You fell silent for a moment.
”That might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said.”
He shrugged.
”It’s true.”
The two of you fell quiet again.
Around you, the greenroom shenanigans carried on as usual. Someone laughed loudly across the room. The soundtrack of a video game and banter filled the room. Somewhere, someone was tuning a guitar. You found yourself absentmindedly tracing the tattoos across the back of Noah’s hand where it rested over your stomach.
And then you noticed it, his hand moving. It started almost absentmindedly, slowly. And then his fingers started tapping an uneven rhythm against your hoodie. You felt a small smile spreading across your face.
“You’re doing it again,” you whispered.
“Doing what?”
“The finger thing.”
Noah let out a small laugh through his nose.
“Am I?” he said, but didn’t stop the tapping.
“Mhm,” you mumbled. “...You’re nervous.”
He sighed slightly.
“Yeah… A little.”
“Honey…” you laughed softly. “I’ve seen you perform hundreds of times. You always kill it.”
“You’re biased,” he retorted.
You rolled your eyes.
“No. You’re excellent.”
He only hummed in response.
You looked down at the goat tattoo on the back of his hand, tracing one of its horns with your fingertip, letting your fingers drift up his forearm.
“So…” you murmured. “Why are you so nervous?”
“Because you’re here,” he admitted.
You blinked.
“What?” A laugh escaped you. “Why? I’ve always been here.”
He nodded.
“I know.” His thumb absentmindedly brushed against your hoodie. “I still want to impress you.”
You looked up at him, one eyebrow raised.
“Noah…” you giggled. “You haven’t stopped impressing me for years.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhm.” You smiled. “You could walk out on that stage and do absolutely nothing for an hour and I’d still think you were amazing.”
That earned a genuine laugh from him.
His gaze drifted down to the hand resting over your stomach.
“…And now there’s someone else I want to impress.”
Your expression softened.
“Honey…” You covered his hand with yours. “I think you’re already their favourite person.”
He looked back up at you.
“Besides,” you added with a grin, “I don’t think Blueberry is capable of critiquing your stage presence just yet.”
“No?”
“No.”
“…Well.” He smiled to himself. “That’s a relief.”
You let the silence settle between you for another moment before you glanced down at your watch.
“...Babe?”
“Mhm?” he hummed against your hair.
You lifted your wrist just enough for him to see the time.
“Don’t you need to warm up?”
He groaned dramatically.
“In five minutes,” he said, putting both arms around you and pulling you even closer.
“Noah…”
“Three then.”
“Three. But then you have to go.”
“Do I?”
“Mhm.”
“Can’t I just stay here?”
You laughed quietly.
“As tempting as that sounds… You have a show to do.”
He sighed before loosening his hold on you.
“Fine.”
He pushed himself to his feet before offering you a hand. You took it, allowing him to pull you up from the sofa. He leaned down, cupping your cheek in one hand, and stole one last kiss.
“Good luck, rockstar,” you smiled.
Noah smiled back.
“Thanks, sweetheart.”
An hour later, ten thousand people roared as the lights dropped. It was like their voices became one. One deafening, all-consuming roar that bounced off the walls and straight into your chest.
Standing just on the side of the stage, you watched Noah bounce lightly on the balls of his feet. He rolled his shoulders once, adjusted his in-ears and took a deep breath. Noah glanced over his shoulder. His eyes found you instantly. You gave him a toothy grin. Noah nodded once, adjusted his grip on the microphone and walked out on stage to even louder roars. And just like that, your boyfriend disappeared. The frontman had taken his place.
Specter felt almost haunting. Noah stood almost motionless beneath a single spotlight, his voice raw enough to make goosebumps prickle over your skin.
Then came Glass Houses. The arena exploded back to life. Fire shot into the air as Noah grinned wildly at the crowd, motioning for them to move.
”Let me see what you’ve got, Chicago,” he yelled into the microphone. ”I want to see everyone moving. Circle. Pit.”
Within seconds, a mosh pit had opened. Those in the front row jumped, danced and banged their heads.
After a couple of songs you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned around to see Ricky.
“You should go to front of house,” he said.
“Why?”
“Better sound!”
That did sound tempting. You had an impressive view at the side of the stage, but the sound wasn’t the best. You could mainly hear Folio’s drums and Nick’s bass guitar. Noah’s voice was mostly lost to the roar of the crowd.
“Am I allowed?”
"Absolutely,” he laughed.
At front of house, it was something entirely different.
It was like hearing the show for the first time. Gone was the overpowering thud of Folio’s kick drum and the sharpness of the guitar amps. The sound was crisp, every instrument and the vocals falling into place.
Here, you could finally see everything at once. The towering LED screens, the synchronized lights, the towers of fire erupting from the ledge of the stage. Around you, ten thousand people moved as one. Sang as one. Breathed as one. Some were crying, some were screaming. You laughed under your breath. Noah had worried about impressing you. As if he’d ever had anything to worry about.
