[httpconcrete]

ECHOES OF NIGHT - PART 2 - CHAPTER FOUR

Pairing: dad! Noah Sebastian x reader

author's note: none

masterlist

By the next morning, Kara woke up feeling better.

You notice it the moment you open your eyes. 

The house feels lighter somehow, as if the air itself has shifted overnight. When you step into the hallway, you hear the soft, familiar sound of Kara already awake, the quiet murmur of her voice as she talks to her stuffed animals in that serious, private way she has when she thinks no one is listening. You find her sitting cross-legged on the living room rug in her favorite soft pajamas, the ones with the tiny faded bees printed across the fabric. Bee is propped carefully against a pillow beside her, Bun-Bun is half-tucked under her knee, and Sir Stomp stands at attention nearby. She is arranging them into what she has already declared a “get well party,” her small hands moving with careful precision.

She still looks a little pale, the way children do the morning after a fever breaks, but the flush is gone from her cheeks. Her eyes are clear again; bright, curious, and full of that restless energy that only returns once the body decides it is done being sick. When she sees you, she looks up and offers a small, proud smile.

“I’m better,” she announces, as if the fact needs official confirmation. Then, with great importance, she adds, “But Bee still says I should have more magic soup later. Just in case.”

You smile and lower yourself onto the rug beside her, crossing your legs the same way she does. The floor is cool under you. Outside, the morning light filters softly through the curtains. From down the hall, you can hear the faint, muffled sound of Noah’s guitar behind the closed studio door; slow, thoughtful chords drifting through the quiet of the house like background music to a moment that suddenly feels private and important. He left earlier with a soft kiss to the top of your head, murmuring that he wouldn’t be long, just needed to get a few ideas down while the house was still soft and slow. 

You told him to take his time. 

Right now, it is just you and Kara.

You reach over and gently straighten Bun-Bun’s ear. Kara leans into your side without thinking about it, the way she has always done, as if your presence is simply another natural part of the room. You brush a curl away from her face, feeling the residual warmth of sleep still clinging to her skin.

“How’s the tummy, bug?” you ask quietly.

“Better,” she repeats, then considers. “It still feels a little weird. Like it remembers being yucky.”

You nod. “That happens sometimes, bodies remember things.”

For a while you simply sit with her in the quiet, watching her carefully place each toy in a perfect circle. The house feels peaceful in that rare, unhurried way that only comes after illness, after the sharp edge of worry has loosened its grip. You can still feel the weight of the last few days sitting somewhere behind your ribs: Noah’s white-knuckled drive to the school, the way his voice had gone tight with fear, the way he had held her in the nurse’s office like she might disappear if he let go. And underneath that, the conversation in the kitchen about another baby. 

The fear. 

The want. 

Both of them still living side by side inside you, neither one willing to leave.

Kara glances up at you suddenly, her head tilted in that sharp, observant way she inherited from Noah.

“Mommy,” she says, “you’re thinking loud again.”

You let out a soft breath of laughter, surprised by how easily she can still see straight through you. “Am I?”

She nods solemnly. “Your eyes get all soft and far away.”

You hesitate. Noah’s guitar continues quietly in the background, distant enough that he won’t hear any of this. The moment feels fragile, like something that could break if you handle it too roughly. But it also feels right and honest.

“Can I ask you something important?” you say carefully.

Kara sits up a little straighter, sensing the shift in your voice. She sets Bee down in her lap and folds her hands the way she does when she is trying to be very grown-up. “Okay.”

You reach out and take one of her small hands in yours. Her fingers are warm and a little sticky from whatever she ate earlier. Your thumb brushes over her knuckles as you search for the right words.

“What would you think,” you begin slowly, “about maybe having a little sibling someday? A baby brother or sister.”

Her face changes immediately.

The bright, open curiosity dims into something more careful, almost wary. She looks down at Bee, her fingers tightening around the stuffed animal’s wing until the fabric wrinkles. For a long moment she doesn’t speak. When she finally does, her voice is smaller than before.

“Would they… live here?” she asks. “With us?”

“Yes,” you answer gently. “If it happened, they would live here with us. With you and me and Daddy.”

Kara is quiet again. Her lower lip pushes out just a little; the same expression she gets when something feels too big to understand all at once, or when she is trying very hard not to let her feelings spill over. You can almost see her working through it, the way her mind turns over the idea like a complicated puzzle.

“Would Daddy still make my pancakes?” she asks finally, voice small and careful. “And read my stories? And do the bee song just for me?”

The question lands soft and sharp at the same time. Your heart twists so tightly it almost hurts. You pull her closer until she is half in your lap, wrapping both arms around her small frame. She smells like sleep and the faint sweetness of her shampoo. You press your cheek to the top of her head for a moment before answering.

“Of course he would,” you say, your voice steady even though your throat feels tight. “And so would I. You would still be our Kara, our first, our big girl, a baby wouldn’t take any of that away from you. It would just mean there was more love in the house. More pancakes, more stories, more someone for you to teach all your important bee facts to.”

She considers this in silence, brow furrowed in the exact same way Noah’s does when he is thinking hard about something that matters. You can feel the insecurity still sitting heavily in her little body, the quiet fear of being replaced, of losing the special place she has worked so hard to claim in this family.

“What if they don’t like bees?” she asks eventually.

You press a soft kiss to the top of her head. “Then you’ll teach them. You’re very good at that.”

Another stretch of silence passes between you. Outside, a bird calls somewhere in the backyard. Noah’s guitar continues its quiet, distant melody. You can feel Kara working through the idea, the insecurity still present but slowly beginning to loosen its hold.

Then, almost cautiously, she lifts her head and looks at you.

“Would I get to hold them?” she asks. “Like… carefully?”

“Yes,” you say softly. “Very carefully. You would be the big sister.”

Something shifts in her expression then. The caution begins to melt, just a little, into a bright, curious spark. You can see the moment the idea starts to take root.

“The boss big sister?” she asks.

A quiet laugh escapes you before you can stop it. “Probably, you’re already very good at bossing.”

That does it.

Kara’s eyes light up fully now, the insecurity falling away under the weight of possibility. She sits up straighter in your lap, the idea blooming across her face the way it always does when something new and exciting finally clicks into place. Her words come faster, tumbling over each other in her excitement.

“I could show them the pool,” she says. “And Sir Stomp. And how to make the lights flash on my boots. And I could tell them about Daddy’s neck drawings so they don’t get scared of them. And I could help feed them and sing the bee song and protect them from dragons. And if they cry, I can give them Bee for a little while. Just until they feel better.”

You watch her, throat tight with emotion. The transformation is so pure it almost hurts; how quickly her little heart makes room for something that does not even exist yet. How easily love expands when it is given the chance.

“You would be an incredible big sister,” you tell her, meaning every single word.

Kara grins, wide and missing a tooth near the front. “Can we tell Daddy later? But only if he promises I still get the biggest pancake.”

“I think that can be arranged.”

She leans back against you, satisfied for now, and returns to arranging her toys. This time, though, she carefully leaves a small open space in the circle.

“For the baby,” she explains seriously. “Just in case.”

You sit with her a little longer, watching her play, letting the moment settle into your bones. When she eventually grows restless and migrates to the couch with a quiet show and a blanket, you press a kiss to her forehead and tell her you’ll be upstairs for a few minutes. She nods, already absorbed in the screen, Bee tucked under one arm.

The house is still soft and slow as you climb the stairs. Noah’s guitar continues faintly from the studio, distant enough that it feels almost like a memory. You step into the bedroom and close the door quietly behind you. For a moment you simply stand there, letting the silence wrap around you. Then you sit on the edge of the bed and open the drawer of the nightstand where you have kept the old photo albums and the small wooden box of early pictures for years.

You take them out carefully.

There she is.

Tiny. Red-faced. Barely bigger than your forearm. The first blurry hospital photo, taken with shaking hands in the harsh fluorescent light. The one of her sleeping on your chest the first night home, both of you exhausted beyond words, her small body rising and falling with every breath. The one of her first real smile, gummy and sudden, while you sat on the floor of the old apartment in Oregon, still in yesterday’s clothes, hair unwashed, heart somehow still full.

You remember how hard those days were.

How your body ached in places you did not know could ache. How the nights felt endless, stretching into gray mornings where you were never sure if you had slept at all. How the silence after she finally fell asleep sometimes felt heavier than the crying, thick with the weight of everything you were carrying alone. How you used to sit in the dark with her pressed against your chest and wonder, over and over, if you were doing any of it right. If love alone would be enough. If you were enough.

You remember the fear. The isolation. The way your hands would shake when you held her for the first time, terrified of dropping her, of failing her, of somehow not being the mother she deserved.

And yet… looking at these pictures now, the beauty of it rises up just as strongly, just as undeniable.

The way her tiny fingers had wrapped around yours with surprising strength. The first time she laughed so hard she got the hiccups and you both startled at the sound. The quiet, overwhelming certainty that settled into your bones the moment you decided to keep her; that no matter how scared you were, no matter how alone you felt, she was already the most important thing in your world. That you would figure it out. That you would love her loudly enough to fill every absence.

You run your thumb slowly over one of the photos, feeling the familiar ache of those early years and the deeper, steadier love that came after. The hard and the beautiful, tangled together so tightly you can no longer separate them.

A little sibling.

Kara already making space for them in her circle of toys downstairs.

Noah’s quiet, hopeful eyes whenever the subject surfaces, the way he looks at you like the idea itself is something sacred.

You press the photo gently to your chest for a moment, eyes closed, and let yourself feel all of it. The fear that still lives in you. The exhaustion you remember too clearly. The terror of becoming a mother all over again, of opening yourself up to the vulnerability of it. And underneath that, the quieter, steadier pull of something else. Something that feels a little like hope.

