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sayemrentacar1 · 1 year ago
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Toyota Premio Car Rental In Dhaka Bangladesh - 1 by Sayem Rent A Car
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featherandferns · 10 months ago
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orange juice (fic)
jj maybank x fem!reader | inspired by noah kahn's incredible music
content warning: mentions of drinking and drug use; mentions of abuse; mentions of bodily harm (vague, non-graphic); sexual content | feel free to message me with questions of detail if any of this concerns you before reading!
word count: 7.5k
blurb: in the most unlikely of settings, you and JJ reunite after five years apart in radio silence.
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“You know, on my way here, I saw a dead rat.”
A cloud of cigarette smoke dispels into the air.
“It was funny, you know? Cause I felt bad that it was dead, even though it was a rat. I mean, I knew nobody was going to miss it, and that it didn’t have any rat family or friends which would mourn it or anything. But still…It looked like it had been hit by a car, and it was only small so it didn’t look very old, and it seemed so harmless lying there. It probably had a million and one diseases, but just laying there, it seemed harmless. And it felt weird to be sad about this thing dying which would have only maybe caused more damage if it had stayed alive – nibbling through electrical wires and all that.”
JJ takes another drag of his cigarette as he digests the anecdote.
“Anyway. This just made me think of that,” you quietly finish before sinking back into the silence.
“Did you just compare my dad’s funeral to a dead rat?”
You clear your throat. JJ watches in his peripheral as you look down at your feet and fidget your fingers.
“Shit, I guess I did.”
His eyes cut ahead the moment yours seem to flick up.
“Can’t believe that’s the first thing I’ve said to you in years.”
JJ inhales and exhales the nicotine of his cigarette. “Well, I can.”
That makes you laugh. Small and sheltered.
“I weren’t sure that you were going to come,” JJ tells you.
“Could say the same thing to you,” you reply.
Sighing, he drops the cigarette and crushes it under the heel of his boot. He probably should have worn smarter shoes. But then, why would he? Waste of money and space in his truck. Not like his dad was going to see them anyway.
“I only decided yesterday. Practically drove all night.” As if reminding himself of the sleep deprivation, JJ lets out a yawn.
“How is it, being back in Kildare?” you wonder.
JJ shrugs. “Weird. But also not weird at all. I guess I just feel old. I was driving through town and everything looks different.”
“I mean, it has been five years.”
“Jesus,” JJ chuckles, shaking his head. Had it really been that long?
He shoves his hands in his pant pockets and finally finds the nerve to take you in. His eyes scan over you like one might survey potential damage to a car after a close call. He never lets them go below your waist though. As if losing nerve, he flicks them back up to your head and meets your eyes.
“You look well.”
“Thanks. Right back at ya,” you smile.
With that smile – sweet and simple – JJ finds himself being hurled back through time to his teen years. The reminiscing of his youth and the memories that your presence stirs up feels like reflecting on a past life. Something that he almost had, and something that he didn’t exactly lose, but something that changed.
Everything had changed, really. The streets that he used to drive down with his friends, running away from security and darting to and from keggers and house parties, they all had new homes, new paint, new families. Old mom-and-pop shops were now trendy smoothie spots and hippie bars. Empty plots of land that were a good spot to share a joint had now been bought and developed into stylish holiday rentals. None of JJ’s family was left here, not even his cousin. None of his friends were here anymore either. Well, except for you. Is that what you were to him? A friend?
“It was a nice service,” you say.
“Was it?”
For someone like Luke Maybank, ‘nice’ is probably a generous term for a funeral service that’s void of cheery anecdotes and tender memories. It’s a shame that all the memories JJ held in high regard of his father – of the moments that they were bonded and close – often came with the overarching theme of alcohol or drugs. He wasn’t sure there was ever a genuine moment shared between the two. Whatever praise and pride he gathered from his dad was short lived and sparse. When his dad left the island on the boat he stole, JJ never heard from him again. And now he never would.
“Did they ask if you wanted to say anything?”
“What’s there to say? He was a guy and he died in a bender. Short and simple, I guess.”
You nod and go silent once more.
JJ knows that his answer evaded the politeness markers of small talk, but it was true. Luke Maybank was a human who lived on this earth with no mark to be left apart from those which he laid on his own child. The only way that he’d be remembered was in the nightmares that still sometimes have JJ waking up in cold sweats and reaching for the box of cigarettes by his bed.
“I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have come,” you say.
“No, it’s not…” JJ shakes his head and offers you a smile, but he knows it looks unnatural. He isn’t sure what he’s feeling right now. Perhaps everything, if that’s even possible. “I’m glad you came. I’m just tired and…well, you know.”
The funeral of my father.
“Right. Of course.”
He watches you tuck your hair behind your ears and glance towards the graves. He remembers how you used to do that when you were both younger. It was funny to him: you’d go through the fuss of trying your hair back in one way or another, but you’d always leave out a couple of strands. “To frame my face” you’d tell him, and then you’d precede to spend the rest of the day tucking your hair behind your ears. He liked it though. When you’d be concentrating on something, like surfing or fixing something up or writing, you’d lean forward and they’d come lose and hang over your pretty features. He’d want to mess with them; tuck them behind your ears for you. Sometimes he did. He remembers when you’d be on top of him, kissing him senseless, and they’d come lose and tickle his face. Somehow it would make the whole thing more sensual, with his laughs and your giggles.
He feels his face flush as the memories of nights like those creep back into his head. He shouldn’t think of you like that, not after all this time. Not with how things turned out. And especially not at his father’s funeral.
JJ had come over to you once his father was safely tucked away in the ground, six feet under. You’d attended the service at the church, hiding near the back, and then the burial, and as everybody else departed to give JJ ‘a moment’ (whatever the hell that meant), he’d turned to find you stood near a bench, lost in thought.
“It was nice of you to come,” JJ thanks.
“I’m surprised none of the others are here.”
“They don’t know. I sort of kept it close to the chest,” JJ admits. “I’m actually impressed by the turnout.”
You go to laugh and JJ sees you stifle it. It helps him ease up, smile a real smile for a second, as wicked as that sounds.
“People have layers, I guess.”
“Not my dad.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
You meet his gaze again. Your eyes make it clear that you haven’t shed a tear and neither had JJ. He wasn’t sure if maybe that would come later, once the so-called shock had worn off. He doubted it though. And yet, there was a haze of sadness about him. Death is weird as a whole. The death of a parent like JJ’s, even weirder. Maybe it wasn’t just the funeral causing the sadness. Maybe it was you.
JJ makes a move to leave but before he can even shift his foot one whole step, you’re talking.
“Do you wanna come back to mine? We could catch up. I’m sure you’ve been doing all sorts since I last saw you. Maybe have a drink or two, for old times’ sake?”
“Oh, I don’t drink anymore.”
“Oh,” you say. A pause for thought, then, “well, I have orange juice.”
It’s a strange thing to offer in place of a bottle of beer or glass of wine. Most people would say a cup of coffee. But no - orange juice: that’s where your mind went. It makes JJ smile. It seems so on-par for you to offer him that.
“Okay. Sure. Orange juice sounds good.”
“Do you need a moment, before we leave?” you ask, glancing back over your shoulder to the gravesite of JJ’s deceased father.
The dirt atop of his plot is fresh and stark brown against the green grass. JJ stares a second. The groundkeeper is dusting some muck off the gravestone. The funeral director had offered him a fine granite with award winning chiselling, after recognising JJ from the articles of El Dorado and assuming some high-placed budget. JJ had opted for a simple thing though. Cheap and likely to be hard to read within half a decade. It’s what Luke deserved. Probably what he would have invested into JJ, if the roles were reversed.
“No, I don’t. We can go,” JJ says, voice vacant. He looks back to you. “I’ll drive.”
You don’t live in your childhood home anymore. The place that you’ve settled in is a small home in a sweet looking neighbourhood. In fact, it seems the only part of Kildare that feels familiar to JJ. The front garden is quaint but well kept, with trimmed grass and flower beds that clearly garner a lot of attention and care. The fence is in need of a lick of paint: the blue fading and peeling. A sticky note is attached to the door frame of the front door and it makes JJ smile. ‘Doorbell’s fucked – shout “ding dong” really loud’.
“This is a step up,” JJ says.
“Nice, right? My neighbour is a dick though. Always complaining that I leave my driveway light on in the middle of the night. As if I can even afford to that.”
JJ chuckles as he follows you inside. There’s an instant warm smell that hits him. JJ can’t seem to describe it in any other way than that it smells like you. The interior is safe and homely. The wallpaper and wooden floors pair nicely with the throw pillows and crystals and plants and flowers. Fairy lights are strung from end to end. A kitchen, open plan, feeds nicely into a sitting room. A dining table is tucked in the corner which seemingly functions more as a desk: books piled atop with sheets of paper strewn out. There’s a small corridor to the right and the walls are lined with framed pictures which JJ can’t make out from where he’s stood. He assumes it must lead to a bathroom and bedroom. It isn’t unlived in though. There’s a small pile of clothes which need ironing; they’re sat in a basket, next to the TV. Near the backdoor is an arts and crafts project of some kind strewn about on the floor in organised chaos, blocking the exit.
It's still early in the afternoon so you don’t bother flicking on a light, instead opting to soak in the last few hours of daylight before dusk. Kie used to compare you to a cat, basking in the sun and chasing the rays until there was none left to follow.
JJ closes the door behind him and leans against it.
“You can take your shoes off, if you want.”
“Alright,” he mumbles. He toes them off and kicks them to the side, amongst a pile of your own. He notices how there’s nobody else’s shoes there: just yours, and now his.
You pour out two glasses of orange juice and turn around, handing one to him. He takes it, lost in thought. It all feels surreal, stood here with you, after a five-year pause. When you go to the sofa to sit, he assumes he should follow. You sit on opposite ends. A part of him wonders why you haven’t stretched out your legs and dumped your feet in his lap. ‘These stink’, JJ jokes, poking your toes. You wiggle his fingers off. ‘Shut up, no they don’t.’ Force of habit: he always seems to get stuck on that past. Instead, you go to pull one of your legs up onto the sofa, and JJ flicks his eyes around the room another time. He sips his juice.
“So…” You start. “Any news?”
“Well, my dad died, so there’s that.”
You kick out your leg, aiming for his thigh. “Come on now. Be serious.”
“I am; you were at the funeral. Thought you might remember that,” JJ jokes.
Rolling your eyes mirthfully, you have a sip of your juice. The sun paints shapes on the coffee table, weaving through the thin curtains that line your window. It makes your skin glow, healthy and happy. He’s torn between staring at your face and remembering every detail of your features and avoiding you completely.
“When did you move in here? It’s nice.”
“About two years ago. Mom and dad are still at the old place. They’ve rented out my room though, for tourists and stuff.”
“That’s nice of them,” JJ snorts. “How’s your brother? Is he doing good?”
“He is. He’s at college actually. Graduates later this year.”
“The fuck? That’s so trippy,” JJ mumbles, almost to himself.
JJ can remember your brother as nothing more than a preteen, sulking around the house and begging for rides to soccer practice. Now he’s nearly got a whole ass degree. His eyes naturally fixate on the dining-table-come-desk in the corner.
“What do you do for work then?”
“I’m a teacher at Kildare high.”
Of course you are. JJ smiles, eyes still fixated on the table. It seems to prompt you to continue.
“It’s kinda weird sometimes cause some of the old farts still work there,” you say.
“Oh shit. Mr Rumble still there?” JJ asks, perking up a little, meeting your gaze.
You laugh. “Mr Rummel does still work there, yeah. Still likes to bring you up to me, actually.”
“Really? In what way?”
“Just likes to add the odd little ‘you remember when your boyfriend used to steal my stapler’ kinda things.”
JJ’s laugh is different this time. The word ‘boyfriend’ coming out of your mouth has his thoughts short circuiting. You glance down at your juice and swirl it around the cup.
“Anyway, it’s a pretty good gig. I like teaching, and I actually think I’m making a difference to some of these kids lives sometimes, which is sort of strange.”
“I bet you are. You were always good at helping people,” JJ tells you. Your smile turns soft.
“Thanks, JayJ.”
The nickname is like another sucker punch to the chest. JJ takes it like a champ. Washes it down with water; pretends there’s vodka in there somewhere.
“How are the others, then?” you ask. “How are they?”
“Good. Happy. John B and Sarah are expecting a kid soon.”
“Fuck off.”
“No joke,” JJ laughs. He leans back into the sofa, reclining in the soft throw pillows. It’s strange how easily relaxed he is in this new setting. “They’re debating between two names. Esmeralda or Eton.”
“No. Please God, tell me you’re joking.”
“I wish,” JJ snorts. “Not that I got much of a leg to stand on.���
“What do you mean?” you frown. You lean over and place your juice down on the coffee table.
“JJ? Kinda dumb name.” JJ has a sip of his own before mirroring your actions.
“Hardly. ‘John James’ is pretty proper sounding to me.”
“Meh.” JJ shrugs and props an arm up on the back of the sofa.
“What about Kie, and Pope?”
“Kie is on her environmentalist shit. Investing in rebuilding the coral and things. Pope is studying like crazy. Got a good job lined up too.”
“Only Pope would get a degree when he has literal gold in his savings,” you chuckle. “Didn’t you buy a shop too, or something?”
“A little surf shop with John B, yeah,” JJ nods, smiling proud. The surf shop is something that he would always take pride in. What felt like a pipedream was now his nine-to-five. “It’s doing real good, actually. We’re thinking about expanding.”
“Well, that’s good,” you say, nodding. The two of you lock eyes. Your smile holds steady. “I’m happy for you, JJ. Really.”
“Thanks,” he says. “I’m glad you’re doing good, too.”
And now the polite small talk is over and the catch-up is done. It’s so bizarre seeing someone again after so long. So many things in life have passed – relationships, jobs, fights, conversations, achievements, ailments – but when you finally come to sum it up, it only takes ten minutes. Going through a heartbreak lasts for months, but then a year later and the relationship is summed up in a sentence or two. Time doesn’t only heal, but it also shrinks. It seems to have shrunk whatever used to exist between yourself and JJ too, as you both sit, searching for things to talk about which avoid the dark and ugly. Things which avoid the obvious.
“Do you think you’ll stick around in Kildare for a bit?”
“I don’t know. I ain't really thought about it,” JJ admits. “I weren't even sure if I was gonna go to the funeral.”
“Where are you staying tonight?” you wonder.
He laughs to himself and shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “I have no idea. Probably just crash in my truck.”
“You’re loaded as fuck and you’re gonna crash in your truck?” you laugh. It isn’t mean when you say it. Just amused.  
“I don’t know. You don’t really get used to having money when you grew up without it. I still feel guilty buying a new pair of boots or something when my old ones ain't coming apart at the soles and shit.”
You nod. “That makes sense. Eminem had a similar thing.”
“Yeah, I’ve always thought me and Eminem were similar,” JJ deadpans.
It seems to strike well with you because you’re cracking up, laughing like he’s just told the best joke you’ve ever heard. He smiles. He always liked making you laugh. You have a horrendous laugh: truly awful. Cats in a bag being bashed against the wall-howling dog parade level of terrible. JJ loved it though. He used to tickle you just to hear it. Watching you now, head titled back, eyes shut and mouth agape, guffawing like a damn hyena…He feels like throwing up.
“Sorry, that…That was good,” you chuckle, wiping your eyes and catching your breath. “You were always good at making me laugh.”
“Fuck knows why,” JJ chuckles.
“Cause you’re funny,” you reply, as if its obvious. “You were always funny.”
It’s strange how the tone of the conversation rises and falls like a mountain range the longer the two of you sit on the sofa.
Your smile turns sombre, like when someone reminisces over a funny memory of their dead pet. Nice at first, amused, and then dampened with the reminder that those times have passed.
“It’s weird, to be honest. You’re so different now but you’re also still JJ.”
“Different how?”
“I don’t know,” you sigh. You glance around the room for a moment, as if you’d find the answer hidden in code on the spine of the books stacked on the windowsill. You look at him again. “Your face looks different.”
“It does?” JJ asks. He lifts a hand and strokes his jaw. He could do with a shave, he supposes. The vanity tries to bite through to ask how, but before he can, you’re talking again.
“You don’t drink,” you add, nodding to the orange juice still sat on the coffee table. “You’re quieter. Less…”
You seem to lose the words and so you gesture with your hands. Explosion.
“Calmer. Sadder, but not sad.”
“I can’t tell if these are good things or not,” JJ says, half-joking.
“You look at me different too.”
That makes him pause. He meets your eyes and holds your gaze, steady. The whole room shifts in a moment, from carefree catch-up to tense confrontation.
“Different?”
“Yeah. You look at me different.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” JJ mutters, going to reach for his drink.
“Yes, you do, JJ.”
Your smile is gone now. He can tell, catching it from his peripheral. Suddenly he doesn’t want to be here. Doesn’t want to be in Kildare, doesn’t want to be in this house, in this room.
“You could at least acknowledge it, you know?”
“I don’t understand—”
“It’s actually more rude to not acknowledge it,” you snip.
“I’m not being rude, I’m just making conversation. You’re the one who’s got me on blast like you’re some God damn therapist,” JJ hits back, meeting your steely stare.
“You feel like you’re on blast?”
“I feel like I’m being observed, that’s for fucking sure.”
“Maybe you are. Maybe you are being observed, JJ,” you return, voice harsh and cutting like how a blade slices through paper. “Because it’s fucking weird having you back.”
“You’re the one that invited me here.”
“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” you say.
JJ takes a breath and closes his eyes. The anger never went away, despite what you’ve just told him, he just got older. Got better at hiding it. Got enough money to try therapy. He takes another moment to breathe through it. Push it down his throat and back into his stomach and let it burn out in the acid.
“I’m sorry,” you quietly say. The venom is gone. “I shouldn’t have…I’m sorry.”
He isn’t sure why – can’t pinpoint a perfect reason behind it – but behind his eyelids, JJ feels tears swell. Feels his lips twitch like a child when they hit their funny bone. His next breath in is shaky.
“JJ?”
“Just…”
His voice cracks and he clears it, shaking his head. He wants to open his eyes but he’s scared he’ll start crying, and he’s not doing that, not right now, not today. It’s not even you. You’d seen him cry before. Held him through it and patched him up; made him smile after the sadness. But he refuses to cry today because he can’t give his dad that satisfaction, even if it’s not about him. Opening his eyes, no tears escape. He reaches for the juice and downs it.
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying that,” he snaps. Then, softer, “please.”
You nod. There’s a quiet. Then, you move to stand and he closes his eyes again because it’s a struggle for you to stand. It’s a struggle. He rubs a hand over his mouth as if trying to shove the welling emotions back inside. There’s the sound of running water in the background as JJ tries to gather himself. The crack-crack-crack of a gas stove turning on and then the clink of metal on metal. You’ve put the kettle on, boiling water. There’s the tinker of porcelain mugs being taken off a stand. He seems to zone in on the peaceful sounds of you making coffee.
When you pour water into the mugs, he remembers the sound of your voice years back. ‘Did you know humans have the ability to hear the difference between hot and cold water being poured?’ ‘Why the fuck do you know that?’ ‘I don’t know. Just thought it was interesting.’
As the teaspoon repeatedly brushes against the inside of the cup as you stir in the instant coffee and milk, JJ finally feels all the emotions even out. As your footsteps make their way back over to him, you flick on the lamp by the front door. JJ opens his eyes to see you place a steaming cup of Joe in front of him on the coffee table. The mug is cute. It’s peach pink and says “I’m drinking tea instead of committing crimes” on the front in an innocent type-writer print.
“Cute mug.”
“Thanks. Thought of you.”
He silently laughs. You sit closer to him this time and your mug sits next to his. There’s no funny quote written across the paint. Then your hand is on his back, barely rubbing him, and it hits JJ that this is the first time you’ve touched him in five years.
“I shouldn’t have gotten so angry,” you tell him. “It ain’t my place to say any of that. Especially not today.”
“It’s true, though. That’s the kicker, ain’t it? That it’s true,” JJ replies.
He sighs and leans back, sitting upright once more. Your hand falls away and you clasp it in the other in your lap. He glances down and takes in your side profile. That stupid piece of hair has come lose again, fallen in your face. He distracts his twitching fingers by twisting one of his rings.
“I’m okay, you know,” you tell him. You look up and meet his eyes. Yours are damp with emotion, just like his were moments earlier. “I’m really okay.”
“You almost weren’t though.”
“Is that the problem? That I almost wasn’t?”
“It’s not the problem. You were never a problem.”
“I ain't mean it like that,” you tell him. You shake your head and JJ isn’t entirely sure why. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Am I the reason that you left Kildare?”
A bird calls outside and JJ seems to latch onto it like a lifeline. That question makes him feel stranded and scared. He wasn’t ready for it despite being fully prepared.
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so?”
“I…It ain't that simple.”
“Can you explain it to me, maybe?” you wonder. There’s no wrath to your tone anymore – no vendetta against him. There’s just curiosity and care, and this wonderful tenderness that JJ always associated with you from day one, when you offered him your cap to keep his hair off his face.
“I didn’t like the person I was in Kildare.”
“Okay,” you quietly say.
“I didn’t like how I acted. I didn’t like how reckless I was, and how I didn’t care who got hurt in the process.”
“Like me?”
JJ swallows. He doesn’t tear his eyes from yours though. “Yeah. Like you.”
“Okay,” you repeat, quieter still, nodding.
“After El Dorado, coming back here, everything felt tainted. I just…I needed to escape it. My dad and my past and…And you. I couldn’t face it. I felt like I’d caused some freak accident and had gotten away, and then I'd come back to face the aftermath and I just couldn’t stomach it. I just ran.”
You nod.
“I just ran,” he hears himself repeat. “And I’m not proud of it. Of any of it.”
“Okay.”
“And I wanted to fix things, but I didn’t know how. Every time I thought of coming back to Kildare, or picking up the phone, or going on Instagram and finding you…I just got so fucking scared, like a stupid shithead kid. I was so scared of becoming the guy I was again.”
And, again, you nod. When he doesn’t continue, you fill the space. “How long have you been sober?”
“The minute I left Kildare.”
“Fuck.”
“Cold turkey. It sucked ass. It still does. You don’t miss it any less. I miss the rage too, sometimes. I miss my dad sometimes, too. Miss him beating on me. How fucked up is that? That I miss him beating on me?”
You don’t seem to know what to say to that. You just look down at the coffee mugs and watch how the steam is slowly but surely going away.
“I am sorry. I know that ain't worth anything, but I am sorry.”
“It is worth something.” You clear your throat, voice coming out stronger when you say, “It’s worth everything.”
Your smile comes back, timid and tiny. You meet eyes for the millionth time that night.
“It feels like I’ve been ready for you to come back, for so long, and now you’re actually here and…I don’t even know where to start.” He watches your tongue dart out and wet your lips. “I wasn’t expecting you to look so good.”
“Disappointed?”
“Massively. I would have got my ass in the gym more if I knew it was a Goddamn competition.”
JJ smiles. “You were always a sore loser.”
“Says you,” you snort.
There’s another peak in the conversation after the long slug of the last dip. It’s so bizarre. So wonderfully bizarre.
“I’m proud of you, for getting sober. Do you feel better for it?”
“Depends.”
“Well, you look better for it,” you say.
“You’re drooling, I think,” JJ teases, reaching a finger out to prod your cheek.
Rolling your eyes, you mirthfully bat his hand away. “You’re hallucinating.”
“Well, withdrawal does crazy things,” he quips back.
You chuckle and shake your head. “I missed you like crazy.”
“I miss you too.”
Your lips part a little with that. Miss. You seem to hesitate to hold his gaze then, like it’s too intense. JJ feels as though he can see every emotion flash across your face in a second, like watching a car crash in slow motion. Surprise, shock, joy, anger, then sadness. It’s that sadness that hammers hard when you speak, voice weak.
“You left without saying anything, JJ. For five years. You just left me.”
“Don’t make it sound like that. Like I abandoned you.”
“But you did,” you whisper. The tears are back. You’ve both fallen from the top of the mountain. “You abandoned me.”
“You don’t get it,” JJ replies, voice suddenly thick.
“I was in it with you.”
“You didn’t see it,” JJ forces out. His tears are falling: they didn’t wait this time. “You didn’t see how it looked – how you looked. You looked so fucking fragile and tiny and small and your leg was so bent and twisted and black – it was black – and I thought you were already dead.”
Your breathing is shaky and broken. The two of you sit on your sofa in the sunset, eyes locked, tears streaming, chests heaving like you’ve run a marathon. The word ‘dead’ hangs in the air and haunts the room.
“I thought you were dead, and I thought it was because of me.”
“Do you hate me for it?”
“Why the fuck would I—”
“Because I didn’t die? Do you hate me for it?”
JJ blinks back his bewilderment. He physically shifts back in his seat, as if you just spat in his face. Horrified, he tells you, “Of course I don’t. Why would you even ask me that?”
“Because I’m still here, JJ. But you acted like I wasn’t for five years. You didn’t even come see me in the hospital. Didn’t sit with me in the ambulance. Hell, you can’t even look at my leg now! You think I didn’t notice? At the graveyard, and now. You think I can’t see it on your face?”
JJ whispers your name in a tearful plea. Stop.
“I’m still here, JJ. And I invited you back here, and I went to the funeral, because I wanted to see you.”
“To show me what I did?” JJ asks, harsher than needed.
You hold his gaze. “To show you I’m okay.”
He shakes his head, insistent. “It was my fault. If I hadn’t been drinking and if I’d been thinking straight, I would have never let you jump off the bike like that. It was fucking reckless and stupid and I would never, ever do it again. It was all my fault.”
“I don’t care who’s fault it was, JJ,” you whisper. Your hand reaches out and traces his cheek and jaw, and he can’t help but lean into your warm touch. There you sit, cradling his face as if he was the victim in this whole thing. It calms him almost immediately. “Nobody forced me on that bike. Nobody forced me to jump, not even you.”
“I shouldn’t have let you.”
“JJ,” you sigh.
He closes his eyes as you shift in your spot, and somehow you end up with your forehead pressed against his. He reaches out one of his hands for the other of yours that rests in your lap and he clenches it, tight. You’re both still crying but they’re silent tears now.
“I forgive you, JJ.”
He shakes his head whilst you nod.
“Yes, I do, I forgive you. I always have. You know why?”
He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move.
“Because you were dealt the shitest hand I’ve ever known and look who you are. You’re sober, and you're healthy, and you have loving friends and a steady income and a job which you love, and a boathouse, and so much of your life left. And you didn’t kill anyone. You didn’t kill me, JJ. You didn’t even lose me.”
“I don’t—”
“We’re more than our mistakes.”
When JJ opens his eyes, you pull back enough to let him meet your gaze. As if you know what he’s about to ask, you smile. That smile…JJ feels like he’s coming home.
“You’re more than your mistakes, JJ.”
The moment his lips slot against yours, tentative and hesitant, like a bird exploring new ground for the first time, he’s home. There’s hardly a moment of reluctance, of confusion and mismatch from the time passed, before you’re kissing him back. The softness of your lips against his and the brush of your tongue. The sigh in your voice and the tilt of your head. It’s so seamless and sweet and safe. JJ feels safe here, with you. He feels like all the shit doesn’t matter. He feels like sober might actually be synonymous with happiness, with you. When he lies you down on the sofa, JJ doesn’t want to leave this room, this house, or Kildare. He wants to stay here, worshipping you, breathing you in until you consume all of his senses, because after five years, nothing has made him feel as alive as this. As you.
Everything is a wonderful illusion of being rushed and well-paced all at once. He revels in the way your skin gives gently beneath the scrape of his teeth. When he sucks at your throat, the skin is so delicate, and this close to you JJ can smell nothing but your perfume. He wants to fucking drown in it.
“Fuck, I missed you,” he pants. You’re gasping too. Fingers sliding through his hair, down his sides, along his face.
“I missed you,” you whine.
And that phrase gets repeated over and over like a mantra or a prayer. He hears himself whispering it against your skin with every button he undoes on your blouse. Basks in the sound of your voice, older and mature but still you, as you say it whilst pushing his dress shirt off his shoulder.
There’s a stalling pause when his fingers finish tracing down your stomach to your pants. You seem to notice it. Your hand comes to his face and thumbs at his cheek. They’re still sticky from dried tears.
“JJ,” you whisper, coaxing his attention back to your face. You’re glowing. You’re happy, you’re healthy, and you’re here. “It’s okay.” Nodding, you repeat. “It’s okay.”
Then, he watches your own fingers land on the button of your pants, slowly undoing it. Then the other and the third until they’re lose. He watches you wriggle out of them, pulling them down, struggling somewhat from the tight position on the sofa. Watches the scars emerge, faint but clear, and how they grow and spread like ivy on the side of a house. They merge with the cellulite and stretch marks. With a random bruise you must’ve gotten from hitting your leg on the table the other day. They’re a part of you – plain and simple. At the knee, there’s the connection for your prosthetic right leg. Once your trousers are off, JJ finds himself reaching out to touch it. This thing that he was partly responsible for, this marvel of medicine, the reason you can walk. He loves it and hates it desperately all at once. Glancing back up to your face, you’re watching him just as carefully as he was watching you. But you’re smiling.
“You’re okay,” JJ finds himself saying quietly. Because you are. You’re here, laying almost bare before him, just like you had years before.
“It’s rude to make a girl wait, JJ,” you tease.
With that, JJ’s smile is blossoming back like the returning of spring flowers following a brutal winter. He leans forward and catches himself above you with his arms, kissing you like you’re all the oxygen in the world. Your left leg rubs at his calf, still covered by his trousers, and you giggle against his mouth.
“Fuck, I missed this,” you say. “I missed you.”
“How much?”
“So much,” you say.
“Oh yeah? What’d you miss?” JJ persists, kissing down your neck.
“Your mouth,” you say through a moan. His hands slip behind your back and unclasp your bra. You arch your back enough for him to tug it off.
“My mouth?” he wonders, breathing it against your skin. You’re practically writhing. JJ laughs. “What about my mouth?”
“Don’t be a jackass, JJ,” you mutter.
“You want my mouth?”
“Yes,” you quietly beg.
“You do?” he checks, kissing over your breast, sucking at your nipple. “Where do you want it?”
“You fucking know where,” you sigh, impatience shining through.
He grins at the sudden hitch of your moan as he softly nips at the sensitive skin around your nipple. Then he’s kissing down your stomach until finally his fingers hook into the sides of your panties. He slowly, tauntingly, pulls them down. You kick them off at the ankles, a clear act of frustration, and he bites back his laugh.
“What? Here?” JJ plants a kiss to your hipbone. “You want my mouth here? Or…”
Another kiss, to your pelvic bone.
“Here?”
“Fuck you, Maybank.”
“You wanna?”
“I swear to fucking God,” you huff, laughing through the annoyance.
With that, JJ settles himself between your legs and praises you like you deserve to be. The noises you make are downright evil, considering he can do nothing about it and has to hold it together. You taste so familiar on his tongue.
“Fucking missed you,” he groans against you.
When he sucks on your clit, your hands latch into his hair. Your back is arching and you’re gasping and panting and desperate, and JJ feels like a young God. Pulling back, he slips a finger into your hole and it welcomes him so easily. He cusses at how wet you are.
“Come on baby. Come on, I know you’re close.”
The tells of your body haven’t changed since the last time you two were in this position. The way your mouth hangs open in a silent moan when you fall over the edge is so surreal to see after five years apart. He feels you spasms around him and basks in the scratch of your nails against his scalp as you try to ground yourself. He hardly has time to suck his fingers clean before your pulling his mouth to yours and kissing him stupid.