Halfway through the next song, Noah glanced to where he had last seen you. His brow lifted ever so slightly. His gaze swept across the arena. It didn’t take him long. Just as he was about to sing the chorus, he found you. You gave him a small wave and he raised an eyebrow at you, the corner of his mouth twitching. He didn’t look again for the rest of the song. He knew that you were there, and that was enough.
One song melted into the next. Time seemed to blur. Before you knew it, you were singing along, jumping and dancing with the rest of the crowd. Your hand stretched up into the air like everyone else’s around you. Your boyfriend was, after all, the singer of your favorite band.
It was funny how this always seemed to happen. Somewhere between Nowhere To Go and Limits, you had almost forgotten that the man on stage was your boyfriend. For a while, you were just another fan. You understood them. Understood why they queued for hours in the cold, why they travelled across countries, why they screamed until their voices gave out. Because after all these years, after all these shows — you felt it too.
More than halfway through the set, it was time for Noah to speak to the crowd and to rest his voice for a moment. He fastened his microphone on its stand and took a step back, looking out across the sea of people. From the people in the front row all the way up to the nosebleeds.
He laughed quietly, almost shaking his head.
“This is…” he began. “Still really fucking weird”.
Laughter erupted.
“I don’t think bands like ours are supposed to play rooms this big… So… thank you very much for leaving your house and coming here tonight.”
Applause. Screams. Wolf-whistles.
“I’m gonna read some signs…”
“No, I will not bark,” he laughed.
“It’s your birthday? Well, happy birthday! Folio, got any drumsticks?”
Noah continued talking to the crowd, reading signs, laughing at some comment he managed to hear from the crowd. Every now and then, the arena erupted into laughter.
“Now… This is the part where I usually ask if anyone has heard our song Just Pretend.”
Deafening cheers.
“But tonight… I wanted to do something different.”
You could see the sound and lightning engineers looking at each other.
“My girlfriend is here tonight,” Noah began, rubbing the back of his neck.
Oh god. What was he about to say? Having dated for seven years, your relationship was no secret. But both of you tried to keep your personal lives… well, personal. So that meant that your relationship wasn’t secret, but private. Unlike Noah, you still had your social media accounts, and although they were not private, you rarely posted anything about Noah on there. He caught your eye, grinning from ear to ear.
“She wasn’t even supposed to be. Came all the way here to surprise me. Missed me too much she said, and who can blame her?”
The arena once again filled with laughter, whoops and whistles. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. You tried, but failed, to not smile.
“She told me that there was a song she missed hearing live…”
Your heart skipped a beat. A murmur rippled through the arena.
“So… This is The Grey,” Noah said, glancing back at his bandmates.
A beat of silence followed before the arena absolutely exploded. It seemed like the fans had missed the song too.
On stage, Jolly looked over at Nick with an amused shake of his head. Nick raised an eyebrow in response, laughing quietly. Folio simply shook his head, a grin spreading across his face. The crowd didn’t see Noah catching each of their eyes, mouthing a thank you to his friends with a grateful smile. They hadn’t rehearsed this, but without another word they got into position.
From somewhere beside you, their sound engineer let out a quiet sigh.
“Thank fuck I have that one saved…” he said, shaking his head.
The opening notes barely had time to start before the roar of the crowd almost drowned out the band.
As he sang the first verse, Noah’s eyes found you. You mouthed I love you and put a hand over your heart. He had changed the setlist for you. Just for you. And that somehow felt even bigger than an arena full of people.
The rest of the set passed in a blur.
By the time the lights painted the stage blue and the first notes of Impose rang out, you knew the night was coming to an end. You stood there with your arms crossed for a moment, simply taking it all in. You were just about to make your way backstage when confetti cannons exploded above the stage, filling the air with blue and white paper that drifted slowly towards the crowd. You stopped in your tracks.
”DO YOU FEEL IT?” Noah screamed.
The crowd answered with a roar.
Looking around the arena, something caught in your chest. A single tear escaped before you even realised it had. But before the final note had even faded, you were already weaving your way back towards the side of the stage.
When you got there, the band had already walked off stage. Noah was halfway through taking his button down shirt off. His breathing was heavy, damp hair clinging to his forehead. He smiled widely as he spotted you.
Shouts of ”Dethrone!”, ”Bad Omens!” and ”More!” could be heard from the buzzing crowd.
Noah unscrewed a bottle of water and gulped half of it before you had made your way over. Someone held his microphone out to him. He just had time to take two steps towards you, wrapping you in a very sweaty hug and stealing a kiss.
”Love you.”
”Love you more.”
Noah took a step back, before changing his mind.
”One more,” he said. ”For luck.”
You wrapped your arms around his neck, standing on your tippy toes, and gave him another kiss.
The crowd began chanting.
“ONE MORE SONG!”
“ONE MORE SONG!”
“ONE MORE SONG!”