You carefully put the pictures back into the box, close the drawer, and sit there in the quiet a little longer. Listening to the distant sound of Noah’s guitar. Listening to the soft murmur of Kara’s show downstairs. Listening to the house breathe around you.

Considering.

The fear is still there. It probably always will be, in some form.

But for the first time, the idea of another baby does not feel only like a risk.

It feels like something that could grow in the same place where the hard and the beautiful once lived side by side.

Something that could belong here.

With the three of you.

taglist: @theanarchymuse95 | @platespaghetti | @enbytarin | @heavilyfadingpower | @pipidoll | @swimming-selfishes | @lowergroundfloor | @shayseeker | @mrslumi | @itsfarbettertolearn | @branika182 | @leosunshine | @chipotlebagnoah | @buttercupbabyyy | @chey-h | @mushrumink | @haileebluee | @alwaysfightforwhoyouare | @flowery-mess | @r3prise | @lost-in-stereo72 | @anything-morethan-human | @lacy1986 | @xmads-omensx

[babygirlnoah69]

do you like me? (do you want me?) 🖤

‘He’s drunk, it doesn’t mean anything, he’s like this with everyone when he’s had a few’ is what you keep telling yourself. But according to Noah, he’s only like this with you.

Or: five times Noah tells you he likes you, and the one time you believe him.

Noah x Fem plus size!reader | title from hanging out to dry by Florence Road | part 1 of 5 | wc: 1244

"Hey! Pretty girl!"

Despite Noah's voice carrying clearly over the music playing in the living room, you keep snaking your way through the crowd to get to the back door. There's far too many people crushed into one building to be comfortable at all and while you're happy there's so many people who want to celebrate Jolly's birthday, there's never been a less appealing place to have a panic attack.

Noah's a sneaky little shit when he wants to be, though, catching up to you in a matter of seconds. It's probably his giraffe legs.

"Oh pretty laaaaady," he sing-songs, reaching forward to grab your hand and spin you around to face him, and- goddammit.

He's grinning at you, all teeth and boyishness, a Modelo in one hand and your fingers in the other, swinging your joined hands back and forth. His soft cheeks are red, brown eyes just barely glazed over as he looks you up and down, his tongue darting out to wet his lips before he meets your eyes.

It's unfair, is what it is.

"I know you know my name, Noah," you sigh, your free hand tugging at your shirt out of habit. He nods, the little ponytail up on his head springing around.

"I do, but what's the harm in calling the pretty girl pretty?"

It takes a real effort to stop from rolling your eyes, even though it would be mostly out of fondness. It's sweet, what he's saying, but he clearly doesn't understand that that's not how the world works. The friend of a friend who's never even really been asked on a date doesn't get to be flirted with by the lead singer who could have whoever he wanted. Not for real anyway.

"You really do know how to commit to a bit, don't you?" You ask, quirking one eyebrow and pretending the feeling of his skin on yours isn't a lightning strike.

He's made a habit of seeking you out at social functions, calling out 'hey pretty girl!' over everyone else's heads and making a beeline for you. It goes like this; he calls out for you, grabs your hand, calls you cute little pet names, then disappears into the crowd like it never happened. If it's a joke, which it must be, it's quite a long-running one. It could be a bet, you think to yourself, the guys all running odds on how long it takes for you to realize it was a joke the whole time.

The thought stings, quick and sharp, that your friends might do that to you, but if there's one thing you've learned to count on, it's the reality of knowing these kinds of interactions never carry their surface value.

A tiny line pops up between his eyebrows as they smush themselves together on his forehead, but right when he opens his mouth someone almost bumps into you. Noah acts quickly, letting your hand go and pulling you closer to him by your shoulders, almost pulling you straight into his chest, and you catch the scent of his fabric softener. Just like everyone else in the house he’s more than half drunk and definitely sweating, but he still smells like fresh laundry and settled cologne.

Bastard.

Once whoever almost bumped you scoots by, you think he’ll drop his hands and let you go on your way, but no. Instead he clasps his wrists together on the back of your neck and fiddles with your necklace, the cold from the beer can making you shiver.

“I haven’t seen you in a while, how’ve you been?” He asks, looking at you with a warm smile on his face like he genuinely cares about the answer.

You look up at him, sweet grin on his face, starting to gently sway the two of you back and forth, and maybe it’s the seltzer you’ve had, or maybe it’s just the way Noah is, but you answer him honestly.

“I’ve been alright, work is kicking my ass. It’s wedding season, so every late twenties woman in the tri-state area is showing me her Pinterest board and asking for ten thousand dollars worth of floral work for five hundred bucks.”

Noah snorts a laugh, only moving one hand to take a drink from the can. “I forgot Jolly told me you’re a florist. Is it cliché as fuck to ask your favorite flower?”

“It is, but we’re gonna ignore that. I love peonies.”

Noah looks down at where your arms lay by your hips, one hand leaving your neck and his fingers trailing along the peony tattooed on your arm.

“Second favorite?” He asks, a teasing smirk on his pretty face.

“Sunflowers.”

“Third favorite?”

A genuine laugh spills from your mouth, almost startling you. You can’t really remember the last time someone made you laugh like that, so out of the blue.

“Do you want my top five?”

Noah nods, his gaze focused on yours.

“Peonies, sunflowers, violets, ranunculus, and I know it’s a basic ass choice, but I do love a daisy.”

“Got it,” he says, nodding once like he’s committed the list to memory. “Now we get into the juicy stuff. Coffee or tea?”

The answer rolls off your tongue. “Tea, specifically an iced chai.”

“Books or movies?”

“Books always, the movie usually never does the book justice.”

“Candles or incense?”

The tips of his fingers are still tracing the tattoos on your arm, softly running along the lines of the leaves on the different flowers you’ve got in a half sleeve on your forearm. You know the answers to his questions, but it’s hard to focus on actually answering when he’s so close.

“Candles, I have far too many for just one person.”

You watch as his smile turns shark like, one eyebrow popping up. “Oh, so there is only one person? Interesting.”

This time you do roll your eyes, and he must know that you don’t really mean anything by it because his laugh rings out around you before he asks, “aquarium or museum?”

“Yes.”

His grin softens again, and both hands return to the back of your neck, adjusting your necklace so the clasp is in the right place.

“Last one. What’s a guy gotta do to get a shot with you, hm?”

You blink in surprise, looking up at him with your mouth half open. “There’s no way you mean that,” you say before you even have a chance to filter yourself.

“I do, actually. I-”

“Noah! We’re cutting the cake man, c’mon,” someone hollers out behind him, but he doesn’t look over his shoulder or move away. He gives your shoulder a squeeze and smiles at you instead.

“We should probably go be festive,” he says, and when you nod and go to pull away he stops you. “I do mean it. I don’t hang off of everyone like a koala, just you.”

“Sure, Noah,” you say, reaching up to pat him on the head, avoiding the cute little ponytail, before turning to the kitchen to sing Jolly happy birthday.

He’s a sweet guy, making an effort to come over and say hello when he sees you, and it’s nice of him to try and make you feel special. But you know, despite the shred of hope in the back of your brain, that you’ll never be what he wants.

A week later, when a text from an unknown number pops up, there’s a little tingle at the bottom of your spine.

Hey, pretty girl.

Oh, fuck.

[runningincircl3s]

HEDONIST- young parents au!

part 4

wc: 11.5k warnings: i haven’t had a chance to proof read this part yet, but it won on the poll so here it is!! like always, pregnancy and probably a whole lot of inaccuracy! noah calls reader his girlfriend and we don’t question it because that happened along the way!! alludes to sex in the beggining but nothing explicit. i have also tried to squeeze a lot into this chapter, which is why it’s so long 🥲

i know i said in the beginning this would be a five part series, but i'm thinking about making it a little longer. perhaps seven? since there's still a few things i want to happen before it finishes :(

“Do you have to leave?” You pouted, looking up at Noah through your lashes, your hand gently resting on his chest, feeling his heartbeat start to slow, returning to normal. 

He looked down at you, his hair a mess from where your fingers had been tangled through it only moments ago, his cheeks still slightly flushed, but his eyes weren’t hungry and full of desire like they’d been just moments ago. All you saw in them now was sadness. 

But he smiled anyway.

“I wish I didn’t have to,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair out of your face, “Trust me.” 

You let out a weak little laugh as you sat up. 

“I considered hiding your passport.” 

“...I’m pretty sure that’s a crime, babe.” 

“So is leaving your pregnant girlfriend.”

That earned a little chuckle from him, though it faded as quick as it came. His fingertips brushed gently over your cheek, wiping away a tear you didn’t realise escaped. 

“I really don’t want to go,” he confessed, holding you even tighter, “I’ve been trying to convince myself that I’ll just accept it and it’ll get easier.”

“And has it?”

“Pfft, of course not.” 

You smiled sadly, and then moved, you rested your head against his shoulder, just letting him hold you while you sat there in silence, just listening to each other breathe. You were both trying to make the most of this last morning together, because in just a few hours, he’d be leaving. And he wouldn’t be back for two whole months…

You felt his hand slowly slide down your side until it reached your stomach, and he spread his fingers over the bump. You were now five months along, and your bump had become impossible to ignore. 

“You’ve gotten bigger,” he whispered, his thumb slowly stroking your soft skin, “It’s been five months already, and I still can’t believe our little baby’s growing in there. Inside you.” 

You smiled. 

“Me too.” 