“Fucking missed you,” you repeat against his mouth, making him laugh. “Nobody fucks me as good as you.”
“Jesus Christ, you can’t say shit like that,” JJ chuckles. “Won’t last.”
“Don’t care,” you say. “Only thing bigger than your ego is your dick.”
JJ can’t help but laugh at that. He loves your giggles in response. And then your hands are shoving at his trousers and the humour is gone, replaced with nothing but raw lust and desperation. There’s nothing performative about it, when the two of you hurry to strip his clothes away as soon as possible. He takes note to get his socks off. You’d always had a weird thing about it, sex in socks, and nothing was going to taint this night. Not after so long.
Being inside you…JJ missed it more than all the alcohol and weed in the world. Nothing compared to the feeling of you clenching around him. The vice of your leg hitched up and over his back as he grips into your thigh, mean and firm, perfecting the angle. The senseless, endless whines falling from your agape mouth, eyes closed tight, lost in the feeling of it. JJ wants nothing to be less than perfect for you, for this. Every stroke, every kiss, every clench of his fingers…it all has to be perfect. He knows when you’re close and he’s more than fucking relieved. It’s taking everything in him not to come. He needs you to fall over the edge first.
“Do the thing,” you whine. “Do the thing, John.”
With that, JJ remembers five years back, to late nights and later mornings spent rolling in bed with you. He bites into his lip, holding back his shit-eating grin as the memories flood back, and he leans forward to your ear. Gently taking the lobe within his teeth, he croons into the shell of your ear.
“That’s my good fucking girl.”
And finally, you fall apart, taking JJ with you like you always would.
When the high finally passes and the endorphins settle down, the two of you are laying on the sofa, only covered by a throw blanket JJ had dragged down from the back of the sofa. You’ve somehow shuffled so you’re laying mostly atop of him. His arms are locked around your damp stomach like a vice, nose nestled into your hair, just behind your ear, breathing you in with every inhale.
“Will you stay in Kildare, just for a short while? For me?”
JJ wants to laugh but he knows how wrong that would be in this moment. The humour doesn’t come from the question, but from the notion that he’d leave after finally having you back in his life, safe and happy, after five long years.
“Anything,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against your hair. Anything for you.
-
“You look like shit by the way,” JJ says.
His hands are warm in his cargo pant pockets. Head tilted down and gaze steady, he sighs.
“Guess you didn’t have chance to clean up though, right?”
Shockingly, the gravestone says nothing back. Well, says nothing asides form Luke Maybank in barely legible font.
It still feels surreal, that his dad is gone. That they’d never remedy anything, or even attempt to fix their relationship. That JJ wouldn’t be able to face him and show him what he’d become. How he’d risen past it all and grown from the pain and the agony. That he’d taken the shitty hand that he was dealt and turned it into nothing but flushes and full houses. That he hadn’t grown into a petty criminal or a tax-evading lowlife, but a strong, good-willed, well-intentioned man. The thought, bittersweet at heart, makes him smile.
“I’m happy dad. I know you probably hate that, being dead and all, but I am.”
As if on cue, there’s the high pitch giggles from afar that catch JJ’s attention. He glances over to spot you and your wonderful mini-you, sitting on your shoulders, waving at him. He waves back, small and short, smiling.
“I’m glad you never met her,” JJ tells his dad, never tearing his eyes away from the pair of you. You ease her off your shoulders and take her hand, pointing to a small bed of daffodils. “I was so scared I’d be bad at this. I was so scared that I’d be like you.”
She’s so fragile as she picks a flower free from the bunch, holding it by the stem, up to you. You nod and presumably smile in approval.
“But I’ll never be like you. She’ll never know what it feels like to live in fear,” JJ states, firmly. He looks back down to the grave. “I’m not your mistakes, and I’m not mine.”
He lowers to a squat and wipes some of the dirt off the stone, revealing the dates. “Happy birthday, dad. You suck, and I hope you’re finally at peace.”
“Daddy, daddy…”
There’s an insistent tug at his jacket sleeve. JJ smiles and looks down at the best mistake he ever made. Mistake is a strong word. ‘Oops, I think is better’, you’d said when you first showed him the pregnancy test.
“What’s up, bub?”
“I found this flower. Can I give it to papa?”
JJ takes the daffodil and glances to the grave. A brief moment of anger passes over him like the breeze of winter. He doesn’t deserve this. He isn’t your papa. I’m glad he’s dead. But he closes his eyes and breathes. Your hand squeezing gently at his shoulder tells him you’re there. It helps ground him.
“Yeah, bub. I think that’d be nice,” he smiles, handing it back.
She giggles as she puts it on the grass just before the stone. Her laughter is brighter and louder still when JJ scoops her up as he stands, looping her around him until she’s a backpack.
“You wanna get ice cream?”
“Hell yeah,” you whoop.
“Hell yeah!” mini-you copies. JJ laughs.
“Alrighty, lets go.”
As the three of you make the small walk back to the car, you intertwine your fingers with JJ’s, holding his hand tight and secure. JJ takes one last glance back at the gravestone. It all began here, in a way, the re-introduction to a life he thought he’d lost. Perhaps the nicest thing JJ’s dad ever did, the kindest act he ever performed, was dying. Perhaps that was his way of paying him back for all the crap he gave.
“Hey.”
JJ glances down at you.
“You okay?”
He smiles. Then, he nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”
Everything is going to be okay.
549 notes · View notes
roosterforme · 2 years ago
Text
The Younger Kind Part 18 | Rooster x Reader
Summary: Bradley takes Noah to visit you at your place, and while he's there, he finds something he doesn't like. After an unexpected run-in with Meredith and a quick visit with Greyson, he has reached his limit for the week.
Warnings: Angst, fluff, swearing, and age gap (18+)
Length: 3600 words
Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader
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Bradley was feeling a little bolder about stopping by your place after Meredith made herself look like an idiot in front of the judge. Maybe it wasn't the best idea he'd ever had, but he and Noah were both dying to see you. So he packed up some things for Noah to play with at your house and drove over on Saturday afternoon. 
When Bradley parked in front of your little rental, Noah was sound asleep in his car seat. You came running out to greet them, but you got quiet when Bradley placed his finger over his lips and nodded toward the backseat. "He's asleep," he whispered, scooping his son out of the car seat. 
Bradley leaned down to kiss your glossy lips as he carried Noah inside and set him down on your couch. Without a word, you procured a soft blanket to cover him, and then Bradley was pulling you into the kitchen. 
"Hi," you whispered as he backed you up against the counter. Your eyes were wide as Bradley let his fingers start to push up the bottom of your tight shirt before he kissed you again. 
"Hi, Princess," he mumbled against your lips. He wanted to fuck you so badly. It had been a week since he had you, and he knew how good you were. His body craved you almost nonstop. When he pressed his nose against your neck, he could feel your heart racing as he inhaled your sweet wildflower scent. "I missed you."
You moaned softly as he placed one big palm on your bare lower back and eased your shirt up inch by inch. "Daddy," you whispered, caressing the back of his neck with your gentle touch. His lips were on yours again as he slipped his muscular thigh between your legs and pushed your ass a little harder back against the edge of your kitchen counter. "Oh," you gasped softly as he held you between his leg and his big hand. 
Anchored in place like this, he guided you forward with his hand so your core rubbed up along his thigh. He watched your eyes flutter closed and back open as you bit your lip. 
"Does that feel good?" he asked softly as you let yourself slide back down his thigh with a sigh. 
"Yes," you squeaked as he guided you back up toward his hard cock. When you nudged him, he grunted, but he let you keep rolling your hips up and down, up and down. Your fingers dug into the back of his neck as your wide eyes fluttered closed again and your head tipped back. 
"You needed your Daddy," he growled, cupping your pussy through your thin leggings. Your loud gasp as you started to rock against his hand had him leaning down to nibble on your neck. 
"More," you whined, and Bradley stroked your slit through the fabric until a hysterical giggle bubbled out of you. 
He dragged his mustache along your neck until his lips were pressed to your ear. "You're so fucking sensitive. Makes me want to get you off constantly."
You whined Bradley's name loud enough that he mashed his lips to yours to keep you quiet as you rubbed your pussy against him. He could feel your swollen clit as you rode his hand and his thigh until you were mumbling against his mouth and shaking. When the roll of your hips turned to stuttering jerks, you came, arms wrapped tight around his neck as you kissed him hard and whimpered. 
"Good girl," he groaned, rubbing his hand gently along your back and side as your movements started to slow. He watched you come to rest on his thigh, eyes hazy and soft as you smiled up at him like he was your hero. And then your hand found his hard cock through his jeans just as Bradley heard Noah call for him. 
"Princess," he whispered, kissing you softly, and easing his thigh from between your legs just as Noah came running into the kitchen with a worried look on his face.
"But Daddy," you whimpered, still reaching for Bradley's cock. Then you noticed Noah, and you quickly backed away as you pulled your shirt back over your midsection. 
Bradley watched his son run to you, and you quickly scooped him up into your arms and hugged him tight. "Noah! I missed you!"
"Missed you," he echoed quietly as you carried him to your tiny kitchen table which Bradley noticed was filled with art supplies. You glanced at Bradley over your shoulder, still looking a little dazed, as you set Noah in one of the two seats and opened up some markers for him.
"Why don't you color some things for me to hang on my refrigerator?" you asked, combing your fingers through Noah's soft curls as he looked up at you with a smile that was melting Bradley's heart. "I still have plenty of room."
And as you sat down in the other chair, Bradley took the time to look around your kitchen more. You had hung up a few of Noah's art projects on your refrigerator; things the two of you must have made when Bradley was still going on his app dates. You had written the date on the bottom corner of each of them. He saw a few more things taped up next to your stairs as he ventured into your small living room. 
You loved his son. It was so obvious. Your laughter combined with Noah's and filled your house, and Bradley closed his eyes to memorize it. He hoped like hell that the court appearance on Wednesday would finish off things with Meredith so he could actually move on. But when he opened his eyes, he saw your ex boyfriend's fraternity hoodie still hanging next to your door. 
He yanked it down from the hook and strolled back into the kitchen just as you were plating some ants on logs for Noah. You smiled and held one up for Bradley, and he let you feed it to him. You smiled as you set the plate down in front of Noah, and then you saw what Bradley was holding. 
"Why do you still have this?" he grunted, and your eyes met his again.
"Nothing's going on," you insisted. "Promise."
He kissed your soft cheek and whispered, "Then you won't mind me dropping this off at his place for you?"
You licked your lips and stared at him for a moment. "You have no reason to be jealous, Daddy." Bradley grunted. But you quickly asked him. "Do I?"
His brow creased as he kissed your lips. "Why would you think that?"
You kind of shrugged and said, "Noah just told me that Helen kept talking him about you. He also said she's bad at singing and drawing, and that I'm his favorite. Who's Helen?"
"She works at Penny's bar, and Noah saw her the other day. Listen," he told you with a smug smile, "Helen can look all she wants, but that's the only thing she'll be doing."
"Hmm," you hummed with another shrug. "Okay."
Before you could turn away from him, Bradley wrapped his hand around your hip and then slowly let his fingers trail up your body. Your lips parted as he ran them along the valley between your breasts. You were obviously not wearing a bra, so Bradley took a moment to tease your nipples before running his index finger up the length of your neck and grasping your chin. 
You were panting slightly, and your peaked nipples looked gorgeous through your tight shirt. "Why don't you write down your ex boyfriend's address for me so I can drop this off for him one day?" Bradley requested again, stroking your cheek with his thumb.
"I already told you. That's something a boyfriend would do." Your voice was soft, but your eyes were wide and focused on him.
"Exactly."
You nodded a few times, and then you were in Bradley's arms, kissing his lips.
---------------------------
You sat with Noah on your lap as the three of you ate the spaghetti and salad you had prepared. You made a show of pouring dressing on the salad as Bradley kissed your neck and whispered, "Keep going," while you laughed. Noah just looked at both of you as he ate a meatball with his fingers. 
"Is it yummy?" you asked him as you ate some pasta. 
"Yep," Noah said, wiping his hands on Bradley's arm. You had to stifle your laughter as he asked, "Will you come to our house again?"
You met Bradley's eyes as he wiped the sauce off of his arm with a napkin. "Hopefully soon. I miss playing with your blocks, and you have better construction paper than I do."
"Yeah," he said before shoving some noodles into his mouth. "But you have good coloring books."
"I'm glad you think so," you whispered before you kissed his cheek.
After dinner, Bradley barely let you out of his grasp. His hand was always holding yours or on your back, and you were starting to have some very strong feelings. 
"Let me wash the dishes," he muttered, pressing his lips to your right arm which was finally mostly healed. "Go watch Mickey Mouse with Noah, I got this."
So you snuggled with Noah on your couch and sang the songs from the cartoon with him, smiling every time he laughed at the show. And a while later, when Bradley joined you, he repositioned you and Noah so that your head was resting on his thigh and his hand was stroking the back of your neck. 
You loved this. It wasn't quite as good as being at Bradley's house, on his bigger couch with the bigger TV, but it was still so close to being perfect. And when Bradley whispered that it was getting late and they needed to leave, you were already asking when you could see them again.
"I'm not sure, Princess. Soon, I hope," he whispered, kissing your lips softly while Noah tried to put his shoes on by himself. Then you knelt to help him while Bradley balled Greyson's hoodie up in his fist and pocketed the post-it note with Greyson's address on it. You felt a little giddy over how serious he was about getting that particular article of clothing out of your house.
"I'll miss you both," you told them, kissing Noah's forehead after Bradley scooped him up with his free arm. You waved from the door as they drove away, and then the silence made you frown as you closed the door. When you walked into the kitchen, it was spotlessly clean. All of your dishes had been washed and put away. And there was a pack of Skittles on the counter.
------------------------
Bradley was used to talking to you for an hour every night before he went to bed. He could have listened to anything you wanted to say to him, but as soon as your tone grew playful, he always got hard for you. It didn't even have to be sexual, because it was just you. Just your voice. 
"Thanks for the Skittles," you told him with a little laugh on Monday night. Bradley was holding the phone to his ear and shamelessly palming himself through his underwear. "One of my friends from class asked for a few, and I sounded like a complete sociopath when I had to tell her no."
Bradley chuckled. "You wouldn't share them?"
"No! They were from you! I ate them all!"
Bradley grunted and you went quiet. 
"What are you doing?" you asked softly. 
"Really enjoying the sound of your voice right now," he replied, smirking to himself. 
"Oh," you gasped. "You want me to keep talking?"
"Of course."
"Mmm," you hummed. "But maybe I'm enjoying your 'Daddy voice' right now."
"My 'Daddy voice'? What's that?" he asked, pulling himself free from his underwear. 
"You know," you told him softly. "The stern one you used when you told me to lay off Jake and the college boys."
"You liked that?" he asked. Every time you called him Daddy it somehow fucked him up and put him back together at the same time. He couldn't wait for the day he could have you in his bed and hear you say it over and over again. But for now, this was going to have to do.
"I loved it," you purred, and Bradley groaned as he started jerking himself off.
"Princess, you're so good for Daddy, he rarely ever has to use his stern voice," he grunted, and he knew you must be touching yourself, too.
"What if I do something bad?" you asked. "What if... I told you I'm going to call Greyson tomorrow?"
"Hell no," Bradley growled as he moved his hand down his length and pictured your face. "Absolutely not, baby. Delete his phone number."
"Yes!" you squealed with delight. "That's your Daddy voice!"
He groaned and said, "I'm so close."
He could hear your breathing growing deeper. "If I were there, you know what I would do?"
"Tell me," he panted before biting his lip. 
You moaned loudly and said, "I'd get down on my knees on the floor in front of you so you could paint my face with your cum."
"Yep," he growled, and then he was making a mess on his own abs but dreaming about your pretty face, smiling and coated white with his cum. "And I'd love to do that to you."
"I'll let you, Daddy. But first I'm going to need that deep Daddy voice again. Right now."
Bradley spent the next ten minutes telling you every depraved thought that came to his mind until he heard you crying out through the phone. And when you asked him if he planned on doing all of those things to you, he told you yes. And he meant it.
-------------------------
On Tuesday morning, after Bradley dropped Noah off at daycare a little earlier than usual, he zipped over to his coffee shop. As soon as the barista saw him, he smiled, and she nodded. The line was pretty long, but when he got to the front, both of his drinks were already waiting for him. 
"Thanks," he told her as she started on somebody else's order. He borrowed the sharpie and labelled both cups before stuffing some cash into the tip cup. 
"So you're still seeing her? Princess?" 
Bradley whipped around to see Meredith standing right behind him. "Are you following me?" he demanded, but she just laughed. 
"No. I don't need to follow you. I have you where I want you now."
Bradley looked at her face which was completely void of emotion. He found that almost funny, because he was certain he was starting to turn bright red. "Stay the fuck away from me," he warned, but she just smiled. 
"Still unable to control your temper, I see. Noah shouldn't have to be exposed to that."
"Seriously, Meredith." He was ready to push past her and go back to the Bronco, but she just shook her head.
"I am always serious, Bradley. You're the one messing around. I thought you'd be spending as much time as possible with your own child. While you still can. But instead you're buying coffee for a different child." 
Bradley had to bite back every horrible thing he wanted to say to her, and instead he asked, "What happened to your lawyer last week? He get cold feet all of a sudden? One minute I saw him in the hallway, and the next, he was gone."
She pressed her lips together as her nostrils flared. "Don't worry about that."
"I'm not worried, Meredith. Just curious. I can't understand why you want Noah now. After years of not giving a single fuck about either of us."
Her smirk made his skin crawl as she said, "I'll see you and Noah in court next week."
Bradley froze. "Next week? You mean tomorrow."
"I said what I meant." And then she picked up her coffee and disappeared through the door.
Bradley's phone vibrated in his pocket on his way to the Bronco, and he answered it without really looking to see who it was. 
"Yeah?"
"Bradley. It's Tracy. Listen, Meredith managed to get the custody hearing pushed back. Instead of tomorrow, it's on the docket for one day next week."
"Really?" he asked sarcastically. His blood was positively boiling. 
"Yes, really. I don't know how she did it, and I'm still trying to dig up the dirt on what happened with her lawyer last week. But I assure you, I will get to the bottom of all of this."
"Thanks, Tracy," he grunted, sloshing some of the coffee onto his hand as he tried to unlock his door. "Fuck," he growled. 
He didn't know what was going on, but he felt sick. He climbed in quickly and started the engine. With a little luck, you'd still be home. He checked the time continuously as he drove, but when he turned down your street, he lost all hope. Your car was gone. He had missed you. And he was in such a shitty mood now.
"Fucking Meredith," he growled, smacking his steering wheel as he continued past your house. He drank both coffees as he drove across town, and then he decided it was a good time to take some of his anger out on someone else. So he pulled Greyson's address out of his glovebox and turned left. 
When he pulled up in front of a nice looking building, he double checked the address. "Fucking rich asshole kid," Bradley growled, killing the engine and digging the hoodie out from under the passenger seat. He balled it up in one big hand and made his way up the sidewalk to the correct door. He knocked hard three times and waited. Then he knocked again. 
Just before he was about to drop the hoodie on the front step and leave, he heard someone inside talking and trying to unlock the door. "Fuck, Roxanna. You just fucking left." And then the door swung open to reveal who Bradley assumed was your ex boyfriend in just some boxer shorts.
"You Greyson?" he asked in what you would have called his Daddy voice.
"Who the hell are you?" 
"Are. You. Greyson?"
"Yeah," he replied, looking Bradley up and down. "What the fuck do you want?"
Greyson was lanky and blond and looked like a little shit. Bradley thrust the sweatshirt against his chest, sending him staggering back a step. 
"She doesn't need that anymore."
"Huh?" he asked, shaking out the sweatshirt and looking at it before looking back at Bradley. 
"Are you stupid? Or hard of hearing? I said she doesn't need your sweatshirt. She has a better one now."
Bradley briefly pictured you sleeping on his couch in his well worn UVA sweatshirt which calmed him down again.
"Whatever. You can have her," Greyson said casually before slamming the door in Bradley's face. 
He turned and walked back to the Bronco, rolling his shoulders and cracking his knuckles as he went. It would be hours before he could hear your voice over the phone, and he missed you so much right now. He sent you a quick text. 
Princess, I miss you. Send me a picture if you have a chance?
Then he drove to base and pulled the sleeves of his flight suit on while he walked toward the hangar. As soon as Nat saw him, her eyes went wide.
"It's too early for you to be this pissed off. What's going on?"
"Fucking Meredith and fucking Greyson," he growled, reaching for his helmet where it was hanging. 
"Who's Greyson?" she asked, clearly puzzled.
"A little shit," he replied before adding, "and Meredith got the court date pushed back somehow."
Nat put her hand on his chest and forced him to look at her. "Okay. Did you talk to your lawyer?"
"Yeah," he growled. "But I ran into Meredith this morning when I stopped for coffee."
She nodded and hugged him. "That explains a lot. Take a deep breath so you don't get grounded."
Bradley let her hold him as he took some deep breaths, and of course after a minute or so, he felt a lot better. "Thanks, Nat."
"That's what I'm here for," she assured him. "Now why exactly is it a big deal if the court appearance is postponed?"
He ran his palm over his face. "Because I don't know what the hell Meredith is up to. And my lawyer costs a fortune. And I just want to have a normal life where I can date who I want to and take care of my own fucking child."
"Okay," she said. "You're not wrong. You're totally right. But in the grand scheme of things, maybe it's not so bad?"
He took one more deep breath and agreed. "Yeah. You're right. It'll be okay."
Then his phone vibrated, and you fixed his entire day.
Babysitter: Not sure what kind of picture you wanted, Daddy...
You had attached one selfie of you outside in the sunlight, walking across your campus with a smile on your face. And you attached a second photo of you in a bathroom stall flashing your tits for him. Bradley smiled and sent you back at least a dozen heart emojis before tucking his phone away for later. 
"I'm fine, Nat. Let's go."
---------------------------
Meredith and Greyson are enough to ruin anybody's day. Hope you enjoy your fic, @beyondthesefourwalls And thank you @mak-32 !
PART 19
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honeytama · 6 months ago
Text
Nocturne
Merman!Noah Sebastian x Fem!Reader
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A/N: I hope you love Merman!Noah as much as I do. If you knew me on here during quarantine, guess what? I'm back to writing about men with two dicks! ...sigh
Summary: Okinawa Island is just south of mainland Japan and it's where you're spending the few days of your vacation away from reality. You're on the search for fun, excitement, newness, and love. It so happens that someone else is, too.
Content and Warnings: Fluff, comfort, alcohol/intoxication, injury/blood, smut 18+, merman!noah has two phalluses, oral (receiving), raw pnv
Word Count: 12k
Tags: @somebodyels3 @yarasdead @raspberrywatermelon @gh0stfacegf @shilohrosechicken
@thefallennightmare @lma1986
Tokyo, Kyoto, and Osaka were beautiful places you spent the past week in, but Okinawa, an island just south of the mainland of Japan, will be your home for the next few days as your one-woman vacation is nearly to its end. Okinawa’s horizon is gorgeous; all the eye can see of crisp, blue waters and green cliff sides. Excitement buzzes through you as you approach the beachside condo in the driver's seat of the rental car from the Naha Airport. 
Last week, you spent all your time in different hotels while traveling to different parts of the country, only staying a day or two at a time in a new bed, but this time, you splurged to stay in an Airbnb on the island's coast. You figured that after spending a lot of time being a tourist on the mainland and being safe with your decisions, you could have a chance to be more relaxed before you had to return home— and return to work. You feel more confident after spending a week in the larger cities; you’re able to speak the little Japanese you know and English, you have found all the foods you like and how to order them, and navigating yourself was becoming easier. This place could become a second home, you think.
Walking through the front door of the condo, you’re able to see right through past the kitchen and living room to the back of the house’s floor-to-ceiling windows. Your backyard is the ocean. However, the building was built on a cliff, so you would have to find a more safe way to reach the soft sands that call you below.
It’s morning, so you figure it’s time to find your favorite Japanese breakfast items and spend the day exploring. On the itinerary, especially, is to figure out how to get down to the beach. 
You spent the day eating a few meals around town. You decided not to take the car out, so you walked for the majority of the day finding things to do.
Looking for entertainment for the beach, you found a comfortable bookstore and walked around for an hour scouring for something to read. They had everything you could need in different Japanese writing systems and also plenty of options in English. You found a couple of romance novels, both spicy and sweet love stories, that would help amuse you as you lie on the sands tomorrow. 
Love was the reason you were in Japan, to begin with. Besides always wanting to be in the country, you desperately needed time off from reality. You felt stuck while at home, but you have found, and hope to find more of, fun, excitement, and newness. However, love is something you’re still reaching for—in more ways than one. Before arriving in Japan, you had hoped that some beautiful man would come to sweep you off your feet and take you away from everything you’re hiding from. This just hasn't come true just yet.
While you were perusing at the bookstore earlier in the day, another tourist was speaking to the cashier about some rumors while you peeked at them from behind a shelf. Their conversation made your ears perk up.
“Ningyo,” the woman cashier repeated.
“Ningyo? What did you say that was?” The tourist opened Google on their phone looking for more information, intrigued.
“A mermaid— well ours is a merman,” the cashier corrects herself. “The word directly translates to ‘fish-person’. It’s what me and my sisters have been talking about around town with others for the past few years,” she explained. “We think he’s out there still; we can hear him sing at night. Can’t you?”
“Wow, uhm, I’m staying at a hotel further away from the coast, so no, I haven't heard anything. But, that’s amazing!” The tourist exclaimed. “Do you know what a siren is? Do you think he’s dangerous?”
The cashier giggled and gave the tourist their receipt. “There have not been any reports of people going missing or being injured, so I assume our mystery merman is safe,” she shrugs. “I’ve never seen him, to be frank, all of this is just rumors— a legend. But, you should go out to the beach at night to hear his voice. You won't be disappointed.”
You laugh to yourself about their conversation on your hike back to the condo during this late afternoon. A mermaid? Merman? Please. There is probably some wannabe boyband guy in the neighborhood who likes to practice his music on the beach at night. 
You are surprised that it has been going on for so long though. Wouldn't this guy want others to know that it’s him? That he’s the guy with the amazing voice everyone in town is talking about? You think to yourself.
On your way back to your temporary home, you stumble across a part of the town that’s less busy than the rest. You imagine you had taken the wrong way back, but you swear you’re great at navigating yourself now. There’s no way you could have made a mistake while you're holding Google Maps open on your phone watching every step and counting the minutes it takes before you get back to the door of the Airbnb.
Nevertheless, you’re not lost, just somewhere you didn't expect. With no one around to help, you take a step off of the road to walk over to the railed cliff’s edge to regain your surroundings and reroute toward the correct direction.
Looking over the railing, you admire the teal waters crashing against a group of large slate rocks along the beach that form seafoam that sizzles along the sand. You notice the cliff is quite steep and wraps around a small portion of the beach below you. The edges of it are lined with moss and fern-covered rock walls and green, lively trees for shade. It’s a cove; a private one. The sands look so smooth and on a perfect, warm, sunny day like this, you were sure it should have been packed. You spot a trail that leads down to it when you look up to your right. You found your way down to the beach, you think.
The next morning you awake and walk around your apartment eating onigiri. You pack up all your favorite beach essentials, excluding an umbrella, because you hoped the tall trees you spotted at the cove would be enough to protect you. While packing, you hum a tune to yourself, and taking a slow bite from your food you realize you have never heard the song before. You must have made it up in your sleep, you think.
You had pinned the location of the cove in your phone and followed directions back to where you were yesterday afternoon, hoping not to get lost again. 
Once on the familiar cliff again, you take the trail and snake yourself down to the bottom, carefully, which leads you out into your own, personal paradise. A private cove for you to spend the next few days relaxing in.
You make haste to set up everything and to start enjoying your books. A wide beach towel is laid out onto the soft, pale sands. You feel the sand between your toes and fingers; it’s perfect. You set up your Bluetooth speaker and roll up an extra beach towel to use as a pillow. Lying back with your sunglasses on and in your favorite swimsuit, the trees cover just enough to where the sun can leak through and tan your body, but not enough to where you are blinded as you open your first book.
You relax for a couple of hours reading your story and listening to music. You’re relieved you brought water and snacks, too, unbelieving you would get this comfortable. As you turn your music down to change it over to a podcast while you eat, you hear a loud splash come from the water before you. 
Looking up quickly, having been startled by the noise, you spot a large, dark tailfin ducking back under the water behind one of the large, pointed rocks.
“Oh, shit,” the sight makes you sit up on your towel. You pull your sunglasses off hoping to catch a good look at the fin if the animal were to return to the surface. “That thing was huge,” you whisper to yourself. Although you have become familiar with a lot while on your vacation, this was the first time you have been close to Japanese waters, so you have no clue about the types of fish or other things that could be lurking in the shallows. 
On your way out of the cove, you take one last peak at the water. It’s almost still with just the tide coming in to layer over the sand, but you could have sworn you could feel someone’s eyes watching you the entire time and not from the top of the cliff. You feel it coming from the direction of the ocean.
“I need to hear it, too,” you thought drunkenly as your feet dragged you back to the cove’s entrance.
Earlier in the night, you thought to indulge yourself in a night of drinks, mingling, and dancing. You went out to a couple of bars in town in a white, frilled spaghetti strap dress that hits you mid-thigh and a pair of platform, strappy sandals. You danced freely with some sweet groups of women you found at each bar; your hands caressed your own curves and you moved your hips to the beat around you. Your spirit caught the eye of many different men, from all backgrounds, who were hitting on you throughout the night and feeding you drinks constantly.
It felt good. Their attention is what you wanted, and you flirted with them back; making small conversations and touching their biceps and shoulders to show you’re interested. Maybe one of them could be the one? You thought. I can find love here. However, too many drinks being pushed your way eventually turned you off to them and they were turned off by how you stumbled out of the bar to walk home.
Walking back to the condo, you come across the same road you were lost on. You look over the railing above your private cove and the waters are dark; they crash against the sands and boulders off to the side of the beach.
“I wanna swim,” you speak aloud. “No, that’s dangerous,” you shake your head. “I’ll just— stand in the water. Feel nice,” you mumble.
You think about the woman who you overheard speak at the bookstore. The ningyo. His alluring voice that sings through the night.
“That’s not real,” you giggle to yourself. “Well, I could prove it her wrong. I just need to see if I can hear him. Need to hear him,” you repeat as your sandals pull you away from the rail.
You stumble over to the cove’s trail entrance and carefully make your way down to the sands, just as you did this morning.
Once below, you undo your sandals from your feet and take your purse to throw them all into a pile of sand. You make your way to the edge of the water and step in the deep blue inch by inch until you can no longer see your ankles. 
“Sing, please,” you wave your arms at the water like it will talk back to you. You start to hum the song that riddled your brain when you awoke in the morning while kicking the water up with your feet. “Ningyo, if you dont start singing right now then I’m leaving,” you yell out to the obscured horizon. 
The ocean stays silent. 
“Fine.”
You take a few steps back toward the shore, but the high tide is so heavy on your legs that it’s difficult to move in the direction you would like. You end up moving at a diagonal towards the jagged rocks that you feared; salt water splashes against them violently. You stick your hands out to brace yourself, but a large tidal wave knocks you off your feet and your head finds the rocks first.
