#c. noah

[daringsunflowers]

@azzurrc

dating was something new for noah. when he had been introduced to benji he hadnt expected it to go very far. to his surprise things had took off and things had been- fun. noah had enjoyed hanging out with the other man and seemed to be doing it more and more. the more he hung with benji the more he had felt himself falling for him. however he had still never met the others friends or family and felt it a little strange. sure the two hadnt been officially together but noah had felt like they were getting pretty serious.

as the two sat at the diner he took a drink of his coffee. “my mum asked if she could meet you.” he murmured to the other a bit worried about his reaction as he sat the coffee down and looked up at him now. “i mean i had told her i was kinda seeing you and…”

[witchbitchlovesdilfs]

could u do a piece on robby and someone with really bad brain fog from chronic illness 🥹

All Fogged Up

Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x reader

warnings: angst, hurt comfort, chronically ill reader isn't doing great

words: 0.67k

a/n: Writing this through my own brain fog rn lmao, so let me know if there's any errors. I hope you like it!

When Robby gets home, the lights are off. You aren’t in the kitchen, singing along to your Spotify playlist as you stir something on the stove. The tv isn’t lit up, playing some reality show Robby refuses to watch. He doesn’t even hear you call out in greeting as he slips his shoes off and lets his eyes adjust to the darkness. Pulling out his phone, he checks that you didn’t leave any texts about going out or getting home late. 

Now royally confused, Robby flicks the entryway light on and scans the living room and kitchen for you. He spots a lump on the couch and lets out a sigh in relief, making his way over with careful, quiet steps. 

When he reaches you, curled up like a ball with a blanket half thrown across your body like you couldn’t remember how to put it on, Robby crouches by your side and brushes hair from your face. You stir with a quiet moan, blinking up at him in confusion.

“Hey sweetheart,” he whispers, caressing your cheek.

You try to blink back the haziness, but it won’t go away. “Robby?”

He nods, gulping with empathy. “Bad day?”

You can barely lift your arm to reach for him. Robby meets you halfway, taking your hand and squeezing it gently to help ground you.

“I’m all fogged up,” you manage, eyes teary with confusion and upset.

“I’m here.” He pats your hand and assesses you. “You don’t have to be sharp right now. I got you.”

“Robby,” you whine, trying to bury your face into your blanket. 

“Let me get you to bed, baby.” Robby lifts you gently, letting the blanket slip onto the couch as he moves slowly, careful not to jostle you and upset your head even more. When he places you down on your bed under the covers, he pulls them up for you. “Did you eat?” he asks as he leans back.

You blink at him, trying to remember. Robby nods, running a hand over his beard. “I’ll make something.”

“How was work?” you ask suddenly, as if you just realized he just came from a twelve hour shift.

He sighs, chuckling softly. “Nothing special.” Of course, there were plenty of upsetting cases and lost patients, but he couldn’t possibly unpack all of that to you right now. “Doesn’t matter.”

You pout up at him, pulling the covers closer to your chin. He pats your leg and begins to leave to make you both something to eat, but you cry out. His head swivels your way immediately, and his heart breaks at the desperate expression on your face. 

“Where are you going?” you breathe.

“I’m just going to the kitchen.”

“I can’t think straight,” you say, almost panicked. “Everything hurts.”

Robby sighs sadly and leans against the doorframe, thinking. “I’ll be back in a second,” he says, not giving you time to respond before rushing to the kitchen and returning with a glass of water. He walks over to you, helping you sit up. “I want you to drink all of it.” Robby helps you lift the glass to your lips, watching as you take several gulps until the glass is empty. He sets it on the nightstand.

“I’m so tired,” you say as he lowers you so your head rests on the pillow again.

“Get some more sleep,” he tells you. “You’ll feel better.”

“Sleep with me?” you ask, clutching at the blankets like a lifeline.

He nods. “After I make you something to eat.”

“Don’t take too long.”

He nods again and leans forward to press a kiss on your forehead. You attempt to move to capture his lips in a real kiss, but you fall back against the mattress in exhaustion. Robby moves for you, pecking your lips and caressing your face. 

You sigh in content.

Robby pulls back. “I won’t be long.”

Your eyes are already starting to shut. “Leave the door open?”

He taps the doorframe, eyes crinkling with love and care. “Of course.”

[daringsunflowers]

"god you are so lame." his words were playful as he gave the other a small nudge. "sometimes i wonder why i choose nights like this with you over going out and meeting someone." he teased.

"what can i say? i just happen to be very creative." houston mentions, a soft chuckle escaping his lips towards the other man. "exactly."

[saltair-and-webweaves]

on post election blues. or should I say reds?

angry - paravi/ @lena-oleanderson/the view between villages, noah kahan/susan sontag/@/islamic_skyy on instagram/the view between villages, noah kahan/just a girl, no doubt/molly mcully brown, places I've taken my body:essays/(possibly) @/goo600 on reddit/ @lena-oleanderson/my tears ricochet, taylor swift/george r.r. martin, a feast for crows/angry, paravi/unknown/ @lena-oleanderson/I hate it here, taylor swift/claire c. holland, I am not your final girl

[iwasntstable]

n.s. | is it true?

🗀 C:/PROJECTS/MYWORK/ONESHOT/ISITTRUE [projects] ﹂ [my-work] | in-progress | favourites 　﹂ all | series | [one-shot] | blurb | head-cannons | ask 　　﹂ … | if-im-there | happy-birthday | [is-it-true]

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➔𝐢𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧𝐭𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞➔➔　𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘈𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘦!+　　[𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝐀𝐎𝟯]

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summary: Always stubborn, Noah refuses to take a break when he's sick, but everyone's convinced you can persuade him.

content tags: fluff, like a smidge of angst, slight miscommunication.

word count: 3.1k.

note: I started this in September and have been thinking about it ever since so it was about time I finished it 🖤

All the text from Jolly said was, “Hey, can you come down to the studio?” And the first thing you hear as you approach the door is raised voices. 

“You tell him!”

“Tell who what?” You ask, entering into the chaos as the hum of noise is reduced to silence and every face in the room turns to look at you.

“Tell Noah he needs to stop pushing himself and go home and rest in bed,” Matt is the first to speak up.

"I don't need to fucking rest," Noah sighs, rubbing his brow.

"And why do I need to tell him that?" You ask.