“Y’know,” he said gently, “I’ve been trying to memorise it. The bump, the way you look… because when I come home, you’re gonna be different again.” 

That made your heart hurt to think about, because while he was away your baby would keep growing, the bump would change, you would change… and he’d miss it all. 

“I’ll send you pictures and videos every day,” you promised, “It’ll be like you never left.” 

He smiled sadly, letting out a soft breath. 

“I know, baby. But it isn’t the same, I just wish I could be here in person.” 

You reached up and cupped his face in your hand, and he softly leaned into it. 

“We’ll get through it.” 

He nodded his head. 

“I know. But I keep thinking stupid things… like what if the baby forgets my voice, or wonders where I’ve gone.” 

You frowned, stroking his cheek with your thumb. 

“You promised to call everyday, right? They’ll still hear your voice, I’ll even play your music around the house if we start to miss you.” 

That made him smile, pressing a slow, soft kiss to your wrist, his lips lingering there for a second before his glossy eyes met yours again. 

“C’mon, baby. We should probably take a shower.” 

…

You stood beneath the warm water together, with Noah behind you, his arms wrapped around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder. Neither of you spoke, the sound of the water rushing around you filled the silence. 

His hands slowly slid over you until they rested on your bump, and he smiled to himself. 

“I’ve become really attached to this, y’know.” 

You laughed softly. 

“My stomach?”

“Our baby,” his voice was just above a whisper, “Our little family.” 

You let your eyes close. God, his hands were so gentle, so protective, like he was afraid of pressing too hard. 

“You’ve done such a good job.” He said, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. 

You turned your head slightly. 

“So have you.” 

He smiled against your skin. 

“I’ve had the easy job.” 

“You’ve looked after me.” You said with a little smile, “I wouldn’t say that’s an easy job.” 

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then he gently spun you around, and crouched down in front of you. Your breath caught, watching the water trickle through his hair as he looked up at you with the softest eyes, and the most gentle smile. 

His palms rested on either side of your tummy, and all he did was look, like he was trying to memorise this sight for the next two months on the road. Then, ever so gently, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss just below your belly button. Then another, and another, and his forehead lingered there afterwards. 

“I’m gonna miss this so much.” He whispered. 

“I know.” You frowned, your fingers running through his damp hair. 

“Last time I left to play a couple shows I only had to leave you” he smiled sadly, “And that was hard enough. Now I have two people to say goodbye to.” 

…

Somehow, the two of you ended up tangled in the sheets again after you got out of the shower. His damp hair left a little wet patch on the pillow while you rested your cheek against his chest, listening to the soft sound of his heartbeat. 

You let your eyes fall shut, and for a moment you almost forgot. You almost forgot about the suitcase waiting by the front door, about the plane tickets in his wallet- but then his phone buzzed. 

You felt your heart sink,  and he let out a sigh. 

“I should probably check that.” 

You nodded against his chest… but neither of you made an effort to move. Until his phone buzzed again. 

With another sigh, he blindly reached onto the nightstand until his fingers finally found it. He unlocked the screen, then all the colour drained from his face. 

“...They’re here?” You whispered, pushing yourself to sit up beside him. 

He swallowed, then set his phone back down. 

“Yeah, that was Davis. He said he’s outside.” 

You felt your eyes begin to fill with tears again, your bottom lip trembling…

“Oh, baby,” Noah frowned, pulling you closer to him again. “Hey, don’t cry.”

“I’m trying not to.” You said, your voice weak and wobbly. 

“Everything’s gonna be okay, yeah? Just like we’ve been talking about.” 

“I know.” You frowned, “But it’s just… saying goodbye is the hardest part.” 

“I know, baby. I know.” He said, his thumbs brushing away your tears, “I hate feeling like I’m abandoning you.” 

“You’re not.” You promised, followed by a little sniffle, “You’re just going to work.”

He nodded his head, his eyes searching yours. 

“Yeah… and it won’t be long until I’m home. Then I can hug you again, kiss you again… talk to our baby again.” 

“We’re already counting down the days.”

…

Eventually, you both got up and threw on whatever clothes were closest. The bedroom suddenly felt different, like every object in here now felt important. The mug he forgot to take downstairs, his hoodie hanging over your chair, the polaroid camera on your desk, the little stack of your bump photos beside it. His eyes lingered on them, then he walked over and picked up the most recent one. 

“I’m taking this.” He said, smiling to himself as he tucked it into his wallet.

“You got the last scan photo too?” You asked, and he nodded. 

“Always.” He said a little sadly, pulling it out of his wallet, along with a photo of you and him from New Years. “See, I’m taking my whole family with me.” 

Your face softened as you walked up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. 

“I’m so proud of you.” You whispered, “I hope you never forget that.” 

HONK HOOONK

You both suddenly flinched, then Noah sighed. 

“I can’t keep them waiting any longer.” 

You shook your head. 

“C’mon, I’ll walk you out.” 

Noah nodded, picked his phone back up and made his way down the stairs. You took a breath and followed him a moment later, still trying to keep yourself composed. 

He picked up his suitcase, then for a moment he didn’t move. He heard the sound of your footsteps slowly following behind him, and then he turned around. 

He just looked at you for a moment without saying anything, but then his lips tugged into a sad smile, and he let go of the handle to walk over to you. He slowly crouched down onto one knee, his hands resting gently on either side of your bump.

“Hey, little one.” His voice was so soft it almost broke you. “Daddy’s gonna go play some shows… I’m gonna be gone for a while, but I promise I’m coming home.” He rubbed his thumb gently across your shirt. “I’m gonna miss you. Be good for mama, alright? Try to give her a break from the heartburn. And don’t grow too much while I’m gone…”

You pressed your lips together, trying desperately not to cry.

“I’ll be back before you know it.” He smiled. “And then hopefully you’ll kick me in the face like I’ve been asking.”

You laughed suddenly, though it sounded a little sad. 

“Seriously?”

“Babe, I’ve waited months and I’ve still not felt it.” He chuckled, looking up at you. 

He then leaned forward, and pressed the gentlest kiss to your bump.

“I love you.” Then another. “And I’ll miss you.” Then one last lingering kiss. “So so much.”

When he stood again, his own eyes were looking quite glossy, and he blinked quickly, trying to stop the tears… though he failed. 

“Shit,” he shook his head. “I didn’t want to cry.”

“Me neither.” You chuckled, wiping at your own face. 

“…I can’t make them wait forever.” He said eventually. 

“No.” You reached for his hand. “C’mon, let’s go.”

He gave your hand a soft squeeze as he picked up his suitcase again, then you reached for the front door, carefully pulling it open. He just stood there for a second, and then he leaned in, giving you one last kiss. It was slow and tender, full of so much love and all the words he didn’t know how to say. 

Then, when your lips finally parted, he rested his forehead against yours.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He smiled sadly. 

“I love you more.”

Then he slowly pulled back, and dragged the suitcase out the front door.  

He started walking down the drive, towards Davis’s car, and you wondered if he’d turn back to wave one last time, or to blow you one last kiss. But he didn’t. Because he knew if he turned back now, he wouldn’t leave at all. 

… 

The house felt awfully silent after he left. You stood in the doorway for a long time after Davis’s car had driven off, as if you were expecting him to come back. But it was stupid. He wasn’t coming back. Not for two months. 

You finally stepped back inside and pushed the door shut, locking it behind you… then wondered what now? 

But then your phone buzzed suddenly from the kitchen table, where you had left it this morning, so you made your way over to it, and you smiled the second you saw the name on your screen. 

Noah: I miss you already

You: You left two minutes ago.

Noah: Yeah. Longest two minutes of my life. I wanna be back in bed with you :(

You laughed through your tears, then another message appeared. 

Noah: Did you lock the front door?

You rolled your eyes affectionately

You: Yes.

Noah: Have you taken your vitamins this morning?

You: No, I’ve been too busy in bed with you 

Noah: 😏

Noah: Go take your vitamins baby, and make you sure you have something to eat. I’ll let you know when we get to the airport

You: Okay <3

You smiled despite yourself, and set your phone back down on the table, before crossing the kitchen. You kept your vitamins beside the coffee machine, somewhere that you won’t forget they’re there. You reached for them, then you grabbed a glass that was drying beside the sink, and filled it with some water. 

In the time it took you to take the tablet, your phone buzzed three times. 

You chuckled to yourself, reaching for it again. This time, Noah had sent you a couple pictures- one showed Davis was driving, Jolly was in the passenger seat, and the other showed Noah sandwiched between the Nicks. 

Noah: Before you ask, Bryan isn’t tied to the roof. We’re meeting him at the airport. 

You couldn’t help but laugh. 

You: Yeah I don’t know if I believe that…

He then sent you another picture, where he was pouting way too dramatically.

Noah: I miss you :(

Your heart melted.

You: I miss you too

You: The house is too quiet, I don’t like it

…

An hour or two passed, and you would still receive the occasional text from Noah, asking you random questions, checking in on the baby, asking what you were up to- each time you’d give him the same answer. Nothing had changed since he last asked five minutes ago. 

Then another twenty minutes passed, and you assumed he finally got to the airport. You tried to ignore the ache in your heart, knowing that soon he’d be boarding and he’d be unreachable for a while. You suddenly found yourself wishing the traffic was worse, or that time would just slow down. 

But this was his job, and sooner or later, you’d have to get used to these goodbyes. 

You tried to take your mind off of it. So you went upstairs to change the bedsheets, since you were sure they got a little messy earlier, but when you reached the bed you noticed the pillow was still slightly damp from Noah’s wet hair. 

With a frown, you picked it up, and breathed in the scent. If this was how you were acting after a couple hours, what would you be like in a month's time?