You yelp before falling into the water. Your face is fully submerged as you look up at the moon through the salt water in your eyes. Watching your eyelids close slowly, everything fades to black.
NOAH’S POV
Where’d she go? I think to myself with heavy concern.
I’ve been looking after this girl for the past day and never once did I expect her to be injured while on my watch. I was amused at how she called out to me and I feel ashamed for watching her stumble into the rocks after leaving because I wouldn’t sing. I should have just indulged her instead of teasing her. If I did, then maybe she wouldn’t be lost under the waves. 
I swim towards the rocks with purpose and see her floating there face up. She looks limp.
“Please be alive,” I whisper as I take her body into my arms. I hold my ear to her chest for the sound of her heartbeat and it thumps in my head. Relieved, I allow myself to take a deep breath of air and allow my own heart rate to die down. I swim the best I can through the shallow water with her in my arms until we reach the shore.
I lay her down on the sand and fix her dress so that she’s fully covered. The huge gash in her forehead makes me wince and deep, red blood seeps out of it unhindered.
As her lips begin to turn blue, I realize I need to work faster. I raise my right hand over her lips and twist my fingers as if I’m going to pull a rope from between them. Instead, a stream of saltwater is pulled from out of her lungs and through her open mouth until it forms a sphere above her head. I flick my hand to the side and the water bubble splashes into the sand around us. The tingle from my magic use covers my arms and shoulders in goosebumps.
I need to see her chest rise and fall again. She needs air, I think. Raising myself over her, I pinch her nose with my fingers and bring my mouth to hers. I push the thoughts about her soft lips pressing to mine and blow air into her chest. It rises against mine as her lungs fill up, so I continue to suck in air and blow into her mouth and when she begins to cough, I know to pull back. 
The girl lies there still, unconscious. My hand brings itself to cover the gash on her head in full and I put in energy to allow my magic to flow into her, to heal her. The stream of her blood stops, and I can feel her skin closing under my palm.
My head falls in relief that she’ll be okay and my wet bangs tickle her cheek.
Uncovering her head, there’s just a faint scar above her eye that will fade even more, over time. I roll over to the side and lie on my back next to her. I can’t help but think she’s the most beautiful being I’ve ever seen, even with her hair tousled, clothes soaked, and eyes softly closed. Well, maybe those things make her even more appealing.
I’ve been close to very few humans in my life, but I swear she’s the only one that has ever truly intrigued me like this. 
I have wanted to know her since she stepped foot into my cove this morning. I think she’s already seen my tail, but I want her to know all of me, too.
“I’ll meet you in the morning,” I whisper.
READER
You sit up with a gasp.
“Ah, shit,” you mumble and shade your eyes from the sun rising over the horizon. 
While adjusting your eyes to the brightening blue sky and reflective teal waters, you notice an array of colors lying on the sand in your peripheral. Artwork? Your eyes fully adjust and the sight of a Japanese traditionally tattooed arm moves next to your thighs. 
“Oh, my God!” You yelp and push yourself further back on the sand with your hands and feet. You look down and see the same white dress you wore out to the bars last night. What happened? You think.
Looking up slowly, you see that there wasn't just a severed, tattooed arm mere inches from your body, but a whole man. A man with a tail.
The ningyo, you think. The merman is on the beach with me.
You cover your mouth with the thought that it will muffle your quick, anxious breathing; you didn't want him to know you were awake for many reasons, but mainly you were curious about him and needed time to examine his form.
Crawling on your knees toward him, you notice not just his arm is tattooed, but his entire human-like skin. His neck, torso, arms, and you assume his back, too are covered in Japanese traditional tattoos. The artwork of koi fish, waves, scales, and clouds all meld together in black, gray, and vibrant accent colors throughout his body. How does he have tattoos? You wonder.
It’s saddening that you can see his face; he has his forearm thrown over it. You assume it’s to shield from the sun’s rays as he sleeps soundly. The outside of his forearms have dark, feather-like fins. They look so soft; you want to reach out and touch them. His hair is short with bangs that shape his temples from what you can see. His wrist and neck are adorned with jewelry made from stringed, tiny pearlescent shells. Looking around his chest and sides, you see no gills.
Trailing your eyes further down, his tail begins a few inches under his navel and it’s the most brilliant thing you’ve ever seen. His tail is long and it's halfway in the saltwater; you assume if he were standing he would be over six feet tall. The majority of his scales are slate, almost black, and would probably look like obsidian underwater. They have a shimmering shift under the light of the sun that makes them look wet, even when dry. These same scales go all the way down to his tailfin and the ends of his tailfin feather out just like his forearm fins. However, along his hip, he has a strip of pearl-colored scales that run down the length of his tail. You assume he has the same strip on his other hip, as well.
Overall, you are aware of your heart pounding in your chest. The cashier from the bookstore was right… There is a merman living in the waters of Okinawa. He’s gorgeous, too.
“Ah,” you hiss as you sit on your heels next to him. You feel a raging, throbbing pain in your head. Feeling over your forehead, there’s a light ridge under your fingertips in the form of a scar. Looking down at the man, you think that he must know why you’re at the cove this early in the morning in the clothes you wore the night before. Taking a deep breath, you tap his shoulder, curiously, hoping to wake him. “Ningyo.”
He stirs awake and removes his arm from his eyes. You watch him slowly sitting up on his elbows. “Hmm,” he groans while squinting to adjust his eyes to the morning.
“H—Hi,” you speak up and wave at him to get his attention. 
The merman twists his head towards your direction and your eyes meet. Beautiful maple eyes widen at yours. “Oh,” he says, blinking as if to check if you’re real. “Hi… You're awake.”
“Mhm,” you hum and fiddle with the end of your dress. “Nice to meet you. My name’s Y/N.”
“I’m Noah,” he extends his hand for you to shake. You reach out to him and his hand engulfs yours. He brings it to his lips and presses a soft kiss into the back of your hand. Must be a tradition for him, you think, blushing.
He smiles at you in awe with his teeth. You notice one of his lower canines is covered with a shiny, pearlized coating and it gleams at you sultrily. 
“Could you tell me why I’m here, please?” You feel comfortable, but your voice speaks nervously. Your fingers come back to your head as the pain pulses beneath your skin.
He looks out onto the horizon and his tail moves under the water as he thinks. “You came here by yourself last night. I think you might have been intoxicated,” he explains. You feel heat rush over your cheeks in embarrassment. “I watched you fall into the rocks over there,” he nods across the beach to your right. “You got a bad head wound and you drowned.”
“I drowned?” You ask incredulously while holding your chest.
“It’s ok. I pulled you out of the water and brought you here,” he motions his hand from the rocks to where you are now and his forearm fins fan out. “I hope you don’t mind— I had to use some magic on you or I might have lost you,” he says. “I spent the night looking after you to make sure you were okay.”
“Thank you,” you nod at him with a grateful smile. He does nothing to hide himself, and you realize he must have stayed overnight with you to see you in the morning. The thought of him watching over you makes you flush.
“Also—,” Noah’s face turns pink and he looks away from you with a smile. “I had to resuscitate you. It’s called mouth-to-mouth, right?” 
Oh. You feel your hands turn clammy, so you rub them on the front of your dress. “Yeah, that’s right. I’m sorry, by the way.”
Noah flips over to his side and rests his cheek in his hand. His tail follows suit and his movement flows the water toward you in a small wave that pools at your knees. He looks at you concerned with furrowed brows. “Why would you say you’re sorry?”
“Well, for one, you shouldn’t have had to go through so much trouble to save my life last night. I was being stupid. I don’t know why I came here,” you talk towards the blue horizon. “Second, you were right. I was drinking. I’m sorry that you might have tasted it on…” you bring a hand to motion towards your lips. “Or that you had to put your mouth on mine, at all,” you turn and laugh at him half-heartedly, but his face looks even more confused than before.
“Don’t apologize,” Noah says assertively. “I needed to save your life. You needed help and I was here to do that. Also, don’t be embarrassed about your actions… You looked cute yelling at me to sing to you.”
Yelling at him to sing to you? What was I thinking? You think. “I don’t know how to thank you,” you smile and shrug your shoulders.
Almost immediately, he replies, “Spend the day with me.”
“What? You don’t even know me,” you giggle. “Also, what do you mean? You want me to sit here on the beach with you until the evening comes around again?”
“Well, that’s the thing. I want to know you,” Noah says matter-of-factly. “We could do that, but I don’t like staying on land for more than half the day. I was thinking we could hang out in the water?” He nods towards the ocean.
“Ok, yeah, we can go swimming,” you nod. “I don't think I’ll be able to go too far though.”
“I have something in mind that can help,” he says with a smirk. “If you would feel more comfortable, then go home and change into your swimming gear and meet back here in an hour… It’s a date.”
A date? You’re going on a date with a merman after just meeting him? Out of all of the men you have met on your trip, he’s the only one who’s made the move for something romantic. And, your swimming gear? Ha! More like one of the skimpy swimsuits you had brought on your trip, you think.
“Okay,” you stand up to your feet and Noah looks up at you with his hand shielding his eyes from the sun. “I’ll be back soon,” you begin to walk towards the sand pile you threw your things onto the night before, before turning back to him. “Don’t you dare disappear on me, Noah.”
He laughs and pushes himself further into the water; his biceps flex under the weight of himself, “I wouldn't dream of it.”
You pick up your bag and sandals and watch Noah dive further into the water. The splash of his dark tail leaves a spray of sparking droplets in the dawn sun.
It’s still morning time, but you have returned to the cove having eaten breakfast with your beach bag sitting in the sand. You changed into your favorite swimsuit, which in your opinion seems just fine for a date and swim session with a merman. No big deal. 
While at the condo, you quickly paced around trying to change your clothes and locate everything you needed while simultaneously forming a hundred questions about Noah. All the while, having to deal with a racing heart and jitters as the merman you met less than two hours ago asked you out on a date— rather he declared it a date. That’s so much hotter, you think. Calming yourself, you thought that today would be the best opportunity to ask him everything that you wanted to know. 
How does he have so many tattoos? Did tattoo guns work underwater?
The most pressing question on your mind is asking him about his song. It must be the one you keep hearing in your dreams.
You see Noah’s head rise over the water in front of you and he stops ten feet away from the shore. “You came!”
“Noah!” Leaving your things behind, you walk into the water and slowly adjust to the new temperature. You make your way to him, having to step off of the coast’s shelf. You swim in place in front of Noah while the seafloor is probably over twelve feet beneath you at this point. “I’m not that confident that I’ll be able to keep up with you,” you admit.
“I told you I had a trick to help you out, didn’t I?” Noah reaches out towards your neck and caresses the soft skin. It tingles underneath his touch. He then brings his hand to the side of your face and his thumb pad rubs over your bottom lip.
Is he about to kiss—? Your thoughts are interrupted when you feel a tight sensation in your throat. “Noah, what are you—,” you croak.
“Shh,” Noah soothingly hushes you as he passes his thumbs over your eyes. “It’s okay. Come under the water with me. I’ve got you.”
You plug your nose and close your eyes as you shove yourself under the surface of the water. A foot under the surface Noah makes sure his presence is known by keeping a soothing hand on your hip. His voice speaks out to you through the water, startling you.
“What you’re feeling is your body coming to balance with the new abilities I’ve given you. Whenever you’re ready open your eyes and breathe. It’ll feel just like it does when you're on land… I promise you,” his fingers graze lightly over your skin, calming you.
His confidence in you gives you enough bravery to open one eye. He’s holding you so close and a grin grows on his face when he sees you slowly open up. You open your other eye after realizing you dont get the usual sting from the saltwater from having them open underwater for too long. It feels normal. Your eyes widen at Noah when your chest starts to burn from the absence of air. Feeling anxious, you lose the ability to control the wading of your arms and legs and begin to sink.
“Take one breath. It’ll be okay,” Noah pulls you against his chest by wrapping his arms around your waist. “Remember if you drown, I’m right here. I’ll save your life every day if I need to,” he whispers. 
Nodding vigorously at his words, you quickly suck in and blow out. A burst of bubbles spews from your mouth, but you feel fine— better now that you’re letting oxygen into your lungs.
“I can breathe under—,” You stop mid-sentence realizing you can hear yourself, too. 
Noah throws his head back and laughs; his hair flows through the water with his movement, “I just need to give you better swimming ability and we’ll be ready to go.” He lets go of your waist and dives towards your bare legs. He places his hands around your ankles and they feel the same tingly sensation as before. “Alright, let’s go,” Noah holds out a hand for you to take.
“Where are we going?” You ask while hesitantly taking his hand in yours. Noah begins to swim with you by his side and you’re able to kick your legs fast enough to meet his pace. 
“I’m going to show you around,” he smiles.
After a few hours of talking and swimming through Okinawa’s waters, you’ve gotten to do things you never imagined. Noah took you through the colorful reefs that are home to sea turtles and colorful fish, coral, and sea anemones, he brought you to meet a family of dolphins and you both held onto their dorsal fins swimming through the water, and you talked about where he lived and he promised he would show you soon. 
Right now, you follow closely behind him as he leads you along the sandy floor through a forest of seaweed that are as tall as trees back home. The sun glows through the ripples of the surface sending rays of light that adorn Noah’s skin. 
He stops at a wall of seaweed and smiles back at you before using his hands to spread apart the stalks. It opens up to a clearing in the forest with golden sands that sparkle under the high sun. In the middle of the clearing is a large, deep green blanket and as you swim closer to it you see it's woven from fibers of seaweed and other plants.
“I have nothing for you to eat, but I did set up this blanket for us while you were getting ready this morning,” he gives a sheepish smile as if he’s sorry he couldn’t give you more. “Kind of like a picnic.”
Taking a seat on the woven blanket, you run your fingers through the material. While it’s made of seaweed, its fibers feel satisfying to the touch and you can poke your fingers through each stitch. 
Noah rests beside you, lying back and supporting himself with his hands. He closes his eyes and basks in the midday sun that rains on you two.
“Can I ask you some questions?” You ask him curiously. “Like, about you being ningyo?”
“I was wondering when I was going to be interviewed,” he nods. “Ask me anything.” He still rests with his eyes closed, but his ears are open.
“Ok, so—,” you stop, realizing there’s an overwhelming number of things you could ask first. “You like to sing?”
He smiles, amused by your question. “Mhm,” he hums and opens his eyes to meet yours. “When I saved you last night, it seems like you know one of my songs.”
“So it is your song! It’s been stuck in my head. I think the place I’m staying is just close enough to your cove that I can hear you while I sleep,” you explain. “And it’s your song? Noah, does every ningyo sing?”
“My friends and I, that’s what we do. We make music, and I’ll usually write the lyrics. Not every ningyo sings, but we all have our own special talents,” he explains. Whenever he touches on the topics most close to him, you can feel his pride radiate off of him.
You start to hum the notes you’ve had in your head, by the time his voice reaches your condo you can’t hear words, just a mumbled tune. “Hmm, what are the lyrics to the one you’ve been practicing the past couple of nights?”
“The song is called ‘The Grey’. The part you’ve heard…,” he hums to himself and tilts his head back and forth trying to find the words. 
“Nobody left for me to talk to, nobody to call
Got everything I could want, but I still wanted more.”
“You should sing it,” you lean and nudge his shoulder.
“I don’t usually have a problem when it comes to practicing around my friends, and we do live performances too, but something about you makes me shy,” he admits. A tinge of a blush dances in his cheeks and nose. “You’re just gonna have to listen to the ningyo like everyone else.”
“Or, you can bring me to one of your live shows?” You ask excitedly.
Noah giggles and shakes his head, amused by your excitement. “You’re invited any time.”
Too bad I’ll only be here one more day, you think to yourself. “How much do you know about humans?” You ask, changing the subject.
“Oh, well, my best friend is human,” he shrugs his shoulders as if it’s not the most surprising thing you’ve heard him say all day. “So, I know a lot… Maybe, too much.”
A tinge of jealousy strikes your chest. Another human in his life that isn’t you. Someone found him before you did, you think. 
As if Noah is reading your mind, he smirks. “I met Nicholas when we were kids… He stumbled across my cove the same way you did and I was more brave with him than you because I introduced myself immediately. He’s my family,” he smiles and then gestures, holding up his wrist, “He’s also my tattoo artist. He has a portable machine and setup that he brings to the beach for when we have sessions.”
“You beat me to ask you about those next,” you smile with relief. “He’s been keeping your secret all these years?”
“Yeah,” he laughs but it sounds like a scoff. “Well, he was, but in the last few years since I’ve started to sing more he was the one that started a rumor about the ‘ningyo’. He says his neighbors love it. A lady who runs a bookstore and her sisters?” Noah breaks out into a fit of laughter and it tickles you to join him. 
“She’s the reason I knew about you,” you giggle pleasantly. 
“I’m glad my existence is entertaining,” he calms himself and reaches out to rest a hand on your thigh.
You gaze into his eyes for a beat before braving to ask, “So, do you have any other human friends I should know about?”
He smiles. “I don’t. My other friends are all like me,” he assures. “I would love for you to meet them, but for right now I just want to keep you all to myself. I hope that’s okay?”
“That’s perfect,” you scooch closer towards him until your knees are against the smooth scales of this tail. Noah is cold-blooded, but he still gives you goosebumps of warmth whenever he’s so close to touching you. “I have one more question to ask.”
“Go ahead,” he caresses up and down your thigh softly.
“Am I the first human girl you’ve taken on one of these dates?” You ask cautiously.
“You are the first girl I’ve brought into the ocean in general,” he admits. “Besides the cove and where I live, this is my sanctuary. It means a lot for me to share it with you.”
While you want to seem relaxed about his response, you still let out a relieved breath. He chuckles and leans into your shoulder.
“To be honest, you’re the only girl I’ve been intrigued with in a long time. When I first saw you come down the cliff and relax on the sand with a book in your hand, I knew you might be the one for me,” he smiles. “This clearing is where I read all of my books.”
“You have books in the ocean?” Your eyes widen at him and you tug on his bicep excitedly.
“Mhm,” his face glows each time you’re enamored by every new piece of information he shares about life below the surface. “I have a library at home. We have shelves, too,” he teases.
“Now, you have to show me,” you whine. “Please.”
“I’ll bring you home before you have to leave Japan,” his lips graze your shoulder with a kiss. “I’ve always wanted to find someone like you.”
Your heart flutters at his words. “I think you’re exactly who I was meant to find, too.”
His dark eyes match yours and a grin grows on his lips. These words are the only ones he’s wanted to hear come out of your mouth since the moment he laid eyes on you. 
“Noah, I’m not just in Japan to relax,” you begin to explain. “Home isn’t perfect as what I’ve found here. I’ve been searching for something new… Someone to love,” your gaze pulls away from him and you stare at the glistening sands of the clearing. “I want someone who will want me,” you pause but don’t dare look up to see his reaction. “I feel so stuck and ignored where I’m from. In my family, at work, every place that I should feel recognized and appreciated… It feels like I’m nothing.” you admit. A ghost of a hand tightens over your heart and squeezes. It hurts to talk about, but even with him, a stranger, it feels right.
“I’m not perfect,” he furrows his brow and runs a hand through his hair. “But, I can give you all of me if you let me.” Noah’s chest tightens too; he can’t bear the sight of your glossy eyes staring back at him so lonely. “I think I’ve felt similarly to you… I’ve been so bored of life. While I love to perform, I’ve felt so burnt out and in need of something new. It’s why I’ve been singing on my own at night; I’m trying to find what makes me feel excited again. I think you’re exactly who I need,” he explains. “I’m so sorry you feel that way about home. I would never make you feel inadequate,” Noah brushes a piece of hair being your hair. “I wish you could stay here with me.”
In Noah’s mind, he recounts the rumors under the sea of how you could stay. He’s been wanting to grant Ruffilo the same privileges, so everyone he loves can be with him at the same time. Noah chooses not to mention it, knowing that it could get both of your hopes up.
“I hate that I have to catch a flight soon,” you say softly. Allowing your feelings to come out as your next words, you whisper, “I don't want to fly away from you.”
You find yourself leaning into him while anticipating if he’ll reciprocate your movements. Your eyes switch between watching his own and his lips; his tongue darts out to lick his before leaning into you slowly.
He leans into you fully, but merely presses his forehead into yours. With his eyes shut tight, he huffs defeatedly, “I want to kiss you so badly, but you need to know that if I do… Something in me won't be able to let go of you.”
You pull away and attach your lips to his neck. He hums under the heat of your mouth and teeth on his jugular. Speaking into his ear you urge him to go forward, “I want it. Whatever it is. I need someone to hold onto me… Like I told you, it’s why I’m here.”
He leans back to meet your gaze. “Are you sure? No matter how I feel…I can’t just take you away from where you’re really from. You need to go home soon.”
Heat builds up in your cheeks and your eyes begin to well up, you bite your lip but allow your heavy emotions to come through your voice, “I would rather be with you, even for a few days more, than to have to return to the life I already know.” His eyes watch you intently, looking for confirmation that you’re telling your whole truth. “Even if this doesn’t work out, I want to know that I tried. I want to love again, Noah.”
His eyes widen in surprise. You would give up everything you knew for him, and he’s starting to realize that. “C’mere,” he brings his hands to your cheeks.
You eagerly pull yourself to your knees. “Please, kiss me,” you whisper while leaning into him once more. Noah pulls you into him and your lips meet him under the afternoon sunlight. “Mmm,” you hum under the soft press of his lips. You feel a pull from your chest towards him growing, almost supernaturally. It feels as if a string is reaching from your chest towards his heart to tie you two together. The golden glow you feel under your skin entices you to pull Noah in closer by tangling your fingers in the back of his hair and holding him by his cheek.
Noah hums and his hands leave your face to roam freely over your exposed skin. Through his passionate kiss, you feel his fingers grazing over your neck, shoulders, and lower towards your thighs. He doesn’t fight you when your tongue presses against his supple lips for entrance. He melds into you comfortably and allows his tongue to explore your mouth, as well.
You believe you’ll never get used to the tingly sensation he brings to you when he touches your skin, whether using magic or not. Being in this secluded clearing and having access to his cove, he has made you feel like the only girl in the world. With him, you sit in the eye of a hurricane and get to watch the world spin by without care if everything will be okay because you know it will be. Noah makes you feel safe and needed; he makes you know that your existence is important and he wants to be a part of it.
As you pull away from his kiss, the smile on his face and his pearled tooth make you melt in his arms.
Giddy in his grasp, you bite your lip, “Why do I feel like something is pulling me into you?” Pointing to the center spot between your breasts, “I feel like I could never lose you.”
“You won’t,” Noah assures. “Come to my place tomorrow night,” he pulls you to lie down on his chest on his blanket. You plan to spend the day away in his arms looking up a the rays of light dripping through the waves above you. “I’ll tell you then.”
After going home from your day with Noah, sleeping, and spending the majority of the next day away from him and the sea, you could still feel the same pull on him that you felt when you first kissed him. It felt as if the invisible string that grew from your chest was tethered to him even miles away at your Airbnb. Even when you close your eyes, you know the exact cardinal direction he is at any time. To your surprise, it didn't bother you one bit, because for once you didn't feel alone, and knowing he had the same tie to you, he was looking after where you were, as well.
It’s evening time and Noah planned for you to meet him on the shore of his cove; so you’re currently headed down the cove’s cliff to him. You’re wearing another bikini you packed with a pair of sandals.
He wanted to show you exactly where he lived and to explain the tether you felt towards him; you secretly hoped that he would do more than that, too. To feel pride in having kissed a merman is something you would never thought would be a truth in your life. Noah’s physically different to say the least, but damn does he make your knees weak.
Noah beams waiting for you with his head and shoulders above the dark water. Throwing your sandals to the side and walking towards the edge of the water, you admire his glazed skin under the bright moon. Under the moonlight, his tattoos are riddled with water droplets that shine. His hair is soaking wet as always, falling into into eyes and shaping his temples.
“My place is nearby,” he smirks and nods his head over your shoulder. “We have to dive underneath the island.”
“Dive?” You shift weight on your feet before swimming off into deeper water towards him. Noah is confident in you, but he sees the hesitance on your face.
“You’ve been a great swimmer so far keeping up with me. I know you can do this,” he holds out his hand for you to take, “Just hold onto me and you’ll be safe.”
You take his hand and interlock his fingers with his. “I trust you.”
“Right this way, beautiful,” he pulls you underneath the water and you start swimming over the side of the cove. Even with your tether, you watch the pearlescent strip on his tail closely to not lose him. It’s the brightest part of the entire ocean at this point of the evening. The sun was out when you were here last and Noah probably failed to mention that he has night vision.
Following closely behind him, you squeeze his hand as you two approach a deep cavern that’s carved into the base of the island. 
“Hold on tight to me,” Noah faces you and holds your chin. “We’re going to dive and then swim right back up. I live in an underwater cave, so you’ll be able to walk around and breathe normally once we’re inside, okay?”
“Okay, I got this,” you breathe out steadily and give him an assured smile.
“Hell yeah, you do,” he kisses your knuckles in his hand. “C’mon.”
The strength of Noah’s tail pushes you both deep through the cavern and it’s the first time you feel real pressure on your limbs— and the first time you feel you need to hold your breath. Noah watches over you, and his presence helps you calm your nervous heart and lungs. When he points upwards, you know to swim with him toward the surface and you do so eagerly.
You gasp for air as you reach the surface even knowing you don’t need to. However, the sight around you could make you gasp, too.
Noah comes up to the surface after you and shakes out his wet hair. His gaze falls onto your bewildered expression. “Y/N, are you alright?” Noah asks with worry in his voice. 
“Yeah—,” you answer, truthfully, but you can’t fully focus on his voice as you’re wading through the water of his cave looking around at his home. The room is sizeable with the pool of saltwater you’re in the center of. Noah’s shelves are carved out of the side of the cave and stuffed with books thick and thin. There’s enough room to walk around the pool, but also layers of rock that surround it. Either it’s the material of the rock or the deep teal waters reflecting off of them, but it seems as though the cave’s walls are glowing blue-green. Moonlight seeps in through an opening in the ceiling, but you see he’s set up groups of white pillar candles around the edge of the cave. 
“I borrowed a lighter and candles from Nick,” he chuckles watching your lips turn into an “o”. “It was a pain in the ass to dry them all out and it took all day, but I wanted it to feel more romantic than our picnic yesterday.”
Your neck snaps to Noah, “I loved our date. Thank you though, your place is gorgeous.” You wrap your hand around his bicep and kiss his shoulder for reassurance. 
He melts under your touch. “I did too. Go ahead and rest on the ledge,” he motions towards the side of the pool. “I’ll help you up.”
You swim over to the edge of the pool and turn to face him. You feel his arms wrap around under your butt and begin to lift up. 
“Oh,” a surprised noise falls from your lips as he picks you up with ease and lifts you onto the smooth, rock edge. He also failed to mention his super strength, you think. You cross your legs and rest against the smooth stone behind you admiring the way the flicker of the lit candles reflect off the dark pool of water your calves dangle in.
“There you go,” he smiles up at you and rests his hands on your knees.
Looking around some more, you realize his place is pretty empty. There are two instruments that are reminiscent of guitars leaning on the opposite wall. Other shelves along the walls have wooden boxes and trinkets displayed, but he doesn’t have a bedroom, bathroom, or a kitchen. “Where do you sleep, Noah?” You ask, looking down at him. 
“You’re wondering if I have a bed?” He shoots you a smooth wink and raises his eyebrows.
“Yes, but not like that,” you fluster. He was right though, the thought about how he sleeps and has sex does cross your mind. “It just seems like you don’t have a lot of things.”
“Everything you see is what I have,” he shrugs and water splashes over his shoulders. “I don’t need much.”
“What do you eat, then?” You tilt your head to the side, curious. Unknowing to you, you have just uncrossed your legs at the same time as asking this question.
Noah’s gaze darts from your face to in between your legs, which are at his eye level. He nearly chokes and you watch him try to control a cough. “Uhm, I eat a lot of different things. I just don’t have the need to cook anything.”
Shying away from whatever that reaction was, you move on to talk about what has been on your mind all day, “So, you said you would tell me about what’s going on here?” You tap on your chest with your pointer finger.
His eyes widen as if you’ve just given him permission to look at your breasts sitting nicely in your bikini top. Noah forces his primal thoughts away and blinks to refocus on your question. It’s important he tells you quickly or you won’t know what’s coming to you.
Noah caresses your skin around your thighs with his thumbs. Clearing his throat he begins to explain everything, “When I told you that if I kissed you that I wouldn't be able to let you go, I was being literal.” Noah’s eyes pass back and forth searching for any bit of negative reaction, but you give none. You just nod him on to continue. “Beings like me, when we reach a certain time in our life that we feel we need a companion, something within our DNA begins an instinctual ritual to find…,” he pauses again looking for your eyes to dart to the water wanting to leave or for you to fidget out of your seat, “a mate.” He wants to shut his eyes and disappear from your curious gaze, but luckily to him, a small smile paints itself on your face. “I think my time began a couple months ago— when I began to start feeling bored and burnt out with my normal life. My body and mind pushed me to find someone to make me feel belonging and excitement again, and I didn’t see anyone fitting my ideal mate— until I saw you on the sands of my cove.”
His head falls and you look down at him concernedly. He continues, “I need you to understand that being my mate would make you mine for life. I would be the one you must love; you wouldn’t have a choice.” You want to interrupt him, but all you do is lean and place a soothing hand on his cheek. Noah tilts his head toward your touch, “Right now, we have formed a tether from our kiss that binds our two hearts together.” Noah looks up at you finally, but your heart caves in on itself when you see his eyes, red and glossy. “The tether is permanent. Throughout our lifetimes, neither of us will ever forget where the other is as we’ll be able to feel each other’s presence, even across the world. However, Y/N, if you don’t want any more than that, I understand.”
Grabbing both sides of his face, you lean down to lock on his eyes with furrowed brows, “Noah, I would love nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you.” The words seem crazy to you as you thought them over as he explained his culture, but hearing them come out of your mouth was a different story. You wanted to leave home and start anew; this is your chance to begin a life with someone that cared for all of you… Wanted you. “I think— I think your power over love is beautiful. Please know that I'm grateful for the gifts you’ve given me, including our tether. I want to be your mate.”
His hands come to the sides of your hips and his muscles flex when he pushes himself out of the water to meet his lips with yours. It’s a quick, soft, reassuring touch, nevertheless you feel your heart glow golden.
Back in the water, Noah uses his thumbs to rub away the redness and deep emotion in his eyes, but they still are slightly puffy. 
“I know I should believe you, but I need to ask if you’re sure? This isn’t a decision you can take back,” he reiterates.
“I’m sure,” you smile at him confidently. “So, do I marry you now? Say I do?” You chuckle under your breath and kick your feet in the water in front of him.
He laughs along with you and you notice the water behind him splashing. You imagine he’s kicking his tail in excitement, like a dog, at your answer. “We can get married and have a wedding,” he smiles up at you proudly, “If that is what you dream of. However, there’s a— different ritual that ningyo do in order to make a life mate relationship official.”
“What is it?” You tilt your head curiously.
Noah wants so badly to say the next word under his breath, but he has to be truthful to you, his soon to be mate. His wife. “Consummation,” he says assuredly.
Oh, okay! You think. You would’ve swam through a sunken ship to retrieve a ring or even fought a shark for him, but this ritual sounds much better. You never thought that you’d be mentally celebrating the opportunity to have sex with a merman, but it feels like fireworks are shooting off in your brain. 