"She doesn't need to tell me anything!"

"Noah, you're going to make things worse,” Jolly stands with his arms folded like an impatient father.

“Make what worse? What’s going on?” You look between the men in the room, searching each of their faces for answers.

“He’s sick, but he keeps pushing himself even though he can’t sing properly right now. He needs to go get some fucking rest at home or he’ll fuck up his voice!” Jolly explains.

“It’s fine!” Noah protests from his desk chair. Though he was only half facing you, you could see the dark circles under his eyes and the greyish pallor to his skin. “If I need to re-record it, I will, but it’s fine right now,” he continues, and you can hear the hoarseness in his voice. Matt pulls off his hat and runs his hand through his hair in frustration, then replaces the hat back on his head with a sigh.

“Noah, you’re not going to be able to re-record anything if you lose your fucking voice,” Jolly turns to you and states your name firmly. “Tell him.”

“Again, why do I need to tell him? Why would he listen to me if he’s not listening to you?" You know they’re right, but he’s stubborn; you don’t understand what would make your instructions different.

“He'll listen to you because he's fucking in love with you!" Matt shouts.

It was like the air suddenly became thick, and nobody says a word more as your eyes widen and flick straight to Matt. Then to Noah, where he sits wearing what you guess is the exact same expression as yours. Your eyes lock, and you can feel the panic radiating from him. Just as you’re about to speak, the question on the tip of your tongue goes left unsaid as Noah abruptly stands and shoulders his way past the other men. “Noah,” you try, but he’s steadfast in his pace; his shoulder brushes yours as he passes, and not once does he look back.

You watch as his silhouette grows smaller through the window in the door, watching even as he disappears around the corner and out of view. You only turn when Matt calls your name quietly.

"What the fuck was that about?" you all but shout. The men shuffle awkwardly on their feet and struggle to meet your eyes.

"He's sick and losing his voice, but he keeps pushing anyway. We kept telling him to go back home and rest, but he wouldn't listen." Jolly tries to avoid the question.

"Yeah, I get that,” you cast a glance at him. “What did you mean?" You ask Matt directly.

"What?" He responds like a deer caught in headlights.

"What did you mean when you said he'd listen to me because..." You couldn't say it; just the thought had your face growing hot.

"Look, Dierkes, you go. We're gonna go talk," Jolly nods at his friend and spins around the desk chair Noah was sitting in, taking the seat for himself at the computer.

Matt enthusiastically makes his exit. Gathering his bags, he all but runs out of the studio, out from under the weight of your gaze. When the door closes behind him, you sit in the chair next to Jolly, and he turns his own chair to face you.

"He's crazy about you," he starts without hesitation. You pick at the leather of the armrest as your heart begins to race. "He talks about you all the time. Honestly, I don't know how you haven't noticed. He's liked you for months."

"You're serious?" You ask, meeting his eyes, which hold nothing but sincerity.

"You can't say you haven't seen it even a little!” He tilts his head and leans back against the chair. “The way he looks at you, he drops everything for you. Always coming to your side whenever some weird guy flirts with you. He hasn't gone on a date in ages because he's waiting for you!" You bite your lip, unwilling to believe what you're hearing, until Jolly says quietly, "I know you feel the same too."

"What?!" you raise your voice automatically, wishing immediately that you didn't when you see him smiling knowingly at you.

"I see the way you look at him too, when he's not looking. You go bright red when he teases you. Just like you are now. You know I see everything.” You press your hands to your cheeks, and they feel like ice compared to the heat from your face. "You should go talk to him. At least convince him to take a fucking week off," he spins around in his chair, waving his hand and going back to the piece he was working on before all this.

You sit frozen to the spot for a moment trying to process what he'd just said. Noah likes you. He likes you back.

Jolly's voice rings in your head as you stand. "He's liked you for months." You head for the door, out of the building, and into your car on autopilot. Taking a deep breath before turning the key in the ignition and pulling out onto the road in the direction of Noah’s house.

The whole way your mind is racing. "He's crazy about you." You had no idea what you were going to say when you got there. "He talks about you all the time... the way he looks at you." You were telling yourself it wasn't true; it couldn't be. The man you've admired and apparently not-so-secretly adored all this time felt the same way? It was crazy. It couldn’t be true. And yet the concept still makes your heart race, and that treacherous heat makes your skin flush.

You find yourself parked outside his house, your car neatly on the drive right next to his. For several minutes, you go back and forth on whether to go in or just leave. The idea of really confronting him about this situation brings you nothing but anxiety, but the fact that he’s unwell and pushing himself so hard, the need to check on him and at least make sure he’s okay, brings you to his front door.

When you knock, there’s no answer. You wonder if he's watching you from the doorbell camera and choosing to ignore you. After knocking again, you decide to just use your key instead, hoping he won’t be too mad.

Inside, you find no signs of life. All the lights downstairs are off, and the house is statically silent as though it were totally empty. You’d think it were empty if not for Noah’s car parked outside.

You finally figure out where he is when you head upstairs and see the glow of purple LEDs leak from underneath his bedroom door. Your hand hesitates in a fist before you pluck up the courage to knock. No response. You knock a little louder, but still, no response.

Pushing the slightly ajar door open, you peek into his room, finding him lying in bed. Curled up under a blanket, fast asleep. You can’t help but smile at the peaceful sight. He must’ve been exhausted to fall asleep so quickly and deeply. You back out of his room and close the door softly, treading lightly as you go back down the stairs to the kitchen. 

You jump up to sit on the counter and rest your head back against the upper cabinets, closing your eyes. How could you be in this situation? You were content to never tell Noah about your feelings for him, and never ever did you expect your feelings to be reciprocated. You’re still convinced this is all some joke or a misunderstanding. He ran from that studio because he was humiliated by the thought of liking you. There’s no way Noah could want you the way you want him. But after what Matt and Jolly said, you’ll never be content until you know the truth. Even if he denies it, you still have the chance to salvage this friendship that’s so dear to you. He doesn’t know how you feel. It’s not too late to save this, and if he confesses... Shaking your head, you can’t even entertain that thought.

To distract yourself from the feeling of impending doom and to make yourself useful, you decide to cook. Pulling your phone from your pocket, a quick Google search suggests chicken noodle soup as a good option for someone who’s unwell. Warm, high in protein, easy to digest. You slide from the counter to rummage through the kitchen, mentally thanking whoever went grocery shopping recently for having everything you need for the simple recipe.

