#noah is a close second though

[kohakutouwoah]

Alejandro's villain design + minor recolors of Starpoint!

The amount of lore that has been made,,, I'd make a tumblr post but I don't even know how to explain half of the things. Crack and Angst is a very interesting combo.

Alejandro does get a redemption arc! And a lot of other things but im too lazy to type it out-

All I'll say is this:

The Burromuertos are a very well-known hero family.

[sirfrogsworth]

How do you take a photo of time?

I've been watching the track events at the Olympics since I was a wee lad. It was a tradition in our family. We'd gather around our ancient low-definition 19 inch CRT television and watch tiny blobs compete against other tiny blobs and root for our country.

It was a bit like watching YouTube on your phone in 144p.

Several heroes emerged.

Jackie Joyner-Kersee was amazing.

You can't forget about Flo-Jo.

And then the Olympics decided NBA players were allowed in the competition.

Which formed... The Dream Team.

Was this fair?

Well... they won each game by an average of 44 points.

So... no. It was not fair.

Though it became more fair as time went on.

But, umm... yeah. The other teams looked like the Washington Generals and the US looked like the Harlem Globetrotters if they stopped screwing around half of the game.

But my absolute favorite Olympian was a runner named Michael Johnson.

He was cool as heck.

For one thing... gold shoes.

But he also had this crazy, upright, Tom Cruise-ish sprinting style that just made him look like a running robot on the track.

And in the 1996 Atlanta games he just trounced EVERYONE. I mean, it wasn't even close.

Yikes. Those losing blobs are probably really embarrassed.

Last night I decided to invigorate my nostalgia and watch the track events again. And I got to see one of the wildest races in history.

It didn't even last 10 seconds but it was one of the most exciting sporting events I've ever witnessed. Almost every runner won the race.

After I saw that initially, I was like... who the heck won???

Even in slow motion I wasn't sure.

This was one of the closest finishes in history. There has never been a race where all 8 runners were within this margin.

The arena was silent as the winner was being confirmed. The runners just kind of paced around waiting for official word. My best guess was the Jamaican runner, Kishane Thompson. But then the loudspeaker announced Noah Lyles.

The last tiny morsel of American pride burst out of me with a big "Wooooo!"

I forgot what it was like to be proud of my country. I wish it happened more often. But this young man, despite being last place in the first 3rd of the race, turned on the afterburners and won in a photo finish.

And that's when my inner nerd took over.

Because when they showed the photo finish image, it looked super weird.

Why is the track white?

Why do all of the runners look all warpy like that QWOP game?

So I went down a research rabbit hole to figure this out.

Photo finishes are actually fascinating. The first photo finish captured the end of a horse race in 1890. But that was mostly luck and timing. The actual photo finish mechanisms weren't used until 1937.

Originally they would film the finish line through a physical slit.

And the first horsie head that appeared in that slit would be the winner. This technology ended a huge aspect of corruption in horse race fixing almost overnight.

But we have come a long way since then. And I'd like to introduce you to the Omega Scan 'O' Vision Ultimate.

This slow motion camera sits fixed on the finish line of every race. The concept of the photo finish has remained remarkably similar to the 1930s approach. The camera sensor is specially designed to only record a vertical slit.

Only the finish line itself is actually captured.

And because it limits what it records to only that slit, it can capture 40,000 frames per second to get amazing temporal resolution.

So why don't the photo finishes just look like, well... this?

That is because the camera takes a picture of time more-so than dimensional space. I guess it would be more accurate to say it *assembles* a picture of time.

As the runners cross the finish line, the camera combines all of the little strips of pictures into a single image.

It's almost like if you tried to reassemble a piece of paper after it had been shredded.

Imagine each strip of paper is a picture of ONLY the finish line, just at a slightly different point in time.

What if someone stopped on the finish line and didn't move... what would that look like?

Once they got there, the same part of their body would just be repeated.

So the right side of the photo finish picture represents earlier in time and it just assembles the image strip by strip as time passes and you literally get a picture of time itself.

NEAT!

Okay, but how do they determine the winner from the photo finish?

I mean, that shoe looks like it is ahead of Noah Lyles!

Clavicles!

The IAFF rules state the foremost part of the torso must cross the finish line first. And the endpoint of the torso is the outer end of the clavicle.

So if you get this bone across the finish line first, you win the race.

Two more fun facts!

The start of the race is actually just as carefully timed as the end of the race. There are sensors in the starting blocks of each runner.

The starting gun also has an electronic sensor.

They have determined the fastest a human can react to the sound of a gun is roughly 100 milliseconds. So if you start running before 100 milliseconds they know you didn't actually hear the gun, you just got antsy and started running too early.

And the final fun fact...

Did you notice the Omega logo at the top of the photo finish?

That isn't superimposed or added after the fact. That is captured by the camera.

But if this image is composed only of tiny little slivers, how did they get the Omega logo to show up?

That is a little display. And it is synchronized with the Scan 'O' Vision Ultimate to show a little sliver of the Omega logo for each frame captured.

So when the final image is stitched together, it looks like a cohesive logo at the top of the photo.

Pretty clever, Omega!

[acrossfromladystardust]

thank you noah kahan for introducing me to brandi carlile and sam fender

[mintyys-blog]

Bestie hear me out 🙏☺️. Imagine main mark and scarlet witch!reader has two twin boys right . Like maybe they're 3 or 4 toddler age 🤔 (basically wanda vision) . So invincible war comes and you know , the variants be out and about looking for her not knowing main mark and reader got a family together. Imagine how furious they would be to see not only does main mark got a reader that alive but also got kids . I think the main variants that would lose it would be omni mark , viltrumite mark and full mask mark . Would add sinister mark but I gotta keep him away from the kids 🫣🥹 . His the danger 😳 ☠️ .

scarlet witch! reader x viltrumite! mark, omni mark, and full mask mark

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST

The house was quiet, but Y/N could still hear the distant echoes of battle. The Invincible War raged outside, but in this moment, her only concern was keeping Noah and Eli safe.

She kneeled in front of them, smoothing down their hair. “We’re going to stay inside, okay? No matter what you hear, no matter what happens.”

They nodded, wide-eyed and trusting. Then—the front door creaked open. Y/N’s heart slammed against her ribs. Mark wouldn’t just walk in like that. Slowly, she turned. And there he was.

The moment she laid eyes on him, a cold shiver crawled up her spine. It was Mark. But not her Mark.

Blood clung to his suit, smeared across his jaw. His posture was stiff, the tension in his shoulders visible even from where she stood. And his eyes—god, his eyes—burned with something unreadable.

Y/N didn’t move. Neither did he. The room was so silent she could hear the distant screams outside, the clash of Viltrumite battles shaking the sky. But in here, all that mattered was who had just walked through that door.

His gaze drifted. It landed on Noah. Then Eli. The world seemed to stop. Y/N could see the exact moment it clicked. The exact second his mind caught up to what was in front of him. Shock. Disbelief. And then—rage.

OMNI MARK

He didn’t move for a long time. Just stood there, staring at the boys like they were some kind of illusion. His fists trembled at his sides.

“No.” His voice was barely a whisper. “No, that’s not—”

Y/N shifted slightly, blocking the twins from his line of sight. “Leave. Now.” But he wasn’t listening.

“You had kids?” His tone was eerily quiet. Controlled. Like he was using every ounce of restraint to keep himself from exploding. “You had kids. With him.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted, but she held her ground. “They’re not yours to be concerned about.”

The moment the words left her mouth, his restraint snapped. In an instant, he was right in front of her, inches away.

“I should kill him,” he seethed, his breath hot against her skin. “I should rip this entire life away from you.”

Her magic crackled to life, red mist curling around her fingers. “Try it.”

Omni Mark stared at her, fury and something dangerously close to grief flashing across his face. Then, just as fast as he’d come, he turned and disappeared into the sky.

But before he left, his voice cut through the air—quieter this time, almost broken. “You could’ve been mine.”

The words lingered in the silence as his figure disappeared into the horizon, and Y/N stood frozen. The reality of it hadn’t sunk in yet. It wasn’t just anger she’d seen in his eyes, but desperation. He wasn’t just furious at her and the kids; he was grieving the future he thought he deserved. And in that moment, she realized—he would never stop trying to take it all from her.

But for now, at least, he was gone. She turned back to Noah and Eli, kneeling in front of them and pulling them close. “It’s okay,” she whispered, though she didn’t believe it herself.

VILTRUMITE MARK

For a moment, his eyes flicked over the room with a chilling stillness. His suit was torn and bloodied, his breathing ragged. But it wasn’t just the visible wounds—there was something broken in him, something deeper than any physical injury. His gaze locked onto the twins, his expression unreadable. Then, it softened—just a fraction—before hardening again.

Y/N felt her stomach drop as he took a slow step forward, his eyes never leaving the boys.

“No…” His voice barely escaped his lips. “No, that can’t be…” He looked between the two, his entire body shuddering. His jaw clenched as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The disbelief quickly gave way to something much darker, much more dangerous.

“Is this what I could have had?” His voice was strained, hoarse, like he was trying to hold back something explosive. “A family. A future. With you.”

Y/N’s heart twisted, but she kept herself still. “You don’t get to decide what I could have had.”

Viltrumite Mark’s fists clenched, his knuckles whitening. His eyes burned with a mix of fury and pain, the kind that could only come from a lifetime of regret, a lifetime of loss. He took another step forward, his gaze lingering on the twins.

“They’re mine,” he muttered. “They should be mine. I should have been there, Y/N. I could have been what you needed. What we all needed.”

Y/N’s magic surged to life, flickering at her fingertips as she instinctively stepped in front of the twins. “You’re not welcome here. You never were.”

Viltrumite Mark’s head tilted. He wasn’t angry anymore. He was broken. “How could you choose him? He’s nothing compared to what I could give you. What I was going to give you.” His voice was quieter now, more desperate. “You were supposed to be mine.”

Y/N didn’t speak. There was nothing left to say. She didn’t owe him anything anymore.

Viltrumite Mark stepped back, his expression unraveling before her eyes. His shoulders slumped, and for a moment, he looked like a man who had been stripped of everything, left with nothing but the cold weight of his own mistakes.

“How could I let this happen?” His voice was barely above a whisper, filled with self-loathing. “You’re happy. You’re… whole. And I lost it all.”

Y/N’s magic pulsed, crackling in the air. It was so close to exploding. She wanted to destroy him, to erase the version of him that had left her with nothing but scars. But in that moment, she realized: He wasn’t the same threat he once was. He was a broken man. A man who had failed, and knew it.

With a shuddering exhale, Viltrumite Mark turned away. His figure seemed to blur for a second before he was gone, disappearing into the distance like a fading storm.

Y/N didn’t feel relief. She only felt emptiness. The devastation of what had been, and the painful reminder that sometimes, nothing could ever be repaired.

She turned back to Noah and Eli, her arms wrapping tightly around them. They were hers now. And no matter what, she would never let anyone take that away.

FULL MASKED MARK

The door creaked open once more, the eerie silence that followed almost suffocating. Y/N braced herself, fingers twitching, her magic rippling under her skin. Then, she saw him.

Full Mask Mark

He stood in the doorway, the black-and-blue fabric of his suit torn and battered from the chaos outside. His full mask, which had once concealed his emotions, now seemed to amplify the darkness in his eyes.

He stepped forward, the weight of his presence pressing down on her. For a moment, neither of them moved.

Y/N’s stomach churned. Her pulse raced.

Then, without warning, Full Mask Mark ripped off his mask, tossing it aside with a force that made it crash to the ground. His face was covered in bruises, cuts, and signs of the battle he’d endured, but his eyes—those eyes—locked onto the twins, and something in them softened.

He crouched down, his voice almost pleading as he extended his arms toward them. “Come on, it’s me—daddy.”

The twins paused, their wide eyes shifting back and forth between him and their mother.

For a moment, it seemed like they might go to him, that they might believe his words. But Y/N’s heart thudded painfully in her chest, and she snapped, her voice firm.

“No.” She stepped in front of the boys, shielding them from the man before her. “You’re not my Mark—you’re not their father.”

Full Mask Mark’s eyes flickered with something—disappointment, regret, maybe even sorrow—but he didn’t reach out. Instead, he slowly stood, his shoulders slumping under the weight of her words.

“You’re right,” he muttered quietly, his voice carrying a sadness she hadn’t expected. “I’m not… can’t blame a guy for trying, though.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender, the action so human, so vulnerable, it caught her off guard. “I don’t mean harm, Y/N. I just… I had to see. I had to know if it’s real. You.” His gaze softened, and for a moment, she saw the man beneath the mask—the man who had once been her Mark, in some twisted version of the universe. “You may not be the one from my universe, but… I still love you all the same.”

