#c. noah

[daringsunflowers]

@bluejeanbaby

the two had just settled in for the weekend at his parents house. it had been a bit since he had been back home and he didnt have the heart to tell him family the two had broken up a bit ago. noah knew that he owed them big time. a soft sigh left his lips as he slid a beer over to them. "thank you do this.. i know my mum can be a little much somethings." he confessed. "but it really means a lot you flying out here with me."

[mutatedangels-a]

@waveofstars // noah x connor

A hit or miss. That was the only way she could think of to describe the tourist attractions on display via brochures at the rest stop in the middle of some highway in New Mexico, en route to Albuquerque. Bisti Badlands, described as a site of rock formations that resembled a decommissioned sci-fi movie set—cool. The world's largest pistachio sculpture? Not so cool. With a tilt of her head, Noah grabbed a few brochures—even some of the ones to weird attractions—to juggle alongside some snack replenishments, and head out of the rest stop.

It was the middle of the night, fodder for creepy encounters, though for the most part their rest stop had truck drivers taking naps and the occasional sedan full of rowdy children. She supposed she was with her own rowdy child: Connor, who she brought along the road trip with for many reasons. One, that he loved horror, two, that it would be fun to see some of the sights with him, and three, she needed a bit of buffer between her and some of the handsy convention attendees.

But it just so happened he fell asleep in the passenger seat of her car, the doors locked and the AC running to shield from the dry desert night. Noah sighed, knocking on the window gently, each signal growing in intensity before she straight-up smacked the window in hopes of jolting him awake.

"Connor. Connor. CONNOR!"

[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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[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

[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."

[jbaileyfansite]

Jonathan Bailey sharing this BTS video of the cast of Fellow Travelers on IG [x]

[dollarsignc]

hello alenoah nation, i hope you all accept me

first post how are we feeling

[theravencycletweets]

[daringsunflowers]

Noah let out a laugh, “im sorry- im sorry..” he murmured between laughs. “I wasn’t trying to make you hurt yourself . swear!” He reassured the other. “You just looked so focused and it was the perfect opportunity.”

open: m/f/nb based: spooky haunted theater things!! juliette is the costume designer for an upcoming production at a local theater and your muse is also a part of it (costuming assistant/cast/tech crew/director/etc). she's stayed late to finish up some sewing and they just happen to come up and surprise her while she's already spooked from rumors of spirits haunting the theater who: juliette feng, she/her, 25, costume designer

"jesus—! how many times have i told you not to do that? i almost sewed my finger to this cape... what are you still lurking around for, anyways? rehearsal ended hours ago."

[daringsunflowers]

@vacationeyes plot in source

"hear me out before you turn me down." noah turned to his best friend from the couch. "what if we skip the party completely... bailed on the bar and just did our own thing?" he suggested. "my ex is supposed to be there anyways and not that i really care if we run into each other, i would just rather not be forced to have the most awkward conversation." he mused. "please, don't make me beg."

[mutatedangels-a]

❛ Oh, is that blood? ❜ (forgot 2 mention that these can be for any muse of ur choice omg)

Blood blood blood blood // @justkcn

"Oh—" Noah snorts, because, yes, it is blood, but not really— "yeah, it's just. Corn syrup." She proves it; dabs a finger on her cheek and taps it once against the very tip of her tongue. It's a gross process but necessary to not freak anyone out, because even though they're on a production lot, these days, you can never be too sure. She cracks a grin.

"I'm an extra over at the, uh." She turns around and gestures at a nearby building where the set of DOLL PARTS lies within. A huge marquee above the entrance says so. "Doll Parts."

She looks him up and down. With platinum blonde hair and a perfectly even tan, she wonders if he's in the next Magic Mike. "I'm Noah, Noah Gillespie," she says, reaching her hand out for him to shake. "I'm sorry, I feel like I should totally know you. Are you an actor?"

[full-tiltboogiearc]

Though he insisted she hadn't missed much, it was clear that Noah was absent for some rather large milestones in Isaac's life; fragments that all built up a kaleidoscope of events that they would typically be together for. She felt a pang in her heart remembering all the nights they'd spent talking each other off the ledge—when things felt hard, were hard, they had each other and somehow they survived. Other than the fact that she sort of dodged any deep conversations between them about her father, there was nothing that Isaac didn't know. Guilt planted its seed and festered, but she had to move on.