Following the instructions on your phone, you work quickly, having the food prepared in just over thirty minutes. After preparing a serving in a bowl and buttering some bread too, you balance both on a plate, almost forgetting the spoon before you go carefully back up the stairs.

You weren’t expecting him to be awake yet, but when you knock, he answers.

"Yeah?" His voice is hoarse and quiet even through the door.

"It's me," you say.

There's a brief moment of silence that has anxiety clawing at your throat before he replies, "Go away."

"Noah, please. I just-"

"Just go away," he rasped louder. "I don't wanna talk."

You sigh, feeling the urge to run, but you suppress it. "But I made you soup," you try, but he says nothing. "Can I at least come in and leave this for you?" Again, no response. You can’t help but sigh quietly. He can be stubborn as a bull at times. "I'm coming in. You better be decent," you try to joke. Once more, no response.

You toe the door open gently, stepping into the dim room to find Noah now rolled over in bed, his back to you, still cocooned in the blanket. Moving over some of the items on his desk—a coaster, a book with a dollar bill sticking out as a bookmark, a half-empty bottle of water, the TV remote—you set the food down. Seeing his phone next to him on the mattress, you take it and check the charge, 12%, and a text from Matt that read, “I’m sorry man.” You crouch down by the bed and put it on to charge, then replace it next to him on the mattress.

You stay there for a moment. Internally warring with yourself on whether you were really about to broach this topic. Ultimately, you decide you just have to know the truth.

"Noah, I know you don't wanna talk, but-"

"Good. Go then," his coarse words sting. True or not, sick or not, he had no right to snap like that. 

"Stop being so fucking harsh with me. I didn't have to come here for you, I didn't have to spend time in your kitchen making food for you, but I did. The least you could do is say thank you.” You wait for him to respond, waiting for an apology, but he says nothing.

The urge to run like Matt ran from the studio was strong; your legs flex under you, and you almost stand, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction. More so, you don’t want to leave him when he's unwell.

"What they said back there," biting the bullet, your voice is quieter now. "Is it true?"

You didn't expect him to answer, what with his commitment to silence. So when that silence stretched on, you resigned yourself to his will. Standing and heading for the door, hand on the handle, you're stopped by his voice, "That's not how I wanted you to find out."

You pause, waiting to see if he'd continue, but he goes quiet again. "So, it is true?" But he returns to his silence. You go back over to his bed, crouching down again. "Will you talk to me? Please."

Noah doesn’t yield.

"I'm not mad or upset. I just want-" You cut yourself off, struggling to say the words out loud. "Jolly told me he sees the way you look at me, how you go out of your way to do things for me and talk about me all the time," he curls in on himself a little tighter under the blanket, hiding from your words. "He also said... how he sees the way I look at you when you're not looking... and how flustered I get when you tease me..." you trail off. Feeling your heart hammering so hard inside your chest that you can hear it in your ears. You honestly can't believe you just said that out loud.

Noah shifts under the blanket, straightening his legs and rolling onto his back, arm over his face, obscuring his eyes. "You're just saying that," he mumbles.

"Noah, I'm here in your room with homemade chicken noodle soup, even after you told me a million times to leave. Who else would I do that for?"

"You'd do it for Nicholas."

"I would not let Nicholas talk to me like that and walk away unscathed."

He laughs, rubs his eyes, and moves his arm, finally looking at you. He has a despondent expression on his face, but somewhere underneath is a slight smile. You smile softly, happy to finally see his face.

"I'm sorry," he tries, but you shake your head.

"Don't be,” you say, taking a deep breath. “I'd probably freak out too if you found out I love you like that."

"You- What?" He sits up a little straighter.

"Don't make me say it again," you groan and rest your forehead on the mattress.

Feeling the bed move, you look up to see him sitting upright and staring down at you. You move too to sit on the end of his bed. Silence once again fills the room, neither one of you knowing exactly what to say next.

Noah closes his eyes and runs a hand through his already messy hair. "Jolly told me so many times to just tell you, but I convinced myself there's no way you felt the same," he confessed.

You almost felt sick from the adrenaline racing through your veins. Looking down at your lap and playing with the sleeves of your hoodie. "Well, I do. He said the same to me too," you let out a bitter laugh. "Seems as though Joakim has been playing cupid." When you look back up, he still seems tense. "Noah, I'm not lying," you hold out your hand to him, which he takes and laces your fingers together. "I was never going to tell you because..." you hesitate again, but it’s too late to turn back now. "I never thought you'd like me back. I thought you'd laugh in my face. I don't deserve you."

"Don't say that. It's me who doesn’t deserve you. You're always so kind and generous,” he glances at the bowl of soup. “Even when I really don't deserve it."

"You do deserve it. You deserve kindness because you give so much kindness. Jolly was right, you do so much for me even when you don't need to. You drove me everywhere before I got my car, even when you were busy. Which I felt so fucking guilty for because I knew you had enough on your plate as it was."

"You know, I hated when you got that car," he smiled shyly. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I wanted to drive you everywhere, all the time. Whenever you needed. I loved those times when we could just... be alone together," he sighed, not in sadness but in relief. A small smile on his lips.

You don’t think you could handle your heart racing any faster than it already was and decide to change the topic slightly. "How are you feeling, anyway?"

"Terrible, honestly. My throat is fucked. I don't know how I'm gonna finish recording."

"Yeah, you're not," you state. "You're gonna eat the delicious soup I made you, and you're gonna rest. No recording vocals until you're better. I’d say no producing until you’re better, but I think we’d have to detain you. Lock you in the bathroom or something,” you sadly break your hand apart from his and reach for the food on the side table as he chuckles under his breath. "What's so funny?" You ask.

Shaking his head, he says, "nothing. Just, they really were right, I do listen to you.”

Handing him the bowl, you smile teasingly at him, "because you love me."

"Yeah, I do," he smiles genuinely, caressing your hands briefly as he takes it from you to set it on his lap. "Can you stay?” he asks quietly. “I don't want you to go away. Will you sit with me?"

Your heart warms at his sincerity. “Of course I will.” You climb onto his bed and rest back against the headboard next to him in the space he made. A comfortable, familiar setting you’d both been in numerous times before. He leans over to the side table and tosses the TV remote onto your lap.