The words hung in the air, their weight pressing down on her, leaving her breathless.

Y/N’s heart twisted with conflicting emotions, but she couldn’t let herself be swayed. She knew the truth. He wasn’t the Mark she had loved. The man standing in front of her was broken, a reflection of a version she had lost, not the one she had chosen.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. “But you’re not him. You never were.”

Full Mask Mark stayed silent for a long time, just standing there, his hands lowering to his sides. His eyes, once full of hope, now reflected only pain—a pain he had never allowed anyone to see before.

And in that silence, Y/N realized something.

The man in front of her had loved her in his own twisted way, but he had never truly known her. And she would never go back to a past that was never meant for her.

Without another word, he turned, his shoulders hunched in defeat, and walked out of the house, leaving only the faint sound of his footsteps behind him.

The door clicked shut. And Y/N felt a strange calm settle over her, as if, for the first time, she had closed the door on her past for good.

She turned back to Noah and Eli, wrapping them in her arms, holding them close. They were her future. And no one—no version of Mark—could take that from her.

[rose24207]

Reader left Mafia lando and when lando tracks her down he finds not only her but a baby boy. She left pregnant because she was scared but lando promises to protect them both.

He‘s mine

Summary: Lando tracks you down after two years and discovers your son, vowing to protect you both and rebuild your trust.

Genre: Mafia!Dad!Lando, angst, fluff

TW: Mafia, Running away, mentions of pregnancy

A/N: let me know if you love it! Or not. English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

The rain pounds against the window of your small London flat as you tuck your son, Noah, into bed.

He’s just turned two, his curls damp from his evening bath, his soft little hands clutching the edges of his blanket.

His eyes flutter closed as you hum a lullaby, the same one your mother used to sing to you when you were small.

For a moment, everything is calm. The world outside might be full of danger and shadows, but here, in this room, it’s just you and Noah.

“Mama?” he mumbles sleepily, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes, baby?”

“Love you,” he murmurs, a small yawn escaping his lips.

Your heart clenches. “I love you too, Noah. So much.”

You press a kiss to his forehead and tiptoe out of the room, leaving the door open just a crack. In the dim hallway, you take a deep breath, resting your hand against the wall to steady yourself.

Every day is a balancing act, a constant effort to keep the life you’ve built for him intact.

But tonight feels different.

A strange energy hangs in the air, setting your nerves on edge. Shaking it off, you head to the small living room, pulling a blanket around yourself as you sit on the worn sofa.

The rain continues its steady rhythm outside, lulling you into a fragile sense of peace.

Until you hear the knock.

It’s soft at first, almost hesitant. For a second, you think it’s your imagination, but then it comes again—firmer this time.

Your heart races as you stand, your hand instinctively reaching for the small kitchen drawer where you keep a canister of pepper spray.

You approach the door cautiously, the tiny peephole distorting the figure standing on your doorstep.

But even through the rain and distorted glass, you’d know that silhouette anywhere.

Lando.

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare, frozen in place. He’s here. After all this time, he’s here.

You want to run, to hide, to pretend you’re not home, but you know it’s useless. Lando doesn’t show up somewhere unless he’s already certain you’re there.

With trembling hands, you unlock the door but keep the chain latched. The door opens just a crack, revealing his face—sharper now, more weathered, but unmistakably his. His curls are damp from the rain, his dark coat dripping water onto your doorstep.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice low and steady.

“Lando,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

He studies you through the narrow gap, his jaw tight. “Can we talk?”

You glance over your shoulder toward Noah’s room, anxiety bubbling in your chest. “This isn’t a good time.”

His expression hardens. “I’ve been looking for you for two years. I’m not leaving until we talk.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, the weight of them settling heavily in the small space between you.

For a moment, you consider slamming the door in his face. But you know Lando better than that.

He won’t leave.

Reluctantly, you close the door just long enough to undo the chain before opening it again.

The tension inside the flat is suffocating as you lead him to the living room. He stands there awkwardly, his eyes scanning the small space. You wonder if he’s judging it, comparing it to the luxurious penthouse you used to share in Monaco.

“Nice place,” he says finally, his tone unreadable.

You fold your arms over your chest, trying to mask your nerves. “What do you want, Lando?”

He looks at you, his piercing blue eyes searching yours. “Why did you leave?”

You’ve imagined this conversation countless times, but now that it’s here, you don’t know where to start. “I... I couldn’t stay,” you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “Your world—it’s dangerous, Lando. I couldn’t raise a child in that.”

His expression falters, his brows knitting together. “A child?”

Before you can respond, a small voice cuts through the tension.

“Mama?”

Both of you turn to see Noah standing in the hallway, rubbing his eyes sleepily. He’s clutching a worn stuffed bunny in one hand, his curls messy from the pillow.

Lando freezes, his eyes widening as he looks at the boy. It’s as if the world has stopped spinning, the only sound the faint ticking of the clock on the wall.

“Mama, who’s that?” Noah asks, his voice curious but shy.

You swallow hard, your hands trembling as you walk over and scoop him into your arms. “This is... This is Lando,” you say carefully.

Noah blinks at him, tilting his head. “Lando?”

Lando takes a hesitant step forward, his eyes locked on Noah. “Hey, buddy,” he says softly, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.

Noah stares at him for a moment, then buries his face in your shoulder, shy as always around strangers. You rub his back soothingly, but your own heart is pounding.

“He’s mine,” Lando says quietly, though it’s not a question.

You nod, tears welling in your eyes. “His name is Noah.”

For a moment, Lando doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. He just stands there, staring at the child in your arms as if trying to process the enormity of it all.

“Noah,” he repeats, his voice breaking slightly.

Noah peeks out from your shoulder, his wide eyes studying Lando curiously. “Are you my friend?” he asks innocently.

Lando’s lips twitch into a small smile. “Yeah, little man. I’m your friend.”

The hours that follow are a blur of emotion and uncertainty. Noah eventually warms up to Lando, his natural curiosity overpowering his initial shyness.

Before long, he’s showing Lando his favorite toys, dragging him to the small play corner in the living room.

“This is Bunny,” Noah announces, holding up the stuffed rabbit proudly. “He’s my best friend.”

“Bunny, huh?” Lando says, crouching down to Noah’s level. “He looks like a good friend.”

“He is,” Noah says seriously. “But he gets scared of monsters.”

Lando’s eyes flicker to you for a moment before he turns back to Noah. “Don’t worry, bud. I’ll keep the monsters away.”

You watch from the kitchen, your heart aching at the sight of them together. Lando has always been good with kids, but seeing him with your son—with his son—is almost too much to bear.

Later that evening, after Noah is tucked back into bed, you and Lando sit together in the living room. The tension has eased slightly, but the unspoken questions between you are still heavy.

“You should have told me,” Lando says quietly, his voice filled with a mixture of hurt and anger.

You lower your gaze, unable to meet his eyes. “I wanted to,” you admit. “But I was scared, Lando. I was scared of what your world would do to him, of what it would do to us.”

“You didn’t trust me to protect you,” he says, his voice raw.

“It’s not that simple,” you say, your voice trembling. “You can’t just protect us from everything. Your world is dangerous, Lando. People get hurt. People die. I couldn’t take that risk—not for him.”

He leans back, running a hand through his curls in frustration. “I would’ve left it all behind,” he says after a moment. “For you. For him. If you’d just told me.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “Lando...”

“I’m not asking you to come back,” he says, cutting you off. “Not yet. But I can’t be away from him. From you. Let me stay. Let me be a part of his life.”

You hesitate, your mind racing. You’ve spent the past two years building a life for Noah, keeping him safe from the dangers of Lando’s world. Letting him in feels like opening a door to all the things you’ve tried so hard to keep out.

But then you think of Noah’s smile when he showed Lando his toys, the way he laughed when Lando made silly voices for Bunny.

“Okay,” you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “But we take it slow. For Noah’s sake.”

Lando nods, relief washing over his face. “Thank you,” he says softly.

The days that follow are a whirlwind of adjustments. Lando stays in a small hotel nearby but spends nearly every waking moment at your flat, bonding with Noah.

At first, Noah is cautious, his shy nature making him hesitant to open up. But Lando’s patience and charm win him over quickly.

Before long, Noah is dragging Lando outside to play in the small garden, laughing as Lando pretends to be a monster chasing him around.

“Mama, look!” Noah shouts one afternoon, holding up a flower he picked. “For you!”

You smile, kneeling down to take it. “Thank you, sweetheart. It’s beautiful.”

“Lando helped me find it,” Noah says proudly, pointing to where Lando is crouched nearby, dirt smudged on his hands.

Lando grins, his eyes meeting yours. “He’s got a good eye,” he says.

So do you, you think, though you don’t say it aloud.

One evening, as the three of you sit together on the sofa watching a cartoon, Noah crawls into Lando’s lap, his little hand clutching Lando’s shirt.

Your heart tightens at the sight, a mix of joy and fear swirling in your chest.

Lando meets your gaze over Noah’s head, his expression soft but serious. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says quietly, as if reading your mind.

For the first time in a long time, you start to believe him.

Thank you for reading!

[lunavrse]

WHAT YOU HEARD

LANDO NORRIS

summary ★ : streets are saying yn finally broke up with her loser boyfriend and guess who couldn't be happier? if you guessed lando, you'd be wrong, it's actually her (but lando's a really close second).

category ★ : smau.

notes ★ : disregard all times and dates, they don't matter. all spelling mistakes are intentional. with that out of the way, finally someone other than charles even though i still have like 2 drafts for him that i need to finish. ntm on the banner and article 😶‍🌫️. when you get to the hello kitty reactions pls just scroll💀 it was funny when i made it but now it's just... and i cba to remove it. sorry this is so short 🙏.

part 2

yn_ln added to their story.

user00: oooh, girl's night????

user01: love seeing my fav wags out and about

user02: what happened to your foot? hope you're okay🫶

yourfriend: lils on her phone probably texting alex🙄 they make me sick w how cute they are

user03: y'all look so good🥴

user04: I just know that club's hot as satan's arsehole, how do you look so good? what's your secret🎤

alex_albon: please bring my girlfriend back in one piece🙏

yn_ln: nah, she's my girlfriend now😪

user05: no ezra? break up abeg

maxfewtrell replied to your Close Friends story : did you forget she's on your cf

landonorris: do you think i'm stupid? obviously i removed her before posting this

maxfewtrell: so you do have a working brain cell🤗 congrats🎉

monaspencer replied to your story : wasteman is hilarious but deserved.

alex_albon replied to your Close Friends story : may your efforts fail 🤞🙏

landonorris: WOW🤣🤣

alex_albon: nothing personal mate🤷‍♂️

landonorris: WDYM nothing personal, you're literally cursing me😒

randomfriend replied to your story : VINDICATION!!! i knew you couldn't read🥳

alex_albon replied to your Close Friends story : why did he have to be such a simp, now i owe lily and mona money

yn_ln: you're a millionaire, you can afford it, so suck it up king👑🫶🏽

monaspencer replied to your Close Friends story : you just made me 200€ richer😘

yn_ln: i actually don't want to know...

lilymhe replied to your Close Friends story : now alex owes mo and i money, thank you🙏🏻

yn_ln: glad to be of service?

landonorris replied to your Close Friends story : i wonder who that handsome guy is

yn_ln: some stray i found wandering around and out of the goodness of my heart, i decided to bring into my home

landonorris: you're not funny

yn_ln: then why were you laughing at all my jokes earlier?

landonorris: i was laughing at how bad they were😕

yn_ln: sure...

charles_leclerc replied to your story : tangled on a date? how romantic

yourfriend replied to your Close Friends story : this doesn't look very "im done w yt men" 🤔

yn_ln: you're in my business, don't do that😁

yourfriend: but it's so interesting 🥴

⤷ end note ‧ ★ : made a cute lil divider so hopefully it distracts you from everything else😋. honestly this took so long bc i was mostly working with vibes, no writing, no thoughts, just vibes. i don't know how some of y'all are so fast, like you guys amaze me, my goal is to just get more than 1 smau per month out. also i will no longer be writing for charles leclerc bc someone said he looked like noah schnapp and i can't unsee it 💀💀 gonna have to change the drafts🥲

[sturnsblogs]

CONTROL OVER LOVE

Loser!Matt X Popular!Reader

—

You had been around Matt every day that week—showing up early, letting yourself in with the spare key Chris gave you a long time ago, tiptoeing through the quiet house to Matt’s room. You always woke him up the same way—soft, patient, gentle.