Before you can react, he continues, “Y/N, since kissing you my body and mind have not been able to forget the way your skin feels on mine. I can’t get over the way you say my name. I just want— need you, primally. I’ve been acting strangely all day thinking about whether you would say yes to being my mate, and every time I imagined the words coming out of your mouth I— I needed to relieve myself,” he admits. A faint shade of pink blankets his cheeks. “So again, if you say no to this, I’ll under—,”
You interrupt him, “I want to have sex with you.” Very smooth. “I understand what I’m getting into and forever is okay with me. I want you.” The thought of Noah spilling into his fist several times today just because you kissed him makes your heart pound.
His eyes widen at your confidence. “I trust you, Y/N. I’ll make you mine,” he smiles proudly. “You should know that I’ve never had sex with a human before, though. All I know about female human anatomy is from what Nick has shown me in,” he catches your amused, hopeful expression, “— uhm, nevermind.”
You throw your head back and laugh, but realize he might feel insecure about his knowledge of your body, so you cover your mouth and chuckle to yourself silently. “Noah, have you watched human porn?” You whisper through your hand.
He scoffs and grabs underneath your thighs, tugging you to the edge of the pool. “Get over here,” his voice is assertive, but the warmth of his face hiding itself between your thighs tells you he feels otherwise.
“Mhm,” you hum teasingly. “What did you learn? I assume you watched it on something you borrowed from your friend?” You try to push him further. The sight of the big, strong ningyo crumbling between your legs fuels the aching fire in your core. 
“Put your legs over my shoulders and I’ll show you?” He asks while looking up at you with dark irises. His fingers come to the sides of your bikini bottoms and you lift yourself so he can pull them down off your legs. “I’m confident that I can please you in other ways, but I want to use my mouth— which is something I’ve never done before. Let me know if I’m making you feel good?” 
You nod and bite your lip while spreading your thighs and hooking your calves over each of his freckled shoulders. You didn’t expect to feel shy spreading yourself open for him, but Noah’s eyes are studying your form and his fingers are caressing your folds curiously.
The soft touch of his fingerpads explores the area around your entrance makes you shutter. Noah’s thumb finds your clit and begins kneading your bud intently. “Right there,” you praise him urging him on. One of his digits gathers your arousal from your entrance before pressing into you slowly. Little by little, you take on the length of his forefinger as he stretches you out for him while his thumbs continue circling your clit. “Noah, can I have more?”
“Of course,” he agrees adding his middle finger into you. He pumps into you purposefully; he curls his fingers upward and listens for the sweet sounds to come from you that help him make sure he’s hitting the spots you like best. Noah takes your chin in his empty hand and gives you a look of permission to move his mouth to where he wants it most. 
“Just don’t stop what you’re doing okay?” You nod and nibble your lip. Bringing your hands to your breasts, kneading and pinching your nipples over your bikini top, you’re eager to get off on his fingers. “Feels so good.”
Noah takes a second to ogle you, pleasing yourself, but since you’ve allowed him to duck his head between your thighs he’s there right afterward. He removes his thumb from your clit and replaces it with the suck of his lips. Like he’s been starving himself all day, his mouth and tongue move hungrily against your clit while he thrusts his fingers into your cunt in a focused rhythm. The sound of his lapping and the squelch of you on his fingers reverberates against the walls of the empty cave.
“Noah,” your hands reach for his hair and interlace with his dark, damp strands. “Fuck, you’re doing so well, baby.”
He groans between your legs and squeezes the outside of your thigh around his head with his empty hand.
When Noah described his primal urges, you had not understood the gravity of which it affects him. He needs this. He needs you. You believe that getting you off is an instinctual goal driving him to devour you with vigor. Squeezing your breast harshly, you anticipate how he’ll behave once he gets to thrust into you with his dick.
“I’m so close, Noah,” you choke out, “but I want to cum with you. Let me cum on your cock.” You plead to him, but he continues on with his movements; your announcement almost encourages him to continue moving his tongue and fingers in tandem. “Noah, please, I’m gonna— fuck, you’re so good at this.”
“Mmm,” he hums on your clit before pulling away. “Cum on my fingers. I’ll make you cum on my cocks, too, I promise,” he claims before returning to your clit encouraging your orgasm.
Before, your eyes sat half lidded as he fucks you up to his knuckles, but now they’re wide open. Cocks? Like, with an “s”?
“Shit,” the thought of your pussy stretched around all of him makes you come undone. Gripping the back of his head, you pull him in and hump his mouth eagerly.
“Good girl, use me,” he praises you against your skin. He allows you to squirm on his hand as you ride out your high. Your chest heaves under your hand as you lie back against the stone behind you. “Ready to come down?” Noah asks while pressing nurturing kisses along the insides of your thighs down to your knees. He softly unhooks your legs from his shoulders and places them over the ledge.
“Mhm,” is what you can muster as a response as you sit up slowly. While your brain is dazed, you still yearn to give all of yourself to him. Putting on a show for your soon-to-be mate, you undo the tie of your bikini top and drop each strap to the sides sensually. The top falls to your lap and you throw it over your shoulder into the slate cave wall. 
“H— Hold onto me,” Noah says distractedly. You take his shoulders under your palms and brace yourself for him to lift you off the stone ledge back into the pool. 
You expect to hiss at the cool temperature change, however, the heat of your arousal warms you and there’s no need to adjust to the Okinawan waters. Your skin, between your legs, your hands… Everywhere is hot with need for him. 
Holding onto Noah’s shoulder for support, you brush his damp hair back with your fingers. He melts into your touch and almost purrs with pleasure. Taking his chin between your fingers, you praise him again seeing how he wanes to your words. While being a powerful, fantastical being, he’s also reminded you how he is all yours. “Thank you for trying something new for me,” you tell him before pressing a passionate kiss to his lips.
He returns your kiss and wraps his arms around your torso snugly, pulling you into his. “You get to have everything you want,” he pulls away to kiss along your collarbone and up your neck, “now that you’re with me.”
As he kisses your neck, you feel the firm press of his pelvis against your upper thigh. You look down, but can’t see much through the obscured water, just the reflection of the moon through the ceiling and candlelight.
“Can I touch you?” You ask hesitantly while trailing your fingers along the velvety scales on his hip.
Noah takes your hand in his from his hip and guides into to about where a human man’s groin would be. His breath hitches as he helps wrap your smaller fingers around one of his members. “I know humans only have one. I don’t expect you to…” Noah pauses questioning his vocabulary, “Use both of them tonight.”
Excitedly and inquisitively, you explore his parts while watching his face twist and eyes roll back into his skull. Just from feeling, his cocks are stacked on top each other, vertically, with the lower one being larger than the human average size while the upper one is about one inch shorter. They seem to be prehensile having the ability to move freely in your palm, seeking your warmth. Twisting your hand up and down larger shaft, he’s wider at the base than the tip and much smoother than a human, besides the shallow, chevron ridges that line the bottom of the shafts. He feels so slick in your hand… His water-resistant precum coated himself as he went down on you.
He must have really enjoyed himself, you think. 
As you rub your thumb over his larger tip, you realize you’ve distracted yourself from the merman attached to it. He hisses under your touch before wrapping his arms underneath your ass and hoisting you up to wrap your legs around his hips.
“I need to be inside of you, so badly, it hurts,” he proclaims. “No more teasing.”
“I’m giving myself to you,” you whisper. “Please fuck me.” 
Noah bites his lip focusing on moving slowly regardless of his impulsions to buck up into you with force. With his large hands supporting you, he guides you down on his larger member. You feel it prod against your entrance moving itself up and down your slit.
“Fuck—”
“—yes,”
You two moan together as your pussy stretches around his cock while he lowers you. As he bottoms out on his flared base, you feel his other, smaller phallus rubs lazy figure-eights on your aching clit.
“That feels perfect,” you compliment. “Keep going.”
He leans in to attach his lips to yours and starts to bounce you on his cock. The saltwater moves around you in soft waves in response to your movements. With your hands wrapped around the back of his neck, he pulls you into his hips.
Noah continues to thrusts into you rhythmically while the sounds of your combined moans fill the empty cavern. “Look at you,” he smiles, his pearl tooth twinkling at your sultrily. “How do you feel?”
“So good,” you mumble as your eyes roll back. You wanted to say how you’ve never experienced sex like this before, but you’re head is so foggy you can’t get the words out. The way you feel is euphoric. You mentally wonder if there’s some magical element to his precum to make you feel like every thrust feels better than the last, but maybe you’re stereotyping him now. No way that could be the case, right? You think.
Setting you to bottom out on his cock, he stills his hands to start thrusting his hips normally. Every sensation he brings to your body drags you closer and closer to your end. The circling of his phallus on your clit, the needy humping of his hips into yours, and his soft lips on your neck and shoulders all exhilarate you at once.
“I’m gonna cum again,” you cry out in a whine. Your forehead meets his and you shut your eyes to focus on his touch. Your pussy pulses around his dick to take him for all he’s worth as you reach your climax.
“Fuck, me too,” Noah announces before shutting his eyes and groaning through his orgasm. You feel his cum glaze your walls and it feels different than you would expect… thick, cooling, and sticky.
You hold Noah close and come down from your second orgasm with him. He matches his breathing with yours. Looking between the both of your chests, a soft golden light shines for the first time through your skin before it dissipates to nothing.
Noah looks up from your chest with a grin. “You’re mine now. I— I love you already,” he proclaims with a kiss to your forehead.
“I love you, too,” you reply. Usually you would feel crazy for saying such words less than a week of knowing someone, but right now it feels so right. Resting your head on his shoulder, exhausted, Noah holds you close to his body. “Can I stay here for a while before we swim back up?”
“Of course, my love,” he nods and rubs soothing circles on your shoulder blades. “If you need to take a nap or anything… It’s okay. You can even pick out a book from my library, so I can read to you.” Even without looking up, you can feel the beam of his smile shining next to you.
NOAH’S POV
Y/N spent the majority of the night with me that night as we enjoyed having completed our mating ritual; I read to her as she rested on the edge of the pool and we chatted about our future together. 
She left the next morning needing to catch her flight to return home and she’s been away from me for two months. I can still feel all of her, though. I know exactly where she is, and my chest feels like it glowing when she happens to look in my direction.
Even with her gone, the past couple months I haven't spent alone, not just because of our tether, but because I’ve reconnected with my friends and with my love of music. I’ve been singing every day and writing new songs… Some of which are about her.
Besides music, only one other goal has been driving me to wake up every morning: finding a way that I can have my family, Nicholas and Y/N, to be here in the ocean with me whenever they like.
Following the rumors and pursuing every lead, I think I’ve finally found the magic I need and I can’t wait until she’s back in Japan for me to show her.
187 notes · View notes
catharsis505 · 22 days ago
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Winter Wonderland ℕ𝕠𝕒𝕙 𝕊𝕖𝕓𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕒𝕟
▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။|၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌|||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10
The snow had started falling early that morning, fat flakes drifting lazily from the sky and sticking to every surface. By the time Noah and Y/N pulled up to the cabin, the landscape was blanketed in a pristine layer of white. The rental car’s tires crunched over the packed snow as they parked, and Y/N let out a delighted gasp, pressing her nose to the window.
“It’s like a postcard,” she said, her breath fogging the glass. “I can’t believe we’re really here.”
Noah chuckled, reaching over to ruffle her hair. “You’re way too excited about the snow.”
“Of course I am! It’s magical.”
“Until you have to shovel it.”
She shot him a look, unbuckling her seatbelt. “You’re no fun.”
“Hey, I’m plenty of fun,” he protested, stepping out of the car and immediately being hit by the icy wind. “Oh my God, it’s freezing,” he muttered, pulling his jacket tighter around him.
Y/N hopped out, a bundle of energy despite the cold. She tugged her scarf up over her chin and spread her arms wide, letting the snow fall into her hair. “I love it.”
“You’re a lunatic,” Noah called as he grabbed their bags from the trunk.
“And you’re a grump,” she replied, twirling in the snow before turning to help him. “But I’ll forgive you because you brought me here.”
“Generous of you,” he teased, handing her one of the lighter bags. Together, they trudged up the steps to the cabin, their boots leaving tracks in the fresh powder.
The cabin was just as picturesque inside as it was outside, wooden beams, a stone fireplace, and cozy furniture that seemed to invite you to sink into it and never leave. Y/N immediately dropped her bag and headed for the window, staring out at the snowy landscape.
“Noah, look at this view!” she called.
He was busy setting their bags by the door but wandered over to stand behind her, his chin resting on her shoulder. “Not bad,” he admitted. “You’ve got good taste.”
She tilted her head back to look at him, her eyes sparkling. “You’re welcome.”
He laughed, brushing a kiss against her temple. “Alright, snow queen. What’s the plan? Are we staying inside where it’s warm, or are you dragging me out into the frozen abyss?”
“Frozen abyss,” she said immediately. “We’re building a snowman.”
Noah groaned. “Of course we are.”
An hour later, they were both outside, bundled up in layers and surrounded by piles of snow. Y/N was carefully shaping the snowman’s body, while Noah, crouched nearby, packed snow into a lopsided ball for the head.
“Not bad,” he said, stepping back to admire his work. “He’s got character.”
Y/N snorted. “That’s one way to put it. He looks like he’s been through some stuff.”
“Maybe he’s seen things,” Noah said dramatically, narrowing his eyes. “Maybe he’s the hero of this winter tale.”
She burst out laughing, the sound ringing out in the quiet snow-covered forest. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Thank you,” he said with a mock bow. “I try.”
When the snowman was finally assembled, Y/N reached up to adjust the crooked scarf they’d tied around its neck. Noah, standing just behind her, couldn’t help but watch her with a soft smile. The way her cheeks were flushed from the cold, her hair sticking out from under her beanie, and her eyes sparkling with joy, it was like she belonged in this winter wonderland.
Without thinking, he reached out and tugged her back gently, wrapping his arms around her waist. “You’re way too good at this,” he murmured into her ear.
“At building snowmen?” she asked with a laugh, tilting her head to look up at him.
“At making me fall for you,” he admitted, his voice quiet but steady.
Her breath hitched, the teasing smile on her face melting into something softer. “Noah…”
He turned her around to face him, his hands sliding down to rest on her hips. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” he said, his voice low. “Even out here in the cold, covered in snow.”
She reached up to touch his face, her gloved hand brushing his cheek. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
He grinned, leaning down so their foreheads touched. “Not so bad, huh? That’s the best you’ve got?”
“Fine,” she whispered, her eyes locked on his. “You’re perfect. How’s that?”
“I’ll take it.”
Their lips met, soft and warm despite the chill in the air. The kiss was unhurried, like the snow falling around them, and when they finally pulled apart, Noah rested his forehead against hers, his breath mingling with hers in the cold.
“You’re trouble,” he said with a smile.
“Good trouble?” she asked, her voice light.
“The best kind,” he said, kissing her again.
Later, back inside the cabin, they sat curled up on the couch, their wet clothes replaced with thick sweaters and wool socks. Noah had lit the fireplace, and the room was filled with the crackle of flames and the faint scent of burning wood.
“Did I say thank you yet?” Y/N asked, breaking the comfortable silence. She was tucked into Noah’s side, her head resting on his chest.
“For what?” he asked, his fingers idly tracing patterns on her arm.
“For this,” she said, gesturing vaguely to the cabin, the fire, and the snow outside. “For bringing me here. For being you.”
His lips curved into a smile. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”
“I do, though,” she insisted, sitting up slightly so she could look at him. “You make everything better, Noah.”
He reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, his hand lingering on her cheek. “Funny,” he said softly. “I was just about to say the same thing about you.”
She leaned into his touch, her eyes shining. “How did I get so lucky?”
“I ask myself that every day,” he said, pulling her closer. “But if you think for one second that I’m letting you go, you’re crazy.”
She laughed, the sound muffled against his chest as she wrapped her arms around him. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”
As the day turned into evening, the snow outside the cabin glittered under the soft glow of the porch lights. Inside, the warmth of the fire painted everything in amber tones. Noah was in the kitchen, standing at the stove with a concentration so intense it made Y/N laugh.
“You’re acting like you’re on a cooking competition show,” she teased from the dining table, where she was lighting the candles he’d found tucked in one of the cabinets.
Noah glanced over his shoulder, spatula in hand. “I’ll have you know, this is a high stakes situation. You’re not just anyone, I can’t mess this up.”
Her heart warmed at his words. “No pressure or anything,” she said, smirking.
“Exactly,” he replied with a grin before returning his focus to the sizzling pan.
He’d insisted on cooking for her tonight, despite her protests that she could help. “It’s your vacation too,” he’d said, kissing the tip of her nose and nudging her toward the couch.
Now, as the rich smell of garlic and herbs filled the air, Y/N couldn’t help but admire him. His usual rocker persona, black nails, tattoos, and that quiet, intense energy, was still there, but here in the glow of the cabin, he seemed softer. His hair was slightly messy from the day, and he’d swapped his band hoodie for a sweater that hugged his frame in all the right ways.
“Alright,” he said, breaking her thoughts as he plated the food. “Your personal chef is ready to serve.”
He carried two plates over to the table, each one holding a perfectly cooked steak, roasted potatoes, and asparagus that looked straight out of a restaurant. Y/N’s jaw dropped.
“Noah, this looks incredible!”
He shrugged, though the pleased smile on his face betrayed his modesty. “What can I say? I’m a man of many talents.”
Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes as he pulled her chair out for her. “You really are full of surprises.”
As they settled at the table, the soft glow of the candles made the moment feel even more special. Snow continued to fall gently outside the window, and the crackling fire added a warm soundtrack to their evening.
Y/N picked up her fork, taking a bite of the steak first. Her eyes widened as the flavor hit her. “Noah, oh my God. This is amazing. How are you this good at cooking?”
He leaned back in his chair, his smile smug. “Told you I’m a man of many talents.”
“Okay, but seriously. Is there anything you can’t do?”
He pretended to think about it. “Math,” he said finally, earning a laugh from her. “And wrapping presents. It’s a disaster every time.”
Y/N shook her head, still grinning as she took another bite. “Well, this more than makes up for it. I think you just set the bar ridiculously high for every meal I ever make for you.”
“Don’t worry,” he said, reaching across the table to take her hand. His thumb brushed lightly over her knuckles. “Anything you make is perfect. You could burn toast, and I’d still eat it.”
She rolled her eyes. “Liar.”
“Not lying,” he said, his voice softer now. His gaze met hers, and for a moment, the playful banter between them quieted. “I mean it, Y/N. Everything’s better with you. Even the little stuff, like this.”
Her chest tightened at the sincerity in his voice. She squeezed his hand. “You’re going to make me cry,” she teased, though her voice wavered slightly.
Noah’s lips curved into a gentle smile. “Good. Then I’ll know I’m doing something right.”
They continued eating, sharing stories and laughter between bites. Y/N told him about her most embarrassing childhood memories, and Noah recounted some ridiculous moments from touring with the band, stories that left her clutching her stomach from laughing so hard.
When the plates were cleared, Noah disappeared into the kitchen, returning with two glasses of red wine and a small plate of chocolate-covered strawberries.
“You really went all out, huh?” she said, her eyes lighting up at the sight.
“Only the best for you,” he replied, setting the plate down before handing her a glass.
They clinked their glasses together, the sound delicate in the quiet cabin.
“To snowmen, fancy dinners, and being snowed in with the best company I could ask for,” Noah said, his voice warm.
Y/N smiled, her heart full. “To you. For making everything so special.”
They sipped their wine in comfortable silence for a moment before Y/N leaned forward, her gaze playful. “Okay, but real talk, what’s with the strawberries? Did you plan this romantic getaway just to impress me?”
Noah smirked, setting his glass down. “If I say yes, does that score me extra points?”
“Maybe.”
“Then yes,” he said, his tone teasing, though there was a glimmer of truth in his eyes. He reached for her hand again, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her skin. “But honestly? I just wanted to give you something to remember. You deserve it.”
Her breath caught at the tenderness in his voice. She leaned over the table, cupping his face in her hands. “You don’t have to try so hard to impress me, Noah. I already think you’re amazing.”
His eyes softened, and he tilted his head to press a kiss to her palm. “You make it easy to want to try.”
The moment stretched between them, the warmth in his gaze making her feel like the only person in the world.
“I love you,” she whispered, the words spilling out before she could stop them.
His expression didn’t falter; if anything, his smile deepened. “I love you too,” he said, his voice steady and sure.
Noah stood, pulling her gently to her feet. “Come here,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her.
They swayed together in the middle of the cabin, the fire casting their shadows on the wall as snow continued to fall outside. There was no music, just the rhythm of their breathing and the occasional crackle of the fire, but it was enough.
“Best dinner ever,” Y/N whispered, her cheek pressed to his chest.
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his arms tightening around her. “Best everything ever,” he replied softly.
And for the rest of the night, as they danced, talked, and curled up by the fire, everything felt like a dream, the kind of memory they’d both hold onto forever.
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jennay · 1 year ago
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Let me take care of you
Request: I don't know if you know, but Noah kind of lost his voice during a concert(?) when you can, can you write that the reader flew out to take care of him or just to be there with him? :c ♥️ You choose whether they're friends or in a relationship, whatever you feel. Don't overwhelm yourself, precious; we love you more♥️♥️
No warnings
An: sorry I put a friends to lovers trope. 😅 thank you for this request. I loved it.
Words 2800ish
Noah Sebastian x reader
Noah Master list
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You had always been terrified of heights. The mere thought of being high up in the air made your palms sweat and your stomach churn.
So, how you boarded a plane and flew for more than half a minute was a mystery to you. But you did it for Noah, your best friend, who was going through a rough patch. Your sneaky self conspired with the other three men to visit without Noah knowing.
He'd lost his voice and had to cancel several shows, which made him feel guilty and depressed.
He kept blaming himself for not taking better care of his health even though the others assured him that it was not his fault and that he would recover soon.
You had booked a car online, but when you got to the rental center, you faced an unexpected problem. The vehicle you had reserved was unavailable, and the counter clerk seemed clueless about what to do. He asked you to wait in the lobby while he talked to his manager, promising to sort things out as soon as possible. You felt your blood boil with frustration. You hated waiting - especially when you had paid for something in advance. You glared at the clerk as he walked away, wishing you could zap him with your eyes. You grabbed your phone and dialed Noah's number, hoping to check on him. You waited for him to pick up but heard a different voice on the other end instead.
"Hello, this is Noah's assistant. How can I direct your call?" It was Jolly; his thick accent and cheerful tone always made you smile.
"Hey, Jolly. It's me." You chuckled. "Is Noah paying you well? You seem to be working very hard lately."
He laughs back, "He doesn't pay me shit! I'm just that good of a friend."
"Well, speaking of the devil, where is he?" You ask.
"Sleeping... I saw it was you so I answered for him. Are you here yet?" He whispers, and you hear the sound of a door closing. "Sorry, that was loud. I don't want to blow it. Must escape into the other room." He says, giggling like a child.
"I'm in the same state…city even, but there seems to be some fucking confusion with the car I rented, and it's taking everything in me not to lose my shit right now," you say with a sigh. "Why is this happening?"
You run your hand down your face, feeling lost and not knowing what to do. "Ah, the classic 'I rented a car, and now I'm stuck' situation. You know what they say: 'Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans.'" He quips, "Do you need someone to come get you, or are you going to wait it out?"
"OK, well, nobody says that except you. I'm gonna wait. I hate not having my own way around." You pause when you hear your name called at the front desk.
He laughs, "No, I'm pretty sure that's how it's said, y/n. My English is good."
You roll your eyes, letting out a small giggle. "I gotta go. I'll call you when I get to the hotel. Like, I'll actually call your phone."
"See you soon. OK, this is the part where I say goodbye, right?" He laughs.
"Yes, goodbye!" You click end and start toward the desk, wondering how you ended up with the strangest people being some of your closest friends.
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After a long, exhausting drive, you finally arrived at the hotel's parking lot. You took out your cell phone and called Jolly, hoping he would come down and help you with your luggage.
You waited and waited and waited…
"I'm coming." He said abruptly and hung up.
You stared at your phone in disbelief. What was that? Did he just cut you off without even saying goodbye? What if you had something important to tell him?
You got out of the car, putting on your sunglasses. You grabbed your backpack from the back seat and closed the car door, leaning against it as you waited for Jolly to show up.
You started to doubt your decision to come here; if Noah was sick, would he appreciate your surprise visit? You shook your head; of course, he would.
You feel excited when you see the tall Swede walking towards you with a goofy smile; he opens his arms wide, and you run to him, hugging him tightly.
"You made it!" He exclaimed.
You pulled away, grinning, "Barely. I think I only cried once on the plane, so that's an improvement, " you joke while adjusting your bag. "Lead the way," you say, gesturing to the door.
"Someone's eager," he teased, opening the door. "I'm excited to see everyone. I miss you guys so much," you said with exaggerated emotion.
He followed behind you as you sprinted up the stairs. "Oh, come on. Don't lie to me. You're dying to see Noah... Just admit it," he said, poking fun at you.
You stopped in the hallway, making him bump into you. You turned to face him, poking his chest and giving him a fierce glare, "Shut your mouth!"
He laughs, gently grabbing your shoulders, keeping you at bay. "Alright, pitbull, calm down!"
You shake your head and continue to walk, "Sorry." You mumble. "It's just, nobody needs to know that. I honestly didn't even want to tell you." You take a deep breath when you feel his arm lazily drape over your shoulder.
"Maybe it's time to tell him instead of telling me." He looks down at you, waiting for a response.
"Hear me out... I can just not say anything and keep my friendship intact," you say.
Jolly's arm drops from your shoulders as he points to the door. He grabs his key and unlocks the door, pushing you in first.
"This place is huge," you say as you peek around. You'd barely entered the kitchen and already felt lost.
"Down the hall doors on the left. Beware, the other two are lurking and waiting for your arrival," he warns.
As he's warning you, you hear a sudden commotion from around the corner. Two figures emerge, dart guns in their hands, and they laugh maniacally as they start shooting at you. You barely have time to react before the first dart hits you in the face. You instinctively raise your arms to shield yourself from the barrage of incoming darts.
"Fucking assholes!" You yell out in frustration, trying to catch your breath as you choke on your laughter. You quickly scan your surroundings for cover and spot Jolly nearby. You run towards him and hide behind him, hoping that he'll provide some protection from the incoming fire.
Jolly groans as he gets pelted with the soft bullets but doesn't move. You peek from behind him and see that the men are still laughing and shooting at you.
From behind them, you hear a door creak open and feet scruffing against the floor.
"What the fuck is going on?" you hear Noah's hoarse voice ask.
You poke your head around Jolly's torso, and your eyes land on Noah. You smile with excitement, feeling your stomach flip.
You run past Nicholas and Folio, flipping them off in the process and laughing hysterically as you jump into Noah's arms. As you cling to him, you can feel his body tense up in surprise. He looks down at you with wide eyes, his mouth slightly agape, as if he can't believe what happened. You can tell he hasn't processed that you're there yet.
"What the…where did you? You're here," he manages to stutter out. His body relaxes, and he squeezes you gently, engulfing you in his tattooed arms. "What are you doing here?"
You pull back, still latched in his arms, as you look up at him. "Surprising you, dummy. Did it work?"
"What do you think?" His brown irises glow while he gazes down on you. "I'm surprised, but why? You had the whole tour, and you chose now? We're almost done." He says, chuckling. "Wait, did you get on a plane?"
You push out of his grasp, brushing your shirt down. "I heard you weren't feeling well…and yes, I did get on a plane."
"She only cried once," Jolly pipes in. "She's growing up so fast."
You shake your head, "...and then these two assholes tried to kill me." You glare at them. "You didn't even say hi! You just started blasting, and I find that rude. Could at least greet a girl." You turn your back to them, swinging around to face Noah. "Anyway, I'm here."
He looks back at you with tired eyes, "Well, as much as I love seeing you. I'm supposed to be on vocal rest. I'm going back to my room."
You stand there confused as he starts to walk away from you.
"Are you coming?" He asks, stopping before his door.
"Wait, you were inviting me?" You chuckle, "I'm comin'." You dash down the corridor and join Noah in his room. The room is plunged into darkness by the black-out blinds. You grin as he snuggles up on the bed, pulls the covers over him, and switches on the tiny TV on the desk at the foot of the bed.
"I had to make it dark." He explains, noticing your curious gaze, "I'm fooling myself into thinking nothing exciting is happening."
You roll your eyes playfully, "Nothing exciting is happening. This is a hotel." You tease, sliding under the covers next to him.
Noah gives you a sly smirk as he slides closer to you, resting his head on your chest. You wrap your arm around his shoulder, gently moving it up his neck and into his hair, where your fingers weave through, making him melt under your touch.
"I know you're not supposed to be talking, but I was curious how you feel about this. How are you coping?"
He lets out a sigh, showing his frustration. "I hate having to cancel shows, you know? It sucks knowing people were looking forward to seeing us maybe for months, and then we can't even show up." He buries his face in your neck, groaning, "I can talk, by the way, just not loudly."
You feel his hot breath against your skin, causing goose bumps down your arms. You wonder if this was the right time to tell him the truth.
You mentally shake the thoughts from your mind; now was probably not the right time. You didn't know if there ever would be a time when you'd feel brave enough. "I get that. As much as you hate hearing it, you're only human, Noah. Shit happens, and I'm sure they'll understand. They would want you to get better instead of ruining your voice," you remind him.
You feel his arm drape around your waist as he says, "I'm happy you're here. It makes things a little more manageable."
You hear his breathing slow down, and his soft snore comes from him. You let him rest and grab your phone, careful not to wake him up. You take a quick picture of your situation and send it to Jolly.
Help
Did you tell him?
NO.
Wake him up?
I can't. It's a rule. It's rude to move if someone is sleeping on you.
That only applies to cats, and Noah's not a cat.
You laugh and text back: Are we sure?
You put your phone down beside you and close your eyes, feeling the need for a nap after your long trip, and then you'd talk to Noah, maybe.
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You stir in your sleep, feeling soft touches through your hair; you cuddle closer to the person's chest, feeling arms around you keep you safe and warm. Your eyes flutter open softly, and you are greeted with Noah's neck tattoo. You lean your head back, your nose grazing Noah's chin. "Hi," you groggily say.
"Hi, sleepy head." You snuggle your face back into his chest, not wanting to end the moment. You felt secure and calm, like you could stay this way forever. Until you hear the door fling open, you don't raise your head to look afraid you might get pelted in the face with another dart.
"You did it!" Jolly squeals when he sees you wrapped up in Noah's body. "I'm claiming best man at the wedding!"
Noah's eyes widen in confusion, and he looks at Jolly with a puzzled expression. "What wedding?" He asks nervously.
Jolly stares at you wide-eyed and yells, "Ah Fuck!" before leaving the room and shutting the door quickly.
You smack your hand over your eyes, wishing you could just disappear. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment, and you contemplate getting up, walking to the front, getting on a plane, and never showing your face again.
Suddenly, Noah lightly pushes your shoulder and playfully smiles at you. "That was weird," he says. "Are you OK?" His eyes grow with concern as he realizes the color hasn't returned to your face.
You take in a deep breath and close your eyes. Your heart races with anticipation, and you feel sick to your stomach. But you quickly regain focus and open your eyes. "Is it THAT weird?" Noah's head tilts, eyebrows furrow together, and his voice laced with curiosity, "What do you mean?"
"The voice in my head is screaming not to tell you because I'm so fucking afraid of losing you, but I know…" you pause, trying to catch your breath. "I love you, Noah, but not just in a hey, I want to be your friend kind of way. It's been eating at me for a while now. I made the mistake of telling Jolly; that's why he said what he did."