You got the sheets changed though, sweaty, sticky sheets replaced by clean, fresh bedding for tonight. Though it’d only be you who would be sleeping in it. 

As you were carrying the laundry basket down the stairs, there was a sudden knock on the door, which was strange- you weren’t expecting anyone. 

Slowly, you made your way over and opened it, to reveal Davis stood on your porch, his hands shoved awkwardly into his hoodie pocket. Then he looked up at you and offered a small smile. 

“…Hi.”

You blinked, a little confused. 

“…Did Noah forget something?”

He laughed quietly.

“No.” Then he looked down at his feet a little awkwardly. “He just told me to come over.”

Your shoulders immediately softened.

“He what?”

“He asked me to come back after I dropped everyone off to make sure you’re okay.”

You couldn’t help smiling.

“Of course he did.” 

Davis huffed a laugh.

“You don’t have to stand outside,” you said, stepping back. “Come in.”

“Only if you’re sure.”

“I am.”

He nodded and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Then for a moment, neither of you said anything. It wasn't exactly awkward… just unfamiliar. You and Davis had always gotten along, but usually Noah was the one filling the silences with jokes or whatever stupid comments he had. Without him, everything felt quieter.

“So…” Davis said eventually. “How are you?”

You opened your mouth, ready to give the automatic answer. “I’m fine.”

But… that wasn’t the truth. You were tired, emotional, feeling lonely already. So instead you sighed.

“…I miss him.”

Davis nodded immediately.

“Yeah… I get that.” A sad smile crossed his face. “He spent the whole drive talking about you.”

Your heart squeezed.

“He did?”

“He was worried.” Davis chuckled softly. “Worried you’d overdo things around the house, or forget to eat, or you’d google symptoms and panic.”

You rolled your eyes.

“He’s got nothing to worry about. I’ll be fine.” 

Davis smiled, but it was softer this time. 

“Look…” He leaned casually against the kitchen counter. “I know Noah asked me to check in, but even if he didn't ask I would’ve anyway.”

You looked up.

“What?”

“You’ve become our friend too.” Davis said simply, “We all care about you. And I was worried… this is the first time he’s been away from you for this long, and it’s not just you he’s leaving this time.” He nodded to your tummy. 

You suddenly felt a lump in your throat.

“So I just wanted to come over to let you know,” Davis continued, “If something breaks, or if you need help carrying groceries, or… if you’re just lonely.” He smiled softly, “I’m here. Just give me a call.” 

“Davis…” You frowned, your eyes already glossy again. “You don’t have to do any of that-” 

“I know.” He said with a gentle smile, “But I want to. Oh- and Noah said you’ve got a scan in a few days?”

You nodded your head. 

“Yeah, it’s the 20 week scan. Even though it’s a few weeks late… it’s just to check to make sure everything’s okay now I’m over halfway along.” 

“Oh, cool.” He said, “D’you know how you’re getting to the hospital? I heard your cars off the road at the moment?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “Steve’s looking at it this week. He told me he could take me to the hospital but I’d be waiting around for a while, so I kinda-”

“I’ll take you.” He offered with no hesitation. 

A little smile grew on your lips. 

“You’d do that?”

“Of course,” he nodded, “Only if you want me to, of course.”

“Yeah… yeah, that’d be great! Thank you so much!” 

“No worries,” he smiled, “...I could come in with you too if you wanted. Or would that make it weird?”

“No,” you shook your head, “That won’t be weird. I’d love that! I was worried I’d have to do it alone… I’m also gonna ask about the gender. Has Ruffilo told you about our plan?” 

Davis raised an eyebrow. 

“No…? What plan?” 

“I’m gonna come out to visit Noah on tour, and we’re gonna throw a gender reveal party!” 

… 

So, just as planned, a few days later, Davis turned up at your place ten minutes early to pick you up for the appointment. Noah had been messaging you all morning, wishing you luck, telling you to make sure you keep the gender a secret from him until he’s home. He had told you, even before leaving, that he doesn’t want to find something like that out over the phone, he wants you to wait until he comes back- little does he know, he’ll be finding out in just a few weeks anyway! 

You’d slowly been adjusting to how life works when Noah’s on the road. Every night, you facetime while he’s in the tour van. Every morning, you wake up to a text and a pretty picture of the sunrise. He had even been honest with you last night and told you there was a girl trying to get his number after one of the shows, and he had turned her away, and sent her straight to Folio instead. 

You didn’t have a single worry about Noah and other girls. If the last five months had proved anything to you, it’s that he is not the guy he used to be, and wouldn’t even think about looking at another girl, when he knows you’re at home growing his little baby in your belly. 

You sent him one last message as Davis parked up at the hospital. 

You: Just got to the hospital, I know the signals pretty bad in there so I’ll call you when I’m out. I love you <3

Noah: Good luck baby, I wanna hear all about it when you’re done. 

Noah: Fuck I wish I could’ve been there with you. Tell Davis I owe him big time

You chuckled as you tucked your phone away in your handbag, and unbuckled your seatbelt. 

“Noah texting you?” Davis asked as he got out of the car. 

“Yeah,” you smirked as you got out and shut the passenger door, “He says he owes you big time, apparently.” 

Davis scoffed. 

“I’m not doing this for him,” he said, “I’m doing this for you. I hated the thought of you having to come here alone.” 

You looked up at Davis as the two of you walked side by side towards the entrance. 

“Y’know, if you keep this up, I might just name the baby after you if it’s a boy.” You smirked. 

“Damn, poor kid.” Davis laughed, making you frown. 

“What?”

“You seriously wanna call your first born child Davis Davis?” 

“Hey, who said I’m letting them have Noah’s last name!” You laughed. 

“...Have you even talked about names yet?” Davis asked, his tone a little more serious now. 

“Not really.” You sighed as you walked through the automatic doors, and were immediately hit with the smell of hospital. “All I know is since he started watching Peaky Blinders, Noah likes the name Tommy for a boy. If you even think I’m letting him name our baby after a fictional character-” 

“It could’ve been worse,” Davis smirked, “He could’ve chosen a name from Naruto.” 

You shook your head. 

“Don’t you dare give him any ideas.” You chuckled. 

“...What about you, though? What names do you like?”

You thought for a moment, because it’s never something you really took seriously.

You had a list of names in your notes app from years ago that you chose when you were hormonal and decided maybe you did want kids one day. But you never really thought it’d ever become real, and there would be a little human in your arms in a few months that you have to give a name to. 

“...I don’t know, to be honest. For a girl, I’ve always liked the name Evelyn… it’s my aunt Linda’s middle name, and I always thought it sounded so pretty. It could even be shortened to Eve or Evie, which I think is cute. And for a boy… pfft, I have no idea.” 

“Anything but Davis.” Davis smirked, making you chuckle. 

By the time you reached reception, your feet were aching but you still couldn’t stop smiling. You talked to the receptionist, who somehow recognised you, and she let you know Mandy was running a few minutes behind, so you and Davis took a seat in the waiting room. 

There were only a few other people in the waiting room. One woman was heavily pregnant, absentmindedly rubbing the side of her bump while her partner was glued to his phone screen. Then there was another girl, she was all alone, and she looked quite young- she couldn’t have been any older than nineteen. She looked terrified, and it reminded you of how you felt back in the beginning. 

“You okay?” Davis asked, noticing where you were looking. 

You nodded your head as you sat down in one of the chairs.

“Yeah, I just… I still remember coming here for the first scan. I was scared, I think Noah was even more scared though,” you chuckled, “But I’ll never forget the look on his face when we first saw the little squiggle on the screen and the sound of the heartbeat. I never knew it was possible to be so in love with something- someone I’ve never met before.” 

Davis let out a soft sigh, a frown tugging at his mouth. 

“He hates that he’s missing this, y’know?”

You nodded. 

“I know. I had to listen to him try not to cry on the phone last night… you’d think it was him with the pregnancy hormones.” You chuckled, trying to play it off. “I wish-”

But then, you suddenly felt your baby give a little kick. It was strong enough to make you stop mid-sentence. 

“Oh my god!” You froze, your eyes shooting down to your belly. 

“What?” Davis asked, slightly panicked. 

“The baby just kicked again!” You laughed. “That’s something else that Noah’s pissed about. He’s never felt them kick him yet…”

“Really?”

You shook your head. 

“It makes me feel bad for him,” you sighed, “He’s tried so hard. He’s played music to them, he’s talked to them, he’s tried to work out when they’re awake and most active… he’s even tried poking the bump to see if they’ll kick back but they still haven't.”

Davis frowned, about to say something, when all of a sudden your name was called. The two of you looked up, and Mandy the sonographer was there, stood in the doorway with a warm smile. 

“Ready?” She asked, making your stomach flutter. 

“Yep.” You nodded, standing carefully. 

“No Noah today?” She asked, giving Davis a rather confused look. 

“No… he wishes he could’ve been here, but he’s working. This is Davis, a friend of ours.” 

She laughed, nodding her head. 

“It’s so nice to see you’ve got a lot of support.” Mandy smiled as she led the two of you down the hallway, before pushing one of the doors open, “Come on in.” 

The room looked almost identical to the one from your twelve week scan. The lights were dimmed and the ultrasound machine was in the same corner, the large monitor mounted high enough that you could see it from the bed, with a second small screen facing Mandy as she worked. 

It felt a little bittersweet. As excited as you were about this scan, you couldn’t help but think back to the last time you were here, when Noah was by your side, his hand wrapped so tight around yours that you teased him about cutting off the circulation to your fingers. 

“Everything alright?” Mandy asked gently when she noticed how far away you were in your mind. You looked up and gave her a smile. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, “It just… it feels strange without Noah.” 