You’d sit on the edge of his bed and lean close, brushing your fingers through his messy curls. “Matt… c’mon, wake up,” you’d whisper, your voice like a breeze against his skin. You’d rub slow circles on his back until he stirred, groaning and flipping to the other side, burying his face into the pillow like a stubborn child.

You didn’t push. You just sighed with a small smile and headed to the kitchen.

Cutting up some fruit, cracking eggs into the pan, the soft sound of the stove heating filled the quiet. It had become a little routine. You didn’t even know why you kept showing up—not really. Maybe guilt. Maybe love. Maybe something in between.

Nick padded out in sweats, rubbing his eyes. “He doing better?” he mumbled, voice still raspy with sleep.

You glanced up from the stove, unsure how to answer. “I think—”

“—This is your fault, by the way.”

Chris’s voice cut through the kitchen, flat but sharp. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. His hair was a mess, but his eyes were sharp and burning.

You blinked, a little stunned. “Chris…”

“No, I’m serious,” he said, walking forward now. “He hasn’t been like this since middle school. And that was bad—like, therapy bad. But he was getting better. And then you…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “You let Noah treat you like shit while Matt watched it happen. You chose him. And now look.”

You didn’t know what to say. Your throat tightened.

Nick gave Chris a look. “Dude. Chill.”

Chris ignored him. “You broke him. And now you’re here every day acting like fruit and eggs are gonna fix what you did.”

Tears welled in your eyes before you could stop them. “I didn’t mean to hurt him,” you whispered.

Chris scoffed under his breath. “Yeah? Well, you did. And if you’re gonna keep coming around, maybe think about what kind of message that sends. ‘Cause this—” he pointed toward Matt’s room—“this is not sustainable. You don’t get to keep him warm while sleeping in someone else’s bed.”

You stood frozen, tears slipping down your cheeks as the eggs crackled behind you.

Nick reached out, putting a hand on Chris’s shoulder. “Enough, bro. Seriously.”

Chris stared at you for another second, then turned and walked away.

You didn’t move. You just turned back to the stove and kept cooking, even though your hands were trembling. Because even if Chris was right… Matt still needed you.

You carried the plate into his room quietly, the smell of warm eggs and fruit drifting through the air. Matt was already sitting up in bed, blankets pooled around his waist, hoodie rumpled and hair pushed back like he’d been up for a bit. You paused for a second in the doorway when you noticed.

He was awake.

And he looked… off. Like he had something to say, but wasn’t sure how to start. His eyes were red—not puffy, not like he’d cried, but tired. Emotionally tired. The kind of tired you couldn’t fix with sleep.

You gave him a soft smile, though it barely reached your eyes, and crossed the room. “I, um… made eggs. And some fruit.” You set the plate on his nightstand and sat at the edge of the bed, a little farther away than usual.

He didn’t reach for the food.

Instead, he reached for you.

“Hey,” he said softly, fingers brushing against your wrist. “I heard what Chris said.”

You froze. Your heart sank. “Matt—”

“He’s just upset,” he cut in gently, like he already knew what you were about to say. “Don’t let it get to you.”

You swallowed hard, eyes focused on the pattern of his blanket. “But he’s not wrong.”

Matt leaned in a little closer, his voice low. “Maybe. Maybe not. But none of that matters right now.” He let out a small breath, his hand finding yours and giving it a squeeze. “You’re here. And that’s enough for me.”

Your lip trembled. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“I know,” he whispered. “I know you didn’t.”

You finally looked up at him, and the way his eyes searched yours—it broke you. He looked at you like you were still everything he wanted, even when it hurt. Even when Chris was yelling in the kitchen and your heart was a tangled mess.

He nudged the plate toward himself and picked up a fork, quietly starting to eat—more for your sake than his.

And for a while, neither of you said anything. The only sound was the soft clink of metal on ceramic and the occasional breath between sentences neither of you had the strength to say just yet.

You were still in Matt’s room, holding your phone in your hand, screen lit up with message after message from Noah.

NOAH: “I was gonna pick you up but guess what the fuck I found out?”

NOAH: “You’re with Matt? Are you fucking serious right now?”

NOAH: “Tell him to enjoy it while it lasts.”

NOAH: “Get outside. Now.”

Matt looked over at you, sitting at the edge of his bed, his expression clouded with concern. “You don’t have to go, you know…” he said quietly.

You gave him a small, forced smile and shook your head. “It’s fine. I’ll text him later. It’s just Noah being—Noah.”

Matt sat up more. “He doesn’t get to talk to you like that.”

“I’ll handle it, Matt.” Your voice cracked at the end, and you hated that he noticed.

You left the house a few minutes later, walking down the porch steps slowly, trying to steady your breath. Noah was already waiting in his car, engine running. You climbed in, pulling the door shut gently behind you. He didn’t say a word for the first minute. Just drove—fast.

“Really?” he finally muttered, jaw tense. “Matt’s house? Again?”

“I was just helping—he’s been going through stuff, Noah—”

He hit the brakes harder than needed at a red light. “You think I don’t see what’s going on? You think I’m stupid?”

“No, I—Noah, please just listen to me,” you said, reaching over, your voice trembling slightly.

“No. You’re gonna listen to me now.” He looked over, eyes dark. “If you ever pull that shit again—going behind my back to be with him—I swear to God, I’ll tell your dad about the time I had to sneak you back in drunk after Ava’s party. You remember that night, right?”

Your throat tightened.

“You think he’d be okay knowing his perfect little girl was throwing up in my car and couldn’t even walk straight?” he sneered. “You think he’d let you out of the house again after that?”

Tears burned behind your eyes. “Noah…please don’t. That wasn’t—don’t do that.”

He leaned closer, his voice low and cruel. “Then don’t make me.”

You nodded quickly, swallowing back the tears, voice breaking as you whispered, “Okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Noah. I didn’t mean to upset you. I promise I won’t go back.”

“Good girl,” he muttered coldly, sitting back in his seat as the light turned green. “Just remember who actually gives a fuck about you.”

And you just nodded again, looking down at your hands, heart pounding, too scared to say anything else.

You got home after school, your body heavy with everything that had happened. You didn’t even bother taking your shoes off—just dropped your bag by the door and made your way upstairs. You felt like you could still hear Noah’s voice in your head, laced with anger and manipulation, and you hated how small it made you feel.

Your phone lit up just as you flopped down on your bed. Matt. You stared at his name for a second before answering, lifting the phone to your ear with a soft, “Hey…”

“Hey,” he breathed, his voice a little hesitant at first. “I just wanted to check in. You okay?”

You hesitated. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“You sure?” There was a pause, then, “You didn’t seem fine when you left.”

You swallowed hard, turning onto your side. “It’s nothing, Matt.”

“I don’t believe that.”

You didn’t answer.

“I’m serious,” he said, more firm this time. “What happened? What did he say to you?”

“Matt—”

“No. You’re not gonna shut down on me. Tell me what he said.”

You stayed quiet for a few seconds, heart pounding. And then, like a dam breaking, your voice cracked. “He said… if I kept going to see you, he’d tell my dad about Ava’s party. About when I came home drunk.”

You could hear the silence on the other end of the line, the way Matt’s breathing suddenly slowed and thickened like he was holding in a hundred words.

“He used it against me, Matt,” you said, voice small. “He threatened me with it. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do.”

Matt finally spoke, his tone tight and sharp. “That’s not normal. That’s not okay. You know that, right?”

You blinked up at the ceiling, eyes stinging. “I just… I didn’t want to fight. I wanted it to stop.”

“No,” Matt said firmly. “You can’t let him treat you like that. That’s not love. That’s control. You shouldn’t ever feel scared of someone who’s supposed to care about you.”

“I know,” you whispered.

“No, I don’t think you do,” he said, softer now, but still steady. “You’re so used to people walking all over you that you think it’s just part of being in a relationship. It’s not.”

You stayed quiet again, his words echoing in your head.

“I would never do that to you,” he added. “Ever.”

“I know,” you whispered again, tears now slipping down your cheeks. “I know, Matt.”

There was a long pause, and then he said, “You don’t have to go through this alone, you know? Even if you don’t want to be with me, I’m still gonna be here. Because I care. So much more than you realize.”

And this time, you didn’t say anything—you just cried.

—

A/N- FINALLY SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING THEM.

My beautiful babies- @blushsturns @starrii-sturns @izzylovesmatt @chrisslut04 @oopsiedaisydeer @csturnioloswifey @just-a-girl-1 @sturdyyolo @sturnslvtt @sturnbows @sturniolosrtewsexy @chriss-slutt @franticroads @thecrawlys @ribbonlovergirl @freshlyinlovewchris @whore4chris @matts-girlfriend @ariana3lovesu @sturnl0ve @cass-sturn @sturns-mermaid @sunrisemill @fadedstvrn @ikyoudreamofme @mattsdemi @kitkatbar1275 @skelet0nsinmyycloset @lezleeferguson-120 @bells-sturn @sturniolosymphony @kenziesturniolo54 @kikirasweatsweathoho @emely9274 @cherryystemm @realuvrrr @zenithsturniolo @kier-with-a-k @eeyoresturnz @elizasturn @ribread03 @sturnslux3 @costalgirlyr @pizzapocketpocketpizza @arianna1342 @mattsplaything @ed1tssturnn @ivysturnss @ilovemenwithlonghairr @whore4-chrissturniolo

[6fangz]

SOMETHING ON YOUR MIND

⋆ ♰.˚🦇⌗ ˎˊ˗

synopsis: sergeant williams has been on your case since the second you moved to town; the loathing is palpable, and yet something seems to draw you back together

warnings: there is a reference to being sl*pped in this (not ellie, very vague no detail) but pls read at your own risk (!), age gap (reader is 23, ellie is 28) starts kinda angry ig, some fluff, ends w smut, fingering (reader receives), this was my excuse to write southern ellie w a drawl

southern!officer!ellie x rebellious!fem!reader

MDNI 18 +

a/n: alright…hear me out on this one i swear i had a vision. it’s long and i still dk if this came together the way i wanted it to but whatever here it is anyways enjoy and i hope today was #fab ok bye

the sun peeks through your curtains, shining directly in your face as you stir awake. you run a hand over your eyes in annoyance.

the alarm clock on your nightstand lets you know it’s barely nine in the morning, which is still way too early to be conscious in your book. you bury your head back under your pillow.

but then you hear it; a bang on the front door of your beat up single wide. you don’t get up at first, because you don’t know who it could be and therefore you don’t care.

yet whoever it is remains persistent, knocking and knocking until you just can’t take it anymore.

you drag yourself out of your bed begrudgingly and shrug on a sweatshirt, tucking your feet into your beloved dino slippers out of habit.

your shoulders are heavy as you walk down the hall, so you roll them in an attempt to ease the tension. it doesn’t really work, and the pounding is bringing on a headache at this point.

“i’m fucking coming!”

you swing the door open a moment later, finding yourself face to face with none other than sergeant williams herself.

her cowboy hat is tilted low on her head, choppy hair framing her shaded face, but you can still see that she’s angry. the little line between her brows is a dead giveaway.

you smirk instinctively, hand perched on your hip as you squint at her. “ah, sarge. i’d say good morning, but it’s not.”

“nice shoes,” she grumbles in response, eyes sweeping over the rest of your disheveled state, “didn’t realize you’d be sleeping in.”

her comment actually does make you a little self conscious, enough to tug your sorry excuse for shorts down to cover yourself a bit more.

“well i was trying to, but you just woke me up, so how about we get on with whatever this is?”

ellie glares a little harder, thumb hooked in the waistband of her pants. “fine, you happen to slash noah bennett’s tires last night? cuz he’s real certain you did.”

the answer to that question is yes, but she doesn’t have anything on you. if she did, then you’d already be in her handcuffs on the way to the station.

you’re too careful for her regardless, and that makes you smile. “nope, wasn’t me. that’s hysterical, though.”

“i’m sure y’think it’s funny. got an alibi, kid?” she pushes, country drawl on full display.

you don’t shy away. “i was working the closing shift at the bar. ask literally anyone.”

also true; you were bartending last night, just like you normally are, but you had taken an extra long smoke break to visit noah’s most prized possession.

he respects that dumbass truck more than the women in his life, let alone women in general, and he deserved every bit of it after being a dickhead for so long.

you’ve never had a problem personally delivering karma, and nobody gets away with harassing a girl on shift.

at least not while you’re around.

the suspicion is written all over ellie’s face, but she’s grasping at straws and you both know it.