“Find something for us,” he says. You press the power button and load up Netflix to scroll through the categories as he eats. “Mm,” he hums with a mouthful of food. “This is so good, I should get sick more often. I didn’t know you could cook like this.”

“Yeah, don’t you dare,” you smile as you continue to scroll. The options turn into blurs as they pass by on the screen. Your mind was well and truly wandering at the thought of what was going to come next for you and Noah. Were you dating now? Did he even want that right now, or would it take time? These were all questions that would have to be asked and answered tomorrow. For now, you settled with the contentment that your current relationship wasn’t completely ruined and felt thrilled at the prospect of it becoming something more. 

“Oh!” Noah’s exclamation breaks your train of thought. “Remind me to beat the shit out of Matt the next time I see him.”

You break out in a laugh and lean in closer to his side. “Not if I get my hands on him first.”

This fic was inspired by the following randomly generated prompts, from this post!

꒰ 2 ꒱ “what they said back there. Is it true?” ꒰ L ꒱ relief ꒰ 𓅫 ꒱ the bedside of someone who doesn’t want you there

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✉ C:/SYSTEM/APP/TAG

ᯤ 𝗨𝗦𝗘𝗥𝗦 (28) :　 ⌞⬤ 10 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾⌝ @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning | @english-fucker @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard | @seven-glass-kids @runadaggerthroughmychest

@lma1986 | @shayzillaaaa | @madamaaubergine @thewrstinme | @amourtoken

⌞⬤ 9 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒⌝ @livingdeceasedgirl | @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @thecoyotescry | @romanreigns-supreme | @slutforcoffein

@dethroneackerman | @bluestdai | @fadingangelwisp @broken0mens

⌞⦵ 5 𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖻⌝ @ferduttini | @fadingintothegrey | @lovesick-evangelist @missduffsblog | @anything-more-than-human

⌞◯ 4 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾⌝ @thisbicc | @sadbitchenergy | @iconic-taurus @queen-foraday

　+[MSG : join the taglist!]

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[sfstranslations]

UPDATE: The S-Ranks That I Raised (409)

“Ahjussi! We found everyone!”

Read Chapter 409: Night Has Fallen (1) now!

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[daringsunflowers]

Noah didn’t have much of a choice but to be fine with the situation. He couldn’t make Joanne want to be with him. Sure he had thought he had been a good boyfriend then again maybe that was the problem he was too good. They always said nice guys finished last, but when was last going to be present day. He had spent his whole entire life being broken up with, not being mean enough, etc… but when he had met Joanne things had felt differently. Yet leave it to history to repeat itself. 

Noah wasn’t dwelling on that tonight. He had been there, done that and now he wasnt fixing to bring back those old feelings. He was here now to enjoy his time with her. Once he opened the door he was taken back a little when she had leaned in and kissed him. He didn’t question it at first, instead his eyes remained closed and he kissed her back, softly and sweetly.  When she pulled back and walked in he cleared his throat and walked in behind her. “what do we want.. what so we want..” he mused as he took a seat next to her at the bar. 

Joanne swallowed thickly. Even when he assured her that it was fine, she didn't quite believe him. She was already figuring out an alternative plan. She'd promised herself that if things felt too serious by the they got to his parents house that she'd bail. She was beginning to wonder if that was the only way for them both to survive the situation. She had already started thinking of excuses when he opened the bar door for her. She couldn't run. Not yet at least. Joanne briefly searched his eyes before leaning forward to steal a kiss. It was more chaste than she had wanted, but she was sure he'd be able to see that it hadn't just been for show. No it was what she wanted.

Joanne knew she was bing selfish. She was giving the kindest man she'd ever met what was likely the worst whiplash he'd ever had in his life. She pushed her hair back over her shoulder as she walked ahead to the bar, forgetting completely that she'd promised to stick with beer. Instead she opted for the stiffest drink they had as she sat down. @daringsunflowers

[noahwhyle]

The Pitt S01 E11 | Scrubs S05 E20 (2006) | The Pitt S01 E13 (2025)

[witchbitchlovesdilfs]

No Judgement

Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x f!reader

requested! thank you!

synopsis: reader sleeps with a cpap mask and is worried that robby will judge her for it. he proves the opposite.

warnings: reader has sleep apnea, language, suggestive, hurt/comfort, fluff/angst

words: 1.3k

a/n: here you go! I hope you love it! sending lots of love and confidence

Fridays are your favorite day of the week: you have work off and get to go out with your super hot attending Micahel Robinavitch. The two of you have been going out for almost three weeks now, but you've been close ever since you first starting working at the Pitt. Robby first acknowledged you for your unbeatable smarts and fast reflexes, and when he joined you and the rest of day shift for beers after work, he began to admire your wit and charisma.

Ever since you first saw him barking out orders and scratching at his beard, you knew you were fucked. He stood with a cocky confidence that screamed authoritative in the hottest way, and when he first addressed you with that deep, raspy voice? You were a goner.

Two years later in your residency, he finally asked you out. And, despite the fact you've only been together for a few months, everything comes naturally. You can be your true self around him, and he actually laughs when he's around you. Still, you have yet to spend the night together. This isn't for lack of wanting to: you're self conscious of your CPAP. You've had sleep apnea for several years now, and despite the time you've had to get used to it, you fear how others may perceive it and you. You've been vulnerable with Robby before - after losing a patient, during a particularly bad day, etc - but this is a huge next step for you.

Having never mentioned your sleep apnea to Robby, you don't know how to bring it up. Do you take him home and let him see the machine? Do you tell him over dinner like it's big news? Why are you so scared?

Shaking your head in exasperation, you finish doing your makeup and give your reflection a long look before checking your phone for any texts. Robby sent a message five minutes ago alerting you that he's on his way, and before you can respond, there's a soft rasp against your front door. You pat down your blouse and make your way to the front, slipping on your heels before opening the door with a wide smile. "Hi Robby," you greet warmly, stepping outside and locking the door. You turn to him as he greets you, reaching up and planting a kiss on his cheek, lips brushing against the stubble.

Robby smiles back at you, pulling you in for a legitimate kiss. Your breath hitches at the intimacy as your hands clutch the fabric of his button down. When you pull away, your red lipstick's smeared around his lips. You leave it, possessively.