Mandy’s face softened. 

“I remember the last time you were both here, he was the sweetest dad-to-be.” 

You nodded your head.

“He still is… he hates that he’s missing this.” You said as your eyes grew glossy again. 

“Don’t you worry,” Mandy smiled, “I’ll make sure we get lots of lovely pictures for him.” 

“Thank you.” You smiled, then you spotted Davis, standing hesitantly by the door. 

“Uh… before I come in, you don’t have to get naked… right?” He asked, seeming rather frightened. 

You and Mandy both laughed.

“No!” You grinned, “Come in.” 

“Oh, good.” You watched the relief wash over him, it was almost comical. 

“So you’re Davis, right?” Mandy asked. 

He nodded proudly. 

“Yep. I’m the baby’s future uncle.” 

You looked at him with a smile, and Mandy chuckled. 

“It’s lovely that you came with her.” 

“I couldn’t let her come on her own.” Davis said, his voice a little softer. 

“Alright then,” Mandy said as she rubbed her hands together gently, “Let’s have a look at this little one.”

You climbed carefully onto the bed, your bump making the movement slightly more awkward than it used to be. Davis carefully pulled the chair closer so he’d be beside you rather than tucked away in the corner, sitting exactly where Noah would’ve been. 

It made you smile. 

“What?” He asked with a breathy chuckle. 

“Nothing.” You said, “Just… thanks for coming.” 

He simply nodded.

“Of course.” 

Mandy rolled her chair over to you, asking for permission before gently pushing up your tshirt. She then squeezed some gel onto your belly, the sudden coolness making you flinch. 

“Sorry,” she chuckled, “I should’ve given you a warning.” 

“It’s okay.” You smiled as she reached for the wand. 

“Ready?” She asked, and you gave her a quick nod of your head. 

She lowered the wand onto your stomach, and for a second it was just static and grey shapes. Until… 

“There they are!” She grinned as the image became more clear. 

Your breath caught.

“Oh…”

Your baby filled far more of the screen now, gone was the tiny little potato you’d first fallen in love with. Instead, there was a proper little baby curled comfortably inside you with their little legs tucked up, with one tiny arm resting beside their face. You could even make out the shape of their nose.

“It- they’ve gotten so big…” You whispered. Suddenly now, it feels even more real that there’s a tiny little person in your tummy. 

“They certainly have.” Mandy smiled.

Davis stared at the monitor in awe, his mouth hanging open slightly. 

“That’s…” He stopped. “They’re…”

You looked over at him, and he looked completely speechless.

“…That’s a baby.” He finally said. 

You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yes, Davis. This baby’s been inside me for… five months.” 

“I know but…” He pointed at the screen. “…But that’s actually a baby.”

You laughed harder.

“What did you expect?”

“I dunno. I thought it’d still look like a jellybean… or like a little blob.”

Instead, the baby wriggled and stretched their leg out on the screen as if to prove him wrong even further. It made you smile, and your heart had never felt so full.

“They’ve been moving constantly today.” You told Mandy, who smiled as she studied the screen. 

“They must be very happy.”

Almost as if the baby knew you were watching, they lifted one little hand, that seemed to push gently against the side of your uterus. Your own hand instinctively settled over the matching spot on your bump.

“There you are…” You whispered, feeling such an overwhelming sense of connection to them all of a sudden, and your eyes filled with tears before you could stop it.

Mandy spent the next several minutes taking measurements while you and Davis watched the screen. Occasionally Mandy would explain what she was measuring as she clicked some buttons. 

“That’s the head… it seems to be a perfect size.” Click. “Beautiful heartbeat…” Click. “Lovely spine…” Click. “Everything’s measuring exactly as we’d hoped.” 

You let out a breath of relief that you didn’t even realise you were holding. 

“You’ve got a very cooperative baby today.” Mandy smiled. “They’re making my job easy.”

“They definitely don’t do that for me.” You laughed. “They start kicking the second I try to sleep.”

“You sure that’s not Noah?” Davis chuckled, making you roll your eyes playfully before suddenly remembering something. 

“Also… are we able to find out the gender today? You asked, “We want to throw a party and surprise Noah… he’s on tour with his band at the moment, and I’m going out to visit him next month.”

“Of course.” Mandy nodded, “Would you like me to tell you today, or would you rather I write it down and put it in an envelope.” 

You bit your lip as you thought about it, then you looked over at Davis. 

“I don’t want to know.” He suddenly said, “I just know I’ll accidentally say something and spoil it.” 

You laughed, shaking your head. 

“I’d like to know, please.” You told Mandy, who gave you a big smile. 

“Then let’s have a look.” She adjusted the wand ever so slightly on your belly.

Your stomach flipped. This was it. In just a few moments, you were going to know something about your baby that Noah- and everyone else- didn’t. A tiny little secret that you’d keep all the way up until you saw him again.

You watched Mandy study the screen with a look of concentration. She adjusted the wand a few times, clicked a few buttons, then smiled to herself.

“Hm.”

“What?” You asked immediately, panic creeping into your voice.

She looked up with a reassuring smile.

“Oh, nothing’s wrong.” You visibly relaxed. “I’ve just got exactly the view I need.”

She picked up the small cream envelope from beside the keyboard and laid it open on the desk, ready. Then she looked back at you.

“I’m going to write it down, then I’ll quickly show you before putting it in the envelope. Is that okay?”

You nodded. Now, your mouth had gone completely dry. Your fingers carefully rested at the top of your bump. You looked back up at the screen, and your baby wriggled again, completely unaware that they were the centre of yours and Noah’s entire universe now. 

A tiny foot stretched out, and a little hand lifted up towards their face. You smiled so softly your cheeks hurt.

“Hi, baby.” You whispered. 

Mandy leaned a little closer to you.

“So…” She picked up the little piece of card with one word scribbled down on it, and your heart beat so loud in your chest you were afraid she could hear it. 

She flashed you the card, and you read the word. Your eyes widened. For just a heartbeat, you simply stared at the screen, then your entire face softened.

A tiny, breathless laugh escaped you.

“Oh… wow…” Your free hand flew to your mouth.

Tears immediately filled your eyes as you looked down at your bump, then back at the little person on the monitor.

“Oh, sweetheart…” The words slipped out, and your shoulders shook with quiet, happy laughter. “I can’t believe it…”

Just beside you, Davis cracked one eye open just enough to look at your face.

“…You know?”

You nodded quickly, still smiling through tears.

“I know.”

He smiled so wide, like you’ve never seen before.

“Good?”

You laughed.

“So good.”

Mandy then carefully slipped the card into the envelope and sealed it, then wrote neatly across the front…

Baby Y/L/N - Davis

Mandy also printed several scan photographs, laying them carefully on the desk one by one.

“This one’s lovely.” She pointed to one of the pictures. “And this one…” Another print slid out. “…almost looks like they’re waving.”

You picked them up carefully, your thumb brushing over the glossy paper. Every appointment left you wondering how it was possible to love someone you’d never even met, and somehow every appointment, you loved them even more.

“Thank you.” You said to Mandy as she handed you paper towels to wipe the gel off your belly. 

“My pleasure.” She smiled. 

As you climbed off the bed, your phone buzzed inside your handbag. You didn’t need to look to know who it was. Noah had probably been counting down the minutes, wondering if everything was okay, desperate to ask the one question you weren’t going to answer. 

You smiled to yourself. Just a little while longer.

…

The weeks without Noah didn’t exactly get easier. You thought they would, you thought you’d get used to not having him around… but instead you just learned how to cope with missing him. 

Your chest no longer ached the way it did the morning he’d left, when you’d stood in the driveway watching Davis’s car disappear around the corner until it was completely out of sight. Back then, every room in the house had felt wrong without him in it.

But now you knew more about your baby, you didn’t feel so alone. It was silly, you lived alone before meeting Noah, you never thought you could miss someone like this, and now your house doesn’t feel like home without him. 

Your bump was impossible to ignore now you were six months along. People smiled at you in supermarkets, cashiers asked when you were due, and random strangers felt the need to tell you their birth stories while you stood in the line to buy cereal. One older lady had even gently patted your arm before saying, “Enjoy every second, sweetheart. It goes quicker than you think.”

You’d smiled politely, then went home and cried because how could time possibly be going quickly? You wanted Noah home. Now.

Your little one had settled into a routine now though, they seemed to wake up just as you were trying to fall asleep. Every. Single. Night.

You’d lie there with one hand over your stomach, feeling the occasional tiny little kick against your palm. Sometimes you’d whisper, “Your dad would love this.” Other times you’d record the movement on your phone so Noah wouldn’t miss it.

Half the videos ended with you laughing because the moment you pressed record, the kicking stopped. Noah was convinced they were doing it on purpose, so you didn’t dare tell him Nick and Davis had seen the baby kick before him. 

You found it hard to sleep for the first week after Noah left, the bed felt too empty and you could never get comfy. So, the pregnancy pillow Noah had bought before he left had become your favourite possession. Not because it was particularly comfortable- although it was- but because of what he’d done to it.

The black band shirt that he stretched over it still smelled a little like him. He sprayed it with his cologne before leaving, but you had fallen asleep cuddled up to it so much that it was starting to fade. Every night, you’d wrap your arms around it, sometimes without even thinking about it, and you’d smile as you’d drift off. 

But on the harder nights, you’d find yourself with your face buried against the cotton, your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to pretend just a few minutes that it was Noah’s chest beneath your cheek instead. But it wasn’t the same, it never would be. 

But it helped you fall asleep nonetheless. 