“i already have. but i needed to hear it straight from the accused herself.”

“aw, if you missed me you could’ve just said so.” you tease, placing a hand to your chest like you’re charmed.

she shakes her head in disbelief. “trust me when i say i cherish every moment you’re not makin’ my life more complicated.”

the thing is that you don’t trust her words, especially not when you swear she glances down at your lips as she says them. but it also makes your throat seize in a way you hate.

“great, we’re on the same page. now am i free to go or what?”

ellie has to gnaw on the inside of her cheek to keep herself from saying no. there’s not a logical reason to hold you up any longer, especially without any real evidence.

it was just important to follow up on every lead. right?

“yeah…suppose so. but i have a funny feelin’ i’ll be seeing you again soon.” she straightens and takes a few steps down your front porch.

“can’t wait.” you shoot back, not bothering to stick around for a response before you slam the door shut.

it satisfies you for a moment to let out some of your frustration, but the urge to scream follows you back to bed anyways.

ellie has been on your case since the moment you two met, and never once has she given you a chance.

she made up her mind about you then, that you’re just some burnout loser causing trouble in her jurisdiction. and you can’t say that description is too far off base.

but she doesn’t really know your life, and she never will. you’re not even sure that she experiences enough empathy to try.

so why does her opinion bother you so much?

you squeeze your eyes shut harder, trying to force your brain to be quiet. one of these days she’s going to drive you completely insane.

ellie remembers when you first moved to the area, over five years ago now. you were only eighteen, but already so set in your ways.

she was a few months out of academy, twenty three and very green in terms of her career. in fact, you were the first person she ever pulled over on a solo shift.

it immediately fazed her that she didn’t recognize you, considering everyone had practically known each other since birth. you were so nonchalant, so not threatened, and it made her crazy.

you just snapped your gum as she ran your plates, huffing like a brat when she ended up giving you a speeding ticket.

“seriously? i’m new to town, i didn’t even see the damn signs.”

“all five of ‘em, huh?” she spit back, though she regretted it instantly.

you looked at her with the fire of a thousand suns, and everything changed. the rivalry, the chase, began in that moment.

you slipped your sunglasses back over your face, smiling to yourself like something was funny. “make them a little bigger and maybe i’ll listen.”

ellie had hardly retreated before you sped off, turning the bend and disappearing completely before she had even gotten back to her car.

you’ve always been two steps ahead since. too smart for your own good, in her opinion.

she’d grown in the ranks remarkably fast, becoming the youngest sergeant in town history, and you still don’t take her seriously.

honestly, she doesn’t take herself seriously around you either. not any more at least. you’re a different woman now, somehow even more real and hardened by life.

maybe that’s what truly vexes ellie; she understands you, but you make it so difficult to not retaliate. every second the two of you interact it feels like her whole body is on fire.

she can barely keep herself together and it’s mortifying.

in fact, she’d initially wanted to go home tonight and enjoy a couple glasses of whiskey, forget all about you for a little while.

then she happened to drive by the abandoned strip mall and that plan went to hell.

your car sits alone in the lot, tucked away so it’s barely illuminated in the dying sun. but she’d recognize that model and color combination anywhere, and she can see you walking back to it as she swerves across the street without a second thought.

you’re in the middle of opening your driver's side door when ellie pulls up and flashes her lights briefly.

you roll your eyes on instinct. the last thing you were hoping for tonight was another lecture, but you turn to face her direction anyways.

she steps out of her vehicle and strolls over, readjusting the brim of her worn stetson. you swear she never takes that damn thing off.

“figured it’d be you.” she states plainly.

you tilt your head. “figured what would be me?”

she shoots you a look, genuinely surprised that you’re playing dumb with her about this one.

“the vandalism. noticed it a while back, but i couldn’t be sure i was right until i caught you.”

you cross your arms over your chest defensively. “first of all, it’s not vandalism, it’s art. and second of all, why would you assume it was me? i just went on a walk.”

she huffs out a soft laugh, and to your surprise she reaches her hand toward you.

you manage to stop yourself from flinching as ellie wraps her fingers around your wrist, untangling your arm gently so she can get a better look at the lingering spray paint.

it left a stains despite how hard you had scrubbed at it with wipes when you were done.

“wanna tell me the truth now?” she prompts, and you force yourself to meet her eyes.

her touch is unbelievably tender compared to her harsh exterior and rough hands, and it makes your heart wilt.

but you don’t let yourself think about it for long.

instead, you wrench out of her grasp and get right back to arguing. “fine, maybe it was me. but this building is literally ancient and i’m just making it look nicer, so what’s it to you?”

it kind of wounds her that you pulled away, but she can’t blame you either. she’d probably do the same in your position.

ellie tries not to let her damaged pride show when she finally answers.

“y’know, i actually agree with you for once.”

you don’t think she could’ve stunned you more if she tried. you’re not even sure that she’s ever said anything genuinely nice, at least not to your face.

“very funny.” you snark, because you still can’t believe it.

but she doubles down. “seriously, m’not here to take you in. nobody’s bought the mall in nearly thirty years anyways, and i really do like your paintings.”

her voice is warmer, sincere. she’s telling the truth for once.

you clasp your hands behind your back to keep yourself from fidgeting nervously. it’s unusual for her to catch you so off guard, but she’s enjoying the moment while it lasts.

there’s a flutter in your stomach that’s getting harder to ignore. you’re shoving it away with all of your willpower but it doesn’t help at all.

“oh. i, um…thanks.” you finally stutter it out.

she motions toward the building sheepishly. “show me the latest?”

your eyes widen even further; this interaction is not at all going how you expected it to. it isn’t what ellie had in mind either, but you’re both appreciating it all the same.

she really had been visiting the mall a little too frequently since she discovered your work. you’re the only person nearby with a creative bone in their body, so it was easy to figure you out.

it became a habit to check in and see if you’d added anything. every new piece was so intricate, and she loved each one for different reasons.

she didn’t intend to admit that to your face though, and she’s beginning to regret it until you pivot on your heel, adjusting your tote as you lead the way.

“alright. but this better not be a fucking trap or something.”

ellie is quick to follow suit, matching your pace as you walk. “not a trap, kid, i promise.”

“i have a name, by the way, and i’m sure as hell not a child.” you remind her briskly.

“really? must’ve forgotten.” she deadpans.

you smile slightly despite yourself, turning your head before she can catch a glimpse.

it’s nice interacting with someone equally as sardonic in nature, even if she does piss you off most of the time.

“you definitely didn’t.”

this quiets her immediately. she just shoves her hands in her pockets, twigs snapping under your feet as you trudge through the overgrown grass.

a moment later you round the corner to the back wall and color begins to light up the decaying brick.

you’re running out of room at this point, so the most recent picture is pretty close to the end near you.

a meteor in its blaze of glory, hurtling down to nowhere.

you point it out, though ellie spotted it on her own easily. “this is the one i just finished. tried out some different colors.”

“wow.” she states simply, stopping so close beside you that her shoulder brushes yours.

your brows furrow as you watch her inspect it without further comment.

“wow what?” you pry, trying not to let the edge make its way into your voice.

she pauses briefly before looking over at you. “it’s just impressive. you’ve got an actual vision, i mean you’re…you’re really somethin’.”

its your turn to be silent; you’re trying to read her face, because it suddenly feels like you’re in unfamiliar territory. there’s not a hint of animosity lingering in the air.

instead, ellie is looking at you all starry-eyed, and you feel like you’re being pulled into a current you can’t escape.

“do you mean that?” your voice is faint, almost like you’ve been subdued.

the validation is making you feel fuzzy, especially since it’s coming from the one person you thought would never say it.

she nods, and this time she’s staring at your mouth rather obviously. “meant every word.”

it’s so quiet, only the sound of the birds chirping somewhere above you, and it feels like the oxygen has been sucked out of your lungs.

ellie begins to shift, to inch even closer to you, but then your phone rings and you both jump apart so comically that the trance is broken straight away.

“shit…” you mutter, fishing around in your bag momentarily before yanking it out.

the number makes your stomach bottom out, and every pleasant emotion you just experienced evaporates from your body.

nothing nice can last for long.

ellie clears her throat and you snap to life, muting the ringer because you can’t answer it in front of her.

“sorry, i—um, i have to go.”

you don’t even bother making up an excuse; you just bolt past her, high tailing it back to your car without another word. instinct has taken over, and your body is moving on its own.

she calls after you, but you can barely hear it over the ringing in your ears. only once you’ve successfully made it behind the wheel do you check to see if ellie followed along.

you deflate a little when you realize that she hasn’t, and that she won’t.

it’s been three days. three days and three sleepless nights since ellie saw you last.

she’s been up in her head ever since you ran away, chastising herself for listening to those provocative little voices and wondering what's occupying your own mind.

it’s shameful to admit, but after twenty four hours of silence, she had a compulsion to check in.

a brief stop at the bar let her know that you weren’t working, so she’d cruised through your neighborhood to find out if you were home.

the driveway was empty, and it remained that way when she visited the second time around.

the longer you’re gone, the more uneasy ellie becomes, and you’ve been plaguing her thoughts even more than usual.

had she misread your feelings? taken it too far?

she needs to see you, to talk. and you’re nowhere to be found.

the sound of the resin balls cracking against each other nearby snaps her back into the present. she sniffs, taking a sip of her whiskey.

it’s getting late, nearly midnight now, but ellie can’t bring herself to leave the bar. listening to the chatter of others is comforting.

and though the alcohol isn’t making you reappear, it at least gets her to loosen up a bit.

another swig. this’ll be her third glass of jameson, and that needs to be the limit for now. lord knows how she runs her fucking mouth with a buzz.

she glances around again, and her eyes skip over you thoughtlessly before she does a double take seconds later.

you’re perched in one of the corner seats toward the back of the bar, nursing a beer by yourself. you look exhausted, staring down at the shitty wood below you and picking at your thumbs.

ellie has never seen you here before, since she knows you prefer to get drinks straight from your coworkers.

this is the only other place in town though, usually frequented by the old farmers because they’re allowed to smoke and play pool at the same time.

and through the haze, there you are.

her stomach twists; she’s not sure if she’s angry or hurt, but it’s an awful feeling all the same.

she’s headed your way before she can even take another breath. you’re so out of it that you don’t notice until she’s actually sat down on the stool beside you.

“where the hell have you—” she cuts herself off when you turn to fully look at her, and the air feels like it's been knocked from her lungs.

a bruise paints your right cheek, though it’s clear you attempted to cover it. your eyes are watery and unfocused. she watches the recognition wash over you slowly, and you smile.

“oh, hello there.” you state simply.

her blood is already simmering, and her fingers ache to reach out and brush your face. she barely stops herself, choosing to run them through her hair instead.

“i…you okay, kid?”

her voice is hesitant, because even though she wants to cave someone’s head in, she’s much more worried about approaching you with care.

you laugh a little, a hiccup mixing itself in at the end. “fuckin’ hate when you call me that.”

your hand is unsteady as you take another long sip of beer, and she thanks her lucky stars that you’re almost done with it. that’ll make it easier to get you out of here.

“you’re right, m’sorry. hell, you’re sittin’ at the bar and i’m still using that dumb nickname.” she says, scratching her chin awkwardly.

“whatever. been dubbed worse.” you shrug and let your gaze fall back to your knuckles.

ellie clears her throat, nudging her boot against your foot. “how about i take ya home, huh?”

“i’m not that fucked up, and for all i know you could be just as drunk.” you immediately get smart with her, but even you hear the way your words slur just slightly in the wrong places.

she shakes her head but keeps her tone even. “i know my limit, and i don’t go past it. how did you get here?”

“i rode my bike. i’ll be fine, don’t even worry about me.”

but she is worried, and you can tell by the way she rests her arm on the back of your chair that she’s not leaving your side.

three minutes ago you could’ve sworn that all you wanted was to be alone, but it’s actually reassuring to run into her.

“it’s dark and completely unsafe. you’re comin’ with me in the truck, and that’s that.”

you roll your eyes, but you don’t put up much of a fight. you’re tired enough as it is, and your house is over two miles away.

plus ellie smells so delicious, leathery and woodsy even through the smoke, and suddenly you don’t mind letting her assist.

“fine. but i get to pick the music.” you bargain, taking the final swig of your bottle out of spite before standing up.

she chuckles lowly, stretching out as she waits for you to grab your bag. “radio doesn’t work, but i got some CDs you can choose from.”

“you’re the youngest old person i’ve ever met.”