"I'm so glad to hear about your mom and Greg, and—and Maddie! A college graduate," she laughed a little. "It seems like just yesterday she was panicking about still having braces during her first makeout session." She scrunched her face, blushing—alright, maybe Isaac didn't know that, since it was girls' talk anyway, but it spoke to how close Noah was even with his sister. As an only child, and as somebody who didn't like being in her own house too much, Isaac's home and his family were basically her own.

She took another sip of her drink and nodded, listening on. Her expression tempered to something more sympathetic when he shared what he did about Justina. "Fuck. That sucks, I'm sorry." Part of her wanted to know what happened, betting almost wholeheartedly that it was Justina's fault. At the same time, she wasn't sure what Isaac had been like over the last couple years since she left.

"Well I don't know if you're doing anything this weekend but, we should get together. Maybe hang out at Worthington together. My agent won't touch rural areas with a 10-foot pole so I'm doing that whole thing solo." She chuckled. "It'd be really cool if we hung out after I did my signing or whatever."

He watches as she takes a sip of the drink, curious to see her reaction. No face was made, so perhaps Sarah's was finally on the right track.

It was hard to forget all of the years the two of them had spent here, chatting over shitty coffee and burnt bagels. Sure, there was a Starbucks down the street, but they never supported the community like the local cafe had. It was one of the many reasons why they continued to come here, even when what they had to offer wasn't the best.

Thankfully it had improved throughout the years, and now was bustling with life. It had taken a while, but Sarah's had finally made it. Much like Noah had, when it came to her career. He, on the other hand, still seemed to be stuck in the phase where Sarah's couldn't quite nail the latte.

"You haven't missed much." He responds, leaning back in the wooden chair. The same one he had carved his initials in one day, when he had been bored. Isaac wishes he could tell the other about how great his life had been, like hers, but couldn't. Med school still was a thing of the past, and he was still slinging drinks at the Garage. "Mom's alright. Her and Greg finally got married about two years ago. He treats her well. Treats us all well." This much was true. After watching his mother suffer through the years in an abusive relationship, it was a breath of fresh air to see her as happy as she was now. "Maddie is going to be graduating soon. She started her senior year of college back in the fall." Another person he tended to be jealous of, for actually following through with her plans. How come he couldn't have? Why was his sister the one to do so? "Uh, work is work. Getting busy as the holidays near. You know, everyone coming back to visit families or whatever." Clears his throat and reaches for his own mug. "Justina and I broke up a few months ago. Haven't really talked to anyone since." @marshthing

[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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UPDATE: The S-Ranks That I Raised (355)

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[jbaileyfansite]

Jonathan Bailey, Jelani Alladin, Matt Bomer and Noah J. Ricketts last year for the filming of Fellow Travelers

[daringsunflowers]

hearing julia tell him that the issue was that things were going so well made his stomach turn. it was something he had been used to his whole life. being a goof guy never paid off in the long run. women always picked the bad boys and noah was anything but bad. "i get it?" but it was more of a question than anything else.

noah had done everything he could to make her feel special and loved but that seemed to be the problem. would things had been easier if he had just pretended to be someone else, someone cold hearted. it didnt matter, he couldnt even if he had wanted to and her certainly didnt want to. "no julia, i dont understand. how about you explain it to me because just half an hour ago i was under the impression you were happy and we cared about one another."

Didn't he get it? Of course things were going good, great even, but that was exactly why she had to end it. It seemed blatantly obvious to Julia, why couldn't he see it too? "They are -- I mean, they were. That's the problem! C'mon, don't make me explain it. You get it, right?"

She knew she wasn't exactly going about this the right way, but could you blame her? This was -- not that she was going to advertise this -- her first real break-up. Noah was something else, truly. He fit into her life in a way that nobody else before him had, got her humor, her endless movie references, her rambling on about whatever cause had caught her attention that month. Was she screwing up something special here, something she'd never find again? Most likely. Definitely. But romance was something Julia was quick to put on the backburner. There were so many more important things in her life -- her music, primarily, and surely love would be an obstacle to her big break. // @daringsunflowers