He’d somehow known those nights would happen, which is why he left you all the notes. At first, you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t open them unless you really needed them… but that promise lasted a week. 

The first one you’d opened was labelled: Open when you miss me. Inside was a polaroid of the two of you taken by Jesse one evening at his place during a party, it was a few months ago, back when no one else besides you two knew you were pregnant, the baby was just your little secret. In the photo, you were laughing with your eyes closed, and Noah wasn’t looking at the camera, he was looking at you. 

On the note, he’d written in his messy handwriting:

I know a photo isn’t the same as a cuddle, but until I get home, this is the next best thing.

I miss you more.

You’d cried, then felt silly and laughed at yourself for crying, then you cried again. 

You had read through the label of each note in the box, and one of them read open when you’re scared. You hadn’t touched that one yet, and just knowing it was there somehow made you feel braver. You hadn’t once felt scared during this time, but you knew that would soon change. 

…

The baby had slowly begun taking over the house. It started simple, a few things Linda had brought over, a pack of bottles, a pair of tiny socks you’d bought when you were shopping for maternity clothes because you couldn’t help yourself… then came teddy bears, books, a little white onesie with a tiny giraffe stitched across the front that Davis insisted on buying when the two of you went out shopping for groceries. 

You had set aside one drawer in your bedroom for baby things, but it was getting fuller and fuller. You’d washed every single item before carefully folding it away, and sometimes you’d find yourself just standing there, holding something so little and soft, trying to imagine the tiny person who’d eventually wear it.

It still felt unbelievable. Sometimes you still couldn’t believe this was real… but each day, it only became realer. 

One Saturday morning, there was a knock on your door. You already knew who it would be, so you rushed down the stairs to answer it. 

When you opened it, Davis was standing there, and behind him you could see your uncle Steve climbing out of his van.

Steve looked between the two of you as he walked up the driveway. 

“So…” He grinned, clapping his hands together, “Which room are we destroying, kid?”

You laughed.

“Hopefully none of them.” You smiled as you led them up the stairs. 

Your spare bedroom had become what every spare bedroom eventually became… a dumping ground- or as you like to call it, extra storage space. It's where you kept boxes of Christmas decorations, suitcases, a broken chair… there was barely even enough room to walk through it. 

Steve stood in the doorway with his hands on his hips.

“Jesus, what happened here?”

“I know.” You groaned, a little embarrassed. 

“Didn’t realise you’ve been hoarding.”

“I haven’t!”

Steve didn’t look very convinced. 

So, for the next few hours, the three of you worked on clearing the room out. Steve carried the heavy furniture downstairs without breaking a sweat, Davis followed behind with boxes stacked almost to his chin.

“Go sit down, leave us to it.” Steve insisted, pointing towards your room.

“I’ve been sitting down all morning!”

“And now you’re gonna sit down all afternoon.”

“Steve!”

“Hey, no arguments.” 

You sighed dramatically before sitting yourself down on the top step of the stairs. And almost immediately, you felt your baby kick. You suddenly smiled, and Steve noticed, confused at the sudden switch up in your attitude. 

“Everything alright?”

You nodded.

“They’re just reminding me they’re helping.” You smiled, making him chuckle. 

“Already supervising us, huh?”

You were amazed that by late afternoon, the room was almost unrecognisable. The boxes had been put away in the loft, old furniture had either been put in Steve’s van to be donated or to get rid of. And sunlight poured through the now-uncovered window. 

For the first time since you’d moved into the house, the room echoed. You stood in the doorway, one hand resting beneath your bump, still in disbelief. 

“It’s empty.”

“Not for long.” Davis said, appearing by your side, making you smile. 

“No…”

You looked around the room slowly, and you could almost picture it. A bassinet against the wall, a changing table opposite it, little books lined up on the shelves, a rocking chair in the corner where Noah would no doubt fall asleep during late night feeds.

You swallowed hard, trying to fight against the lump in your throat.

“This…” You whispered. “…This is going to be their room.”

Steve wrapped an arm around your shoulders for a brief squeeze.

“It is.” He smiled.  “And before you know it, this house is going to feel very, very full.”

Your eyes drifted down to your bump, and thought about how every day, your baby grew a little bigger. Every day, the nursery became a little more real. And every day, you counted one day closer to Noah coming home to see it all.

You thanked Davis and Steve for the help. And they offered to help with the rest- painting, building furniture, organising everything- but you told them you had it under control. You wanted to wait until Noah was home, so the two of you could do it together. 

…

Before you knew it, it was the morning of the gender reveal party. You barely slept the night before- not because the baby had been particularly active, although they’d managed a few enthusiastic kicks around three in the morning, but because every time you closed your eyes, you imagined Noah’s face.

You pictured it in a hundred different ways. Confused, shocked, crying, laughing, happy- or maybe all of them at once. The thought of knowing he was about to find out was enough to keep you awake, and it took so much for you not to just text him. 

When your alarm finally went off, you were already staring at the ceiling. You smiled as you gently settled your hand over your bump. 

“Today’s the day.” You whispered, and after a few moments, a tiny kick answered you. “I know. I’m excited too.”

You climbed carefully out of bed with a big grin, stretching slowly before wandering into the bathroom to take a shower. 

After getting out, you struggled to find an outfit to wear. Half your clothes didn’t fit you now, and the other half felt too casual for the occasion. Though you doubted anything would be too casual, since Noah would most likely be turning up unaware in just a tshirt, his shorts that had a hole in them, and a pair of flip flops. 

So you reached for a pair of leggings, and a hoodie that Noah left behind. 

Your phone buzzed as you were pulling on a pair of socks, and when you glanced at it, you saw his name pop up on the screen. 

Noah: Morning beautiful ❤️

Noah: Big show tonight, I wish you were here :(

You smiled to yourself, if only he knew.

You: Good luck, you’ll smash it ❤️

Noah: I’m a little busy today so I might not get a chance to text until after the show

Noah: Just know you’re on my mind all day every day. I can’t wait to come home and kiss you again and hold you in my arms. Fuck I’m getting emotional just thinking about it

You: It’s okay. Take care of yourself, I love you

Noah: I love you more.

You smiled to yourself as you put your phone down, but then picked it right back up again because someone was calling. 

Davis is calling… 

“Hey.” You answered it with a smile. 

“Hi, I thought I’d let you know I’m about to leave. I’ll be at your place in ten. Will you be ready or do you need a little longer?”

“I’ll be ready.” You said, your eyes drifting over to the little polaroid of you and Noah from New Years on your dresser, “I don’t think I can wait any longer.” 

…

The drive felt a lot longer than it probably was, because you knew every mile brought you closer to Noah, to the surprise, to finally seeing him again. You even spent most of the journey talking about what might happen.

“What if he figures it out? Or if someone accidentally tells him?”

“They won’t.”

“What if he recognises your car?”

“We’re parking miles away.”

“What if-”

“Hey, you need to calm down.” Davis laughed, “You’re in panic mode. Everything is gonna be fine, you’ll be fine, Noah’s gonna be fine. It’s gonna be okay.”

You let out a long breath, nodding your head. 

“Okay.” 

Two and a half hours later, you were in the same city as Noah, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he’s doing right now. Was he setting up equipment? Complaining about soundcheck? Taking a nap before the show?

Davis purposely parked a few streets away from the venue.

“No chance he’ll see us here.” He said, and you put all your trust in him. 

You climbed carefully out of the car, and your bump immediately earned a smile from an elderly woman walking past, and you smiled back. Then your phone buzzed with a message from Ruffilo. 

Nick: Where are you two?

You replied with a picture of where you were, apologising because you’ve never been here before so you weren’t even sure yourself. 

Nick: Oh I know where that is! Stay where you are

It didn’t take long for Nick to appear, wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap, despite the cloudy weather. He looked around suspiciously, before hurrying over.

“Are you in a disguise?” You chuckled, and Nick nodded.

“If any of the guys from the other bands spot me, I’m toast! They’ll talk and it’ll get back to Noah, so we’ve got to be speedy.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Okay, what’s the plan?”

Nick clapped his hands together, before pointing at Davis. 

“You are picking up the cake.” He ordered, “I’ll send you the address. I thought it made sense because you’ve got a car, and we don’t want to drop it outside the venue and ruin the surprise.”  

Davis nodded his head, then Nick turned to you. 

“And our job is to find a store that sells decorations.”

“Okay.” You chuckled, nodding your head. 

“We’ve not got any time to waste,” Nick said, “The show starts in a couple hours. We’re the first band on, so while we’re on stage, it’ll be up to you and Davis to sneak all this in.”

You and Davis nodded, then you went your separate ways. You and Nick managed to find a party store, and while you weren’t sure if they’d sell gender reveal party decorations, you agreed that baby shower ones would work fine instead. 

Nicholas grabbed a basket from the stack as you walked through the door, and you followed him around until you found the display of balloons. He picked up a pack of blue and a pack of pink balloons, and some confetti. The store didn’t have much, but it didn’t matter. You told Nick it’d be fine, and that there probably wouldn’t be much room for decorations anyway. 

Just as you both stepped up to pay for the few items, your phone buzzed. For a moment, you were afraid it’d be Noah… but thankfully, it was Davis. 

Davis: Just picked the cake up, and I didn’t drop it on the way back to the car

Davis: But it looks amazing. 

You smiled to yourself and turned to Nick. 

“Do we even know where we’re putting this all up?”

Nick took the bag from the cashier, and you followed him back outside. 

“...Yeah!” He said,  though you’ve known him long enough to tell when he was lying. 

“Where then?”

Nicholas snapped his fingers, his eyes widening as he stopped in his tracks to face you. 