“i can live with that.”

you follow her out of the bar, focusing on not tripping over your own feet while the breeze rifles through your hair.

ellie approaches the curb where your bike is perched and picks it up easily, carting it over to her old 93’ ford so she can lift it into the back.

you find yourself noticing the way her crewneck rides up to expose her stomach, plaid boxers peeking out from her baggy jeans. they sit low on her waist, low enough that you can see the shadow of her v line.

it makes your mouth dry, and dirty thoughts run through your mind without warning.

she comes around to the passenger side to swing the door open for you. you don’t interject when she goes a step further and helps hoist you up into the seat.

instead, you opt to enjoy her sturdy grip on your elbow.

the worn cloth interior is comforting, and even the car has taken on her scent at this point.

you’re already digging through the glove box by the time she’d made it around the hood and hopped up beside you.

“ellie’s magic mix?” you read off the title of one of the discs, and she can see the humorous glint in your eye.

“hey, be nice. it’s the first one i ever burned.” she explains.

you slide it into the player as she puts the car in reverse, and a few seconds later a brassy voice begins to hum through the speakers.

it’s familiar, which surprises you.

“charley pride?” you ask as ellie peels onto the road, and she looks over at you in wonder.

“and just how’d you know that?”

you shrug, grinning at her all loopy. “i like old records. the happiness of having you is one of my favorites.”

“well color me impressed.” she jokes.

a silence settles as you both listen contently, passing by the rolling hills that are shrouded in darkness. the car rumbles along against the uneven pavement, the only other noise aside from the song.

ellie shamelessly peers over as you stare out your window, chin resting against your arm while you contemplate something she can’t understand.

she doesn’t want to disturb, but she’s been waiting for a decent time to ask. it’ll never feel good, though, so she settles for right now.

“who gave you that shiner?”

you audibly suck in a breath, because you were dreading this inevitable conversation. “is it really important? i’m fine, and it won't happen again.”

“of course it’s important. someone hurt you, and i…i wasn’t there. but i can help, if you let me.” she’s practically begging you to trust her, and it’s obvious in her voice.

but you refuse. you fight against yourself yet again, like you’ve been conditioned into it.

“why would you have been there? i was at home. or my hometown, whatever. either way, it’s not your job to protect me.”

ellie’s eyebrows furrow in exasperation. “why d’you have to be so damn stubborn? can’t you just let someone care?”

“oh, and that someone is you? c’mon, don’t pretend like you suddenly give a fuck about me. you just want the thrill of acting like a savior.” you snap coldly.

the insult pierces through her like a shard of glass. her jaw ticks, fingers tightening against the steering wheel.

she can feel the angry truth welling in her throat. normally she’d choke it all back down, force herself to keep everything routine between the two of you.

but the flood gates are open, and you’ve pushed her beyond her limit this time.

“is that what you think? that i’ve never lost sleep over you, or gotten worked up over you? i was about to put out an APB when i realized you’d skipped town, and you’ve got the nerve to suggest that you don’t matter to me? i mean, fuck, all i can do when you’re not around is wonder where you are.”

this revelation makes you sit upright again, dumbfounded by the things coming out of her mouth.

so much is racing through your head at once, yet you remain eerily quiet. when ellie gains the confidence to glance over, she realizes you’re studying her face like you’re enraptured.

“stop lookin’ at me like and say something.” she grunts and turns her attention back to driving.

but a telling blush creeps up her neck, which you’re rarely lucky enough to see.

she doesn’t usually break a sweat like this, and you feel like you owe her the same candor in return.

even if it’s hard.

“that call that i got when we were together was from the hospital. it was my mom.”

you pause, taking a moment before throwing yourself forward. “so i visited, tried to get her on track again, but she didn’t want my help. she never has. and then things got heated. you can put the rest together.”

ellie can connect the dots, even though she hates what it leads her to.

you’ve always been self sufficient, but you also kept it a mystery as to why you’d moved or why you were all on your own in the first place.

she never pushed, mainly because you wouldn’t let her, but she can appreciate why you have the boundaries that you do.

instead of saying anything, she places a warm hand on your leg. not high enough on your thigh to be suggestive, but not low enough on your knee to be overtly friendly.

it’s not what you expected, but it’s what you were lacking all along; something to ground you, a reminder that she’s still beside you.

“i’m not going back again, y’know? seriously. i’ll be alright.” you reassure her solemnly, like it’s a pact now that you’re voicing it.

ellie nods, thumb brushing against your jeans naturally.

“i know you will. it’s who you are. but i’m sorry that you’ve been goin’ through this alone.”

her subtle movements send tingles of electricity through you, and your body is a little too excited by it.

“it’s mostly my choice anyways. i don’t let people get that far because i want to be alone. or, uh, i used to.” you fumble over it gracelessly.

you’ve never been very good at conveying your feelings when they’re positive, and with ellie it’s even weirder.

it’s easy to read between the lines, but she also wants you to say it. “and now you don’t?”

“no. not anymore.”

her cheeks grow even more red as she turns down your street, rocking slightly as you hit the numerous little potholes.

she slides her palm higher up your leg, whether it’s conscious or not. “interesting.”

your stomach flips in response, and when her eyes run over you again, they’re visibly darker than before.

there is something on your mind plays softly in the background, which is ironic because she’s overwhelming every single one of your senses. it’s been a while since you’ve felt like this, completely engulfed in another person.

maybe you had been mistaking passion for hatred this whole time.

a moment later you come to a screeching halt, and ellie moves her hand to throw the truck into park. it’s quiet; everyone’s lights are off, a sleepy fog crawling through the town.

“well, uh…” she attempts to start a sentence, a goodbye maybe, but there’s nothing coming to mind.

you’re so restless that your body decides to speak for the both of you; you unbuckle your seat belt, inching closer instead of heading for the door.

you grip her right shoulder gently, stabilizing yourself as you throw your leg across her lap to straddle her. a groan slips through her teeth when you readjust yourself on her hips.

you hold her neck, tracing her jawline slowly while she stares up at you.

“you sure you know what you’re doin?” ellie asks, restricting herself to grasping your thighs for now.

you nod, leaning in just enough to leave her aching for more. “i think i can handle it, sarge.”

the sweetness of your shampoo is intoxicating, and all it would take is a tiny move forward for her lips to close in on yours.

maybe it’s the longing on your face, or the way your hair is framing your cheeks, but the boundary of professionalism has completely blurred by now.

how can it be wrong when it feels this right?

so instead of arguing or being sarcastic, she closes the distance and kisses you. it’s soft, almost surprised at first. then she gets a taste of your minty chapstick and it’s hard not to devour you.

you pull her in even closer, tongues and teeth clashing together, and in the heat of the moment she barely notices you biting at her bottom lip.

it only electrifies her more when she does feel it, so much so that goosebumps crawl across her skin.

her palms travel to grope your tits needily and you let out a sigh that gets lost somewhere in the midst of your make out.

ellie had nearly snapped earlier seeing your cleavage on display in the little tank you had on under your jacket. she didn’t think she’d get to do anything about those indecent ideas, though.

“fuck, i’ve been waiting for this.” she breathes against your mouth, effectively working her way to your neck right after.

a moan finally escapes, a sound so goddamn divine she almost forgets how to function.

but she keeps peppering sloppy kisses down past your collarbone, determined to elicit that noise from you again.

“so you’ve always been hot for me, then?” you goad, though it’s hard to banter when you’re being so pleasantly distracted.

“i’d still call it a recent development.” ellie pauses to joke back.

but even after saying that, she’s dying to worship more of you, so she diverts her attention again to slip the straps of your top down.

her knuckles stroke your skin as she goes, and she’s got your bra unhooked in one suave maneuver.

you raise your eyebrows at her as she helps you out of it. “cute trick.”

she just smirks as she tosses the garment to the passenger side. you’re still decently concealed by the worn zip-up resting on your shoulders, but your cami is pulled down to your stomach to reveal your chest.

the sight of you alone makes ellie throb, pupils the size of saucers by now.

“i can do a lot more than that, sweetheart.” she promises, cupping your now exposed breasts so that she can drag the pads of her thumbs across your nipples.

you shiver at the sensation, pushing your torso into her harder without even realizing.

“show me, cowboy.” you whisper, and she can’t help but reclaim your lips before you even finish.

she continues grazing over your sensitive buds, which makes you whimper a little louder into her kiss.

it’s completely illogical to be doing this out in the open, but the homes are spaced out enough and her brain is too immersed in you to care about consequences.

you grind into her a little in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure building in your gut, though that’s not what you really want.

ellie knows it too, so she breaks away enough to speak. “something i can do for you?”

“just wondering what those fingers would feel like inside me.” you hum, and her hands drop to your waist without hesitation.

she wanted you to be in charge of how far this went, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want show you real pleasure.

and now she’s got the green light.

“filthy girl…can’t even make it into the house.”

there’s admiration in her tone as she frees the metal button to unzip your jeans, tugging them down your hips just enough to access you easier.

“it’s way more fun to live life on the edge.” you preach sarcastically, which she takes as more of a challenge than she should.

her hand dips into your pants and she skims across your clothed heat, enticingly slow to start.

your breath hitches in your throat and she feels your fist shift to grip her hair.

“then i sure hope you can be quiet for once.” ellie tests you right back, applying a bit more pressure as she traces the soft cotton.

you bite down on the inside of your cheek to try and hide your reaction, though every fiber of your body is ablaze.

it doesn’t help that she shifts down in the seat slightly, bringing herself more even with your breasts. she steadies your waist with her free hand as her mouth trails across the supple flesh, nipping at you every once in a while.

your panties are already damp, which rouses her so much that she decides not to boast. instead she pushes them to the side, letting her fingers run along your slick pussy.

the both of you groan, you into the open and her against your skin. she likes that you’re already clinging to her harder.

it makes her feel like you need her just as much.

ellie keeps the pace even but presses her tongue flat against your nipple, taking her time flicking back and forth. you squirm a bit, overwhelmed by the dual stimulation in the best way.

“a—aah…shit.” you whimper, rubbing yourself against her movements rhythmically.

she grins, lazily trailing her tongue across your skin, silently vowing that she won’t neglect an inch. “y’sound pretty when you’re not being a brat.”

“i’m not a—oh, holy fuck.”

without warning, ellie curls her middle finger and lets it slip inside of you, effectively cutting off your defense.

she slides it in and out a few times, giving you half a second to adjust before she adds another. you let out another lament, stunned even though it’s exactly what you want.

you clench around her and she swears under her breath. “so wet, so warm. you little minx.”

the praises go straight to your head, and you’re thirsting for her at this point.

she’s taking it slow, licking and sucking at your chest and neck while you move with the stroke of her arm. heat is building in your stomach, and you’re aching to spur the fire.

“faster ellie, please.” you beg, too far gone to worry about trivial things like dignity.

hearing you say her name while you plead is exhilarating, and all she wants to do is gratify your desires.

so she does just that, speeding up her fingers but ensuring that she buries them fully each time to hit all the right spots. and boy does she.

you tilt your head back slightly, giving her a better angle as you moan a little louder. it’s a sight to behold; your eyes screwed shut, tits bouncing in her face while she goes to work.

“please? didn’t realize i could’a just fucked some manners into you all this time.” ellie teases against your skin, and you give her a faint tug at her roots.

“shut up, i’m totally polite.” you bite back.

the way you’re sinking your hips down to fill yourself with her says otherwise, but it’s also ridiculously hot, so she doesn’t argue.

instead, she hums in agreement. “mhmm, such a lady, takin’ it so well.”

her compliments are leaving you absolutely spellbound, as much as you hate to admit it.

they’re dirty, and yet they sound so heavenly when she says them regardless.

your muscles are beginning to tighten from the pleasure, and ellie can feel it. but she knows she can get you there faster, make it even more intense.

so she continues pounding into you relentlessly, adding her thumb to the mix so that it brushes your clit.

your thighs twitch around her, and an involuntary cry leaves your throat.

“fuck, jesus christ!”

she smiles, completely ignoring the way her boxers are rumpled and sticky at this point. she’s not worried about herself; all she wants is for you to keep making those sweet little noises.

“feels good, huh, angel?” she asks, curving her fingers perfectly inside your cunt.

you nod, muttering something that’s not even coherent. your whole body is ablaze now; no part of your skin feels untouched by her goddamn magic.

ellie can’t believe she’s got you melting in her arms, exposed for anyone to walk up and see, but she loves it.