He winked at you before following the rest of the band back onto the stage. The gentle man who had kissed you just seconds ago disappeared just as quickly as he had before the show.
In his place stood something feral. It sent a shiver down your spine as he started the concrete-chant. Your whole body tingled as you watched him give every last ounce of himself into the last song.
”AND I’M THE FUCKING KING,” Noah screamed.
And with that, the final note rang out in the arena. He stood there for a moment, chest heaving, taking in the deafening roar and applause of the crowd.
The four of them gathered at the front of the stage, arms slung over each other’s shoulders as they took one final bow. Picks, drumsticks and setlists disappeared into the sea of outstretched hands before they waved one last time and disappeared backstage.
Noah’s eyes found you immediately. You could practically see the adrenaline pulsing through his veins. His chest still rose and fell quickly, his pupils blown wide. A grin spilt his face as he made his way to you.
”Baby!”
Before you had time to react, his arms were around your waist, lifting you clean off the ground.
”Noah!” you laughed.
But nonetheless, you wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. Noah held onto you with one hand tucked securely beneath your thighs, the other splayed across your back. His lips crashed onto yours. It was nothing like the gentle kisses he’d given you all day. It wasn’t slow, it wasn’t careful. It was wild in the most wonderful way.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, resting his forehead against yours. A laugh escaped him, breathless and disbelieving.
”Noah…” you giggled. ”You’re dripping.”
He smirked.
”Occupational hazard, I’m afraid,” he said before kissing you again.
Jolly walked past at just that moment.
”Get a room!” he laughed.
”They literally have one, you know,” Nick stated.
You could feel Noah smile against your lips, hand moving from your back. You didn’t have to look to know that he’d just given his friends the middle finger.
One of the perks of playing arenas, you learned, was the opportunity to shower directly after the show. This meant that, for once, you didn’t have to share the van back to the hotel with four drenched, quite smelly, men. Instead, the van smelled pleasantly of shampoo and body wash.
You rested your head on Noah’s shoulder.
”I didn’t think you’d actually change the setlist,” you said quietly.
Noah’s hand gave your thigh a squeeze.
”Well… You asked.”
”But still.”
”Dude,” came Folio’s voice from beside Noah. ”You’re so whipped.”
”…Yeah. I guess I am.”
Laughter filled the van. The others teased Noah all the way to the hotel. It wasn’t malicious though. They all knew why he had done it.
”I kind of wish you’d given us a heads up though,” Nick laughed.
Noah shrugged.
”I’ll make sure to do that next time.”
Even as they stepped out of the van, Jolly was still giving Noah grief for changing the setlist mid-show.
“Hopeless,” he muttered with a grin, clapping Noah on the shoulder before disappearing down the hallway towards his own room.
“Completely,” Nick agreed.
Noah didn’t even bother defending himself.
“Worth it.”
One by one, everyone peeled off towards their own rooms until only the two of you remained. With your hand in his, you couldn’t help but think about the fact you’d have to leave tomorrow. You pushed that thought to the back of your mind. Tomorrow could wait. Today, tonight, was Noah’s.
Noah slipped the keycard into the lock before holding the door open for you. The room was quiet. For the first time all day, it was just the two of you again.
You threw yourself onto the bed with a groan, not even bothering to remove your makeup or change clothes. Noah wasn’t slow to follow, pulling you on top of him. You lay there for a moment, resting your head on his chest, one of his hands caressing your back.
”I cried, you know,” you muttered into the fabric of his shirt.
”You did?”
”Mhm.”
”Why?”
”It was just… So nice. So big. So emotional.”
”Ah,” he breathed. ”Impose?”
You laughed quietly.
”Yeah.”
A chuckle vibrated through his chest. Silence fell in the room again, and the only thing you could hear was a faint ringing in your ears.
”You know…” he said.
”Hm?”
”You looked very cute singing along.”
You could feel heat flushing your cheeks.
”I know every word.”
”I noticed.”
”What kind of fan would I be otherwise? If I didn’t sing along to my favorite band?”
Noah just smiled.
”Come here.”
”I’m literally lying on top of you,” you said, looking up at him. You couldn’t help but notice a certain gleam in his eyes.
”Closer,” he whispered.
”Impossible,” you answered, although you shifted yourself higher on him until you were nose to nose.
”Better?” you whispered.
”Much.”
Your lips found his. You kissed him with reverence. Like you wanted to tell him without words how proud you were of him.
”Still not close enough,” he breathed when you pulled apart.
You smiled against his lips before kissing him again.
Somewhere between lazy kisses, quiet laughter and wandering hands, the conversation faded away.
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.
do you write or have you ever thought of writing :>
As of right now I do not officially write anything tbh I just shitpost my random thoughts sometimes lol😭😅
I do think about it a lot tho and have some headcanons and thoughts saved up in my notes and drafts not sure if they will ever see the light of day tho :))
origamiaround
ellievsbear
turnnoffyourmind
germansingergirl
stormborns