"You look great," you say, biting your lip as you shamelessly eye-fuck him.

Robby looks down, cheeks flushed. "Thanks." He takes your hand and lifts his head to take all of you in. "You're gorgeous."

It's your time to blush. "Should we go?"

He nods, and you begin the short walk to your favorite restaurant. 

"How was your day?" you ask as you slide into your seat across from him.

Robby unfolds his napkin and busies himself by fiddling with the utensils. "I went to that new bookstore," he shares.

"Oh yeah!" You beam. "How was it? I want to stop by after my shift sometime."

He sets the fork down. "Very low key. The owner seems nice."

"That's great."

"Yeah." He scratches at his beard. "We could go together sometime."

You smile widely. "That would be perfect."

Clearing his throat, flustered, Robby flips through the menu although he already knows what he wants. 

While you're finishing off your meals, he suggests what you've been dreading all day. "Do you want to go back to my place?"

Your breath stutters. Robby notices your hesitation immediately and sighs. He runs a hand over his mouth, leaning back. "You don't have to." His voice is strained, like there's agitation behind it that he's trying to keep at bay.

"No!" you nearly exclaim. "I want to! It's just..." you trail off, and Robby is more confused than ever.

"If you aren't ready for a relationship, seriously, just let me know-" he starts, but his doubt hurts you so badly you cut him off.

"No," you say sharply. "It's not that."

He looks at you with eyes so wide they're pleading. "Then what?"

You look away sheepishly. Here goes. "I have sleep apnea," you explain. "I use a CPAP machine. It's not remotely sexy."

Robby nods, his expression softening and his shoulders loosening from their tension and fear. You look back at him to study his reaction.

"I just... I don't want you to look at me differently."

His heart breaks into a million pieces. Robby reaches out for your hand, and you let him take it. He squeezes. "I'm a doctor," he says softly. "I would never judge you for something like that."

"I know." Sighing, you sink into your seat. "It's just some stupid insecurity."

"Hey." He squeezes your hand again and doesn't continue until he's certain you're paying attention. "Nothing about you is stupid."

You smile, and Robby looks over your shoulder for your server. "Do you trust me?"

You nod. Of course. Always.

He flags down your waitress down and turns back to you. "What if we went to your place? That way you'd be in a comfortable, familiar environment with your machine. And if at any point you get uncomfortable, you can just tell me to leave."

You melt at the selflessness and smile. "It's a good thing you put some clothes in the dresser."

Robby beams when he realizes that you're saying yes. His eyes gleam with mischief. "What makes you think I don't sleep naked?"

"Robby!" you exclaim, slapping his arm. He laughs, and the waitress approaches to hand him the bill.

As you head out, Robby puts a hand on the small of your back and leans in until his beard is scratching your ear. "And by the way... you're always sexy."

You flush, and your steps quicken. He just laughs.

You finish brushing your teeth and move into your bedroom, smiling as Robby slips past you to finish getting ready for bed. You had some spare toothbrushes and other hygiene products, so they were now his.

Settling into bed in a cute but comfy pair of pajama shorts and top, you pull the covers over yourself and look in the direction of the bathroom as you wait.

After a few minutes, the toilet flushes, and Robby comes out in a pair of boxers and a white tee. He studies your face to check that this is okay, and when you nod, he slides into the spot next to you. The bed sinks as his weight is added, and your stomach flips as he settles in next to you. He turns so he's on his side facing you, and you smile at him. "Hi," you say.

His lips quirk. "Hi."

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" you ask nervously.

He nods and reaches out to brush some hair from your face. "No judgement, okay? I want you: all of you. CPAP and all."

You smile and plant a big, appreciative kiss on his lips. Robby pulls you closer by your hips, moaning into the kiss. You let your eyes flutter shut and enjoy the thought, the smell, the feel of him.

When you pull away, you look at him one more time before reaching for the machine and getting it ready. "If the noise bothers you..."

"I'll be fine," he assures you. "I promise."

With a nod, you fit the cushion, seal attached, to your mouth and pull the headgear into place. When it's all set, you glance over at Robbyagain.

He looks at you in nothing but admiration and... love. You flip off the light switch and adjust your pillow before letting your eyes shut. Your hand searches for his. When you brush it, he moves his hand over yours and squeezes.

You squeeze back.

[daringsunflowers]

Noah leaned against the counter and a small smile tugged at his lips. “I don’t know if that is a good thing or not. I would think by today you would be ready to have some more company that isnt me.” He teased as he watched his boyfriend pull out the nachos, eyes watching as he scooped food off and handed it over. Noah walked with the other to take a seat in the living room as he rolled his eyes. “Am not..” he murmured at the sap comment. “i know you do, you show me daily that you appreciate me.” He reassured the other as he took a bite from his plate.  “I enjoy doing things for you.” It was true, Noah loved buying the plants and making things for the garden to make Jay happy. He would often work a couple hours of overtime to put a little extra money in their account so Jay could decorate more or buy something for their place.  He groaned a little at the others choice of movie. “I only used you because there was no other way we would have gotten out of it.. are you really going to force me to watch that again?” he frowned before taking another bite. “These are delicious, by the way.”

Jayden nodded with a smile "mhmmm, means I get to have you all to myself." he declared. He set the sheet pan of nachos onto the stove before walking over to the cupboard and grabbing out plates and a spatula. He dished out two plates of nachos, one for himself and one for Noah. He tried to hide the blush that tinted his cheeks when Noah claimed that he didn't work for free and instead did it because he enjoyed seeing him happy. He knew that a lot of the things that Noah did was to make him happy. It was nice because it wasn't something that he had been used to before Noah. "You're such a sap." Jayden spoke, cheeks still pink as he handed him his plate of nachos "but I do appreciate you." he was sure to inform him. Jayden always made sure to vocalize how thankful he was for Noah, never wanting the man to think otherwise for a single second. He always made sure that Jayden felt special and he wanted to make sure that he returned that favor. He pecked his lips lightly before grabbing his plate and heading to the living room "since you used me as an excuse again tonight to cancel we're watching The Office again." he declared.