“right…there.” you gasp, clutching her hair and shoulder for dear life at this point.

she circles your swollen bundle of nerves harder while continuing to hit that sweet spot, and your legs feel like jelly.

you’re tensing around her hand with every stroke, all while she draws your skin between her teeth to leave hickies across the swell of your breasts.

huffs and groans fill the air, and it’s hard to tell where you begin and she ends. ellie doesn’t think she’s ever been this entranced by anyone, at least not in a very long time.

you’re goddamn beautiful, completely wild in this moment, and she adores it.

“i’m—mmm, gonna cum.” you whine, trying and failing to keep the desperate from your tone.

she doesn’t want it to end, but she hangs on to the hope that this is just the beginning and puts the rest of her energy into your satisfaction.

“give me everythin’, baby. let the whole fuckin town hear how dirty we are.”

she’s adjusts her grip to help rock you into her fingers, somehow filling you even more perfectly in the process.

your toes curl in your shoes right before your high crashes around you, mouth agape as you chant her name. your eyes squeeze shut while you finish, shaking lightly from the sheer force of it.

ellie keeps you steady while she gradually slows her tempo, simultaneously shimmying back up in the seat a bit so that she can watch you ride it out until the end.

the feeling of you cumming around her is something she’s not sure she’ll ever be able to forget, and the expression on your face is a close second.

finally, she stills completely, waiting until you’re able to look at her before she retracts her fingers.

they glisten in the nearby streetlights, slick from your orgasm, and your gaze glitters back as you watch her take them into her mouth.

you can see her tongue working, and she groans when she pulls them out fully clean a beat later, chest still heaving from all the activity.

“god, y’taste like heaven too.”

you cover your face with your hands in embarrassment, peeking through them as you shake your head slightly. “stop saying shit like that.”

ellie chuckles and tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear for you. “why, cuz it turns you on?”

“no, because you sound like a dork.” you lie, though the mess in your pants says otherwise.

ellie smacks your ass lightly in response. your arms fly down to wrap around her neck again as you let out a squeak of surprise.

“always gotta be a rebel, don’t ya?” she says, smoothing her palm over the place where it had previously landed.

there’s a smile plastered across her face though, probably similar to the fucked out one you’re wearing yourself.

you tangle your fingers in her hair, forcing her attention back to you. “well, someone has to make you do your job.”

“please, i know you’re soft for me under all that armor.”

you narrow your eyes playfully before pressing your forehead against hers. “i’ll deny it in public.”

ellie chuckles, and you feel her breath fan across your face. “we can work on that. how ‘bout we go inside and getcha cleaned up for now?”

“is this an excuse to see me fully naked?” you question as she slips the straps of your tank back over your shoulders gently.

“oh, are we still pretending that you don’t want me just as much?”

you place a chaste kiss to her lips. “yeah, yeah. touché.”

[floodflameschosen]

Noah and "This doesn’t mean anything." – "Then why are you holding me like that?"

Please?

CW: protected sex, p in v, friends to lovers, a little angst, a little fluff, and lots of feelings i guess?

🔞 nsfw below the cut, minors please dni.

You and Noah had always been close, right from the very start—laughing too much, leaning a little too close at parties, teasing touches that lingered longer than they should.

Everyone could tell there was something more than friendship between you, but you always denied it, brushing it off with timid smiles and awkward laughter.

That didn't mean it wasn't true, though—both of you knew it was, but neither dared to name or act on it. Maybe you were scared. Maybe it felt easier to pretend.

So when things finally exploded—after one too many late nights, after too many loaded stares—you made a deal.

“Just sex,” you said, already breathless against his lips, aching to be touched. “Doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“Yeah.” Noah agreed, smiling that crooked smile that always made your stomach flip, hands tightening around your waist. “Just friends having fun.”

It should’ve been that easy, that simple.

It wasn’t.

It never was with Noah.

And it kept happening, too—every time you went out with friends, every time you promised yourself you’d behave, you’d keep some distance—he was the one taking you home. Not because you asked him to, but because he wouldn’t let anyone else.

He’d watch you all night, drink in hand, that unreadable look on his face. Every guy that so much as looked your way for too long earned a dark, possessive scowl. Every time you laughed too loudly, leaned too close to someone else, he was right there, at your side—arm around your waist, pulling you into him like he just couldn’t help it.

You didn’t fight it, never stopped him.

And no matter how hard you tried to pretend you could keep it casual, pretend that it didn’t mean anything—your body always betrayed you the second he touched you. It was a dangerous game. Addictive.

So when the night ended, it was always Noah’s hand wrapped around yours, leading you out the door. Always his voice low in your ear, telling you to come with him. Always him pressing you into his bed, driving you crazy without a word, with just a simple look, a possessive touch.

Always him.

Only him.

Now you’re in his bed again—tangled up in messy sheets, gasping into each other’s mouths, your bodies slick and desperate. His hands bruise your hips, holding you down against the mattress like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn't, and he fucks you slow—too slow—dragging it out, savoring every second, drinking in every broken whimper he pulls from your lips.

Your forehead stays pressed to his, his nose brushing yours, breath hot and ragged, like he needs the connection. Like he needs you.

And you know you’re lying to yourself when you try to say this doesn’t have to be anything—know he is, too. Because there’s no way this is just sex.

Not with the way he moves inside you—deep, reverent, almost painful in his intensity, making sure you feel every inch of him with every delicious thrust. Not with the way his hands tremble when they caress your skin. Not with the way he shudders when you kiss his swollen lips, when you cling to him like you need him just as much.

You rake your nails down his back without thinking, wanting to claim, leaving angry red trails he hisses at—and he only fucks you deeper, like he’s chasing something neither of you can name. Your legs wrap tight around his waist, locking him in, greedy for more—for everything he’ll give you, for everything you’re terrified he won’t.

Noah groans low in his chest, burying his face against your neck, grinding into you so deep you see stars.

“Baby,” he pants, moans, voice wrecked and aching, “fuck, you’re gonna kill me.”

And you just hold him tighter, arms locked around his torso, fingers digging into the skin of his upper back like you can keep both of you from breaking apart if you never let go.

“Noah—” you gasp, overwhelmed, drowning in the way he feels—so hard, so thick, so fucking perfect it almost hurts.

You can barely breathe with how full you are, with how he keeps hitting that devastating spot inside you, rolling and grinding his hips like he’s trying to carve himself into your body permanently.

He curses low under his breath, the sound dark and desperate, and fucks into you harder—angling his thrusts until you’re crying out shamelessly, back arching off the bed, chasing every single wave of pleasure he gives you.

You don’t even realize how hard you’re clinging to him until he suddenly slows down to a stop—freezes there inside you, panting hard against your neck because right now, you’re holding him like he’s everything.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you whisper before you can think better of it, voice shaking with the lie you don’t even believe yourself.

Noah pulls back just enough to see your face properly, the tip of his nose faintly brushing yours, his breath fanning hot over your lips. You see the flash of hurt in his eyes—feel the way his whole body goes rigid against yours, like you stabbed him right through the heart.

The way he looks at you—eyes wild, glassy, blown black with everything he’s feeling, searching yours like he’s begging you to take it back—almost breaks something inside you.

“Then why are you holding me like that?” He murmurs, voice rough and cracking like he’s barely holding himself together, and not from the pleasure alone anymore.

You open your mouth to answer, your chest aching, your heart pounding out of control, but nothing comes out. You want to deny it—to laugh it off, pretend his question is just a joke, a playful teasing because you're not holding him like anything.

All you manage to let out is a broken, needy whimper as you pull him back in with no hesitation before crushing your mouth to his, tasting your own desperation on his lips. Because that's what you are, both of you: desperate, aching for this, whatever this is, whatever it means.

Noah doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask again. He doesn’t need to.

He just kisses you—hungry, demanding—before fisting a hand in your hair, anchoring you there while he thrusts into you harder, messier, losing the rhythm completely in favor of raw, frantic need.

He fucks you like he’s trying to fuse your bodies together, like he needs to erase the distance you just tried to create between you.

“Say it again,” he growls, voice wrecked and shaking, mouth dragging hot over your cheek, your jaw. “Tell me this is just sex. Fucking say it.”

But you can’t. You can barely breathe.

You’re so full of him—of this aching, overwhelming thing between you—that all you can do is cling tighter, shaking your head in broken, desperate denial. Because it’s not just sex.

It’s never been just sex, not with him.

Not when he touches you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters, not when he fucks you like it's the one thing he wants to do for the rest of his life.

Your nails scrape down his sides, leaving more red lines he won’t feel until later. Your legs shake around his waist as you moan, helpless against the way your climax is building—so fast, so inevitable—your body betraying you, loving him, needing him.

Noah curses against your skin, a broken, desperate sound, and drives into you even harder—grinding deep, pushing you over that sweet edge whether you want it or not.

You come apart around him with a choked cry, tears rolling down your temple, body shuddering violently with the intensity of it all, nails sinking into his shoulders like you can’t bear to let him go.

And Noah breaks right after you—buries himself as deep as he can, groaning loud and broken against your throat, his body locking tight to yours as he spills inside the condom, shuddering through every heartbeat of it.

Neither of you moves for a long, long moment.

You just stay there, clinging to each other, breathing each other in like it’s the only thing keeping you alive. Noah’s arms wrap around you instinctively, pulling you closer even though you’re already as close as you can get.

He leans in and presses his mouth against your temple, still breathing heavily but kissing you there with a tenderness that makes your chest ache.

A few more tears slip from the corners of your eyes—silent, overwhelmed—and Noah feels them. Without a word, he licks them away, slow and careful, like he’s trying to erase your sadness with his mouth, his touch.

His love.

His breath shudders against your skin as he kisses you again and again, temple to cheek to jaw, as if he still can’t get enough of you. All you can do is hold him back, hold him tighter, heart splitting wide open in your chest, because you know now, you both know—there's no room for denial anymore.

This thing between you, it’s not just sex.

It never was.

[concretejunglefm]

I was enchanted to meet you

Summary: Meeting Noah at an event you’re working at ends in an unexpected twist.

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader.

CW: mostly fluffy soft vibes, mentions of smoking, implied sex.

It’s over breakfast when you notice your phone screen lighting up with a notification. Curiosity piqued, you tap the screen, revealing a news article. The headline immediately captures your attention:

“A Wild, Passionate Night for Bad Omens Frontman, Noah Sebastian.”

You don’t even bother clicking on the article. Your eyes quickly scan the headline, then briefly glance at the blurry photo below it—a grainy, zoomed-in shot of Noah taking a step beside a woman whose face is partially turned away from the camera. Her hair falls just right, conveniently obscuring what they’ve decided makes her a “mystery woman.”

Mystery woman or not, she’s far from either of your minds right now.

The corner of your mouth curls up as you glance at Noah, whose lap you currently occupy. He’s shirtless, his hair still tousled from sleep. A faint red mark trails down the side of his neck, where his tattoos don’t reach—a mark you left there just hours ago. He’s sipping coffee from a mug featuring a motif from his favorite TV show, Severance—something you learned about during your late-night hours of getting to know each other. He’s scrolling aimlessly on his own phone, completely oblivious to the buzz his name is generating in the outside world.

You tilt your screen toward him with a soft snort. “It seems you’ve been quite busy.”

Noah raises an eyebrow, leaning forward to catch a glimpse, a quiet laugh escaping his lips. “Mystery woman, huh?” he mutters, his voice rough from the night before. “If only they knew.” A sly smirk spreads across his lips as he refocuses on you, his gaze lingering on your lips before he leans in and kisses you.

They may not know, but you do because you were there—you remember the night perfectly.

What they saw: 

Another album release party event has found you catering, but this time, it’s for a band you’ve never heard of—even though your music preferences are vast. You spend the evening mingling, offering drinks and appetizers, while the band who is the center of attention seem to be fading into the background. You almost don’t realize who the event is for until you overhear conversations mentioning their names, particularly Noah, which becomes the center of one young woman’s conversation.

You later spot the same woman approaching whom you’ve deduced to be Noah—through process of elimination—and attempt to initiate a conversation. From a distance, you observe her; she laughs at his jokes, he’s courteous, she leans in as she speaks, and when he moves past her to reach for someone else, his hand brushes against hers—a fleeting, innocent touch.

A casual touch, barely a second long, but long enough to be manipulated and framed in any way the media chooses.

Then comes a photo—another one that accompanies the grainy one taken when he leaves the venue. This time, it’s a selfie they’re standing in the back of. It’s a blurry candid shot of Noah caught in profile, mid-smile, his eyes vaguely angled towards her. Her gaze is slightly upturned, and for a fleeting moment, as the briefest frame of the photo captures, it seems like something is happening between them—a shared glance, a lingering gaze.

You know better, because all of his glances came to settle on you.