Noah's mouth drops with surprise, and slowly, a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. "I know," he says softly. He presses his lips together, not sure what else to say. He wasn't completely oblivious. "That's it?" You nervously bite the inside of your cheek.
"Y/n, why do you think I treat you like I do? I knew there was something more, but I didn't want to push this on you. I'm gone a lot, and I can't always give you what you want and what you need." He reaches out, holding both of your hands with his.
"If you want to give me a shot, I'm ready, but don't want to disappoint you." He flashes his infamous smile at you. "I want to try. At least then when people ask if you're my girlfriend, I won't have to correct them." He nervously laughs, "Are you ready?"
You smirk and sit up on your knees, bringing your hands to his face and pressing your lips against his. You lean back, gazing into his eyes, a permanent smile plastered on your face. "Yes, I'm fucking ready!"
You hear Jolly's voice yell from the hallway. "The wedding's back on!"
You chuckle, and Noah pulls you into his lap, kissing your temple. "He really wasn't the best one to tell."
You shrug your shoulders, "It wasn't that bad…he did kinda make this happen…"
Noah looks at the door hearing someone lean against it; chuckling while throwing his legs over the side of the bed and making his way to the door. He quickly opens the door to reveal Jolly practically falling on his face.
"Dude…" Noah laughs. "What the fuck."
Jolly apologizes, "Sorry, sorry. I'm nosy, you know plus had to make sure little miss wasn't getting her heartbroken." He pauses and smiles at you.
"Well," you say with a grin, "I guess we can't blame him for being curious about our love life. After all, it's not every day that he gets to witness such a steamy romance." You wink at Noah.
Noah rolls his eyes playfully and pulls you closer. "Yeah, Jolly," he says with a smirk, "you're just jealous that you're not getting any action."
Jolly laughs and shakes his head. "You two are something else."
Tags:
@thisbicc @yumikitten @lma1986 @chemicallady
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romantichopelessly · 4 months ago
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been a while without the energy to blog (tragic) so I am back with a long-awaited TRC poll.
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sitkowski · 8 months ago
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just crash (it's our time now) - nicholas x ofc
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pairing: nicholas ruffilo x cam (ofc) cw: ⚠️ 18+MDNI. warnings for angst, vaginal sex, fingering (f receiving), talk of birth control, praise kink of you squint. word count: 5.7k author's note: this is my first bad omens fic, hope ya'll enjoy! dedicated to all of the fantastic writers I've come to admire since starting back up with Tumblr again 🫶🏻 title comes from a You Me at Six song.
dividers by @saradika-graphics 🧡
⇉ masterpost || taglist signups
According to the directions that the guy behind the counter had given her at the car rental place, she doesn’t have that far to go before she reaches the motel. The wipers squeak noisily against the windshield, and the hum of the radio can barely be heard above the steady downpour. She can just barely make out the red neon sign ahead of her.
Cam wonders, not for the first time, if this is the right thing to do.
Only she knows it is; he said the three magic words.Not I love you, but I need you. Three little words in a broken voice during a phone call she almost didn’t answer, and the next thing she knows she’s getting a plane ticket. She’s renting a car. She’s driving through the pouring rain in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere, Wyoming. Not just because he needs her but because she broke something and she needs to put it back together if she can.
The parking lot is surprisingly filled, but none of the vehicles look familiar to her. She parks in the first available spot, and pulls out her phone. Before she can even text him to let him know she’s there, a message pops into their chat chain, nothing but a room number. Cutting off the car, she realizes that she’s going to have to run through the rain. There’s a familiar hoodie in the passenger seat that she brought with her from home, faded and well worn and no longer smelling like the man who left it behind. She tugs it over her head before opening her door and getting out.
By the time she reaches the row of rooms on the other side of the stairwell, her clothes are soaked through. Her sneakers squelch with each step, and she ducks beneath the overhang and out of the rain. She raises her hand to knock on the door, but sees the curtains twitch. He knows she’s here, and she just stands there awkwardly until he opens the door.
She tries not to be moved by how exhausted he looks. But she always worries, it’s ingrained in her after such a long time. Even if she was the one who ended things, if she was the one who refused to bend. Beneath the exhaustion, she can see how grateful he is that she actually showed up.
“Where are the others?” she asks, in lieu of saying hello.
Nicholas steps aside to let her into the room, pressing the door closed again and Cam turns around to look at him, dripping water all over the carpet. He leans into the door. “Jolly and Folio are in a room upstairs, Matt and Noah are down the row.”
“Did you get a room by yourself just because I was coming? Optimistic of you, Nick.”
It’s mean and she knows it. She wants to take it back almost as soon as she’s said it.
“I’m the only one who didn’t catch the death flu,” he shrugs, seemingly unphased by her words. “We had to cancel two shows.”
Now Cam feels like even more of an asshole. She holds her arms out at her sides. “Shit Nicky, I’m so sorry. I—do you have, like a towel or something?”
He nods and slips around her into the bathroom. She takes off the hoodie and drapes it over one of the chairs at the small table, and toes off her shoes. They won’t be dry by morning. Movement beside her makes her turn, and Nicholas is there with a towel, as well as a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. She almost goes into the bathroom to change, but figures that’s pointless. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before. When she takes off her wet t-shirt and jeans, he takes them for her. While he’s hanging them in the bathroom to drip dry, she puts on the offered clothes, using the towel to dry her hair and trying not to bury her face in the fabric of the shirt because it still smells like him.
Cam sits on the edge of the bed, tucking her hands between her knees. After a minute, he comes back out and sits down beside her. Just being this close to him again after the past few months makes her feel on edge. It’s not entirely a bad feeling. She almost jumps up from the bed when Nicholas reaches over and pushes her damp hair behind her ear.
“Thank you for coming,” he murmurs and she can’t help but look over at him. “You didn’t have to.”
“You said you needed me. I wasn’t going to say no.”
“You could have. I’m not your problem anymore, Camille.”
She doesn’t have an argument, because she was the one who left. She was the one who couldn’t handle getting serious and dating someone who had been her friend for so long before. Ending it was supposed to be a way for her to be able to salvage their friendship, but even months later things weren’t the same. Because she was still in love with him, and she thought coming here was going to be a way for her to either get over it or talk it out. She hadn’t let him talk it out before, she just left.
“You’re always going to be my problem, Nicholas.” Cam tentatively rests a hand on his back. “When’s the last time you slept? Like more than just a quick nap? Because I know you, and I know the canceled shows are keeping you up.” 
Nicholas sighs and rubs his eyes, shoulders hitching up in a shrug. “Yesterday, I think? The doctor cleared everyone but Matt still said we should take the weekend and rest instead of going out and doing stuff—”
“Lie back.” she insists.
When he looks at her in confusion, she rolls her eyes. It’s obvious that he needs to rest, and she isn’t going to take no for an answer. She watches as he finally relents and scoots back on the bed, practically falling back against the pillows in relief. Cam glances at the clock, it’s nearly midnight, and knowing that the others have been sick, she doesn’t want to text them just yet. She thinks that Nicholas has fallen asleep, but when she goes to turn off the bedside lamp for him, his hand reaches up to grasp her wrist.
“Where are you going? Lie down with me.”
Her original plan was just to get her own room for the night, but she stares down at him, and realizes that she can’t actually do that to him. Moving up the bed, she turns off the lamp and lays down beside him. Her body is taught with tension that melts away as the minutes pass. They lay in the darkness in silence, and Cam waits for him to speak again or try and hold her like he used to. She’d actually welcome that. But she hears his breathing even out beside her, and that’s what finally pulls her into sleep herself. She knows that this isn’t exactly what she came here for, but she promises herself she’ll tell him tomorrow.
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Cam wakes up early enough that she can get her bag from her rental car and send a text to Matt before Nicholas wakes up. He’s still out cold, exhaustion taking its toll. She lets him sleep, but she’s barely put her phone down from texting Matt before another message comes through her phone. She sighs as she reads it, she knew it was coming. Putting on fresh clothes, she slips out of the motel room again and makes her way down the corridor.
Noah is waiting for her, because there was no way that she was just going to show up and not have to talk with him about this. In a way, Nicholas is his, and Cam broke his heart. If she wants to try to fix things with Nicholas, she has to go through him first.
“You don’t look like death at least,” she says with a smile, letting him pull her into a friendly hug. “How are you feeling?”
“Less like someone shoved a chainsaw down my throat.”
They walk around to the other side of the motel where there’s a little room off the office that’s meant to be a place to have breakfast. There’s a box of donuts, and a coffee machine. They get coffee, and go back outside to sit on a low brick wall nearby.
“So, he called you.” 
Cam sips her coffee, lets it burn the top of her tongue. It’s bitter. “He said he needed me, Noah.”
The scoff that he lets out is disbelieving, and she gets that. He was the one who picked up the pieces after she and Nicholas broke up. He was the one who told her that she was making a mistake. He’d been right.
“He’s been running himself ragged trying to make sure none of us actually died since he was the only one not sick. Thank you for coming to look after him.”
Noah says it as if it’s the least that Cam could do. And it probably is. “Noah, I’m sorry—”
“Nah, you and I sorted our shit out. We’re good, Camille.”
It’s as close as she’s going to get to a warm welcome, and she accepts it. She and Noah were never as close as she and Nicholas, but they were still friendly with one another. She hurt his best friend, of course he wasn’t going to have the best reaction to seeing her months later. It’s not until they’re headed back around the motel that she drops the bomb on him.
“I’m going to tell Nick that I want to work things out.”
Noah whirls around and steps closer to her, and Cam actually stumbles back a step. It’s not like he’s going to hurt her, but any friendliness from earlier is gone. He’s the one she’s got to get past if she wants to fix things, after all. And right now, the look on his face says it all.
“Why, so you can crush his heart again in four months when you can’t handle him getting too close?”
That hurts, but she knows he isn’t wrong. She wraps her arms around herself, looking towards the room where hopefully Nicholas is still sleeping. She doesn’t even know how the conversation will go. She doesn’t know if he actually wants to get back together. She could have nothing to fix.
“I love him, Noah. I never should have left.” she says, unable to keep her emotions out of her voice.
He gives her a look that is less wary than before, and Cam feels something loosen in her chest. “If you hurt him again, there won’t be a third chance, you get that right? You’ll be done.”
It’s on the tip of her tongue to tell him he doesn’t get to make that choice, but he still isn’t wrong. If she were to do something as stupid as run away again, none of them would ever speak to her again and she wouldn’t blame them one bit. But she doesn’t want to run.
“Look, if you want me to go because you don’t think I’m good enough for him—”
“Are you kidding? He’s been absolutely miserable without you, and he asked you to come here. I know you’re good enough for him, the two of you are just fucking stubborn. We don’t have to leave for two days, so fix your shit. I will get Matt to lock the two of you in that room if you don’t.”
Across the parking lot, the motel room door opens and Nicholas sticks his head out. Noah and Cam both look caught, and he rolls his eyes before ducking back inside.
Noah gives her a sympathetic look. “Have fun with that.”
“Go rest your voice, you still sound like shit.” she teases, giving him a little shove before turning and heading back towards the room.
Nicholas didn’t close the door all the way, and Cam pushes it open and steps inside, closing it back behind her.
“Nice chat with Noah?” he asks.
Coming over to the bed, she sits back down beside him. It’s hard to be this close to him and not think about the good times they had together. It’s hard not to think about the mistakes she made that put her here, feeling more awkward and shy than before they ever dated. 
“I knew the minute I called you to come he was going to corner you—”
“He didn’t corner me, he’s concerned about his best friend. After what I did, it’s understandable.” Cam says.
He slumps back on the mattress, tossing his arm over his eyes. “I’m not seventeen anymore, I don’t need him fighting my battles.”
She wants to roll her eyes at his overdramatics, especially because she remembers him at seventeen. But instead she just shuffles down the bed and lays beside him.
“We have a battle to fight?” she asks lightly.
Nicholas lifts his arm and turns on his side to look at her. She wants to look away, escape his gaze, but she can’t. And when he reaches over and curls his hand around the edge of her jaw, she feels tears well in her eyes for some reason.
“I miss you,” he whispers, and she feels herself crumbling. “You’re right here and I still miss you.”
Biting her bottom lip, Cam scoots a little closer to him. He immediately wraps his arm around her, pulling her in as close as he possibly can. They don’t say anything else, not for a long while. The silence is heavy and sad, and as much as she wants to apologize and tell him how wrong she was, she just lets him hold her like this, as if he thinks it’s the last time he’s going to be able to do it.
They fall asleep like that, and when she wakes up, he’s the one who’s gone this time. It’s only been an hour or two. She has a brief moment of panic but she can hear the water in the bathroom and when she looks around the room she sees his cell phone still on the nightstand charging. She pulls herself up and leans back into the headboard, playing with her own phone until the bathroom door opens.
“Matt was gonna send out for takeout, do you know what you want?” Nicholas asks.
Cam looks up from her cell phone and just kind of stares at him for a moment. He’s fresh from the shower, hair hanging damply around his shoulders, droplets of water rolling down his chest. Her eyes drift down to the towel knotted haphazardly around his hips, and she blinks, realizing that he’s talking to her.
“Huh?”
The corner of his mouth tilts up, and he reaches up to push his hair out of his face. “Food, Camille.”
“Right, um, I’ll text Matt what I want. Why don’t you get dressed?”
Nicholas doesn’t laugh at her even though he looks like he wants to, and she blushes, turning her attention back to her phone. She doesn’t look up again, not until he’s sitting down beside her and pulling her phone from her hands.
“Okay, you have until the food arrives, start talking.”  When she stares at him in confusion, he rolls his eyes at her impatiently. “Why did you come here, Camille?”
“You asked me to come, you said you needed me—”
“It’s more than that, and you know it.”
Cam sits up a little, trying to put some distance between the two of them, even though she doesn’t actually want it. “How much did Noah tell you?”
“I want to hear it from you.” he says, almost desperately.
Meddling band members aside, Cam knows this is what she came here for. Twisting her hands in her lap, she avoids his gaze for a few long moments. She doesn’t know what she’s expecting to see when she finally manages to look at him again.
“I fucked up,” she starts, immediately feeling a lump form in her throat when he reaches over to wrap a hand around hers. “I shouldn’t have left. It’s a stupid excuse but I was scared. Of getting closer, of falling in love with you. But that was kind of inevitable, I guess. I was probably always gonna fall in love with you, Nicky. I thought you asking me to come here was a sign—”
“Did I have to make you an actual neon sign or something?”
Cam blinks at him. “What?”
“I feel like it would be incredibly mean of me to call you dumb, but I asked you to come here for a reason. One that I hoped was a little more obvious than just me needing you here. Have you connected the dots yet?”
She ignores the undeniable need to smother him with a pillow for his sarcasm as much as the instinctual urge to kiss him. They need to talk this out. Her leaving without talking was what put them in this position in the first place. Rubbing her thumb back and forth over the back of his hand, she sighs and shakes her head.
“Connect them for me.”
Nicholas lets out an exasperated sigh, laughing at her. “I’m in love with you too, you dummy.”
“Hey, I thought you weren’t going to call me dumb—”
She doesn’t get to finish her sentence; he grabs her and pulls her closer until she’s practically in his lap, pressing his mouth to hers and cutting off her words. Her surprise is brief, before she’s wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him back. And he doesn’t just kiss her, he devours her, as if he’s trying to make up for the months of not being able to do so. Cam can’t do much more than let him, balling her fists in his damp hair, opening her mouth beneath his.
His hands slide down around her hips, beneath the well worn cotton of her t-shirt, pressing hotly against the skin of her lower back. She feels the blunt press of his nails graze her sides as he tugs her as close as he possibly can. 
“I need to know what you want, Camille,” he says, and it comes out as desperate as Cam feels right now.
She tugs on his hair, trying to get his mouth back to hers. “Nicky—”
“You gotta tell me you’re gonna stay,” he evades her, pulling back enough so that their eyes meet. “I’m serious. Say the word now and I’ll make sure you’ve got a ticket back home if you want it.”
“Don’t you get it by now? You are my home.”
Nicholas groans and kisses her again, teeth knocking against hers briefly before he pulls back just enough and she’s pretty sure that even if she actually wanted to, she can’t leave now. The kiss is tinged with a little bit of bittersweet feeling, because she could have had this months ago, had she not been so fucking stubborn. He pulls away just as she's needing to breathe, and his mouth wanders from hers down across her jaw and over to her neck. A breathy whine escapes her and she gives his hair another demanding tug.
The knock on the hotel room door startles them both. They pull apart and stare at the door as if it’s a foreign concept to them, before Nicholas realizes that it’s their food. Cam scoots back on the bed as he gets up, and she drags her hands through her hair, trying to get her heartbeat back under control. She watches as he opens the door, and she sees Matt on the other side.
“Good afternoon, children.” he greets, holding out a bag of food. “Getting along nicely, I see.”
Even Cam can see from her spot on the bed that Nicholas’ lips were red and a little swollen. She’s sure she’s no better off. But she still wiggles her fingers at Matt in a wave, before escaping to the bathroom. It might be a little dramatic, but she pushes the door closed and leans against it, touching her bottom lip and giggling to herself. It almost doesn’t feel real, but when she looks at her disheveled appearance in the bathroom mirror, it’s obvious. She fights to keep the dopey smile off of her face. 
By the time she emerges, Matt is gone and Nicholas has straightened the bed, food containers on the duvet and one of the Star Wars movies playing on the television. They’ve been in this exact same position before back at home so many times that it makes Cam’s heart ache in a not entirely unpleasant way. Date nights, movie nights with the other guys. She didn’t think she’d have this again. She sits down beside him, automatically reaching for what she hopes is her food. She’s just opened the container of fries when Nicholas swoops in, snatching a few.
“Hey!” she laughs, twisting away with the container. “Just because I let you kiss me does not mean you get to steal my food.”
He smirks at her, popping the fries in his mouth. “Okay, Camille.”
She leans back into the space beside him, putting her attention on her food and the movie. That ache in her heart transforms to something more familiar and comfortable, and she rests her shoulder against his. This was something she’d wanted back more than anything, not just the feeling of Nicholas’ hands on her, or the taste of him on her tongue, but this. Just being here with him like this.
It’s everything.
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Cam isn’t sure exactly what wakes her up. It takes a few moments for her eyes to adjust, and she can see the red glow of the cheap motel clock on the nightstand. The numbers are blinking and then she hears the wind and the rain. Lightning flashes on the other side of the curtains, and thunder rattles the windows. Another harsh storm, one that had obviously knocked out the power at one point. Tucked beneath the safety of Nicholas’ arm and the blankets, Cam reaches for her cell phone to check the time. It’s not even three yet.
But now that the storm has woken her, she’s awake in a wired way that she doesn’t think she can shake. Nicholas is still sleeping soundly behind her, so she tries to avoid tossing and turning. But she rolls over onto her side to face him, and immediately his hand tightens on her hip, pulling her closer. He lets out a sleepy noise, and Cam holds her breath. She doesn’t want to wake him, but the longer she stares at him, the more he comes into focus as the room isn’t entirely dark. Every spark of lightning illuminates him more; the way some of his hair falls over his face, the stretched out collar of his t-shirt. The dark smudges of the tattoos on his fingers where they rest curled against the pillow above his head.
She doesn’t realize at first that he’s not asleep anymore, not until the next flash of lightning when she can see him watching her sleepily.
“I missed this,” he says.
Cam brushes his hair from his face. “Me watching you like a creeper in the middle of the night?”
“You being the first thing I see when I open my eyes.”
If it weren’t the middle of the night, if it weren’t him saying it, she’d think it was ridiculously cliche. Instead, she nudges her nose against his and kisses him. What starts off as something soft and sweet quickly morphs into something else entirely. That wired feeling she has becomes nothing but need for him. Nicholas is obviously on the same page, he grasps her hips and pulls her up until she’s straddling his waist. Cam gets her fingers in his sleep mussed hair, tugging just a little bit to draw him even closer, and Nicholas groans needily. She chases the noise with her tongue, licking into his mouth with a single-minded determination. It’s almost unbearable how much she feels for him at this moment, and she tries desperately to pour it all into her kiss. 
Outside, the rain starts to die down. Finally they pull apart, foreheads resting together as they struggle to breathe. Nicholas wraps his fingers around her wrist, and he brings Cam’s hand up to his face. He kisses her palm once, then again before slowly trailing his mouth across her forearm, over ink that he put there years ago. She presses her face into his chest, trying to remember how to breathe and failing, feeling a sharp throb between her thighs. His other hand slid down her back, over the curve of her hip, pulling her body flush against his.
“Is this okay?” he asks, pressing his mouth against the curve of her shoulder, and she can feel the heat of his breath through the fabric of her shirt. “I need you to say—”
“Nicky,” she gasps, looking up at him. “I love you for asking, but this is very much okay.”
He lets out a choked off noise that she doesn’t have time to enjoy before he’s rolling them, flipping her beneath his body and tugging at her clothes insistently. She manages to get her hands between them, shoving at the waistband of his sweats with her own impatience. For a few moments it’s nothing but a tangle of limbs and clothes, and breathless laughter. She gets his sweatpants and boxers halfway down his thighs, wrapping a hand around his cock and stroking him slowly. He retaliates by leaving her shirt hanging off of one of her arms, curling over her and dips his head to suck one of her nipples into his mouth. Her back arches off the bed, her grasp on him loosening as she manages to wriggle out of the rest of her clothes, and she lets out a moan that only grows louder as he flicks his tongue back and forth.
He moves his mouth to her other breast, letting his teeth scrape over it before he lifts up to kiss her. A needy whine falls from his mouth into hers as she gives the base of his cock a squeeze, using her feet to shove his pants down the rest of the way.
“Would it be vain of me to say I missed this too?” she asks.
Nicholas lets out a breathy laugh, pulling back to look into her eyes. “Say it again.”
“What?” her brow furrows and she smirks. “That I missed your dick? Because I can tell you right now—”
His intense stare causes a fresh rush of want to hit her full force. It might have been embarrassing if not for their current situation. His hand cups her jaw, thumb pressing against her bottom lip. She fights the urge to open her mouth and pull the digit inside.
“Say that you love me, Camille.”
She thinks about uttering the words only hours ago, telling him that it was inevitable, her being in love with him, him saying that he was in love with her too. All she can think about is how much she loves him, how she needs him. How she wants him, right here and now in this motel in middle of nowhere, Wyoming in the middle of the night with the rain pouring down outside.
Cam must have said some of that out loud, because the next thing she knows his mouth is on hers again and he finally snakes a hand between her legs, touching her for the first time in months. No one else has touched her in months. His fingers are lithe and strong as they go right to her clit, circling mercilessly before dipping inside of her. She can practically hear how wet she is over her own breathing as she grasps his shoulders and arches up into his touch.
But just as soon as he’s started touching her, he pulls away. Her eyes fly open and a noise of protest falls from her mouth before he’s grabbing her hips and pulling her further down the bed beneath him. He kneels between her thighs, pulling her legs over his, and she watches avidly as he impatiently slides his cock between her folds.
“Please tell me you still have your IUD?” 
Cam nods, and that’s all the permission he needs before he sinks inside of her. She doesn’t care if he’s been with anyone else since her, he’s with her now. The second he’s fully inside, they both go still, just staring into each other’s eyes. It’s impossible for it to be true, but immediately the ache that she’s been feeling for the past few months seems to disappear. No one could ever make her feel like this. She clings to him, pulling his mouth to hers and petting her fingers through his hair.
“God, I missed being inside of you,” Nicholas murmurs, nose nudging against her cheek. “Are you okay, can I move?”
Him asking permission unravels something in her chest. “Yes, yeah, Nicky―”
His hips roll against hers and he groans softly into her shoulder. Cam presses a kiss to his forehead, urging him on. She feels his calloused fingertips caress her thigh before wrapping around her knee, hitching it further up his ribcage. Pulling out almost completely, he thrusts back in deep and hard, and she quickly braces a hand against the headboard to keep from moving up the bed.
"Don't stop," she begs, and he takes her at her word.
She doesn't want him holding back with her, and he doesn't. His soft kisses and touches betrayed the rough way he took her body, but Cam doesn't want him to stop. She holds on to him tightly, nails scoring deep marks in his arms and her teeth leaving behind imprints on his chest. One of his hands tangles with hers against the headboard, and the other stays permanently curled around the nape of her neck, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Say it again,” he demands, each word punctuated by a roll of his hips. “C’mon, Camille, be a good girl and tell me.”
He knows what it does to her, hearing him call her that, even after this much time. It takes her more than one try to get the words out, but they fall between them nonetheless and once she stops talking she can’t seem to stop, “I love you Nicholas, so much. I never stopped—”
Her words are cut off when he reaches down between their bodies to tease his fingers over her clit, and her eyes roll back in her head. His breathless laughter echoes in her ear before she feels him bury his face against her shoulder, teeth scraping over her skin. She’s going to look as if she were mauled by morning, and she can’t bring herself to care.
Cam isn’t sure which one of them comes first, too lost in the euphoric feelings coursing through her. Afterwards, they cling to each other, trying to catch their breath without straying too far from each other. Nicholas rests his head on her chest, watching her through his sweat-dampened hair. She traces her fingers over the bridge of his nose, the curve of his cheek. She knows eventually, they’ll have to move and clean up. She knows they’ll have to talk about what happens now, with a few weeks left on the tour and her having to get back home for work.
They’ll figure it out, but it doesn’t need to be right this minute.
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Opening the back door of the rental car, Cam tosses her duffel in the backseat. Across the parking lot, the van meant to take the band back to the bus is idling, Jolly behind the wheel. Her flight back home arrived a lot sooner than she thought it would. She closes the door and turns to look at Nicholas, who looks more rested than when she arrived. The corner of his mouth tilts up in a smile and she can’t help but return it.
They’d come up with the most obvious solution, she’d go back home and she’d be there when he made it home from the tour. As soon as she left the airport, she’d pick up his cats from his sister’s and stay at his place. It was something he was adamant about; he wanted her there when he got home, and she wouldn’t refuse him.
Stepping closer to her, Nicholas put his hand against the car and leaned in to kiss her softly. She curled her fingers in the sides of his jacket, holding on to him until Jolly honked the horn. They break apart with a laugh, and look towards where the rest of his band is waiting.
“You gotta go,” she tugs on his jacket and pulls him in again. She pecks him on the lips again. “Drive safe.”
“You too. You’ll text me when you get in?” he asks, brushing her hair back from her face.”
“I will even send you pictures of the cats as proof of life.”
They drift back together a third time, unable to help it. She wishes she’d thought to get more time off work before coming out here but she didn’t know how this was going to go. Jolly honks the horn a second time and she hears one of them wolf whistling at them. Nicholas flips them off before reluctantly letting her go.
“I’ll see you in two weeks,” he says. “I love you.”
Cam shoves her hands into the pocket of her hoodie—Nicholas’ hoodie she’d taken long ago—so she doesn’t pull him back again. “I love you too.”
She watches him walk across the parking lot, eventually opening the passenger seat and getting in. She waves them off, and they all wave and shout goodbyes to her. It was only fourteen days, she could do that. She’d gone months without him, and now that she has him back, two weeks felt like nothing. She doesn’t get behind the wheel to leave until the van is long out of sight.
Starting the car, she drives the opposite way as it begins to rain again.
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cowpokeomens · 7 months ago
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Good morning squad I’m thinking bout
Matt who so clearly has a big ole crush on you and everyone knows except you and him it seems! It’s ironic because you’re so sweet and down-to-earth and Matt is. Himself. Anyways! The whole gang has a whole day to run amuck and explore The City right? And so everyone is making their little plans when like Nicky asks what you’re gonna be doing and if you wanna tag along with anyone. You’re like “what’s everyone doing?” And he says “some of us are gonna go walk around downtown, there’s some wildlife center that someone mentioned, and Noah said he’s just going to rot in bed for the morning and decide later.” And you’re like ooooh!! Wildlife center means goats I’m going there!! And Nicky is evil and says “cool Matt will go with you teehee bye” and Matt is pouting because he wanted the day to bro down with the owls and now some girl he doesn’t even like liar is coming with him smh so you’re hesitant but you go for the goats okay and Matt drives the rental and his mood is sour but you’re keeping your spirits high!! He doesn’t speak the entire time and when you try to engage in conversation he just grunts at you :-/ but you arrive safely and the folks working there are so nice and let you hold the chinchillas and the capybaras and Matt is actually cracking a smile watching you, takes lots of pictures bc he adores you the capybaras :-/ they let y’all meet Rocky the raccoon who’s recovering from a leg injury and Matt gets so excited that he goes from hesitant smile to literally beaming like a little kid, feeds Rocky little bits of fruit :-(( you take lots of cute pictures of him so you have evidence that he can feel human joy, y’all tromp around the center for hours petting deer and holding owls and giggling until the sun is starting to go down and you’re abt to pass out from hunger and Matt is like “cmon there’s a good place not too far from here” grabs your wee hand to help you navigate the “rough terrain” (there are some pebbles) but then ope! Doesn’t let go! No reason in particular! And it makes your tummy flip flop but it’s probably just because you’re starving so you write it off :-/ Matt opens your door when y’all get to the car :-/ someone cuts him off in traffic and his arm instinctively comes up in front of you :-/ he drops it onto your thigh and just :-/ leaves it there :-/ lets you queue up music and he bitches the entire time about it until you roll your eyes and put on like. PeelingFlesh or Cannibal Corpse or whatever passes the vibe check and then he’s rolling his eyes and saying “you can listen to your Taylor Swift it’s fine I don’t actually care-“ so you start bumping Picture to Burn and belting it out and he’s just :-( so fond :-( keeps smiling to himself bc he can’t name the emotion he’s feeling but I’ve thinks it’s content :-( y’all get food and you steal half his onion rings even though you swore you wanted fries and his foot keeps bumping into yours under the table and you don’t know why it’s giving you goosebumps!! It’s just cold in here that’s all!! When everyone gets back to the hotel you two are sitting on the couch practically in each other’s laps comparing photos of the day and giggling and teeheeing :-( he gets an arm behind your shoulders bc it was “falling asleep” so you’re all nuzzled up in his chest now and he smells like soap and grass and maybe you’re a little drunk on it but who knows :-( everyone knows
Anyways bye
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starry-hughes · 1 year ago
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paul revere
mat barzal x reader
warnings: angst, angst, and oh more angst
inspired by paul revere by noah kahan :)
summary: a visit to your hometown and a run-in with your ex boyfriend causes memories to bubble up
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You didn’t have many connections to New York City when you moved there. Barely twenty-one years old, you moved out of Coquitlam, securing all the documents to do so as your boyfriend was finally getting his own apartment, no longer living in the basement of an older teammate. The only connection to New York City was Mat Barzal. The two of you met before he left for Seattle. You were the thing, the person, dragging him back every weekend he could. He would take long train rides up to see you, even if it was just for a brief time. 
When you left Coquitlam, your connections left too. Your parents finally sold the house they talked about selling for years. You were grown up and living in another country, and they didn’t need to stay there. They moved back to your dad’s hometown. Your friends, besides Mat, had all gone to university, leaving the town as well, and didn’t spare a look back over their shoulders. 
For a while, NYC was good to you. Mat was playing hockey, and you had started building your way up at your workplace. It was a blissful time. You would wake up next to Mat, he’d leave for practice, and you’d leave for work. You’d come home, help him tie his tie, slip on a jersey in support, and go to his games. When he was on road trips, you would spend the nights on call, despite Anthony Beauvillier groaning in the background every time Mat and you argued about who should hang up first. 