[iwasntstable]

n.s. | happy birthday

🗀 C:/PROJECTS/MYWORK/ONESHOT/HAPPYBIRTHDAY [projects] ﹂ [my-work] | in-progress | favourites 　﹂ all | series | [one-shot] | blurb | head-cannons | ask 　　﹂ … | new-neighbour | if-im-there | [happy-birthday]

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➔𝐢𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧𝐭𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞➔➔　𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘈𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘦!+　　[𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝐀𝐎𝟯]

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summary: Sometimes lying is okay when it's planning a birthday surprise for the birthday-hating man you love.

content tags: fluff, fluff, fluff.

word count: 2.5k.

note: Is this two whole days late? Yes. But it's finally here and I hope you enjoy it! Thank you for being so patient, and again, Happy Birthday Noah our beloved 🖤

You’d both gone to bed hours ago, and when you were certain Noah was asleep, you carefully untangled yourself from his arms and slipped out of bed.

“Where are you going?” His drowsy voice reaches your ears through the darkness. 

You squeeze your eyes closed and scrunch up your face with your back to him; you were so sure he was asleep. “I can feel a headache coming on. I’m just going to get the meds I left in your car,” you lie, turning around to face him. “I’ll be quick,” you lean down to press a chaste kiss to his lips. 

“M’kay,” he mumbles, rubbing your back as his eyes drift closed again.

You head out of your shared room to the front door, grabbing his keys on the way. Thankfully, he seemed to believe your little white lie. Going straight for the trunk of the car when you step outside, you hope the flowers you'd stashed in there all day hadn't wilted to death. Inspecting them under the light of the car, they did look a little sad, but you were sure some water and sunlight could save them.

Cradling the flowers, card, and little gift box in your arms carefully, you enter back into the house, cautious not to let the paper wrapping on the flowers crinkle too loud. You go to the kitchen and take out the vase you'd washed and stashed away earlier, filling it with a little water for the flowers to revive in. Setting it all up nicely on the counter—the card resting against the vase and the little box, wrapped in silver paper sitting in front.

Noah told you not to get him anything, but you weren't about to let that slide. He might not be big on birthdays, but you wanted nothing more than an excuse to shower him with love, and knowing he'd likely be up tomorrow before you, he'd find your little surprise first thing when he goes into the kitchen. You take a glass from the cupboard, fill it halfway with water, and take it with you as evidence of your little deception.

"All good?" He asks when you tiptoe back into your room.

"Yeah, all good." You set the glass down on the side and crawl back under the sheets with him, where he instinctively pulls you close into his side, the warmth of his body banishing the chill from yours.

The dip in the mattress wakes you a few hours later, followed by Noah’s lips ghosting softly over yours. With a sleepy groan, your hands instinctively move to his shoulders, where he’s hovering over you.

“I love you so fucking much,” he whispers.

For a moment you’re confused about the sudden show of affection until you crack your eyes open against the glow of the morning to see him holding his card and gift, the latter still unopened. “You haven’t even opened it yet,” you smile when he rests his forehead against yours.

“The card would’ve been enough,” he kisses you again. When he pulls back, you see his eyes are rimmed red, like he’d been crying. “What you wrote was so beautiful. I just- I’ve never felt so loved before. I’ve never loved anyone like you before.”

Now he’s going to make you cry. You encircle his shoulders with your arms, pulling him down on top of you and holding him close, so tight as though you could transfer all of the love you feel for him from your body to his. He rests his head in the crook of your neck, his arm securely around your waist, and you lie there together while the sun rises higher in the sky and the birds fill the air with song.

“C’mon,” you pat his back after a few minutes, “you need to open your present!”

He squeezes you just a little tighter before he plants a kiss against your shoulder and lets go. He sits up, and you follow, crossing your legs and snuggling into the duvet to hide from the cold October air.

Noah looks down at the little box in his hands, then looks at you, his expression saying, “Are you serious? I told you not to get me anything.” You nod encouragingly, and he finally tears off the tape from the metallic silver paper to reveal the little black box inside. He looks up at you again, quizzically. 

“If you want to know what it is, just open it! Don’t look at me!” You kick him playfully from beneath the sheets. He laughs and shakes his head, pulling the lid from the base and finally revealing the gift you agonised over for months inside. You sneak a hand out of the sheets to bite at your nail, suddenly questioning your choice. What if he didn’t like it? He was right; you shouldn’t have gotten him anything. You should’ve just stuck with the card. Now he’s going to have to pretend he likes it to not hurt your feelings.

But when he takes it out of the box and sighs your name, your anxieties vanish as quickly as they arrived. “It’s the date we met,” he says quietly.

“Yeah,” you reply just as quietly, slipping out of the sheets to sit by his side, your legs folded beneath you. “I stole your other bracelet to get the right size, so I hope it fits.”

“Oh, so it didn’t fall down the back of the dresser?” He teases, raising an eyebrow at you.

“It might have fallen into my bag and all the way to the jewellers.”

“Will you put it on for me?” He asks, looking at you with those big brown eyes that make you melt every time.

You nod and take the silver chain from his hand. He holds out his right arm for you to loop the bracelet around, positioning the bar—engraved with the day you first met—on the top. Once it’s secure, he takes your arms and pulls you into him, onto his lap, where he wraps his arms around your waist to snuggle close into your shoulder and mumbles, “I love you.” 

“Do you like it?” You ask, tenderly running your fingers through his hair.

“Are you kidding?” He pulls back to meet your eyes. “I love it. I love you. I never cared for my birthday until I met you,” he brushes your sleep-tousled hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “Now each birthday reminds me of how grateful I am that we get to spend another year together.”

You feel a blush creeping up on your cheeks, warming your face. “I love you too,” you smile and lean in to meet his lips. A soft and gentle kiss, full of love and adoration for the man that chose you that day and still continues to choose you.

“Do you want your cake?” You ask with a teasing smile when you pull back, raising your eyebrows.

Noah blinks in surprise. “My what?”

“Come on!” Your grin spreads wide across your face as you slide off his knee and drag him up with you by his hands, holding them all the way to the kitchen.

You let go when you reach the fridge, throwing open the door and scooping out the contents and tossing them on the counter: tomato ketchup, chicken, veggies, miscellaneous sauces, leftovers.

“What are you doing?” Noah chuckles.

“I hid it in the back yesterday. I can’t believe you didn’t see it... AHA!” You declare when you finally reach the white box. You turn to place it on the counter only to find there’s little to no room left.

“No wonder I didn’t find it. You totally buried it back there!”

“It was a surprise!” You banter back.