As the night drew to a close, they managed to capture the photo that sparked the headline. Noah walking towards the exit, the crowd thinning out and the mystery woman standing beside him—not speaking this time, not even looking at each other. However, the camera didn’t care about their conversation; it only focused on angles and their proximity to sell a story based solely on coincidence.

To them, she was the woman he went home with; that was all they needed to claim it. She was the mysterious woman who had led him to a wild and passionate night.

What they didn't see:

They miss the way you catch Noah’s attention when you brush past him after he enters the room. They also miss the way his eyes keep scanning for you from there on. You’re just a stranger, but the faint scent you leave lingering in your wake keeps him hooked. His eyes are peeled for you, searching through the crowd in hopes of seeing you again—his mysterious stranger.

You catch him staring at you for a second too long. Not in the way someone admires an outfit or scans a crowd, but as if he’s memorizing you. They don’t notice that, or how every time you look up at him after that, he is already looking back—his lips twitching into a small, genuine smile—real—just for a fleeting moment.

You notice him watching you as you navigate through the crowd, ensuring that the trays in your hands remain steady, even under his watchful eye. His gaze then shifts to your legs, your fingers, and the subtle hint of collarbone that the uniform didn’t quite conceal. You feel heat bloom beneath your skin every time your paths cross.

You hear the way his voice drops when he catches you passing by, asking casually, “Haven’t I seen you before?” as if the three times you’ve offered him appetizers were mere coincidences.

They don’t see the two of you in the alleyway—Noah leaning against the wall with one foot propped behind him, a cigarette dangling between his fingers. You uncomfortably close to him—closer than polite or appropriate—but neither of you seem to mind.

You hadn’t intended to follow him out, not really. But when he slipped through the side door, you hesitated for only a minute before pushing it open yourself. It was as if an invisible force compelled you to follow him.

They don’t witness the smirk on his lips as you step into the dim light, or hear the quiet, “I was wondering how long you were gonna take.”

They don’t hear the way your breath catches, or how his eyes dip to your mouth, or how yours do the same.

They don’t notice you staring at his cigarette—not because you desire one, but because you yearn to savor the taste of something which has been between his lips.

They don’t see the tension stretch between you like a wire, taut and humming with potential. They don’t hear the long, heavy silence that fills the space between flirting and something else entirely.

When you both return inside, they don’t notice how your cheeks are slightly warmer, or your lips are slightly bitten.

His gaze follows you differently—less subtle and less patient now. As if something had changed in that alley, something that couldn’t be ignored for the rest of the night.

They witness him leaving with her, but they fail to notice your silent exit ten minutes later.

They don’t hear the first time he utters your name, as if he yearns to savor it. They don’t witness the passionate kiss he shares with you as soon as you’re out of sight—desperate, possessive, and messy. They don’t see the Uber ride, where you climb into his lap and barely manage to reach the second red light before his lips find your neck—heated, possessive. They don’t witness his fingers tracing your thighs, his hands entwined in your hair, and his voice whispering in your ear, confessing that he’s been contemplating this moment since the instant he laid eyes on you.

They don’t see you now, nestled on his lap in the gentle radiance of morning, draped only in his shirt. Your legs are warm against his thighs as he indulges in lazy kisses along your neck, gently nipping at the delicate skin just below your ear, as if he’s still yearning for you, as if last night wasn’t enough. One of his hands curls at your waist, while the other trails light touches up your thigh, fingers brushing the edge of the shirt that barely covers your curves.

Your coffee sits forgotten on the table. His mug is in reach, but his focus is on you—always you.

They don’t hear the rasp in his voice as he whispers your name, like it’s a secret meant for no one else. They don’t see the way he holds you, not possessively, but with a sense of certainty—like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. Like here—with you—is where he’s destined to be.

He doesn’t even know her name, but he knows yours. If you have anything to say about it, it’ll be the only thing he says for the rest of the day—soft, breathless, and repetitive, against your skin.

tagged: @fadingangelwisp @deathblacksmoke  @geminigirlfromfinland @fuck1ng-queen @xxkittenkissesxx @lacy1986 @ami--gami @floodflameschosen @dominuslunae @tosoundlessdarkistare @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @lonelydragonlady @th4t-em0-k1d @amelia-acero @dollieomens @i-love-the-smell-of-you-blood @sitkowski @athenexe @trvshdxddy @collapsedglasshouses @overmydeadbodysblog @xmads-omensx @ajordan2020 @astronoids @courta13 @oobleoob @bluehairpunklol @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @concretenoah @death-ofpeace-ofmind @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @blade-dressed-in-red @bloody-spades @limerinseme @lilgarbitch

[ssvnriseya]

NEED YOU (D.D)

summary - you and daryl were in a fight and he got jealous when he saw you with another man.

warnings - MDNI 18+ oral, (m! receiving) p in v, breeding kink, daddy kink, pet names, dom!daryl × sub!reader, virgin! reader, jealousy, age gap (reader! in her early 20's, daryl! in his mid 40's), loss of virginity, aftercare, intended lowercase.

note - okay! second time writing smut, hope you like it. lol, i'm really hoping it's the smut of your expectation, this is my longest, probably about six or five thousand words?!

masterlist

"we brought dinner." daryl spoke, holding the raccoon up when the gate opened.

"they're okay, they're okay." aaron assured the guy on guard duty when he and eric entered, your group all held their guns by their side.

you smiled warmly at the man when his gaze landed on you, ready to make a good impression and give this place a chance, for judith and all of you.

he then looked back at aaron and the rest of your group walked in, you almost felt embarrassed with the clothes you had on, dirty hospital scrubs.

it was rather dirty and older compared to their clean clothes, you have tried everything to find other clothes but your group's luck and hope ran out ever since beth and tyreese died, you all didn't even get lucky with the village you all checked out.

just as the gate was about to close there was a walker, groaning and trying to get to them. rick nodded at sasha and she raised her sniper, shooting the walker.

"you all should probably talk to deanna first." aaron said as they looked around them in awe, how could something like this place still stand?

"but before that, give up your guns. you stay, you give us your guns." the smug looking guy said, you looked at rick for his reaction.

"we don't even know if we want to stay." rick growled, the smug guy shrugged and aaron frowned at him. he assured rick and the group.

"it's just a precaution, if you want to stay though, you can get your guns back when you go outside the walls." he quickly said and explained.

rick nodded and the group lined up, placing their guns on the cart carefully, some sending a glare on the alexandrians.

"you'll talk to deanna first, then i can show you your houses." aaron said casually, your mouth was gaped open.

"as in plural? you're really giving us houses, for free?" you said at him in disbelief, a few of your group members chuckling at you.

"it isn't the same world anymore, where you have to pay for a piece of shit of a land, and pay more to construct a house." daryl frowned, remembering something.

how he worked his ass off on his work to pay rent and getting paid low, not even enough to save up for a piece of land.

"okay." you said, shrugging as you watched rick go into deanna's house.

"what do you think she'll ask? like do you have a husband, a daughter, or an affair or something?" you blabber to the ear next to you, not realizing it's daryl as you stared at the house, as if waiting for rick to come out crying.

when someone grunted, you turned to see daryl drowning, as usual.

"okay, fine. be that way." you pouted at him and turned away from him, when rick came out, abraham, glenn, noah, rosita and others went next.

all of you was done by the time the sun was almost going down but still blazing hot.

basically deanna just asked you about how you survived outside the walls, what you did to survive, and she bragged about being a political. you tuned her out for most of that.

"we're going to stay in the house together for tonight, rick said." you told daryl who was at the porch and staring into nothing.

"‘m coming in a few minutes." he spoke and you nodded entering the house, you saw rick come out of the hallway and you were shocked.

"oh my— is that you, rick?!" you teased him, he smiled at you warmly.

"shower's free. there's a few clothes for you on the counter by a folk here." rick said as he turned to michonne to watch her reaction.

you snickered at him, he was like a school boy all over again. like getting a haircut and seeing if your crush liked it.

you showered quickly and changed into a pair of pink pajamas. "shower and brushing is refreshing." you sighed as you stretched onto the mattress.

"oh my goodness, for the couples here tonight, please refrain yourselves from like you know..." you teased the couples, most likely rosita and abraham.

abraham smirked at you, "why don't you explore here, go and find someone to bump uglies with." he laughed followed by a few others.

you didn't notice the way daryl rolled his eyes from the corner, an angry expression on his face.

"maybe, i will. once we get settled in here nicely, when we don't have to worry about things anymore... i actually want to find someone to be with me for the rest of my life." you whispered to abraham as a few others engaged into a conversation themselves.

"i hope you find that, little one." he smiled at you like a big brother would, and patted your hair.

"deanna's hosting a party?" rosita asked where you, rosita, maggie, tara, sasha and michonne sat around in the living room.

"yeah, she said tonight." tara nodded, you six had nothing to do as the other went on to explore outside.

"they really don't know anything about what's outside these walls... if they still can think about hosting parties." you sighed.

"deanna said that this place was right from the start, they just built up those walls for protection." michonne shrugged, drinking her coffee.

"they're spoiled, never really knowing how to fight." maggie agreed, it was like a normal morning again... chatting with your friends with no worries about what might happen later.

"well, if she's hosting a party... let's find clothes to wear and might just enjoy the liquors there." sasha raised her brows up and down, suggestively.

you all chuckled and agreed with her, promising each other to go together in the garage where almost hundreds of free clothes were.

you parted from them and went to find daryl, if it wasn't that obvious, you like him, deeply.

you always went to find reasons to be near him but as far as you know, daryl didn't care about you. almost hating your presence whenever you volunteered to go with him on dry runs.

you have tried everything to get closer to him but he always seemed to find a way to push you away. he ignores you most of the time, says harsh words, avoid you completely.

but even though he's like that, you never gave up, always comforting him when you noticed he was down.

you still pursued your feelings for him after all these years, thinking that you might have a chance with someone like him.

how can you not like him? he was selfless, he was kind, he was caring, he cares for judith like he was her uncle, and most of all, he loves.

it might not be that obvious but you know that he loves, so that's why you hoped that he will love you too, not like a friend, but more than that.

but being here made you realize a few things, daryl is never the type of guy to settle down for relationships, even before the end of the world, as merle said.

daryl has priorities and being in a relationship like you wanted was never one of them, he was a guy who never believed in love.

daryl is an emotionally unavailable man, he was all about surviving, so you know he never will have time for shitty relationships, as he said when you asked him one day.

"d–do you ever want to be in a relationship? when we find a safe place?" you asked him as you stared into the fire, you and him were guarding camp and the rest were asleep.

"don't have time f' shitty relations'." he grunted, and you know that was the end of the conversation.

you both were the total opposite, and you know total opposites never work.

he was shy, you weren't, you were talkative, he wasn't, he doesn't love to express his emotions, you do. and there was so much more to it.

just thinking about all of it makes your heart break, maybe it was really time to move on from him, you never even had a chance in the first place.

now that you were in a safe place with the group you considered your family, you were happy.

the group was happy, mostly, rick and daryl still didn't trust this place for a bit.

but you know that someday they will when they had a chance to see the potentials of this neighborhood.

"you're going to move on from him, starting tonight, at the party." you whispered to yourself as you found yourself staring at him, sitting at the porch.

"hey, daryl!" you waved at him, you were shocked how you felt that your heart wasn't going to jump out of your chest anymore, unlike before.

maybe you really were starting to move on.

"deanna has a party, are you coming?" you asked him, squinting your eyes as the sun glared at you from above.

"the rest of the group is coming..." you quickly added as he wore his angry face.

"don't have time f' parties, all you ever do is party. what about waking up, huh? you're back in yer' own lil' world, caring all about drinking."

he spoke long, you can feel your heartstrings breaking. of course, he still remembers.

you, him, and beth escaped the prison together, when you were by the fire, eating snake... you missed everyone, you can't think about anything else so you want to forget.

so you suggested to go find liquors, but daryl didn't respond and beth seemed to realize something, you had a tantrum and left them there, beth following you after cursing daryl for making you upset.

beth was a curious young girl, only a two year or four year gap between you, so she asked why you still want to drink after all that's happened. so you happily explained how the drink makes you forget all the pain and memories, at least just for a while. you both spent days and nights being brats to daryl.

so you, beth, and daryl found a golf club where you and beth tried to find any alcohol, only finding peach schnapps. you immediately declined it.

and daryl had a rampage, throwing the bottle away and leading you and beth to a cabin, full of moonshine.

then it all went downhill there, you guys drank and after, you burned the house down and daryl taught beth how to hunt.

you all found a parlor home and went to stay there but it got attacked by a small herd and daryl told you and beth to wait for him by the road, where you got taken.

you both woke up in a hospital, then worked there. then the group came for you after a week or two. dawn never had the intention of letting you go so she grabbed beth and carol.

then that's where it happened, dawn died... along with beth. you went out of your room and instantly ran to the group.