It was good. 
Years later, you’re back in Coquitlam. If your friends were still in Coquitlam, they surely could be asking where the ring on your ring was. Mat had made it abundantly clear when the two of you were younger that he was going to marry you. Everyone expected a big fat diamond ring on your finger, something only his NHL salary could afford. But your ring finger was empty. 
You rented a car for your trip. You weren’t even sure why you were visiting; you needed time away from New York. Work had been crazy, and every first date you were going on wasn’t ending well. The apartment you moved into three years ago still felt empty. Pictures weren’t hung, and the walls remained bare, Mat was in every photo you owned. You couldn’t hang those. 
Mat Barzal would return home every off-season for a couple of weeks. He’d visit with his family, hang out with his friends, and recharge. You knew this about him. Hell, his insisting on visits is what sparked the beginning to the end of your relationship. You just prayed that the city was big enough for the two of you, like New York. 
Your rental car flew by familiar streets and houses you once knew. You wondered who lived in your old house or if your neighbor’s dog was still alive. You dreaded running into Mat, but you were more scared about running into his mom. Nadia Barzal was protective over her son, she would surely be unhappy to see you. You parked the car at a downtown hotel. Remarking the new shops you didn’t recognize. How could so much change in the time you were gone? It had only been eight years…
Mat never understood why you wanted to cut ties with the city so badly. He liked New York, but part of him would always be in Coquitlam. You couldn’t explain it, but you didn’t want to be restricted by county lines. You had built your life up in New York City. Being so far from your family was hard sometimes, but you pushed those feelings away. 
The bar down the street from your hotel was one that Mat and you always talked about visiting but never got around to doing so. Fake IDs were hard to obtain when you were younger, and Mat was a troublesome boy, but he didn’t want to mess up his hockey career for something like a fake ID. You took in the sight of the bar and the unfamiliar people around you in the semi-crowded bar. 
His back was to you when you entered. He was talking to some of his childhood friends who still lived locally. Mat told some stories about his season in New York and his brief injury. You were focused on ordering a drink and finding a seat at the bar. You didn’t even register his infectious laughter that you fell in love with. 
Mat talked about raising kids in Coquitlam. He talked about getting married there. He talked about moving back there after his career ended. Every discussion about moving back there made your throat tighten and your hands sweat. Mat was always trying to drag you back to Coquitlam for visits, and you hated every second of those trips. When Mat proposed, a gesture to save your relationship from completely breaking, you saw a glimpse of living in a town you hated, raising kids you didn’t want, and you couldn’t say yes. You were gone from his apartment a week later. 
Three drinks in, you were getting chatty with the bartender. “Are you from here?” she questioned. You thought for a second, “No. I’m not.” Mat could recognize your voice from miles away. When he saw you, he turned away from his friends to order another beer. His heart stopped and sped up at the same time. The last time he really looked at you, you were pushing away his grandmother’s ring and denying his proposal. “Really? I feel like you’re from here!” The bartender perked up as she handed you your tab. “I’m not from around here.” 
Mat watched as you signed your bill and watched as you dropped the tip into the jar. “I gotta go.” Mat stumbled over his words to his friends, just like he stumbled out of his chair and followed you out of the bar. He didn’t mean to get so angry. But something inside of him sparked, hearing you try to erase your childhood and erase memories from this town. 
“You’re not from here, huh?” he practically barked as he followed you down the street. You flinched at his voice. You knew it was him. You turned and faced Mat. The TV didn’t do him justice. He looked even prettier in person than he did on TV during games. You didn’t even have any defense for yourself. 
Mat didn’t realize how emotional he would get seeing you again. Hearing your words broke him, though. “How dare you say that? We met here. We fell in love here. We lived here for years. And you’re just going to erase that?” he shouted, not caring that he was in public. “We were going to have our family here!” 
“No, Mat, that is what you wanted. My life started in New York, not here. Do you want some prize for being the person to get me to New York? Do you want me to lie to your face and tell you that I miss us?” 
He would have never expected you to say those things to him. As if his heart wasn’t broken enough, you had completely shattered it again. Mat Barzal had seen you walk away from him once before, and he was watching you do it again. 
Your trip went by in a blur. You kept looking over your shoulder, expecting to see Mat, but he wasn’t there. You drove through town on your way to the airport and the rental car place. You didn’t get emotional about leaving typically, but it was all hitting you for some reason. You felt tears pool in your eyes as you drove by your old house. A flashback of Mat and you kissing for the first time in your yard crossed your mind. You could picture him on your first date, standing nervously on your porch. 
You passed by an old building that used to be an arcade. All you could think about was Mat’s infectious laughter as he beat you in a round of air hockey on your seven-month anniversary. You passed by the road you would have turned down to go to Mat’s house, and you had never wanted to go down that road more. And so you did. 
Mat’s house looked the same. He had paid for renovations. You still wondered if his bedroom window screen was broken from sneaking you in years ago. There were no lights on in his house, it had never felt so dark in this city. It was suffocating. And there were no regrets about leaving. 
For summertime, New York City felt cold. You returned from your horrible visit. Kicking the mail that had been slipped through your door and dropping your bag by the door. You passed by the box of photos of you and Mat that you couldn’t bring yourself to throw away. You heard his words. You thought about him on one knee and the life you had dangling in front of you. You saw a chain link fence, maybe a white picket fence, an older Mat in this hypothetical vision. A kid or two running around, tripping over ice skates and family dinners. Maybe a cat, no dogs. Mat telling stories of the days in New York, Anthony coming over with his own family, your kids calling him Uncle Beau. Mat being in love with you until his final breath. 
But the dream was left behind and there was no turning back now. 
298 notes · View notes
concreteburialplot · 1 year ago
Text
VIRALITY // 08
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08 - Play Along
pairing: noah sebastian x fem!oc / nicholas ruffilo x fem!oc
word count: 5.3k
masterlist/intro: here | crossposted: ao3
warnings; irritating moody noah lol, angry/jealous nicholas, alcohol, noah teaching how to play pool, creepy guy at bar, implied past SA experiences, physical fight, blood, love triangle a brewin', 18+ ONLY MDNI
a/n: don’t be mean for no reason & let others enjoy things thnx :)
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VALLIE
Noah somehow convinced me to drive us to a bar down the street from the warehouse where we were brainstorming with Bryan.
“So, remind me why you couldn’t have just driven here yourself?” I asked, looking over at him in the passenger seat of my rental car.
“I don’t have a car.” He replies flatly.
“You’re a world famous rockstar, and you don’t have a car?”
I hadn’t notice just how tattooed his hands are until I catch them moving up and down his thighs. The small action reminds me of ways I soothe my anxiety, especially in stressful work meetings.
“Not ‘world famous’, nobody even knew who we were til last month.” He’s quick to correct me and his grumpy tone makes it transparent that he’s still annoyed about getting kicked out by Bryan.
“Right.” I reply shortly.
I pull up to the small seedy bar Noah directed me to. It’s nestled within a larger strip of restaurants and shops. The random tiny city we’re in is not nearly as busy as LA and the buildings are all rustic and brick.
I’m not even parked a whole minute before Noah has already slammed his door behind him and headed towards the front door. At this point I should just expect to have to babysit every single grown man in this fucking band.
When I walk into the establishment, I’m smacked in the face by thick cigarette smoke and my face twists in disgust. It’s packed for 2pm on a Tuesday and almost every single patron is accompanied by a lit cigarette. I spot Noah at the bar already, just receiving his first full beer.
“A cosmopolitan please.” The words can’t come out fast enough, I need alcohol more than air itself right now. The bartender nods and starts curating my order.
Noah scoffs, “A cosmopolitan really? Could you get any more pretentious?”
“Oh my god.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Could you just shut up for literally like 5 minutes?” Right on cue the bartender places down a stemless martini glass with transparent red liquid. “At least it’s better that some basic ass beer.” I take a long sip of my ice-cold drink and alleviation begins the moment the alcohol meets my tongue.
He finishes the last of his beer and lands it hard on the wooden tabletop. “Fine. Whiskey and Coke please.”
“What is your deal huh, why are we here? What exactly are we doing?” I ask the obvious, finishing my own drink already and gesturing to the bartender for another.
He lifts his new glass, “You’re looking at it, Thornhill.”
My brows immediately scrunch together, “How do you know my last name?”
“You think you’re the only one who does their homework?” He asks ironically. “You do work with us after all.”
Both of our new drinks are halfway gone already with replacements on the way. Getting plastered midday on a Tuesday with my most infuriating client in some hole in the wall California bar was not on my bingo card for the week. But these boys keep surprising me, it’s almost refreshing. Almost.
Noah is quick to get started on the fresh drink in front of him, maybe too fast. The glass hadn’t even hit the table before it was half gone.
The numbing already growing in my fingers reminds me that all I had for breakfast was a green juice. Noah’s eyes travel over the bar and land on something across the room then back on me. His eyes are mischievous and playful, “You know how to play pool?” His lips spread into a competitive smirk.
I raise my brows at him. The man that was just 30 minutes ago arguing with me about music video lighting now wants to play pool?
“You want to play pool… right now?”
He laughs, which makes me realize I’d never heard him laugh. It’s nice. If I wasn’t already so exhausted by his bullshit already, it might’ve even made me smile.
“So, you don’t know how to play is what you’re telling me.” He slips off the stool and grabs my arm dragging me off my own.
“Hey, hey!” I smack his hand off my burgundy blazer, “This is designer, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t get your bourbon-y fingers all over it.”
His eyes roll so hard I think they might fall out. “Oh, so sorry princess.” He raised his hands up in defense. “Wouldn’t want to get your Prada dirty.”
While derogatory, the nickname makes my cheeks heat up but I’m not quite sure why. “It’s YSL actually.” I correct him, not that it matters but I guess when you pay almost $4000 for a jacket, it seems like it matters.
“See? Pretentious.” He points at me before going over to the table to set up the game.
I brought our drinks and my bag over to a wooden chair just behind the tables so I could keep a close eye on them. I decide that between the weak airflow in the bar and the sticky surfaces that it would be best to shed the jacket. I slip it off my arms and immediately remember that the blazer was essential to the look, since I only have a black lace corset underneath. But with the 4? 5? drinks I’ve had, I don’t care right now.
“Okay so since you don’t know how to-” Noah turns to look at me and seems to forget his words, he just blinks at me with a deer-in-headlights look.
I step closer to him, “Ya know, it’s not polite to stare.” I say in a hushed tone and poke his pointy nose. Whether or not he is actually looking at me like that, doesn’t matter, my confidence is boosted regardless. Surviving in an industry like the one we’re means walking a fine line between power and control. Men are easy to control when you know how to use assets correctly. And right now, he’s looking at the assets on my lace-covered chest.
“What were you saying again?” I ask, putting my weight on my palms at the edge of the table and leaning forward.
He clears his throat and diverts his eyes away from my cleavage. He directs me to a triangle filled with variously colored balls, some solid, some striped and all with numbers on them. “So basically, you want to get all your designated balls into the holes.” He hands me a long stick, “This is a cue, this is what you’ll use.”
“Got it.”
He perks up a brow above an eye, “You’ve really never played before?”
“Nope.” I take a sip of my potent drink without breaking eye contact with him. “Never thought I’d like it. I’ve watched exes play though. Seemed lame.” I say, sounding more apathetic than I actually am.
“Alright well,” He tugs at the hem of his long band shirt, “You might like it.” He knocks back the last of his drink and holds out a hand to me, “You want a refill?”
I drink the last bit of my own, letting the ice slide down the glass and sit on my numbing lips for just a second before handing it to him. “Please, thank you.”
The minute he leaves me, I become very aware that I’m the only female in the dark bar and every set of eyes is on me. I cross my arms over my chest and retract into myself.
Not long after Noah returns, we start playing. He explained how he “broke” the triangle and he ended up being solids which meant that I’m stripes. After a very bad attempt at hitting a ball, he decided I wasn’t doing well.
“No, no, no.” He waves me off before my stick touches the white cue ball. “Here, I can help.” He rounds the table and stands behind me. I obviously knew he was taller than me, but it isn’t until just now that I realize just how much taller he is than me – the top of my head barely meets his shoulders. And the boots I’m wearing have heels, making me even taller than normal. His sizeable hand runs down my spine and hooks it around my hip to readjust my position. His other arm goes to help adjust my arm that’s holding the stick. I can’t tell if it’s the alcohol, but my skin is burning anywhere he’s touching me and the way his hand engulfs my hip completely sends a buzzing between my legs. His fingertips are mere centimeters away from my core and I am extremely aware of it.
“See, not so bad.” He smiles, pulling away from me and it’s only then that I notice he actually helped me hit the ball.
My eyes linger on him longer than they should’ve. It must be this dim bar lighting and the copious alcohol I’ve had that is making see him through a new filter. His smile meets his eyes and he’s just so…bright. His chocolate eyes are so welcoming and kind, a stark contrast to how harsh and cold they are normally. He’s so much more attractive when he’s not scowling at everything I say.
“What?” He wipes off his mouth with the back of his hand. “Do I have something on my face or something?”
“No, no.” I shake the thoughts from my head. “I just don’t think I’ve ever really seen you smile.” I blurt out stupidly. “It’s pretty.”
He rolls his eyes walking over to the other edge, “Shut up.”
“What?” I ask walking over to where he’s lining up his cue to the ball. His tongue his tightly held in thought between his lips.
The cue ball clashes into a grouping and sends balls flying across the table, some landing in holes. “You’re still on your boyband bullshit.” His voice gained his usual attitude once again with a bit of drunken slur.
“What?” I shake my head, “No, no. I’m not talking about that.” I chase after him around the table. “I mean it.”
Though I should’ve taken the excuse he provided himself as to why I was even paying attention to his smile in the first place.
The long-haired boy holds his cue stick like staff looking at me with an unconvinced look. “Don’t say things you don’t mean, Vallie.” He says in a deep gravelly voice that almost sounds like a threat.
My eyes widen slightly when I look up at him. “I meant it.” I repeat softly, this time with a somewhat intimidated undertone.
He eyes me beneath a skeptical propped brow like I just told him something completely out of the realm of possibility. “Let’s just get back to playing.” He grumbles and walks over to finish off drink.
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Similar to Nicholas, Noah also has a sort of whiplash duality, just different. I see tiny peeks of a sunshine-y Noah hidden beneath his grouchy storm-cloud persona. It makes me wonder what it would take to see more of the Noah that was just joking and smiling with me.
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After another round or two and various refills later, I’m winning. Again.
“How are you winning when you just learned how to play?” Noah asks, pushing himself off the pool table. “Are you conning me or something?” His voice now has a thick, noticeable slur to it, but I don’t think much of it.
I giggle, “No. I just like to win.”
He scoffs playfully and grabs his own glass with my empty one. “You sure you don’t want another?”
I bite down on my thumbnail thinking, but ultimately refuse. “Nah I’m good for now.” I’ve hit the fine line of if I have another, I could get sloppy. Sloppy mixed with what I felt earlier with his hand on my hip could get me in trouble.
He nods and heads to the bar. I pull my phone from where I tucked it in the waistband of skirt and rest against the table as I scroll through emails I’d missed. Suddenly, I feel a presence that definitely isn’t Noah’s. It’s larger, meaner, and darker.
“That your boyfriend with you darlin?” Speaks a low southern accent. His words seem harmless, but I can tell by his tone that he’s not.
My eyes rise to meet him, he towers over me about as tall as Noah maybe an inch or two more. He might be as tall as Noah, but he’s about double his size, wide and muscular. His face is angular and sharp, adorned with middle-aged wrinkles. My gaze glances down to notice that he’s holding two drinks, one that looks like the one I’ve been drinking all day.
I keep an arm around my waist, my phone open facing me and prop a brow at him. “Maybe. What’s it to you?” I neither confirm nor deny out of caution.
“Well, I was thinkin’ you could have a drink with me.” He holds out the similar-looking drink. “The bartender told me you’ve been drinking cosmopolitans.”
I analyze the martini glass within a quarter of a second – the red liquid is dull, murky and the ice is bobbing at the bottom. I’ve lived alone in big cities long enough to know not to take drinks from strange men, especially when they look suspicious. I’ve dated enough men to know what this familiar uneasy feeling in my stomach means. My thumb maneuvers slowly and discreetly to my camera app and hit record. I would send my location to someone, if I had someone to send it to.
I smile politely, “I’m okay but thank you.”
As I predicted his energy shifts and he steps towards me, “Oh c’mon pretty girl, it’s not very nice to refuse a free drink.”
The fear coiling around my spine forces me to fake a laugh, “I’ve really had enough, but thank you.”
He steps even closer backing me into the pool table, the curved wooden corner digs into my lower back. The bar is so busy that nobody is taking notice of what he’s doing.
“I don’t think you heard me, it’s not nice to refuse a free drink.” He says lowly within the small space between us. “We could just play a round of pool and have a good time.”
The walls begin to cave in on me and air is vacating my lungs. I’m paralyzed, panicking and my heart is racing so fast I fear it may tear through my ribcage.
From the moment he was just near me I knew, I just knew.
I always know.
“I’m just not interested, I’m sorry.” The words slip from me quickly and I brace for verbal impact.
He bridges the little gap that’s left between us and sets each drink at each side of my hips, caging me in with my arms wrapped around my body and my phone still recording. “You think you’re better off with that toothpick of a date you have?” He hisses.
Right on cue Noah returns, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
I must’ve really been working off survival muscle memory because I had completely forgotten Noah was with me until just now.
The mystery man pulls back from me with the biggest bullshit smile on his harsh face. “Oh, I was just offerin’ your friend here a drink.” He raises the drink to him.
I chuckle nervously and wave him away, “It’s alright Noah, it’s fine, he was just being nice.” I scratch my arm anxiously. I want the interaction to be over and I’m not expecting Noah to defend me, he barely likes me as a person.
“No Vallie, I saw him.” He sets down his beer and points a finger at him. “You were being fucking creepy.” His drunken voice is rising, and I’m scared that it’s only going to make the situation worse.
The man chuckles at Noah like he’s a puppy barking at mountain lion. “What is this your girlfriend or something?” He asks as though that it’s something he hadn’t already suspected.
Noah briefly glances at me then back at him, “Yes, as a matter a fact she is.” He states assertively but his poker face isn’t that good. I’m surprised that he’s even gone this far to defend me but I’m appreciative.
He laughs even harder, “Oh you really expect me to think a girly twig like you can pull a girl like her?”
Noah doesn’t skip a beat, “You think a meathead asshole like you could pull a woman like her?”
While Noah is scrawny compared to this traditionally “macho man”, I think that was the manliest thing I’ve ever seen a man do for me.
However, it is painfully clear how drunk Noah is by the way he chooses to get in this huge man’s face.
“You’d better fucking watch it, Toothpick.” He growls in his face, then breaks eye contact with Noah to look over at me. “This pathetic joke of a man is your boyfriend?”
Noah doesn’t waver, doesn’t back down with tight fists at his sides but I can’t take it anymore. I may not get along with him, but he doesn’t deserve to be insulted like this on my behalf.
“Yes.” I say confidently with a straightened back, even though it couldn’t be farther from the truth. “Yes, actually, he is. And I’ll prove it.”
I instantly realize that I have no idea how exactly to prove it. So, I go with the first thing I think of within a split second.
I give Noah a brief look that says play along – though, I’m not sure he had enough time to understand the message because when I stand on my tippy toes, take his face in my hands, and land my lips into his, he freezes.
It feels like time freezes too as my eyes flutter closed and I melt into the kiss. Drunk in this shady bar, in this shitty scary situation, right now, it feels like it’s just me and Noah. In this moment, with our lips locked, the bar is quiet, everything is calm, and it feels really fucking good to win at pool. I can’t tell if the swirling in my tummy is from the panic or from something else entirely.
When I finally pull from him, my brows can’t help but furrow together in confusion. He looks back at me with a similar expression – though it’s hard to really decipher any real reactions in his glazed over eyes.
What the fuck was that?
The asshole is visibly over the charade. “What the fuck ever. Maybe next time you shouldn’t let your slut of a girlfriend leave the house looking like a whore.”
Before I even have time to process what he just said, Noah’s fist swings and crashes into Mystery Man’s face.
“Oh my god.” I gasp and bring a hand over to cover my mouth in shock.
It takes a second for the muscular man to react, his hand immediately going to his now bleeding nose. He doesn’t fully realize his condition until he holds out his fingers covered in blood.
His mean eyes then land on Noah like he’s a bullseye target. “You little fucking shit.” The man charges at him and in the blink of an eye, he’s on top of Noah on the ground just pummeling into his face.
“Noah!” I run over to him, not really knowing exactly what I could do.
Luckily, we’d already garnered the attention of the whole bar, so other similar sized patrons were able to pull the man off Noah before he had time to do worse damage. They drag him to the opposite corner of the bar and they fade into the background with my focus now being on Noah.
“Fuck Noah.” I mutter as I land on my knees near his head. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I stammer frantically looking around at what I could use to help him. The workers near us must’ve read my mind because they brought over a huge stack of napkins. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”
He says nothing and flutters his glossy eyes closed when I start to clean him up. He winces when I dab the blood gushing from his nose. “I’m sorry.” I repeat breathlessly, trying my hardest to keep a panic attack away. He flinches a bit when I try to gently wipe his busted lip. “Sorry.” I repeat again, because what else am I supposed to say to someone who just got beaten up because of me. I don’t dare go near his already swollen eye until I get access to some ice… or maybe some frozen peas.
“Should I call Nicholas? Or Jolly?” I ask meekly, folding the napkin within my hands.
Noah groans. “Nicholas.” He brings his hand to his forehead. “Don’t call Jolly. He’ll kill us.”
Us
There’s something about that word in that statement. I can’t explain it, but it seems so much bigger than just Noah and I.
Before he finishes his statement, I’ve already texted Nicholas. I’m surprised at how quickly he responded and even more surprised when he says that he’s not even 5 minutes away.
“Nicholas is here? He said he’s visiting a friend at a tattoo shop in this strip.”
“How convenient.” He grumbles sarcastically and uses his hand to cover his eyes.
When I return my gaze to him, I notice his bloody and bruising knuckles. “Oh my god your hand!” I gasp and take his hand in mine. I urgently steal the condensation off a nearby beer glass to wet a clean napkin and use it to delicately clean each knuckle. An overwhelming sense of guilt fills my chest, and another even worse feeling wraps itself around my throat with thorns. My heartbeat begins thumping so hard I can hear it in my ears and I’m trying my hardest to steady my now trembling hands.
He peeks an eye at me while keeping the other scrunched closed. “Are you okay?” His voice is soft with an inflection reminiscent of concern.
My eyes begin to burn the minute he acknowledges my panic and only makes everything worse. I focus intently on where the napkin is meeting his skin. “Mhm.” I know the moment I open my mouth to speak any semblance of emotional control would disappear. I discreetly attempt to stabilize my breathing so that it might tether me back to earth.
“Hey,” His brows knit together and lifts himself up onto his elbows. I never let go of his hand. His other hand finds my chin and gently redirects my gaze to him. “What’s wrong?”
My eyes fill with tears but immediately screw shut in a last-ditch effort to keep my composure. I rarely cry and even more seldom do I cry in front of others. And here am I, about to cry in front of the person I least want to.
The lump in my throat is painful and I try to swallow it down in an attempt to keep my tears at bay. “I’m fine, just let me keep cleaning you up.” My cracking voice gives away just how close I am to unraveling. A tear escapes me and I’m quick to wipe it off with the back of my hand.
He sternly but gently grasps my wrist to stop me from continuing. “I’m not letting you keep going until you tell me what’s wrong.”
“I don’t know… a panic attack maybe?” A couple more tears escape, and I swiftly wipe them away. “You don’t deserve this, this is all my fault.” My eyes fall back down to his bloody hand in my own. “You look like this, because of me.”
He sits up more, analyzing. I can feel him dissecting me – even though we’re both drunk, it feels like he can see right through me. “I think it’s more than that Val. What’s up?”
That’s the first time I’ve heard my name come out of his mouth without some sort of insult attached to it. It sounds nice. I wouldn’t mind hearing it that way again.
My breathing is slowing down marginally, and I choose to ignore that his touch might have something to do with it. Surely it couldn’t have anything to do with it, right?
I take a deep inhale in preparation to speak without crying. I hold his bruised hand carefully with both of mine. I keep my attention on my thumb that is grazing across the black ink on his fingers. “Um.” I press my lips together and take another breath through my nose. He gives me my time, doesn’t rush or interrupt. “I don’t want to talk about it,” I hear my own voice crack and it feels like I’m somehow betraying myself by crying. “But, it’s not the first time something like…that has happened.” I blink some tears from my eyes and still focus on his hand. My voice is small and quiet, not the way I ever like to hear it. “It’s not even the second or third. And they’ve all been so much worse.” I let out a sad, sobby chuckle. “Which is why me crying about this is so fucking stupid because this was nothing. Worse things happen to people all the time and this was just some guy being a creep and–“
“Hey,” He rests his free hand on top of my own that were fidgeting more than I’d realized. “It wasn’t nothing. It was something. Something worth getting in a fight for. Okay?”
“It just shouldn’t be this upset over something so small.” My voice is not even a whisper. “It’s my fault.”
Weak
Is the only thing that is repeating in my head over and over.
I could’ve gotten myself out of the situation sooner.
I shouldn’t have frozen up.
I should’ve just taken the drink.
It didn’t have to escalate to that point.
I could’ve handled it on my own.
I shouldn’t be crying.
I was weak.
I am weak.
Weak.
Weak.
Weak.
He sits up and takes my chin into his fingers, titling my face up to meet his. The growing swelling all over his face only makes me feel worse. “You’re not stupid and it’s not your fault.” I know he’s trying to keep it together for me, but I can tell he’s struggling to form and deliver coherent sentences. “I don’t need to know any of the other instances to know that you were never stupid or that anything was your fault. Okay?”
I nod but it’s not enough for him. “I need to hear it.” The look in his chocolate eyes is one I haven’t seen in him before. Even behind his drunken daze and black eye, his eyes are genuine, kind, and concerned. A warmth blooms in my chest – it reminds me of when you’re running from the rain, and you rush into the safety of your car. That feeling of reaching a warm, safe place, that’s what I feel.
“Okay.” I reply quietly. “Thank you.”
While Noah is mere inches away from my face with his hand on my cheek, I hear a familiar voice. “What the fuck.” States an already irritated Nicholas.
Our eyes snap up at him and Noah instantly pulls away as if he has something to hide. Nicholas’ eyes shift between us, seemingly trying to decide which to address first.
“What the fuck did you do Noah.” His tone is immediately defensive.
Noah sloppily falls back onto the floor. His eyes go back to focusing on the ceiling. With Nicholas here, he looks unimpressed, maybe aggravated – definitely aggravated. For the person he told me to call, he seems quite unhappy that he’s here.
“No, no, it’s my fault.” I stop him before he continues to blame Noah. “He was protecting me.” I lower my voice into a whisper for the second half, “He helped me.”
“Bull fucking shit.” He sighs then the crouches down to inspect Noah further. He carefully pushes some bloody hairs away from his face, Nicholas’ touch on him is gentler than even mine. He gets a clear view of Noah’s face, it’s adorned with a black eye, a bruised nose covered in dried blood and a gashed open bottom lip.
“Do you think he’ll have to get that stitched up?” I bring up my thumb and chew on a freshly manicured nail.
He tugs at the injured boy’s lip looking at it closer, “No he’s fucking fine.”
While Nicholas is visibly angry, he seems oddly calm, at least calmer that I expected. I suppose it makes sense though, I’m sure this isn’t his first rodeo with a drunken Noah in a bar fight.
He lets go of his lip letting it harshly snap back into place earning a whine from Noah. “Hey!”
Nicholas stands up straight and offers me a hand to get myself up. Once I’m up in front of him, he gives me a once over, probably questioning my outfit of a lace corset and a skirt. “What were you guys doing here?” He questions angrily and closes a bit of the space between us.
“It’s a long story.” Between the alcohol, the fight, and my fading panic attack, I don’t have the energy to go through it all. He goes to argue with me, and I shut him down, mirroring his low grumbly voice. “I’ll explain later.”
His thick brows fall straight, evidently not liking my answer. He takes a moment, as if he’s trying to decide on the next thing to say without pissing me off. “He could’ve gotten you hurt. He could’ve hurt you.”
I scrunch my brows up at him. Sure, I’ve seen Noah storm out of numerous doors, and I saw him get a little abrasive with Bryan earlier, but would he actually hurt someone? Would he have hurt me?
“He didn’t, Nicholas.” I place my hand softly on his chest in an effort to calm him down. “Believe it or not… he saved me.” The sentence surprises even me as I say it.
Skepticism plasters itself across his face. “Saved you from what exactly?”
My eyes flutter to the ground and the same panicky feeling from before spins behind my ribcage. “It doesn’t matter.” I wave away the technicalities. “Point is, he didn’t do anything wrong. You should let up on him.”
He gives me a you’ve-gotta-be-shitting-me look.
The man from before – which I learned from the guys that pulled him away earlier, that his name was Mike – is being escorted out of the bar by two men who look like security guards.
“Oh, so you didn’t just need one scrawny bitch you needed two?” He practically spits at me while wiggling beneath the guard’s grip.
“Excuse me?” Nicholas snaps immediately turning to narrow his eyes at the man.
He laughs, “This one’s even more pathetic.”
I’m not sure why that, out of everything, fills me with the most rage of all. Anger spreads through me like electricity and every cell in my body propels me towards him.
An arm hooks around my waist and recoils me backwards before my fists can reach his body. Even though Nicholas is shorter than Noah, he still towers over me, and I must look tiny in his arms.
Mike mocks me while the guards try to urge him towards the door.
“Shut the fuck up! Don’t fucking talk about them like that!” I struggle trying to escape from Nick’s surprisingly strong arms.
“Hey, hey calm down,” Nicholas hushes me with a little chuckle. “I got you.” His hand gives my side a reassuring little squeeze. “It’s okay.”
Once Mike is completely out of the bar a heavy weight is lifted from my chest and I can finally breathe again. Whether on purpose or by chance, Nicholas’ arm is still wrapped around me, but I don’t mind it. His warmth is comfortable against the frigid air of the bar. It feels nice, like a shelter.
Only then does it occur to me that any sort of panic or fear I was feeling before was soothed by him. In his arms I feel safe, and it reminds me of the way I felt with Noah earlier.
“C’mon asshole,” Nicholas snaps at Noah who’s looking half dead, still laying on the ground.
Noah covers his mouth and squeezes his eyes closed, “I’m gonna need a fucking trashcan.”
“Enough with the dramatics.” Nicholas rolls his eyes, and I can practically feel the impatience and aggravation radiating from his body. “Get the fuck up so I can get us home.”
There is that word again: us.
Us.
It’s a just small detail of wording but for whatever reason, I cling onto it like it means something.
Maybe my time with them won’t be as fleeting as I thought it would be.
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next chapter -> 09 - Lavender Haze
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tag list; @ladyveronikawrites @kingdomof-omens @persuasivus @strawberryruffilo [comment if you'd like to be tagged?]