Noah just laughs and shakes his head, taking several items in hand and placing them back in the fridge to clear a space for you. Leaving the cake box on the counter, you take the candles from their hiding spot inside a mug in the cupboard and dig the matches out of the drawer. When Noah was putting the last items back in the fridge you ordered, “Stay there! Don’t turn around!” He throws his hands up in surrender and stays facing the fridge.

You quickly lift the lid to reveal the funfetti cake decorated with white icing and fresh fruit on top. You consider placing exactly twenty-nine candles, one for every year of his age, but decide against it and add five instead. Lighting them quickly before they get the chance to drip wax onto the frosting. “Don’t move!” You yell, crossing the room to hit the light switch.

“I’m not!”

“Okay,” you sigh, taking the cake in your hands. “Okay, you can turn around now.”

The candles, though small, illuminate the room in a warm, comforting glow, the light of the morning blocked by the still-drawn shades. While the fire warmed you on the outside, the intimate nature of the scene warmed you on the inside. You sing as soon as Noah turns around, and a smile erupts across his face, reaching his eyes, making them crease at the corners, and making his cheeks look full.

“Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear Noah, Happy Birthday to you!” He moves closer to close the gap between the two of you. “Come on, make a wish!” You hold up the cake higher as the candles melt.

Noah places his hands over yours where they hold the cake and, with one quick breath, blows out all the candles in one go. “I don’t need to make a wish. All my wishes already came true when I found you.” His eyes meet yours in the dim light, and you put the cake back down to fall into his chest, your arms secure around his waist. “Thank you for this,” he whispers, resting his cheek against your head.

“You’re welcome,” your voice muffled against his hoodie. “You deserve to be celebrated. It’s your day.”

Noah sighs and squeezes his arms around you tighter, swaying you both gently side to side. In his arms has to be your favourite place to be. The place that never fails to banish your worries and anxieties, you hope to remain here for as long as time will allow.

“Do you want a slice?” You mumble against his chest.

“Of cake? For breakfast?”

“Yes!” You exclaim like it was obvious, looking up at his face. 

“We can’t have cake for breakfast,” he scolds, holding you close by the hips.

“It’s your birthday! We can do whatever we want,” you turn, dip your finger in the frosting and smear it on his nose, then wrap your arms around the back of his neck.

He gasps and laughs, full and carefree. He always works so hard and weighs himself down with self-created expectations. To see him now, relaxed and accepting of the love he deserves, especially on his birthday of all days, a day he’s so adamant about not celebrating, warms your heart and brings a smile to your own face. He deserves to be celebrated, and you wish you could get that into his head.

“You know what? You’re right,” Noah dips his finger in the frosting and smears it on the tip of your own nose. “I’ll get some plates,” he leans down to meet your lips in a sweet, chaste kiss.

You laugh in disbelief, then shake your head and get a knife from the drawer, wiping off the frosting and licking it off your finger. “Mm, it’s good!” You look over your shoulder where Noah has two forks and two plates from the cupboard, frosting gone from his own nose and a pleased expression on his face. He nods in agreement and sets down the plates. “How big of a slice do you want?” You ask.

“Hm, maybe just a little piece. Then we can have real breakfast after,” he snakes his arms around your waist as you make the first cut, clinging to your back.

“This is real breakfast,” you retort, lifting the cake carefully with the knife and placing it on a plate, then cutting a piece for yourself. “It has fruit on it.”

“You’re right, that makes it a health food,” he jokes, taking a bite-sized piece on his fork.

“Exactly,” you nod, doing the same.

The cake was amazing, thankfully. You were worried about the flavour, having never bought a birthday cake for Noah before. He wasn’t the type to frequently eat cake, which left you stumped in the store when the staff asked what flavour you wanted. Her suggestion seemed to be a success though, judging by Noah’s pleased hums behind you and the way he was forking down another bite.

“I love the flowers, by the way. They’re beautiful,” he mumbles, mouth full of cake and a smile on his lips.

You glance over to the vase at the end of the counter; the bright colours of the petals thankfully revived after suffocating in the trunk of his car all day. “Good, I’m glad. You deserve beautiful things.”

“Not as beautiful as you, though,” he leans to the side and wipes frosting from the corner of your mouth with his thumb before leaning in to place a quick peck on your cheek. You roll your eyes at the compliment, fighting to suppress the flustered smile it brought to your face.

Cake devoured, you lounge on the couch together, putting on the local weather to see what activities the day would allow. Noah brought the flowers with him, placing them in the centre of the coffee table right in his line of sight, with the card you wrote standing in front of them.

Noah,

Happy Birthday, my love! 

You’ve worked so hard this year, and it has been nothing short of a pleasure to watch you grow and achieve everything you aimed for, and more. I know it hasn’t all been easy, but your perseverance and drive to be the best version of you that you can be inspire me every single day. Even on days where we’ve struggled, you never let it get in the way of what’s most important.

I love you so much, I don’t even think I can put it into words. It’s an honour to listen to your beautiful voice and watch you create every day, and I feel so lucky to be a part of your life and have you be a part of mine.

Thank you for being here for me through everything I’ve been through this past year, even when I felt like I didn’t deserve it. You keep me sane when I’m overwhelmed and feel like I’m losing my mind from stress, and I’ll never be able to express how grateful I am for your love, support, and presence by my side. You mean the world to me.

I look forward to seeing what the next year together brings us, what you achieve next, and what our lives will be like in a year's time. 

Thank you for always being my light in the dark and for continuing to love me.

I love you, and I hope you have a good birthday. ♡

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[sfstranslations]

UPDATE: The S-Ranks That I Raised (403)

Noah blinked. A silent city landscape was visible through dense trees. It was one that he was now very familiar with: Seoul.

Read Chapter 403: The Road Not Taken (1) now!

Request access to the My S-Ranks translations by sending us your email through our contact form.