“There’s a dressing room!”

“Yeah?”

He nodded.

“The only thing is… it’s locked.” 

“Oh,” you frowned, “Do you guys have a key?”

Nick was quiet for a moment while he thought, then he pulled his phone from his pocket. He found Bryan’s contact and began typing. 

Nick: Bry, I’ve got a job for you. It’s top secret shit and Noah CAN’T find out about it

Bryan: ?

Nick: Y/n is here, we’re surprising Noah after the show

Nick: But it’s not just any surprise, it’s a gender reveal party too. And we kinda need to get into the dressing room to set it up

Nick: Is there any way you can try and get a key without anyone noticing?

The two of you just stared at the screen, waiting for his reply… 

Bryan: No way!! Noah’s gonna love that. He’s been missing home quite a lot today

Bryan: I’ll see what I can do. But you owe me for this

Nick: Thanks Bry 😘

… 

You, Nick and Davis were all hiding around the back of the venue, where the bands had vans parked for later, when they’d load their stuff back in again. You were patiently waiting for Bryan to open the door and let you all in so you knew the coast was clear. 

And when he did, your heart began racing in anticipation. The door swung open and Bryan waved you three in. 

“Okay, Noah’s talking through something with the sound guy and I’ve got the key, but we gotta move quick!” 

You all rushed to follow him down the hallway, until you reached a door. You could hear Noah talking, and your heart ached, you wished you could’ve just spoiled the surprise, run in and wrap your arms around him. You’d do anything to be in his arms, to kiss him, to hold him, to just see him again in person…

But instead, you tried not to listen. Bryan unlocked the door as quietly as he could, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds.

“Hurry.”

Nicholas slipped inside first, taking the bag of decorations from your hands before Davis carefully followed with the cake balanced carefully in his arms. Then you stepped inside last. 

What happened to ladies first, huh? At least your Noah was a gentleman…

The dressing room was smaller than you expected it to be, you expected vanity tables and mirrors lined with lightbulbs. But the reality was a desk in the corner of the room, a long mirror on the wall and a worn grey sofa. How glamorous. 

“This is perfect!” Nick smiled, hands on his hips and he looked around the room. 

Bryan nodded.

“Let me know if you guys need anything.”

Then, just as Bryan reached to close the door, a voice echoed down the corridor.

“…Bryan?”

Your heart stopped. You recognised that voice immediately. 

Noah.

Bryan’s eyes widened.

“Shit!”

He quickly pulled the door shut, so you guessed Noah couldn’t see him just yet.

Everyone in the dressing room froze, trying not to make a sound, not even breathing. You could hear Noah’s footsteps getting closer and closer, and your pulse started to race. 

“Who were you talking to?” Noah asked.

Bryan didn’t miss a beat.

“Oh, I was just sending Nick a voice note. He said he uh… he thinks he has food poisoning, poor guy.”

There was a pause.

“Oh, shit. Is he okay to play tonight?”

“Oh yeah!” Bryan sounded sure of himself, “Yeah, give him twenty minutes and he’ll be fine again.” 

Noah raised an eyebrow, a little suspicious. 

“Where is he?” 

Bryan shrugged.

“In the bathroom, I hope.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself laughing, and Nick was pulling a very disgusted face. 

Then Noah sighed.

“Okay. Well, I’m gonna call y/n and check in. I fucking hate this, man.” 

Bryan nodded sympathetically. 

“Only one month left. 20 shows, then you’ll be home.” 

“But I’ve already missed so much,” Noah said, “She’s carrying my baby, and I don’t feel like I’ve even been there for it.” 

You have, you told him in your mind, you’ve been amazing. 

Then Noah sighed again, and you could hear his footsteps starting to walk away. 

“There’s no point feeling sorry for myself.” He said, and then you couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation, his voice fading away. 

“Well, that was close.” Davis laughed as Nick finally let himself breathe again. 

“Shit, I thought he was gonna catch us.”

“So did I.” You admitted, “And now what am I supposed to do when he calls me?” 

Both the guys just looked at you, before answering at the same time, 

“Don’t answer.” 

“Tell him you were in the shower.” Davis said. 

“Or driving.” Nick added. 

You nodded your head. You’ve never missed one of his calls before, so you didn’t want to worry him if you didn’t pick up. But if he were to worry, it wouldn’t be for long…

“Okay,” you said, suddenly changing the subject, “We need to get this place ready.” 

Nick nodded, then handed a pack of balloons over to Davis. 

“Dude,” Davis groaned, “Why can’t you blow them up?”

Nicholas shrugged. 

“I have a table to set up.” 

You grinned, clasping your hands together. 

“So what’s my job?”

“You’re the one growing the baby, you don’t need to do anything else.”

You smirked, then sat down on the couch. 

“I can’t complain about that.” 

… 

Davis was red in the face from just how many balloons he’d blown up, and Nick had set the table up beautifully. Once he was done, he was ready to start bossing Davis around again, telling him how many balloons to tie together with which coloured ribbon and where to put them. 

“Higher.”

Davis stretched up on his tiptoes.

“Higher than that.”

“I’m six foot two, Nick!”

Nick smirked. 

“Then put that to use, big boy.” 

You giggled from your spot on the couch, taking a sip of the water Bryan just had to smuggle into the dressing room for you. Then you watched Nick go back to the table, he was being a perfectionist about it. He rearranged the paper plates and napkins on the desk again, then stepped back to look at his work. 

And the moment he smiled, his phone vibrated on the table. He glanced at the screen and immediately swore under his breath.

“What?” You asked. 

“It’s Bryan.” He sighed, before reading the message aloud. “Need you for band promo shots before the show. Right now.” Nick frowned. “I don’t want to leave.”

Davis snorted.

“Go do your job, man. Noah’s gonna get suspicious again otherwise.” 

Nicholas hurriedly grabbed his hoodie.

“Okay, okay, listen.” He started pointing around the room. “Balloons in that corner. There’s still some pink and blue confetti in the bag that needs to go on the table. Everything else stays exactly where it is. That includes you, missy.” He pointed at you.

“Okay,” you laughed, “Thank you for this Nick. You’ve made this really special for us.” 

Nick’s expression softened, but there was still a little playful glint in his eyes. 

“It’s not even happened yet.” 

“I know,” you chuckled, “But thank you anyway, in advance.” 

“You’re very welcome,” he said, bowing his head with a little smile, “If you’re a part of Noah’s family… then you’re a part of ours too.” 

That warmed your heart, and even made you feel a little emotional. But you couldn't say anything back to that, as Nick was already heading out of the door with a see ya! Before disappearing. 

Then suddenly, it was just you and Davis. And without Nick, the room felt a lot quieter… not that you minded. 

For a moment, neither of you moved, but then Davis took a look around again. 

“I guess it’s time to do the finishing touches.” He said, and you rose to your feet. 

“I’m helping, I don’t care what Nick said.” You said, your hands on your hips, earning a laugh from Davis. 

You worked together surprisingly well. Davis fixed the balloons while you confetti-ed the table even more. It wasn’t much, but you didn’t have the budget for something big and extravagant. You didn’t want that either. 

To you, this was perfect. 

Once you had both finished, you looked around the room thinking what now… You checked the time and let out a long groan. 

“There’s still two hours until they go on stage.” 

Davis looked at his phone.

“Yep. And they usually play for thirty minutes.” 

“Fuck, so what are we supposed to do for two and a half hours?”

He looked around.

“Take a nap?”

“Great plan.”

…

The waiting was the hardest part, and for some reason, those two and a half hours felt like a lifetime. You sat on the couch again, while Davis sat on the floor leaning against it, playing a game on his phone. 

Every now and then you could hear muffled sounds through the walls. Drum checks, someone laughing in the corridor, people shouting over music playing from another room. You listened in, trying to imagine what was going on out there… 

But then your phone buzzed. 

Noah ❤️: You alive?

Noah ❤️: You missed my call, I hope everything’s okay <3

You bit your lip, and quickly typed,

You: Sorry! I was driving.

Noah ❤️: Where were you driving?

You froze, trying to come up with a lie…

You: I met up with my friends :)

You: But now I’m home. I hope you have a good show tonight 😚

Noah didn’t reply, so you assumed he was suddenly busy again. 

…

Time was crawling. The guys were about to get off stage any moment now. You could hear the music through the walls, and you recognised the final song… 

Fuck, any moment now… 

Your heart was racing to the point it almost made you feel sick. You closed your eyes for a second to try and steady yourself, and imagined him out there. His hair damp with sweat, a big grin on his face, hundreds of people singing his words back to him, and completely unaware that only a few rooms away, his entire world was waiting for him.

You started pacing, and Davis just watched from the sofa, one ankle resting over the other knee, looking amused. 

“How many laps have you done now?”

You looked down at the carpet.

“…Eighteen?”

He snorted.

“Sit down before you wear a hole in the floor.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes you can, c’mon.” 

He reached a hand out, and pulled you closer, until you sat down beside him. You smiled despite yourself, then you heard the crowd cheer again, and Noah shout something out. 

The baby kicked at his voice.

“Oh!” You laughed. 

“What?” Davis sat forward immediately.

You pressed a hand to the side of your bump, smiling.

“They heard their daddy.”

As if to prove your point, another kick landed against your palm, and Davis’s expression softened. 

“They’re excited too.” 

You swallowed hard.

“I think so.”

Then the music stopped, and all you could hear was cheers and applause and whistles. They must’ve just come off the stage. 

Then applause began to fade, and footsteps thudded down the corridor. 

You exhaled shakily, reaching for Davis’s hand and giving it a tight squeeze. 