A/N: The love for this story has honestly been so overwhelming (in a good way obv) and I couldn't be more grateful. I really thought this would flop lol so, thank you so much for every like, reblog, ask, or comment. It means the world to me truly. Thank you.
i love hearing your thoughts so feel free to share! (i'm really bad at responding to asks but i still love them 😅 i'm so sorry)
ALSO! Thank you so much for the love on my new series, Intertwined 💗 New chapter coming soon! 💗
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roosterforme · 1 year ago
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The Younger Kind Part 29 | Rooster x Reader
Summary: Bradley was deploying, and your insecurity started getting the best of you. He wanted to leave provisions for you and Noah, but you didn't want him to think you were taking advantage of him. As you initiated role playing and goodbye sex, you realized you were trying to guarantee he'd be thinking about you as much as you would be thinking about him. But Bradley was considering a lot more than that.
Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, smut, and age gap (18+)
Length: 6500 words
Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader
Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.
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With just a few days left before your boyfriend's deployment, you found yourselves touching each other at every opportunity you were given. When you cooked meals, Bradley's hands were on you as he stood behind you, whispering sweet nothings or amusing commentary. After Noah was in bed, you were undressing each other. And all of the times in between, you and he were holding hands or sharing kisses with such earnest sincerity, you didn't know how you'd make it weeks without him.
There was a small part of you that feared Bradley was expecting round the clock sex before he left. How were you supposed to keep a deployed boyfriend faithful to you unless you let him do whatever he wanted? You'd heard horrible things about guys in the military. Yet he wasn't initiating sex with any more frequency than before. And when he said he wanted to snuggle with you, that's exactly what happened. 
You spent most of your time in his arms, just talking about what was important. "We should figure out these jobs, Princess," he said one night, sipping a beer on the couch and patting his thigh. 
You were frustrated and having a hard time deciding which job was best for you, but as you settled down in his lap, the tension melted away. Bradley wrapped his arm around you, and when he pressed his lips to your neck, you stole his beer and took a sip.
"What are you thinking?" he asked softly, running his fingers leisurely along your body until you handed him back his beer. 
You sighed. "I know which job I want, but I don't know if it's the best decision to make right now."
His eyes were so sincere, you could tell he was focused on your every word even though you were straddling his thigh. "What are you unsure of, Baby?"
"I just..." you said, trailing off and looking at the scars on his neck. "I have a lot of loans to pay back. I did everything by myself after I turned eighteen. And the job at the hospital pays more."
"You said you'd constantly have different shifts. Sometimes you'd work at night?"
"Yes," you confirmed. "So I wouldn't get to see you and Noah as much after your deployment. Between my commute from my place, plus the times I might be staying here, I'd be in the car a lot." You wanted to move in here with them permanently. Your place felt like a rental; his felt like a home. But you were hesitant, still concerned he would think you were trying to take advantage. 
Bradley examined your face, his expression neutral as his hand on your body pulled you a little closer. He sipped his beer before finishing the rest of the bottle and setting it aside. 
"I don't want you to worry about your loans," he told you as his other hand settled on your thigh. "We got that covered, okay?"
"But-"
"No," he said a little louder, cutting you off. "You want to take that job with the private practice. I know you do. You told me days ago that it seems like a better fit. So what's holding you back?"
Your gaze dropped to his chest as you muttered, "The loans."
"Stop talking about the loans, Baby. Pretend they don't exist." His voice was a little rough, and you had to squeeze your thighs around his leg to keep from moaning. "And while we're at it, let's assume you'll be doing all of your commuting from right here."
"Right here?" you asked, trying to make him laugh, because he sounded very serious. "From your lap?"
He pulled you close with both hands, and you squeaked, bracing your hands on his shoulders as his lips met yours in a hard kiss. When his tongue slipped between your lips, you tasted his beer. He was relentless, with one calloused hand at the back of your neck, as you moaned against his mouth. 
He released your lips, but kept you so your face was centimeters from his. "Right here. My house. My lap. In my arms. This is where you belong. Okay? You take the job you want more, Princess. And I'll take care of the rest."
"Daddy-" you gasped, already feeling the need to protest. 
He rubbed his fingers along your neck, and you let your forehead rest against his. "You do so much around here, and you ask for nothing in return. Stop arguing with me. Accept the job you want. It has better hours. It's closer to Coronado. Sure, the pay is a little lower, but it has great benefits, which will help in case we ever have a baby."
"Oh," you gasped, kissing him before you really realized what you were doing. You knew another child was something he had been thinking about. He told you he would be excited if you got pregnant. But just knowing that's what he was thinking about right now was making you a little lightheaded. 
A minute later, he had you underneath him on the couch. His cheeks were flushed, and his lips and breath were just barely almost touching your neck. You needed more, but he wasn't going to give you anything else until you gave him some answers. 
"You gonna call and accept the job you want?"
"Yes," you gasped. "I'll call them tomorrow."
"You gonna stop worrying about your loans?"
You hesitated, and he started to pull away. "Yes," you whined until his nose brushed along your sensitive skin. 
"You gonna move more of your stuff in here?"
"I will, Daddy," you confirmed, and you were rewarded with the soft pressure of him sucking on your pulse point. 
"That's a good girl," he praised, pushing your shirt up and kissing your belly. "I want you here. You can have as much space as you need. Nothing is off limits. Tons of room up in the attic."
But you were barely listening as his fingers found your zipper, and then his mouth was on your pussy. You realized as you started begging him to make you squirt that in a lot of ways, Bradley was more cunning than you were.
------------------------------
When Bradley was leaving for work the next morning with Noah in his arms, you were dressed in one of his old shirts and sipping coffee from his Trust me...I'm a pilot mug. He was delighted to hear you say you were heading up to the attic. You claimed you wanted to see how much room was available to store your textbooks, and he thought that was a very good sign. Then he reminded you that you could sort through anything you wanted, but not to throw away anything pertaining to Noah without running it by him first. 
You kissed Noah before reaching up to kiss Bradley as well. Then he paused to grab his checkbook and you snorted.
"What?" he asked. "I need to pay the daycare for this month."
"You can pay on your phone. Using an app." Now you were raising your voice like he couldn't hear you. "Do you want me to show you how, grandpa?"
Bradley kept his expression neutral as you giggled and almost spilled your coffee. "First of all, my name is Daddy. Second, I don't like using apps for everything. And third, I was going to leave you my checkbook so you could pay Noah's tuition next month. But if you're going to make fun of me-"
You kissed his lips with a big smile on your face. "I can pay with a check next month," you assured him. "You better go before you're late. I love you, Daddy. Love you, sweet Noah."
Then Bradley dropped Noah off and continued to base. He had one of those days that was just too busy for no reason, and he wasn't getting anywhere with the things he needed to get done before he left for deployment. Your credit card hadn't arrived yet, and Tracy hadn't contacted him about the order of protection paperwork. 
"Hey," Jake drawled, walking over to annoy Bradley during lunch when he was trying to read the texts you'd sent him. Apparently you found an old polaroid camera in the attic and wanted to know if you could mess around with it. 
"What do you want?" Bradley asked Jake while he let you know you could do anything you felt like. 
"Just wanted to see if you were going to need any help with Noah while you're deployed."
"I would sooner trust my child to babysit you than the other way around," Bradley replied with a smirk. 
But Jake was undeterred as he smiled and said, "Nat told me your babysitter is going to be all alone at your house, watching your kid. Just thought maybe I could swing by and check on her. Give her anything she might need."
Two months ago, Bradley would have been ready to throttle his coworker. But now he just smiled back. "And what do you have that you think she might need?"
"I can think of one thing," Jake replied with a shrug. 
Bradley rolled his eyes. "I've seen it in the locker room, and I doubt she would be interested."
"Well, maybe I'll let her decide for herself while you're away."
You wouldn't even humor Jake, and Bradley knew it. You promised it would never happen. You'd barely even spoken to him when you were at the Hard Deck. You belonged with Bradley. But the idea of another guy with his hands on you, fucking your sweet pussy...he didn't like thinking about it at all. Especially not Jake. 
"Enjoy the rejection," Bradley snarled as he went to get some lunch.
Now he was annoyed. Jake could get under his skin too easily, and he was in a bad mood because of it. And to top it off, Tracy told him she had no updated information when he texted her. He just wanted to get home to you and his son and his delicious dinner that he would clean up after.
When he picked Noah up and carried him to the Bronco, he was already whining for you and some ants on logs. "Honestly, bub, I feel like whining for Princess, too. Let's just get home."
When Bradley got home and unlocked the front door, you called out, "Hey, boys!" You weren't even in the living room, but the sound of your voice excited him. He and Noah both ran for the kitchen where you were pulling a lasagna out of the oven that smelled so good, Bradley's stomach growled louder. He recognized that you were wearing the dress you had on the day he met you, and your lips were glossy and perfect. "Hi, Daddy."
Fuck. He couldn't wait to get his hands on you later. Pull your dress up and kiss off your lipgloss. 
"Hey, Baby. How was your day?" he grunted.
"It was so good!" You had one of Noah's brand new coloring books out with some crayons, and you pulled out the chair for him to sit. "I moved more of my stuff in. I hope you don't mind," you said with a little smirk.
Bradley looked at you with one eyebrow raised and gently backed you up to the counter. "Mind? You know I'd be happiest if you moved all of your stuff in here." Hadn't he made that clear? He wasn't about to change his mind about you.
"I know," you whispered, draping your arms casually around his neck and kissing him. You just wouldn't give him a firm answer either way, which was infuriating. "I also accepted the job that we talked about." 
He grinned as you kissed him. "You excited?"
"Very. I start a few days after you leave."
"Damn," he whispered. "I won't even get to be here to drive you on your first day and pack you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch."
You giggled as Bradley ran his hands down along your dress. And then Noah asked, "Princess? Can I have some ants?" 
"Lasagna first," you told him. "Then some ants."
Bradley cleaned the kitchen after dinner while you played on the driveway with Noah and the bucket of sidewalk chalk. When he came back inside looking cute with pink and green chalk smudges on his face, Bradley took a few photos of him before escorting him to the bath. "Why don't you relax, Princess. I'll get him in bed."
"I'll be in the living room," you told him with a coy smile before you kissed Noah goodnight. Bradley watched you walk away, and he knew you had something up your sleeve. 
He tried not to be impatient, but by the third book, Bradley insisted Noah close his eyes and go to sleep. "Seriously, bub. It's time. Love you."
"Night, daddy." And as usual, his son was asleep before he was out of the room. Bradley pulled the door closed and made his way into the living room where you were standing, waiting for him with a smirk on your pretty lips. 
"Daddy," you whispered, and he was right there kissing you. 
He grabbed your ass in both hands, and between kisses he asked, "Did you use the old camera that you found?"
"Mmhmm."
"Did you take some dirty polaroids?"
"Yes," you replied, suddenly pulling out of his grasp. "But those are strictly for you to take away with you."
He grunted in approval and watched the thin strap of your dress as it slid down your shoulder. But when he reached for you again, you backed away and shook your head. "What?" he whined. "I wanna fuck you, Baby."
Your teeth sank into your plump lip, and you moaned. "I know you do, and so do I. But I have an idea. And I think you might like it."
"You gonna tell me?" he asked softly. 
Bradley was plainly hard in his jeans, and when he put his hands on his hips, you glanced down and grinned. "Okay... I've... never done this before," you whispered, and he throbbed for you. "But I thought you might enjoy some... role playing?"
His brain short circuited. All of the thoughts in his head were gone as you worried your lip with your teeth. It suddenly made sense why you were wearing that particular dress. Role playing. Role playing. You wanted to try some role playing. With him. Right now.
"Tell me more," he rasped, and you took a step closer to him. 
"Well, I already know you have a thing for your babysitter..."
"That's an understatement," he whispered, his voice harsh and his heart pounding. 
"You can be as rough as you want," you whispered. And then he watched you take a deep breath before you cleared your throat. "Oh! Mr. Bradshaw! You're back early. I already put Noah in bed for the night."
You were looking up at him with a somewhat nervous expression as you ran your index finger along your bottom lip. Oh fuck. You were going to let him role play all the filthy shit he thought about when he first hired you to babysit for him. 
"Hey, thanks for watching him tonight. I know it was short notice," Bradley said, and you looked up at him through your eyelashes, somehow looking even more innocent than you usually did. 
"I didn't mind at all, sir. I like babysitting your son. And I... like it when I get to see you, too."
Oh hell, you were too good at this already. And when Bradley reached out to run his knuckles softly along your cheek, you whimpered softly. "I like getting to see you, too, Baby. Getting to look at you was the best part of my day."
Bradley watched you run your fingers down your neck and across the tops of your pretty tits which were on display in that dress. "You're so handsome, Mr. Bradshaw. I think you're sexy."
When he took a step closer, you turned away from him shyly, gazing up at him over your bare shoulder where the strap had fallen down. Bradley got as close to you as he could without actually touching you, and he whispered, "You're gorgeous. Will you let me touch you?"
You whimpered for him. "Yes, sir."
Bradley slowly wrapped his hands around your hips and pressed himself against your ass. "You always smell good. Like wildflowers." He pressed his lips to the side of your neck. Jesus Christ, had he been thinking about this shit from the beginning with you? Pretty close to it. He couldn't believe you were letting him get away with this. 
"Sir?" you whimpered as he brought his hands around to the front of your body, bunching up the fabric of your dress. 
"Tell me," he whispered next to your ear, tasting your neck before brushing his mustache along your pulse point. "How old are you?"
"Eighteen," you whispered, and Bradley's lips paused. 
He kissed you once and cleared his throat. "Princess, can we crank that age up a little bit?" he asked, out of character now. "I mean, it's bad enough that you're only twenty four."
"Okay," you replied with a soft laugh. "I'm twenty one, Mr. Bradshaw."
"Twenty one," he grunted, kissing a path down to your collarbone where he licked you, grinding his erection against you. Then he spun you in his arms so you were facing him. "Pretty face like that, you could get any guy you wanted. Make them do anything you wanted them to do. Love you just the right way."
Your eyes fluttered closed as he brushed your neck with his fingers, and it didn't seem like you were having to try too hard to play along. Which was great, because Bradley was loving this. 
"I don't know about that, Mr. Bradshaw. I've only ever kissed one boy before."
Bradley grunted and wrapped his hand around the front of your neck, angling your face up and stroking your chin with his thumb. "What else did you do with that boy?"
Your eyes were wide as you whispered, "N-Nothing, Mr. Bradshaw."
"Nothing?" he asked, cock throbbing as he waited for you to answer.
You just shook your head gently and said, "No, sir. I'm... I'm a virgin."
The way you were so goddamn convincing was really fucking with him. He would have believed you if he didn't know better. But he was ready to beg for it right now. "Baby," he groaned, wrapping his fingers around to the back of your neck. "I don't want you to think about him anymore. I want you thinking about me." Then he rubbed his nose along yours and listened to the pretty sound you made. "You gonna let me kiss you?"
"Yes." 
His lips met yours, and everything felt familiar and yet totally different. You weren't his girlfriend right now. You were his new, virgin babysitter he was about to fuck the living shit out of. Bradley pulled you close, let you really feel his hardness against your belly, and you moaned into his mouth. 
"You're so sweet, Baby. You gonna let me take you to bed?"
"I want you to, Mr. Bradshaw!"
"Fuck." His hands were up under your dress, easing it higher and higher, confirming you wore no underwear. He kissed you rough and hard, his tongue tangling with yours before he pulled your dress over your head and dropped it onto the floor. Then he proceeded to touch you everywhere. Every pinch of your nipples and soft caress of your ass had you grinding your pussy against the front of his jeans. 
"Daddy!" you whined, and oh, that didn't sound like you were playing along at all. 
He pulled your bottom lip between his and sucked on you as he pressed his fingers to your clit. You were soft and silky. "You're so wet for me." And as he slipped one finger inside you, he whispered, "You gonna let me fuck you, Baby? Show you what you've been missing?"
You looked up at him with parted lips and wrapped your arms around his neck. "Will you be gentle, Mr. Bradshaw? I'm so nervous."
"Oh yeah, Baby. I'll be so gentle." Bradley had no plans to be gentle with you tonight, and he took one of your smaller hands in his and guided it to the fly of his jeans. "I'll stretch you out and fuck you slow. Take you for my own. Make you mine."
You were clinging to his shoulder and riding his hand as you rubbed him. "Mr. Bradshaw," you whined softly. What a sight.
Bradley pinched your clit and asked, "You ever sucked a cock before?"
Those pure, innocent eyes were back, and when you shook your head, Bradley started pushing you down to kneel in front of him. "Good girl," he crooned. You watched him unzip his jeans, and you licked your lips. When his cock was free of his underwear, you gasped. 
"I don't know how," you said, and Bradley almost laughed. You were so good at sucking his dick, it was just impressive. 
"Just give it a try," he whispered, and you took him slowly between your lips. "You're smart. Such a good girl. I'll teach you."
But he didn't need to, because a minute later, you were expertly giving him head and running your own fingers through your pussy. It was mesmerizing, and he tried to stay in character. "That's it. Nice and slow. Suck a little harder. Perfect."
He didn't want to cum in your mouth, even though it felt so good. So he hauled you up to your feet and said, "I want you to show me how you touch yourself in my bed."
You nodded and said, "Okay, Mr. Bradshaw," and then he was carrying you to his room. Once he had you on your back, you came apart further at your own touch, and Bradley started stroking himself. 
You moaned and said, "I think you would do a better job, sir. You always make me cum with I daydream about you." 
Bradley smirked and spread your legs wide before he lowered his face down to your pussy. You pushed your wet fingers back into his hair as he got you clenching almost immediately. He was going to make you cum on his tongue. And then he would fuck you, get himself off with your body just the way he needed to right now. 
When he put a little more pressure on your clit, you cried out. He could feel you gushing, and your cum ran down from your pussy to your asshole. "You're a fucking angel, Baby," he grunted, and you just moaned as he kissed along your slit and started begging. "I need to fuck you. I need to feel your pussy. Please, Baby? I need to be the first one inside you like that."
"You promised you'd go slow," you managed to say. 
"Of course. Anything you want." He kissed his way up your body until his lips were on yours. "You ready for me?" When you nodded beneath him, he ran his cock through your wetness. God, you were probably leaving a spot on the bed. "It might hurt, Baby." And then he pushed himself inside you slowly until you took all of him
You moaned in pleasure, back arching off the bed as you tugged on his hair. He started out nice and slow, giving you time to adjust. "Think you can take a little more? Get a little rough?"
"I-I think so, sir," you whimpered. 
He fucked you hard and fast, and you kissed his lips. "Mr. Bradshaw! You said you'd be gentle with me!"
"I don't think you want me to," he replied, bucking harder against you.
"I-I don't?" you gasped, wrapping one leg around his hips.
"No, that's not how you need it. And you feel too fucking good to go slow. Such a tight little pussy," he growled, pushing your legs wider. "Look at you. Taking me so well for your first time." He was rocking into you harder now. "Breaking you in, just the way I like."
He took your nipple between his lips as you whined, "Daddy."
Then he sucked on you hard until you tugged at his hair. "Come on, Baby. I'm still your boss," he said, withdrawing from your body and getting you onto your hands and knees with your butt in the air. "Let's be professional." He landed a solid smack to your ass and added, "Call me Mr. Bradshaw."
Then he ate you out from behind, his lips and tongue connecting with your pussy until you buried your face in the pillow, your cries of pleasure muffled. God, he was painfully hard now as he got himself in position to take you from behind. As he fucked you, he wrapped his hand around your neck and gently guided you back until your face was away from the pillow. He peppered kisses along your shoulders and the back of your neck as he rode you hard. 
"Shit, Baby. I'm gonna cum," he groaned, grabbing at your hips as he ran his nose along your spine. The slapping sounds were so pretty, he started losing himself now. But he kept it together the best he could as he asked, "Are you on birth control?"
"No, sir," you gasped.
"You want me to cum inside your pussy? Or on your ass?" He squeezed you there as you whined. 
"Please, Mr. Bradshaw. Inside me."
His thrusts were erratic as he felt himself reach his peak. "You better hope you don't get knocked up."
"Oh!" you groaned. "It doesn't matter. I wanna feel you do it inside me."
Bradley filled you up with his cum as he braced himself above you, palms planted next to yours on the bed. As you caught your breath, he pressed kisses to your neck and rubbed his nose along your ear. 
"Did you like that, Daddy?"
He didn't know if you'd ever understand just how much he liked that. "Probably too much, Princess." Carefully, he eased you down on your back next to him, and you curled up on his chest. 
You yawned and whispered, "It was hot. We can do it again sometime. If you want to."
Bradley kissed you and whispered, "I love you," over and over until you fell asleep.
------------------------
Over the next few days, you had taken to calling him Mr. Bradshaw. Every time you did it, you looked at him like you had no idea why his cheeks were flushed pink. Bradley really loved roleplaying with you. He made sure he told you several times just how much. 
But as the days wore on, your insecurity returned. Part of the reason you initiated the virgin experience for him was to try to keep his interest. He was leaving soon, and you wanted some sort of guarantee that he would be thinking about you beyond just your ability to care for Noah. Having a serious boyfriend was one thing, but having a serious boyfriend in the military was starting to make you nervous. What if you weren't enough when he was deployed? What if he lost sight of what was waiting for him at home?
While you were making dinner, he wrapped his arms around you from behind. "Your credit card's here," he whispered, setting the purple card with your name on it on the counter next to the cutting board.
"Thanks," you whispered, suddenly even more insecure. "I can keep track of when I use it, especially for things for myself. And I can pay you back in a few weeks."
"That's not what we agreed on," he said, voice laced with frustration. "Look at me, please." You sighed and set down the spatula and turned around in his arms. He was quiet until you met his eyes, but then he said, "You're smart. I trust you with my kid and my house and my Bronco for extended periods of time. Why would I not trust you with a credit card, Princess? I'm leaving you with a lot of responsibility here, and I need to know that you're buying everything you and Noah need or want. And that includes coloring books, Skittles, pizza, you name it. Whatever you want."
You opened your mouth to respond, but you just kissed him instead. It was hard to get used to the idea of someone caring about you and wanting to take care of you. "I'll just use it for the stuff we need."
"No, you won't," he whispered. "You'll use it for everything. Please."
The way he kissed you had you melting into him. You could probably do what he asked of you, just for two months. And when you finally agreed, you were rewarded with a pretty smile from him. 
You whispered, "I just don't want to take advantage of you."
"You're not."
You closed your eyes and added, "And I'm worried you won't be thinking about me."
Bradley froze, brow creased in confusion. "What do you mean?" Then you immediately wished you'd said nothing. You were embarrassed, but he wasn't going to let it go. "What do you mean, Baby?"
"You know... while you're away."
Bradley started chuckling. His shoulders were shaking with amusement as he tipped his head back. His laughter grew louder, and even Noah looked up from his coloring to see what was going on. 
"Are you making fun of me, old man?" you asked, elbowing him in the side as he roared with laughter. 
"You're a riot, Princess," he finally said, pulling your reluctant body against his. "I don't think about anything else. Just you and Noah on repeat." And then all the laughter was gone from his voice as he ran one big hand down your back. "And isn't that why you pulled out the role play the other night? To try and guarantee that Mr. Bradshaw wouldn't be thinking about anyone else?" he asked softly before kissing along your cheek. 
"Maybe," you replied softly. 
"Hmm," he hummed, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek. "You didn't need to pull out the virgin babysitter to get that guarantee, but I'm glad you did. I'll be thinking about that a lot. I'll be thinking about you all the time. I went a year without sex before I met you. I intend for you to be my last."
The way you whimpered at his words had you slamming your lips together so Noah wasn't distracted again. But that night, when he took you to bed, Bradley worshipped your body. His lips were everywhere, and he was in no hurry. You had no idea how long he kept you in bed, using his lips and words to get you soaking wet. 
"I love you."
"I want you."
"I need you, Princess."
"Let me make you feel good."
"Let me take care of you."
You were at the point of no return when he whispered, "Come sit on Daddy's face."
"Oh," you gasped as Bradley lounged on his back and waited for you with eager eyes. "Won't I hurt you? Or make it hard to breathe?"
"No," he said right away, stroking himself through his underwear. "I'm gonna love it." 
As you crawled over to him and carefully straddled his face, he wrapped his strong arms around your thighs. When you lowered yourself down, you asked, "Is this okay?" But Bradley pulled your pussy snug to his lips and ran his tongue along your slit, and after that, you had to work really hard to keep your volume down. 
You were shaking with overstimulation by the time you realized what he was doing. When you tried to pull away, he tightened his grip on your thighs. "But Daddy-"
It was too late. You squirted for him, getting his mustache and lips soaking wet. He lapped you up which made you shake harder. When he helped ease you down on top of him, you tasted yourself on his face. 
"I'm gonna miss you," he whispered as you ran your tongue across his mustache. "I love eating you out. I love making you cum. I love spending time with you."
You gasped and kissed him softly. "How am I supposed to go without you? How am I supposed to get off without you?"
"Use your hands," he replied. "That's what I'm gonna have to do. Just use your fingers. Or buy some toys with the credit card." He paused before adding, "That's actually a really great use of money. You should buy some toys."
"Stop trying to be my Sugar Daddy," you whispered, lounging on his chest and playing with his hair. 
"I don't want to."
Good. You kind of didn't want him to.
-------------------------
The weekend went by in a blur. Bradley helped you move more of your clothing to his house so you'd have it on hand when he was gone. He wrote out phone numbers for Penny, Maverick, Amelia and Nat. And then you called him old and poked fun at him for handwriting something you could have just added to your phone. And then he kissed you until you were moaning for him and insisting he actually wasn't old at all.
He spent the whole day on Sunday with you and Noah. The three of you went to the beach, and Bradley got to see you in a bikini. He insisted on taking some pictures of you. When you got bashful, he whispered that they were for his locked photo album, and he was going to use them in conjunction with his hand. 
"You're filthy, Daddy. You can't get enough."
You weren't wrong. 
As Bradley built a sandcastle with his son late in the afternoon, you and he went over the final list of things he needed for when he left in the morning. He saw you try to discreetly tuck an envelope into his duffle bag last night, and when he went to check, it was sealed. And you had written For My Daddy on the front of it. It took every ounce of his self control to put it back where he found it and pretend he didn't know it was there. 
After the beach, the three of you picked up dinner and watched a movie together, and then Bradley put Noah in bed for the last time for weeks and weeks. He stayed in there a little longer than usual, watching his son sleep and counting his blessings. He had sole custody. You had temporary guardianship. The orders of protection had come through for you and for Noah. Tracy had been correct that he would be denied, but it didn't much matter. He was about to be isolated on an aircraft carrier with only naval personnel in sight. He would be just fine.
And then Bradley fell asleep with your hands wrapped around him and your soft voice telling him you loved him. But the next morning, it was a different story. Noah didn't fully understand what was going on, he just knew Bradley would be gone for a while and that Princess would be staying with him. But you on the other hand had tears in your eyes as you made breakfast in one of your cute little dresses. And you kept your arms wrapped around Bradley as frequently as you could. 
"It's going to be okay," he assured you. "You have the orders of protection, and the credit card, and the checkbook. You can use the Bronco. You and Noah have everything you'll need."
You cried and looked up at him like he was very dense. "We won't have you!" The sound of the little sob at the back of your throat made him tighten his grip on you. He wanted to tell you that everything would be fine, and that you and Noah would have each other, but part of Bradley loved the way you needed him. 
He held your hand the whole way to drop Noah off at daycare and even while he gave his son a final goodbye kiss. He held your hand as he drove to the shipyard where the aircraft carrier looked enormous in the water. And he was still holding your hand when you crawled across the seat to straddle his lap. God, you were perfect, shedding tears quietly and telling him you loved him. 
"I love you, too. We can handle this," he promised, and you nodded as you traced the scars on his neck with your soft fingers. 
As he ran his thumb along your cheek and kissed you there, he felt your hands drift down the front of his khaki uniform shirt. "One more time? Please?" you asked so softly as you pressed your core against his rapidly hardening cock through his pants. 
Bradley glanced to his left and his right where the parking lot was starting to fill up. "Baby, I don't know if we should-" he started, but you already had his pants unzipped, and you were guiding his length toward your warmth. "Oh, hell."
You guided him up inside you, the illicit activity barely covered by the flimsy fabric of your dress. Anyone who could see would know what was going on inside the Bronco right now, but Bradley didn't care. He loved you. He was going to miss you. And you were sending him off with your sweet tears, lingering kisses and a slow fuck as the sun peaked over the tower of the carrier. 
"I'll miss you, Daddy," you whispered, your lips brushing his mustache as his hands found your bare hips beneath the fabric. He cupped your body, guided the soft roll of your hips, and his mind drifted briefly. He imagined filling you with his cum with the added intention of getting you pregnant. He imagined you asking him to do that. He imagined getting married. 
"Princess," he groaned, kissing along your chest as your pussy clenched for him. "I need you. All the time." He met your soft eyes as you came undone in his arms, your jerky little bounces drawing out his orgasm as well. There was only a minute left to clean up, and then you and he were walking hurriedly to the dock hand in hand. 
He kissed you long and hard, trying his best to leave no doubt in your mind that you were everything. He let you cling to him as long as he could, but then he had to leave you behind with his cum in your pussy and his kiss on your lips. "I love you, Princess!" he shouted from the top of the ramp. "I love you so much!"
Your smile was just for him, and he knew it.
----------------------------
Oh, her nerves are getting the best of her. He doesn't want anyone else. But she thinks she has something to prove to him. Hope you enjoy your fic, @beyondthesefourwalls And thank you @mak-32 !
PART 30
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aurorafables · 6 months ago
Text
From the Grey, Chapter 7.
“By the way, I'm Nicholas,” I tried to lighten his mood a little. “My friends usually just call me Nick.”
The boy finally stopped and slowly turned towards me. He brushed his hair away from his face with long, thin fingers, revealing dark eyes, pouty pink lips, and the sweetest nose I'd ever seen.
Hi everyone! Here is a new part of the story with sweet moments between the boys 🥰😊 and some angst from the past.
Have a nice week! 🙂
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Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Nicholas Ruffilo
Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Angst, Past character death, Suicidal thoughts
Tags: M/M, M/F, Slow burn, Childhood friends, Friends to lovers, Family drama, Band fic, Masturbation, Accidental Voyeurism
Word Count: 4.4k
Cross-posted: AO3
7.
The next morning we had a small breakfast and packed up before we left. I quickly got rid of the rental car at the nearest drop-off point and we drove most of the way in Noah's car. We listened to music, Noah singing Taylor Swift while drumming his tattooed fingers on the steering wheel, and I watched him sleepily out of the corner of my eye, my head resting on the headrest of the seat. It was especially good that I didn't have to drive much, because I didn't sleep well that night. Although I reassured myself that nothing had happened - and this was also confirmed by the fact that Noah showed the same - negative emotions still swirled in me. Guilt that Maya deserves better than me. I'm afraid one wrong word or touch and I'll lose Noah because there's no attraction worth even risking our friendship for. I started whipping myself over and over when I thought about it. I can't act so stupid, I'm a grown man who has been in a serious relationship for almost eight months now, not a stupid little teenager who has no idea about the world. 
“Everything is alright? You're very quiet today," Noah remarked, turning down the radio, keeping his eyes on the road.
“I slept badly,” I answered in a hoarse, sleepy voice, and at least I didn't lie to him with that.
“We will stop at the next gas station. I'll buy you a coffee,” he promised and smiled kindly at me, which I tried to return.
"I might not be the best company today," I said apologetically.
“You don't have to talk to be good company,” he looked at me sideways from under his sunglasses. "It calms me down when you're near me," he added much more quietly.
I pursed my lips, closed my eyes under my sunglasses, and wished he wouldn't be so nice to me all the time. It was as if his comment had fueled that strange feeling in me, which was pleasant, but I had to suppress it as soon as possible, because it would only cause my loss in the long run. 