[daringsunflowers]

noah had been having a lot more fun that he had initially though he would have. conversing with benji proved to be a lot more easy that he had thought it would be. he had always gotten so nervous on dates but as he sat there eating his food and talking about life with the other boy it felt natural.. normal. which one meant one thing to noah, something would happen and the boy wouldnt be interested.

the man let out a soft laugh, "embarrassing is one word i would use." he confessed, "it was my first boyfriend and first like real time with another guy. i literally had felt like i could die right there on the spot. i am already a pretty reserved kind of guy to begin with. " he had confessed. "my dad lost his shit, i really thought he was going to kill the guy i was with but.. he took it out on me instead." noah's father had never been a physical man, not until that day. "i guess he just thought he could change me if he hit me. it only happened once and my mom kicked him out i felt awful, like i ruined their marriage but i see why she did it now." he confessed. "it was just strange because my father had never been like that before. but enough about all that. you dont want to hear those depressing stories." he teased. he nodded. "we can agree that fathers suck." he told him and nodded. "maybe one day.. but i do good even getting a date to think about marriage."

Brightly, Benji smiled at the other man. Noah was so sweet. There was no way Benji would let Richard come close to this man. It was just like with Elisa, Benji shielded her from Richard as well. By now, Benji had his ways to hide certain aspects from his life from his much too controlling father. Happily, he kept eating his food. It was delicious and his empty stomach thanked him for each little bite.

Yet, when he heard how Noah's parents found out about it made Benji look up with his eyes widened twice as big. He quickly took the napkin to clean his lips from the sauce. ❝Oh wow, that really is embarrassing.❞ He huffed softly and shook his head. ❝Toxic masculinity, I guess. Or it's an old generation thing. Then again, my Dad is fifty-three, but his toxic masculinity goes in other directions. Like…you have to top with other men or you are a disappointment.❞ Fathers were a difficult topic for sure. Yet, hearing that Noah's mother might like him made him smile brightly. ❝I'm sure I'd like your mother as well. She sounds so nice.❞ Then, Benji nodded softly. ❝Totally get you. I'm a strong believer that true love can last without any marriage. Also you are young, you still have so much time thinking about all that. No pressure to commit to one person forever, right?❞

[abandoned-unfortunately]

hello alenoah nation, i hope you all accept me

first post how are we feeling

[lalallalas-posts]

'byler is endgame' I say into the mic as I step onstage. the crowd boos and throws various vegetables at me. 'stranger things have happened' comes a chorus of voices from backstage. i turn around. it's noah schnapp and finn wolfhard.

[full-tiltboogiearc]

"Really? Back home, our coyotes were, like, murderers. They killed people's dogs all the time."

Such was life being in the Upper Peninsula. While still technically considered the Midwest, it was somewhat more lawless: vast amounts of untouched forest where wildlife could roam free in ways that it simply couldn't when it was near suburbia. The downside, however, was the occasional slew of animal attacks. Coyotes were often the number one culprit. Hell, maybe they were wolves, and neighbors weren't smart enough to give accurate accounts.

They stopped for a moment, Noah nodding her head toward a cluster of brush. "There," she said, pointing her flashlight at a particular vine tangled within the bottom half. A bright green three-leaved plant reflected shining white underneath the flashlight. "Did you know that the plant itself isn't actually poisonous? It's just called that because our human skin gets an allergic reaction from the oil that's on the leaves. But animals, like deer and raccoons, eat poison ivy all the time. Even a dog or cat won't get affected by it if they touch it."

It might have seemed strange for a girl like her—this 'aspiring Hollywood actress'—to know what she did about nature, but she spent a lot of time trekking the woods as a kid. Try as she would to shove it aside, Noah was a full-on UPer, more outdoorsy than she'd like to admit. It had its ups and downs: She could make a fire or build a lean-to, but other little girls her age were buying Barbies and going to the mall. (She could blame her dad for that one.)

She gave Ramy another moment to examine the leaves before moving forward. At his words, she snickered. "Then maybe a simple, 'Hey Noah, let's get outta here,' might be better for you. I guess I didn't realize that marshmallow could relate to, like, making s'mores out in the wilderness or something. What an oversight.

"But I'm glad you're having fun. The chances of there actually being a Bigfoot out here is just—" The sentence was so ridiculous she didn't finish it. "Anyway, thanks for coming out with me. I needed this break."

Eventually, the path became large enough for them to walk side-by-side, which Noah always liked better than one person leading the way. Each step they took, leaves and gravel crunched underneath their shoes. Her flashlight had wandered to their feet a bit and she lifted her brows in surprise. "Hey, cool shoes. Did you just buy those?"

Suddenly to their left, in the same long trail of brush that she'd pointed out the poison ivy in a ways back, leaves rustled. She stopped in her tracks. "Did you... hear that?"

ramy felt sort of stupid about the whole thing once they were separated, though no more than if she'd suggested they go elk hunting or something. he'd never been outdoorsy and his family wasn't really either. none of his family would be caught dead camping in back country. he wasn't opposed, obviously--since he was going, but he didn't like feeling stupid or like he didn't know anything. and he did feel stupid because he didn't know anything.

fortunately, he had some extra money from the con appearance and was able to grab an uber to a not-so-entirely-out-of-the-way rei to ask about some hiking boots (were converse going to cut it? not according to blaze, the bro in patagonia, whom ramy suspected must work on commission). so now he had a flashlight, some weird packaged electrolytes or something, a couple of cliff bars, hiking boots, and a multi-tool he'd been suckered into buying by blaze. overall, he felt phony. so he ended up wearing the converse anyway, a flannel he'd brought for the weather, which he wore over a pullover hoodie, and stuffed his water bottle and the snacks into a municipal waste fanny pack he packed in case he went somewhere like the zoo or something. he brought the multitool as well, because it seemed useful and put the receipt in his wallet in case he wanted to return the boots before the trip was over.

when he saw noah, he was glad he'd forgone blaze's recommendations. and, especially glad, he didn't buy one of those over-the-top puffy coats for the rain. he didn't know if she was more seasoned in hiking or bigfoot hunting, but she certainly seemed like it.

the trailhead was so innocuous that they might've been berry picking or bird watching. blueberry lane sounded idyllic. it was the kind of place that noah would've been killed on screen in, which seemed sort of ominous if it was celluloid instead of real life. real life bigfoot hunting. maybe it was ominous.

"i've never seen a coyote that didn't just eat trash." now coyotes he was actually used to, but the la kind that scavenged out of dumpsters. "but uh, never come across poison ivy actually." he was looking forward to the blueberries though.

"what about if i feel more weird saying marshmallow out of context?" ramy smiled at her. well, this was at least better than another night of con after parties at shitty seattle bars. "but i'm not really feeling weird. i mean, maybe silly, but this is actually really nice."