“I think I’m going to throw up.”

“Please don’t throw up on the balloons,or the table- Nick will lose his shit.”

“Thanks.” You laughed, though there was no humour to it. 

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and your heart rate spiked. 

Nick: WE’RE BACK IN THE GREEN ROOM

“Shit…” Your stomach flipped, and you squeezed Davis’s hand tighter. 

“You’ve gone pale.” Davis frowned. 

“I’m excited.” You said with a big, very fake, smile.

You hurried to the mirror, smoothing your hair with trembling hands. And he was right… you were a little pale. But then your eyes drifted down… your bump had grown quite a lot since the last time Noah had seen you. 

“He hasn’t seen me like this.” You said, taking a breath to try and stop your voice from wobbling.

Davis smiled gently.

“He’s going to be so happy.”

You nodded, trying to tell yourself that’s all that matters. After all, you already know the baby’s gender, why were you even nervous?

Still, you checked the room one last time. Checking over the balloons, the table, the cake… everything was perfect. 

Then your phone buzzed again. 

Nick: WE’RE COMING!!

Your eyes widened.

“They’re on their way.” 

Davis immediately looked around.

“Well everything looks perfect. We did a good job.” 

You smiled, nodding your head. 

“Thank you so much, for everything.” 

Before Davis could say anything, footsteps sounded outside. Along with male voices- familiar male voices, which stopped right outside the door.

“Good show tonight.” Folio said.

“Yeah.” Noah laughed tiredly.

His voice was right there. Right there.

You pressed a hand over your mouth.

“Where’s Nick?” Jolly asked.

“He disappeared again,” Noah replied. “I swear that man teleports.”

Your heart hammered so loudly you were convinced they could hear it through the door. Then Noah sighed.

“I’m gonna call y/n before we load out. Check up on her and the baby.”

You bit your lip so hard it hurt. Please don’t call right now. 

“Man, you’re down bad.” Folio chuckled.

“Shut up- oh hey, Nick. We wondered where you went.” 

“Yeah, I was just checking something…” You heard Nick’s muffled voice from the other side of the door.

“What?”

“Come with me.” You could hear the smirk in his voice. 

You were trying to imagine what was going on outside the door, but then it slowly pushed open. 

“Dude,” Noah said, “If this is another prank I swear to god-”

The door swung open properly, and Noah casually walked in. 

Then he froze. 

The smile vanished from his face as his eyes landed on you, not even taking in the decorations around the room. His lips parted, looking like the air had been knocked from his lungs.

"What the fuck?" He whispered, like he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming. 

Your eyes immediately filled with tears as you stood and held your hands up, followed by a,

"Surprise!"

He blinked a couple times, wondering what the hell was happening. 

"Y/n?" A broken laugh escaped him. "Babe, what the fuck?"

Then, in a flash, he darted across the room. His arms wrapped around you with such force that you stumbled backwards a step, but he caught you instantly, holding you against his chest like he was afraid you'd disappear if he loosened his grip.

"Oh my god." His face buried itself in your hair, then his whole body was shaking. "You're here…"

You laughed through your tears, clinging to him just as tightly.

"I'm here."

"I thought you were at home." His voice cracked. 

"I know… I wanted to surprise you."

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands immediately cupping your face, and you noticed his eyes were already red.

"You drove all the way here?"

"Well, Davis did."

"Seriously?"

"Of course." Davis smiled proudly. 

You watched as Noah’s bottom lip wobbled… then he leaned in and kissed you. It was hard and desperate, like he was making up for every kiss he'd missed over the last month.

Then behind him, the guys all made a fuss. 

“Ooooh!!” 

“Get a room, you two!!” 

Noah didn't even acknowledge them. When he pulled back from the kiss, his lips then moved to your forehead, then your nose, then your cheek. 

Then his eyes drifted down to your bump. 

“Hi, baby.” He said, his hands pressed gently against your stomach, then he carefully crouched down and looked up at you with tears now rolling down his face. Your hand slid into his hair as he continued, "Daddy missed you so much. I’m sorry I’ve not been home…” 

Noah pressed a kiss to your bump.

"I love you so much."

Then, all of a sudden, Bryan gasped and spun around on his heels. 

"I’m gonna get my camera!" He rushed back out of the dressing room, making Noah turn his head before standing back up. 

“So,” Nicholas wiggled his eyebrows, “What do you think?”

Noah finally looked around the room, and his eyes widened. He spotted the cake on the table, with Boy or Girl written in pink and blue icing. 

“Holy shit…” He looked back at you, “You already know… but I’m… we’re gonna find out?”

You nodded your head, smiling through your tears. 

"Yeah…”

Noah looked around the room again, like he was still trying to process it all. Everybody he loves was standing in the same room- well, with the exception of Jesse who was still at home and Bryan who was looking for his camera. And he couldn’t help but feel emotional.

“I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve any of this.” 

You frowned, cupping his cheek in your hand. 

“Noah-” But he carefully caught your wrist, and laced your fingers together instead.

“No, I want to say it. I have to.” He squeezed your hand, “I never imagined this could happen to me, of all people. I have the best friends in the world, I get to travel around the country playing music… and my girlfriend is carrying my baby. You’re about to make me a dad, something I never thought I wanted to be… but now nothing has ever felt so right. And we’ve got the best people around us- I mean, Davis, you’ve been filling in for me while I’ve been away. There’s nobody else I would’ve trusted to do that…” 

Davis smiled. 

“I promise you, I’ve not tried anything funny either. “

You both laughed. 

“I trust you, man.” Noah chuckled, “I just wanted everyone here to know… I love you all so much. Shit, why am I so emotional?” Noah laughed, rubbing his eyes. 

“I think my pregnancy hormones are contagious,” you teased, wrapping your arms around Noah, before whispering, “We love you too.” 

A moment later, Bryan returned, looking a little confused. Folio explained that Noah’s feeling hormonal, which earned a middle finger up from him.

“Okay,” you finally said, “Do you wanna cut the cake?”

Noah nodded his head. 

“I think my hands might be a little shaky. Will you help?”

“Of course, baby.” You smiled up at him, and Bryan took a picture of that very moment- you looking up at him with nothing but love and awe, and Noah looking frightened but still so excited. 

You both stepped closer to the table, and everyone else gathered around. Bryan got some shots of you two holding hands, Noah taking deep breaths, before you both reached for the knife. 

“Ready?” You asked, and Noah’s soft eyes met yours before nodding. 

“Ready.” 

“One… two…”

And on three, you both pressed the knife into the cake. The icing softly cracked beneath the blade, and you could see Noah was holding his breath. When the knife reached the bottom, you pulled it back out, then sliced it once more. Nothing was visible yet, not until Noah picked the slice up, and the colour inside was revealed. 

Noah froze, then a sob escaped his lips. A huge smile spread across his face, and then he wrapped his arms around you and buried his face into your neck as the rest of the room cheered, there were a few I knew it’s and no way!’s 

“We’re having a girl?” Noah sobbed as he pulled back to look at you, “You’re carrying my baby girl?”

[pipidoll]

IT'S A GIRL 🎉🎉

[godblesskurt]

reblog to thank ur mutuals for providing enrichment to ur enclosure

[darksigns-exe]

Noah who drives over to your place in the middle of the night because he had “a feeling”. He makes a quick detour to the gas station to get snacks just in case. Quietly lets himself into your place and tiptoes around until he finds his way to your bedroom to find you wide awake and unable to sleep.

He brought an extra sweatshirt he’s worn for an afternoon so it smells just enough like him but still is clean.

Doesn’t know how he knew to come over tonight out of all nights but he’s here now and he’s ready to do whatever you need. He’ll have an open ear if you feel like something is weighing on you, he’s also more than happy to just hold you close and provide comfort that way. If neither of those help he’s always up for an all nighter with a little documentary marathon.

[sobcat]

miffy in iceland

[httpconcrete]

ECHOES OF NIGHT - PART 2 - CHAPTER THREE

Pairing: dad! Noah Sebastian x reader

author's note: none

masterlist

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.

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

[1crushed1]

https://gofund.me/93dd8940a

Hey I've hit some very hard times and would appreciate if you guys could spread my GoFundMe for trying to get back on my feet.

My health has been rapidly declining and trying to find out what's going on with me hasn't been cheap. I've had to cut back at work, spend any savings I had on medication and copays for visits, and it's just gotten to be too much for me to handle. I wasn't always needing a cane or wheelchair... I just want to know what's wrong with me and not have to worry about the debt I'm in so much.

Any help is appreciated!!!

[beautiful--tragedy]

Me every time I listen to steotw

[httpconcrete]

ECHOES OF NIGHT - PART 2 - CHAPTER TWO

Pairing: dad! Noah Sebastian x reader

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

masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But I’m scared. Really scared.”

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

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

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

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

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

Noah’s jaw tightens visibly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[tearstaineddangel]

when i get 0 likes i feel so niche

[dogpuppy]

[mandywondering]

I mean, in some very interesting Technically Correct ways, they didn't actually die? Now, they're very much no longer alive. But the forces involved are such that they didn't get any of the usual cellular processes of death, they simply went from biology to physics in less time than it takes a signal to travel down your optic nerve.

[dietspam16]

if you go from biology to physics without dying first you don’t go to heaven the uber driver went over this

[gerardwayisadangerousman]

EYES POP OUT OF THEIT SOCKETS

[dykesonfilm]

Whole house undiagnosed

[agentcooperspinup]

if you see this, I hope something nice happens for you today.

[ghost-in-park]

all my mutuals are so cool but i'm scared to talk to them

what if they don't like me anymore

[spitblossoms]