After a few minutes we pulled into a gas station parking lot, but Noah didn't get out of the car immediately. He unbuckled his seat belt, took a deep breath, and turned to me.
“I would like to apologize for my behavior yesterday,” he began, which immediately made me pay attention to him, and suddenly the dream escaped my eyes. “My morning wasn't the best, and then…” he shook his head, causing his hair to fall into his eyes “and then Karin called me saying she wanted to meet.”
Oh. I didn't expect him to talk about it, even though I could have learned by now that if I gave him enough time, sooner or later he would pour his heart out.
“What did you say to her?” I asked breathlessly.
“I said it's over. Everything, that was between us.”
My mouth twisted into a proud smile.
“I think you made the right decision. You've already finished it once, there would be no point to continue and hurt each other.”
"Yeah…" he said thoughtfully.
I swallowed the thoughts of how badly the girl had affected him, and that he could find a thousand better women than her if he wanted to, because I really didn't really know what kind of mental state he was in, and I felt that it would not be constructive at that moment. 
“If you want to talk about this or anything else, I will be happy to listen to you at any time,”I said instead of my judgmental thoughts. Noah's grateful look made it worth it.
“Thank you. I don't know how to thank you for caring so much about me.”
“For a start a big cappuccino will do,” I joked with him to lighten both of our melancholic moods. Noah smiled but still didn't go. I could see he wanted to speak about something else.
“About what happened in the afternoon… I think it's also due to my fucked up mood.”
I blinked a few times and remembered our conversation two days before when we slept in the same room after stargazing and Noah apologized even then, though he didn't say exactly why. I felt that it would be no different now, but something told me that it would be better for both of us if I didn't mess this up. Besides, I felt equally responsible.
"Yesterday afternoon was particularly good," I said honestly, because no matter how messed up the ending was, we laughed and talked a lot before it, everything was almost the same as before.
Noah pushed his sunglasses on top of his head and scanned my face.
“So isn't that why you're in a bad mood?”
I'm in a bad mood because we almost kissed in the lake, completely attached to each other's bodies? Because I almost cheated on my girlfriend with my best friend? Or because I loved every minute when our bodies touched? Is the reason for this messed up mood that I get into the room, half lying on the floor, because my cock was throbbing so much after hearing his moans that I didn't even have the opportunity to sit on the bed? Or because of all the fucking sexy things my brain was creating and he was the main character in all of them? I have no idea what exactly the question was about.
“I'm tired, I could sleep here in the car, only my neck would hurt,” I answered. “Tomorrow, after a long sleep, everything will be much better.”
I really believed in this, because when I'm rested, it's much easier to cope with any test that life throws at me. Maybe I felt tired and bored, that was just a bad move and I could screw everything up - if I haven't done it yet - but tomorrow, fresh, I will definitely see things in a better light. 
"Okay," Noah agreed thoughtfully, then grabbed his wallet and hopped out of the car. “A cappuccino, as you said. Anything else?” he asked with a smile as he leaned in the door.
“A chocolate chip cookie, please.”  I returned his smile when he nodded. 
He put on his sunglasses and pulled the hood of his hoodie over his head. While he went into the store, I got out to stretch my legs and smoke a cigarette. 
I was already getting back in the car when I saw Noah exit the small shop at the gas station and start heading back, but it seemed I wasn't the only one who noticed. He was stopped by a middle-aged woman with long red hair and a younger girl. I could tell by their body language how excited they were when they started talking. His presence has probably made their day better, but maybe even their whole week. I watched him as he bent down a little so the height difference would not be too disturbing, as he smiled restrainedly, but kindly, and paid attention to them. I felt a pleasant feeling move in my chest because I was in such an advantageous position that I could receive this attention at any time. Noah nodded, then smiled as they took a few selfies, he held the phone with his long arm. He pulled his hoodie up over his forearms, the muscles on which were tense and his dark tattoos glistened in the sunlight. His hair fell forward as they checked to see if the pictures were okay, and I wondered if I had ever felt as much desire for another man as I did for him. The answer was clearly no. 
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In high school, we were told a thousand times that we were gay because of our long hair and eccentric style, but I never seriously thought about the possibility, because for me the girls were interesting enough, anyone could say anything. Our friends also looked at us strangely when they found out that I lived with my best friend, but they didn't ask about it too much. Did Noah feel the same way? I remember a long time ago, at a party, he kissed a guy, but it was just a silly, drunken challenge, not a real kiss, and it didn't last more than a few seconds. He always had girlfriends and it never occurred to me that he might even be bisexual. And then there was Noah's mom…who loved to attack our friendship and all the good things that happened to her son.
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It all started when two boys started teasing Noah at school, and one of my friends and I listened to it all. They made rude comments about his hair and figure, and when that didn't get enough of an impact and reaction, they started teasing him about having Asian blood in his veins. He was told that it was indeterminate whether he was a boy or a girl, just like in Japanese anime. I think this was the point where even though I hated conflict, I had to step in because I absolutely loved anime. And I didn't understand why you couldn't leave a boy alone who just wanted to write his homework. 
It only took a couple of well-selected sentences from Davis and a few condescending glances from me to make the young boys go away in defeat. They wisely decided that it was pointless to confront the three of us, especially since my friend and I were several years older. We had a fist-bump with Davis, who immediately left for class, and only then did I turn to the boy, who got up from the bench and started packing his things back into his bag. His hair fell into his face as he leaned forward, his movements looking nervous. I've never been the type to initiate acquaintances. I hated big company and could only really open up to a small circle of friends, but… I felt I had to open up to him. Little did I know then that I was making the best decision of my life. 
“By the way, I'm Nicholas,” I tried to lighten his mood a little. “My friends usually just call me Nick.”
The boy finally stopped and slowly turned towards me. He brushed his hair away from his face with long, thin fingers, revealing dark eyes, pouty pink lips, and the sweetest nose I'd ever seen.
"I could have dealt with them alone," he declared instead of introducing himself. I wasn't mad at him though, I knew he was still in passive aggressive defense mode.
“I know,” I answered and smiled cautiously. I didn't want him to feel like I was laughing at him. “But I am desperately collecting friends who like anime.”
With this, I managed to remove some of the storm clouds from his face.
“How many friends do you have like that, Nick?” he asked with interest, tilting his head slightly to the side.
“I hope you will be the first,” I answered honestly, for which I received a bright smile in response.
"Noah," he said, twisting his fingers, turning his gaze to the ground. "I mean, that's my name," he added, laughing nervously, looking up at me again. 
"Noah," I said his name, just to know how it felt. I loved it. 
In the weeks that followed, Noah easily fit into my group of friends. No one really noticed that he was three years younger than us. Even then he was almost as tall as me, and much more mature than his age would have suggested.
The summer holidays were approaching, the students were less and less focused on studying and wanted to stay more and more outdoors. I couldn't wait for the bell to ring from our last class on Friday and it would be the weekend. Not because I wanted to party - I've never been a party animal - but so that I can finally get a good night's sleep and draw as much as I like. I was decorating the edge of my notebook throughout math class, and when the bell finally rang, I was one of the first to get up, threw my things into my bag, said goodbye to the two boys I had been friends with for years, and stepped out into the hallway. Noah was leaning against the railing waiting for me, drinking a can of Coke and smiling when he saw me.
"Thanks for waiting," I told him as we walked out of the building. “This math class was dead boring.”
"I can't say that this was the most exciting day of my life either," he answered, smoothing his shoulder-length brown hair behind his ears. “But maybe it will get better from now on.”
“For sure. It is even more fun to sit in the church and listen to the teacher about nonsense.”
"Brr, don't even mention the church," he said with disgust on his face. I laughed to myself as he wrinkled his freckled nose, pursed his lips, and was visibly sick of even the thought. He said that his grandparents, with whom he lived, were very religious and forced him to participate in church work, even if it’s about repairs or fundraising.
We walked down to the front of the building when a bunch of young boys turned to us and giggled as we passed them. I saw in Noah that he was uncertain for a fleeting moment, but then he kept his head up and walked confidently.
“You shouldn't show off with me,” he remarked when we left the gate. “You must have noticed that I am not the most popular student.”
“Don't think I'm afraid of your classmates in diapers,” I snorted, touching my pockets. I couldn't wait to finally light a cigarette. I found the box with the lighter inside and took out a cigarette. I noticed Noah reach out his hand as well, causing my eyebrows to rise to the center of my forehead.
“What is that?” Noah asked.
“Aren't you too young for that?”
He just rolled his eyes, then grabbed my wrist where I was holding the box and took out a cigarette. He lit it with practiced movements and blew the first puff of smoke into my face, making me roll my eyes. 
“Just because you're older, you don't have to play the adult.”
“Just because I smoke is not an example to be followed,”I retorted, but I couldn't take this conversation seriously either, and by the end we both laughed at each other.
“Don't worry, I already smoked before I met you.”
“Huh,” I squeezed my hand dramatically towards my chest. “Now a huge stone fell from my heart. I was already beginning to think that I had led you into trouble during our short acquaintance.”
“My grandparents won't be coming home until Sunday,” Noah explained as we got to their house. I looked up at the two-story building, which was surrounded by a large, well-kept garden, and nodded approvingly. It was the first time I visited them, only three weeks had passed since we met in the schoolyard.
"I guessed you were a little prince," I said with feigned seriousness. The house was about twice the size of the one I lived in with my parents and four siblings. Noah snorted, but didn't answer anything, he just opened the door with his key, and then we entered the hall one after the other. Even next to the coat hanger, the face of Jesus greeted me on the wall. It seemed that Noah was not exaggerating when he spoke about his grandparents' religiosity. I kicked off my shoes and continued to look around while Noah struggled with his tangled shoelaces.
“Who is she?” I asked, pointing to a beautiful woman in one of the paintings. Her brown hair was at least down to her waist and she wore a blood red cloak over her long dress which she held in her hands at her chest.
"Mary Magdalene," Noah answered as he straightened up. “She…”
"Many people believe that she was Jesus' lover," said a woman's voice behind us, and we both turned on our heels in surprise. "Hello, I'm Noah's mother, Elizabeth," the owner of the voice extended her hand to me with a soft smile on her lips. Her light brown hair was tied back in a bun, her nails were painted bright pink, and she wore a short black dress that showed off her long thighs. She looked barely over thirty, I would never have guessed she was Noah's mother. I would have guessed it was his sister.
“Good afternoon. I'm Nicholas,” I shook her hand politely. Her skin was hot and slightly clammy, her grip strong. Then we both turned to Noah, who was standing with his arms crossed in front of his chest, not moving.
“Don't you welcome your mother?” asked the woman, raising the glass filled with whiskey she was holding to her mouth with a smile.
“Why are you here? “Noah asked, but his voice was barely above a whisper.
“I don't have the right to visit my son?” Since Noah didn't appreciate any reaction, she drained the rest of the drink from her glass and continued: “Your grandmother mentioned that you will be alone. I thought this would be the perfect time to get back together.”
When Noah told me about his bad relationship with his mother, I thought they didn't get along because of some sort of teenage rebellion. I never thought that Noah could act so cold with someone when I got to know him so friendly and kind in the last few weeks. 
I followed him up the stairs with furrowed brows as he started without saying a word to his mother. When we entered his room, he immediately locked the door and collapsed on the bed, broken. 
“I'm sorry, I didn't know she would be here.”
“It's okay,” I reassured him immediately and fell down next to him. "She doesn't seems that bad," I added, but I saw that pained smile on Noah's face that I haven't been able to get out of my head since, and I kept seeing it in my mind as his mother stabbed him in the back over and over again just to see him suffer. 
I stood up and walked over to the bookshelf to look through his manga. He said he would be happy to lend me any of them if I wanted to read them, and I chose two. Afterwards, I sat back next to him and we were talking about school, when my sketchbook, in which I used to draw, came up.
“Shall I show you?” I asked Noah. His face lit up as he nodded, so I reached for the ceiling and pulled my t-shirt over my head. Noah leaned very close to my shoulder, which was decorated with a fresh tattoo. My first tattoo, a beautifully crafted bird wing.
“I want to tattoo my entire arm,” I explained to him, while he touched my skin, as if he wanted to test whether it feels different over the tattoo. - I designed this too, and if I collect the money for it, we will continue. Maybe one day I'll be a tattoo artist, who knows…”
Noah nodded and struggled to break his gaze to look up at me.
“Your drawings are very good, there is no doubt that you have a talent for it,” he said honestly. “I want a tattoo too.” He bit his lip as he thought. Then he slowly pulled up his t-shirt and placed his index finger on one of the small scars on his chest.
“Do you think these could be covered? There was this car accident and… I broke a few ribs, and then in the hospital they put tubes in… here too,” he smoothed a hand over the side of his chest. “Although the doctors said that it will almost completely disappear by the time I grow up, I still want something on it.”
I didn't know that particular accident was so serious that he lost his father and everyone died except him. I had no idea, it had been many months have passed before he told me about that summer day.
 
“They can surely make it disappear,” I answered him, while my gaze involuntarily fell on his ribs, which almost pierced his skin. Noah might have noticed because he quickly readjusted his shirt and wrapped his arms around himself defensively. I hated myself for making him uncomfortable, it was the last thing I wanted. I also put on my t-shirt and smiled at him from under my eyelashes.
“Can I have some tea now?” I referred to his offer from half an hour before. Noah nodded enthusiastically, and while he ran down to the kitchen, I picked up one of the manga and started flipping through the pages. He left the door ajar, so I heard him approach cautiously after five minutes, probably to avoid spilling the contents of the mug on himself. I looked down at the bottom of the page I was reading, noted the page number, and closed the book. Then I heard Noah's mother's voice. His speech was slurred, I could tell even though he was half-whispering.
“Your grandmother must be proud of you for being gay. She must be happy to tell it in church.” The smile immediately melted from my face and I sat frozen on the bed. “Look at me when I talk to you!” Elizabeth didn't even try to suppress her voice.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Noah said quietly. His voice was laced with pleading and fear. My throat tightened. “Please…”
“More about who. Nicholas, if I remember his name correctly. Why would you bring a boy here and shut him up in your room?”
“Nick is my friend.”
“Who would want to be friends with you, baby?” asked the woman almost regretfully. “You are so naive, Noah. Everyone has an ulterior motive.”
My hands were clenched into fists, my blood pressure skyrocketed, and yet I didn't move. I was held back by my good upbringing, by the fact that my parents taught me to be obedient to adults. Later, I regretted a thousand times that I didn't stand by Noah and get him out of that family right away. That place was equal to hell on earth. I heard a door close and Noah finally entered the room. His hands were shaking, the tea between his fingers spilled onto the floor, but his face remained completely emotionless. I jumped off the bed and took the mug from him so he wouldn't drop it. This time, I locked the door and took out a pocket of tissue from my bag. He accepted without a word, wiped his hand, then threw it away and we sat next to each other on the bed.
"If you don't feel like staying, I won't be mad if you go home," he said without looking at me. He knew I heard every word of the conversation. His fingers dug into his thighs and his face went completely pale. I didn't really know what to do in such a situation. I felt uncomfortable, I was angry, but I wanted to help him feel good again. This was the most important thing, because over the weeks I slowly began to become completely addicted to his smile. I put the tea on the table and turned to him.
“Would you like me to go home?” I asked him because I had to know what he wanted.
Noah finally looked up at me. Unshed tears glistened in his eyes, his lips trembled. 
“No. I want you to stay.”
His voice was childish, not the confident teenager I knew from school. I quickly realized that it was just a disguise, but I was relieved to hear his answer, because I would not have liked to leave him alone with that woman.
“Then I'll stay,” I answered and slowly smiled. It took a few seconds for him to return the smile, and even though it didn't quite reach his eyes, I was satisfied with that. “Which anime would you like?” I stood up and started watching the DVDs packed under the TV.
“Choose something. Surprise me,” he replied with a slight challenge in his eyes.
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It was the first and last time we went to their place after school. Afterwards, we always ended up at our house, and Noah didn't seem bothered by my loud brother, my hysterical little sisters, or the fact that the hot water kept running out late at night and we were forced to take cold showers if we were immersed in the conversation. If the milk ran out in the morning, he made his porridge with water and didn't complain if we had toast for lunch. I noticed how strange it was when mom or I hugged him. Like he doesn't know what to do with it all and is confused. But it only took a few weeks for all of that to change and he almost started demanding touches. 
Noah walked to the car and turned back to make sure no one was following him before getting in. I followed his approaching steps with half-closed eyes, trying to figure out what had changed. Where was the tipping point when I started finding him attractive. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't figure it out and that only made me more frustrated. Noah got in and handed me the coffee and the paper bag, then pulled the hood off his head. 
“I hope it didn't get too cold,” he said with an apologetic smile.
I tiredly returned his smile and handed the biscuit back to him.
“Half of it is yours. And thank you.”
He didn't argue for a second that I wanted to share the dessert with him. He began to eat the cookie with gusto, while I drank my coffee thoughtfully.
“Noah…we'll be fine, right?” I suddenly asked out of nowhere. My voice sounded so scared that I was surprised by it. 
He looked at me confused, with a small crumb on his mouth that I was tempted to wipe off, but luckily he licked it off before I could move. He swallowed the bite and looked deep into my eyes. 
“Whatever happens, we will always be here for each other. You are the only sure point in my life. Believe me, I will do everything to be your sure point.”
I nodded and closed my eyes again. I think that was enough to make me feel better, if only a little.
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deathofpeaceofmiiind · 9 months ago
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illicit affairs | sixteen
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*Noah’s  POV* “So, where are you taking me?” I looked over at Ellie as we got into her car, she took my breath away like always. She was wearing a cropped brown t-shirt with black ripped jeans and she swapped her signature checkered Vans out with a pair of leopard print sandals. Her eyes were shielded by a pair of sunglasses as we left her parking lot and into the busyness of the city. She let me drive which I was excited about since I was still obsessed with her car, and it also meant I could keep my hand on her thigh the whole time.
“Since it’s so nice out, I thought it would be fun to rent electric scooters and go around Stanley Park.” I replied, stealing another glance at her. “You’re incredible, you know that?” I licked my lips to shield my stupid smile I can’t get rid of, “enlighten me.”
“You just manage to find perfect things for us to do.” She replied, placing her hand over mine. “I missed that.” “I missed it too.” I confessed as brushed my mouth over her hand and kissing it gently. “I’m just glad that I can experience new things with you again.”
She nods gently before leaning over the console and kissing my cheek. My face began to flush pink, making me lose focus on what was in front of me. We pulled up to Stanley Park and I lead Ellie over to where the rental booth was for our scooters. We opted out on getting helmets, despite the worker telling us we should. We just looked at each other and smirked, if she takes me out then so be it. 
The city was taking my breath away as we rode down the seawall, the scent of the ocean prickling my nose. The park wrapped around the shore, giving me a clear view of the mountains. We rode under the bridge and I had to stop to catch my breath. This place was beyond beautiful and gave me a sense of home I never felt before.
“Not bad huh?” Ellie comments as she pulls up beside me, I just nodded on account that I was completely bewildered. I took my phone out and snapped a few photos of the scenery, then turned flipped my camera so I could get a selfie with Ellie. “I think we’re due for a new one.” “Absolutely.” She agrees as she gets closer to me, wrapping her arms around my stomach. We both smiled at my phone, snapping a few so we could pick which one we liked the most. Ellie got on her tallest tip toes and kissed my cheek for a few more photos, then pulling me into a soft kiss, causing me to take even more.
“I’m putting these on my instagram.” “I thought you hated social media?” She chuckled as we got back onto our scooters.
“I made a private one a few months back just to share shit with the band and my close friends. I just didn’t like have so many people following my every move.” “Can I put them on mine? It’s private too, I have maybe 60 followers?” She asked, looking nervous about what I would say. How could I say no? She wanted to show me off as much as I wanted to show her off. I smiled, “of course you can.”
“Oh my god.” Ellie stopped dead in her tracks as we got closer to a playground. It was full of kids laughing and having a good time. She gripped her handle a little tighter as she locked her eyes on a small child with blonde hair. I wondered if it was her son. “What?” “Tyler’s over there with Liam.” She replies, my stomach turning at the sound of Tyler’s name. “I want to ignore them, but I physically can’t ignore my son. On the other hand, I don’t want hide you anymore.”
“Ellie, are you comfortable with me meeting them?” 
“Yes.” There was a tone of anxiousness in her voice. “I don’t know why I’m nervous, I want you to meet them. Let me just call him first.” She pulled her phone out, my heart beating faster the longer she spoke to Tyler. I had to admit I was impressed that they were so civil with each other now and could both be there for Liam. My eyes panned over to a tall blonde guy, his hair was covered by a backwards baseball cap, and he looked like the typical jock. Ellie did say she tried to fit herself into a cookie cutter lifestyle, and he looked like the kind of guy who would give it to her. She got off the phone and peered over to me, I couldn’t read her emotions for once. “Noah…how invested are you in me?” She asked, clutching her phone to her chest. “For the rest of my life.” “Oh wow.” She stammered, not expecting me to say that but it was the truth. “Tyler said he was more than okay with us going over there, but he just wants to make sure we’re serious. Introducing Liam to people random people is something we don’t take lightly.” “Ellie, I love you, you know that right?” I said, taking her shaking hands into mine. I looked right into her bright eyes, not daring to break our contact. “I have to admit I am a little nervous to meet this beautiful child you created, but it’s also something I don’t take lightly. I haven’t been around a lot of kids, so this is a risk I’m willing to take.” “Okay.” She nods, pressing her mouth to mine. “Lucky for you Liam is pretty friendly, so just let him come up to you. If he gets scared just give him a few minutes. Tyler is also cool with this, he’s happy we figured it out.” We walked over towards Tyler, I could feel her hand trembling the closer we got. He took his sunglasses off and shot me a stare with his bright blue eyes. There was some minor tension between us for a moment, I guess me knowing all the terrible things he did to her caused him to be a little reluctant. Much to my surprise, he took a step towards me and extended his hand, which I took immediately and shook. “Nice to meet you finally.” Tyler spoke, looking me up and down as his lip twitched. I felt like he was slightly judging me, considering I looked nothing like him. 
“Likewise.” I replied. “Thanks for letting me meet Liam.” “For sure, I just know how much this means to Ellie.” Before I could reply, Liam ran up to us and grabbed onto Ellie’s leg, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off me. I knelt down to his eye level, taking my sunglasses off so he could see me. My heart was thundering in my chest as I waited for him to make a move. I was as still as I could be, I didn’t want to make any sudden moves. “Liam, this is Noah. He’s my friend.” Liam reluctantly let go of her as I gently waved at him. I half expected him to run away or start crying, which unfortunately happens when kids see the amount of tattoos I have, but he didn’t. He walked right over to me and gave me a hug, catching all of us off guard. I wrapped a hand around his back as the smell of his sunscreen hit my nose. My eyes peered over to Ellie, who had her hand over her mouth as tears glistened in her eyes. 
“That did not take much.” Tyler commented.
“I know.” Ellie replied, sniffing tears back. “I swear this kid has a better judgment of character than we do.” While the two of them talked Liam let go of me and began to trace my tattoos, pointing out the different colours he saw. I couldn’t help but smile every time he got a colour right, it was the cutest thing I’ve ever witnessed. Liam insisted on me coming to the slides with him, which I did with no hesitation. He spent a half an hour going down and getting me to catch him. The fast he went, the louder he laughed.
“Tired?” I asked him when he came down the slide again, a huge yawn escaped his mouth. He nodded, extending his arms for me to pick him up. I scooped him up in my arms, his head fell onto my shoulder as his little eye lids began to flutter. I smirked, his trust in me was enough to make my heart swell. “You gotta tell me your secrets.” Tyler gasped as we made it back over to them. “I can never tucker him out that fast.” “I wish I had an answer.” I whispered as I quickly transferred Liam to Tyler, not daring to wake him up. Ellie came over and wrapping her hand around my arm, she looked so proud of me and it was such rewarding feeling. I was just so relieved that Liam reacted to me like he did, I couldn’t wait to spend more time with him. We said our goodbyes and once Tyler was out of view, Ellie grabbed me and kissed me gently. My hand cupped her cheek as I deepened the kiss even more. 
“Thank you for being perfect and taking the time to be with Liam.” Ellie said as we broke apart, she still had her precious smile on her face she’s had all afternoon. “Anything for you, you know that.” I replied, kissing her again. “I love you, and I know I’m going to love Liam just as much.” We headed back towards our scooters and finished our lap around the seawall. It was so beautiful out and sun was starting to burn my skin, making me realize summer was right around the corner. I was so happy to have the summer off of touring so I could enjoy it for once, especially with Ellie by my side. I wanted our future to hurry up but I was also savouring every single second I could with her. Things were finally falling into place.
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insatiablemuses · 2 years ago
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@thedominantdaddyz​
The whole plane ride, Selene had felt sick to her stomach. She hadn’t seen Noah in person since Spring Break and she had missed him like crazy of course. But last month, she found out some news that made her have to sit back and think about things, think about their future. She didn’t knw how she was going to tell him, terrified about what this all was going to mean for them now. Tugging nervously at the sleeves of her sweatshirt, she looks around for him in the airport lobby. He was supposed to be picking her up so she didn’t have to get a rental car since she was going to be staying with him the whole summer anyway. 
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dollarbin · 1 year ago
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Dollar Bin #7:
Art Garfunkel's Watermark,
Special Melted Edition!
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Good news, people. I traveled to Portland and hit one of their dollar bins last week, emerging victorious with 10 or so new-to-me titles for a grand total of $32, and all of them are candidates for future posts. Everyone's been clambering for my take on Art Garfunkel and Bob "whoops, I just shaved off my eyebrows" Geldof, right? Please?
We'll get to good old Artie Funk in a moment, I promise. I'm sure he has a huge international following who gather in silent support every time his entire limo gets arrested for way too much pot smoke, but all you Garfolks need to just take a chill pill for a minute because there's some bad news to follow my good news, the kind of bad news that will leave you crying in your beer. (Stop reading right now and go get some beer to cry in if it's not already in hand.)
Dear reader, I left those Portland Dollar Bin records in my rental car during my trip, figuring it was all good because, after all, I was in Portland. But when I visited my stack three days later, I found the following Gertrude-chugging-the-poisoned-wine level tragedy had occurred:
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Take the rag away from your face friends; now's not the time for your tears. The record above is a $1 copy of a soundtrack by Luna's Dean Wareham for a Noah Baumbach movie I'd never even heard of beforehand called Mistress America starring Barbie's very own Greta Gerwig. Nice title, Noah! What's the sequel called, Senorita Canada?
I like Sideshow by the Seashore as much as the next guy and I still remember the bizarre but edgy decision to lay Street Hassle over the climax of The Squid and the Whale so I figured $1 was a very safe investment for the soundtrack. But reading just now that the Financial Times finds that a "neo-screwball" sequence in the movie "exemplifies the film's themes of love, art, and betrayal" makes me want to melt Baumbach's entire face, so I'm no longer too broken up about the record's destruction.
Having just read that previous paragraph, my famous brother, who's surely interviewed Dean, is no longer crying in his locally sourced organic sour beer; rather he is silently cursing my woeful ignorance while hitting speed dial for Greta at the Barbie Dreamcastle so as to swiftly disassociate himself from The Dollar Bin forever. Sorry bro!
But let's move now to the real tragedy in this saga. Do you know how many vinyl copies of Fairport Convention's Live at the L.A. Troubadour are currently for sale on the internet? (We are not talking about House Full here, people, we are talking about the original release.)
Two copies. Two. Total.
That's right, while there are surely 6.4 million copies of Catch Bull at Four out there to be had, there are just two copies of Live at the L.A. Troubadour available in the whole wide universe. But last weekend I found a third one in Portland, one that no one has played or even looked at in its 50 years of Dollar Bin dwelling. That third copy was good as new and it cost $12. $12! That'll buy you half a Michelada at a Dodgers game; so finding that record and getting it at that price was as lucky as picking Mike Piazza in the 498th round.
And what did I do with this coveted find? You already know.
I melted it.
Bury the rag DEEP in your face, because I basically melted Mike Piazza. What kind of shlub am I? Next time you invite me over for drinks, don't pour me the good stuff because I'll just spill it all over your birth certificates, your Picassos and your tiny children's handwritten thank you letters, complete with heart drawings, for grandma. Rather, serve me a cheap domestic and give me a bib.
This is only my second experience with music melting. How many have you had? 25 years ago I left a CD copy of Mule Variations in my Ford Tempo and returned after a full day of work to find that the whole thing had turned into a flame broiled platter of creeping destruction. What the hell was I building, you ask? Melted Music, I respond. I was bummed back then. But that was nothing in comparison to last weekend's woe.
But I promised you good news, and more good news is coming! Firstly, my famous friend Greg's frig, located outside of Portland, was full of Miller High Life, The Champagne of Beers. So I had some.
Secondly, I soon discovered that the lower down I went in the record stack from the car the less melting had occurred.
And guess what was located far enough down to still be playable without any audible disruption? Live at the Troubadour! Sure, watching it go around on my turntable is like watching my cat try to shake off her fleas but I plan to never sell a single title in my Dollar Bin and I know that when my children inherit my dumpster of a collection they will cherish it forever and probably never even notice that my Troubadour record looks as sloppy as my t-shirt collection. So what the hell do I care?
Okay, at this point the Art Garpeople who joined this blog just to hear my thoughts on Watermark, Godfunkle's 1977 third outing as a solo artist who neither wrote songs nor played an instrument, are demanding my immediate destruction. I guess I'd better talk about the record.
So let's drop the needle already!
Uh-oh. Either Watermark is a big deal, unlistenable concept record (like Pink Floyd's The Wall) about bobbing about on the deep seas of regret, troubled water all about and nary a bridge to be seen, wherein Artie shakes his famous high tenor and the whole band way down to deepest bass every fourth syllable OR my copy of Watermark was higher in the stack of Portland heated mutilation and is now warped to the point where Gargie's version of a What a Wonderful World unintentionally sounds like What a Woooooooonderfil World.
(Yes, I mean what I said just now about The Wall. Bob Geldoff shaving his brows in the film is the best thing to say about the whole thing; Roger Waters, post Animals, makes Stephen Stills sound like a reputable songwriter.)
But relax, all you Artie G fanatics. I will ease your mi-i-ind. I'm not going to judge Watermark based on my very wavy copy. So cool your jets, adjust your giant perms and trust me. I promise to buy a second, unwarped $1 copy of Watermark and write all about it, asap.
Before we go, I must sorrowfully report one final tragic occurrence from this whole sordid episode. While hunting the Dollar Bin in Portland I had my eye out for Stephen Stills records. The fact is that at some point I need to place my entire, rapidly blossoming reputation as a Dollar Bin influencer on the line by actually listening to entire Stephen Stills records. If they are good, I'm finished. So, sadly, I've got to go out and buy some.
But the Portland store I visited, ridiculously, had marked its more than a dozen copies of Stills 2 at $2 each. Memo to the store: no one wants Stills records at $2 a pop. Ever.
The tragedy here is that I did not find any of our favorite villain's records cheap enough to buy, so I did not proceed to place them on the top of the stack in my rental car, thereby melting them out of existence. Thus the world is still saddled with copies of Stills 2.
Next time I melt music I promise to do so more thoughtfully.
(P.S. If you are still reading this, please know that my school year just started and so my pace of posting here will surely slow. My goal is to write once a week and I really do appreciate you letting me ramble. Hunting in The Dollar Bin requires your patience!)
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