"okay... but you don't have to be an asshole in everything, i miss her too and i regret that i wasn't even able to save her!you think it's just you? well sorry to disappoint you i was there too!" you said and walked away from the house, tears brimming your eyes when you remembered beth.

he didn't have to be a super asshole about it, he could've just declined you nicely and you wouldn't have to be remembered of beth.

the party only didn't mean alcohol... your group might meet new people, and neighbors, that's if rick decided to settle down here.

"hey, maggie. you're more beautiful tonight!" you complimented her as glenn has his arms around maggie's waist.

"hey, abe, watch rosita tonight, men are eyeing her." you warned him with a smile as you walked further into the party.

you were still upset at daryl but you didn't let it ruin your mood tonight, you greeted a few people from alexandria before walking towards the rest of your group.

"hi, you're all so handsome and beautiful tonight." you hugged them and kissed their cheeks.

"where's robin hood?" carol asked, her gaze around the party, trying to find the redneck.

"he didn't want to come..." you explained.

"well, you go enjoy the party, honey. me and rick just have something to discuss." she told you like a mother would, making you smile.

"okay, carol." you smiled and walked away from them, grabbing yourself a glass of juice when you walked by the table. you felt a presence beside you but ignored them.

"hi, i'm lance." a voice beside you spoke, you turned and smiled at the charming man.

"hi..." you greeted and said your name. he held out his hands for you to shake and you shook it.

there wasn't any spark or whatsoever that you felt with daryl when you held his hands when there were times you were scared, and he let you.

"you wanna get out of here? you know for fresh air, it's too stuffy here." he chuckled and you nodded quickly, you felt suffocated inside deanna's home.

he held your wrist softly as he guided you out of the house, you both arrived at the porch as fresh air quickly surrounded you.

"i hate parties, but at least it's a reminder of what the world used to be, right?" you asked him as you walked with him at the sidewalk, side by side.

"yeah, i arrived here three months ago. and they really don't know what they're doing out there." he agreed.

"a–are you like looking past friendship?" you whispered at him shyly, because you weren't. you were still moving on from daryl and you didn't want to use him.

he shakes his head and laughed. "god, no. i'm gay, but it's not obvious as i'm hiding it from deanna." he said.

"you don't have to hide it, no one will hate you for who you are. it's a new world." you assured him, placing a hand on his biceps.

"thankfully you don't want to, because i'm still hung up on a boy i liked." you chuckled bitterly.

"he's a dick if he doesn't see who you are, i've just been with you for like five minutes and i can see how sweet you are in an instant, it's his fault for not seeing it." he spoke.

"but seriously, you don't have to hide... look at eric and aaron for example." you told him, you leaned in to hug him.

someone cleared their throat and you quickly turned your head to the side in nervousness.

"d-daryl." you said and quickly dropped your hands to the side, he took long strides toward you and grabbed your wrists tightly and dragged you with him.

"w–wait! i'm sorry, lance!" you shouted at the man who chuckled and waved his hands.

he dragged you into rick's house and into his basement room.

"w–what's wrong with you?!" you shout at him in confusion, along with frustration.

"what's wrong with m'? what's wrong with ye'?!" he asked as he let go of you.

"why are you turning the question? i was having a conversation and you dragged me away!" you scolded him.

"you shouldn't be talking to some guy! you trust too easy!" he taught you, something you knew already.

"he's a nice guy." you spoke softer, mistaking his intentions of dragging you away, you thought that he was just worried about you.

"yer' mine, got it? don't care if he's nice." he suddenly mumbled lowly.

"w-what?" you asked, confused. how can he just claim you like that?! you can feel your heart beating so fast it might get out of its cage.

he didn't speak and kissed you roughly, you froze and felt sparks flew to you, you can feel the heat in you.

you gasped and opened your mouth to protest but he used that to enter his tongue in your mouth.

he pulled away, "dar—" you tried to speak but he kissed you again, shutting you up.

you can't help but moan when he squeezed your breast, arching your back, and your head back.

"ahm– da–daryl..." you groaned as he began attacking your neck, your one hand was placed on the bed to support your weight as the other was on his hair.

your grip tightened on his hair as he sucked on your sweet spot making him groan.

"need you, sweetheart." daryl said as he pulled away, you looked into his eyes and saw it full of desire and love.

you nodded and tried to pull off your shirt, when you can't do it, out of nervousness, daryl helped you.

he took in the sight of you in a pink lace bra as he bit his lips, making you squirm and feel even more hot, if that was possible.

he suddenly attacked the top of your breasts as his hands went around you, unclipping your bra and taking it off of you.

"fuck, baby. this just for m'?" he asked and you nodded as you bit your lip, he took one in his hands while he placed another in his mouth.

"daryl..." you moaned as he massaged the other and sucked on the other one.

your hands found their way in your jeans, but due to its rough fabric you can't get friction.

you unclipped your jeans and tugged on them, to pull them down, daryl's other hand helping you as he guided your back to the mattress.

he pulled away from your breasts making you whine, "needy, huh?" he asked as he slipped the jeans of your feet.

he almost wants to take a shot of your body, nearly naked and out of breath, hair out of place.

he started unbuttoning his shirt as she sat up and helped him, almost needy to take the shirt off of him.

he let you do the work and after it was all unbuttoned, you stood up to slip it off his torso.

he sat on the bed as you stayed standing, he tugged on his belt and gestured it to you.

you tilted your head in confusion, before he pointed to his noticeable large bulge, making you nod in embarrassment.

you kneeled in front of him, between his legs as you looked up at him, he nodded at you, encouraging you.

you slowly took off his belt and unbuttoned his jeans, pulling down the zipper as you tugged on it, he raised his hips as you pulled it down, along with his underwear.

your mouth parted in shock as you gulped, looking at him, he looked right back at you with lust.

"h-how's that gonna fit? i-it's so big..." you shyly said as you let your gaze drift down to his cock again.

it stood proudly, the tip touching his stomach, the veins in it noticeable, you also noted of his angry red tip.

"it will fit, you will figure it out, baby girl... daddy will take care of you later, okay?" he spoke in a gentle voice, making you nod.

you were determined to fit him on your mouth and cunt, even if it will squeeze him tightly.

you kitten licked his tip, almost looking like it was to taste the pre-cum dripping down.

you felt foreign to the salty flavor but licked him again making him groan in pleasure.

if he was making that reaction it might feel good for him, and you wanted to make him feel good tonight.

you entered the tip of his angry cock in your mouth, slowly. you took more of him until he reached the back of your throat, and it was hardly half of him.

you placed your hand on his thigh and the other on his stomach, pressing it down.

you raised him out of your mouth then took him again, you looked up at him through your eyelashes as he continued moaning in pleasure. it makes you wet as his voice and moans vibrate.

you moved your mouth up and down faster, each hitting the back of your throat each time making you gag and teary.

he held a good amount of your hair and helped your head in and out of his cock.

"that's it, sweetheart..." he moaned as he moved your head faster, through your hair.

"augh– augh." you gagged again as his tip hit the back of your throat hardly.

"fuck, baby girl... yer' mouth 's so fucking warm, daddy might fuck this mouth f' day to night..." he cursed as he moaned, nearing his release.

you were so turned on by his moans and the things he was saying to you that you pressed your hands harder where they are.

"fuck, baby... 'm near... jus' keep goin'..." he encouraged you, you removed your hands off him.

you placed your hands on the remainder of his cock that your mouth can't take and synchronized it to the rhythm of your mouth.

he was so long and thick that even though it was your mouth and two hands wrapped around him there was still a part uncovered.

how does he hide this monstrous cock in his jeans? it was so long and thick you know it might not even fit you.

he moaned non-stop and then you felt his cum rushing down your throat.

he came in your mouth as he tried to catch his breath, you waited for his cum to stop releasing then pulled him out of your mouth, swallowing his semen.

you wiped the liquid that went down your chin, he looked like he was so proud of you and that made you so happy.

his thumb found its way in your lips, "show m', baby. ye' took it all, hm?"

you nodded eagerly, you opened your mouth and held your tongue out as he examined your mouth.

he nodded proudly and kissed your forehead. "good girl, daddy's proud of you..." he praised you, you whimpered at his words, making him smile.

"i-i need you in me, daddy..." you pleaded with him as if your life depended on it.

"so eager fer m', huh?" he laughed, and you nodded desperately. you couldn't stand the aching heat in your core anymore.

"p–please..." you whispered as you reached out for his cock, he stepped back with a smile making you whine.

"don't be a brat, baby girl... daddy will give it to ya. just wait, 'lright?" he whispered in your ear, you nodded.

"okay..." you plastered on a smile at him as he grabbed you by the waist, grabbing you by the waist and pushing you to the bed, gently.

"you ready fer daddy, baby?" he asked you as he teasingly rubbed his tip at your aching core, covered in your cotton panties.

"s–so ready, daddy..." you moaned at the sensation of something making contact with your clit.

it was a sight to see, your cotton underwear soaked wet with your slick.

his fingers found their way on the hem of your underwear, he slowly took it off, groaning as he saw your wet cunt.

it was pinkish, and puffy and very visibly wet. you felt shy and tried to close your thighs but he held out his hands to stop them.

"nuh–uh, baby girl... daddy wants to see his baby's pussy, okay?" he talked to you, softly.

"yes, daddy." you moaned and tried to raise your hips to feel his tips, but his hands moved your waist down, stopping you.

"daddy's goin' in, baby..." he said.

you felt his tip making contact with your aching core, you hissed in pain as he slowly entered.

"ye okay, sweetheart?" he asked as he pushed another inch into you, he waited for you to respond.

"y-yes, dare... keep going, i–i'm fine." you closed your eyes in the hope of making the pain disappear.

"fuck, baby girl. you're so tight around me..." he also hissed but in pleasure.

he pushed an inch every other minute as he patiently waited for you to adjust to his length.

he furrowed his eyebrows in worry at you as he saw a tear slipped down your cheeks.

"we don't have to do this, sweetheart..." he assured you as he went to pull back but you held his wrist and shook your head as a no.

"i-it's okay..." you nodded at him, and he sighed before kissing you and asking you to take deep breaths.

"jus' focus on me, darling..." he told you and you nodded, you didn't know it would feel this painful.

he pushed the rest of him into you, making you gasp in pain. he did it at one swift move.

you can feel yourself stretched more than ever, you can feel yourself around him, you felt so full.

almost complete, like he was the only one who was supposed to be inside of you.

like his monstrous cock was made for you, and you only. you closed your eyes as you took deep breaths.

"w–why did you do that?!" you hissed at him as you hit his biceps.

he looked guilty and sorry, "sorry, baby... it's better this way, one instant pain, get it?" he kissed your tears and held your chins in his hand.

you nodded in understanding, and he waited for you to adjust to him completely.

you nodded at him as a signal to start moving, he grinned and kissed your forehead.

he pulled out slowly before going back in, then out then in again. you felt a slight pain but it disappeared as he thrusted in again.

the pure pain changed into a mixture of pure pleasure, you held onto his shoulders and biceps, burrying your face into his neck as you moaned.

"daryl... oh goodness!" you whimpered as he thrust into you faster when he noticed you felt pleasure instead of pain.

"fuck, baby... you feel s'good around m'cock... yer' cunt was made fer me." he groaned as if reading your mind just moments ago.

you wrapped your legs around his waist to bury his cock deeper into you.

every time he thrust his tip hit your g-spot making you moan again and again, you don't even know if you will still be able to speak tomorrow.

he kissed your neck as your hands tugged on his hair and gripped his biceps tightly.

"moan fer daddy, baby." he whispered against your neck making you shiver.

"d–daddy... faster!" you moaned and held onto him tightly, you begged him to go faster and he happily obliged.

"you want daddy to fuck a baby into ya? so you can't talk to any other guy? huh?" he roughly asked.

you nodded, "p–please daddy..." you begged him as he grinned.

"please what?" he teased as he slowed his pace making you whine.

"please, daddy. fill your babies in me..." you said out of pure pleasure and desire to come.

"i will, sweetheart... i will make you carry daddy's babies." he roughly talked to you.

"i-i'm nearing!" you moaned at his ear again and again as he felt you clench around him.

you closed your eyes in pleasure as it felt heavenly... you felt so good.

"not yet, baby, not until daddy says so. you don't want to upset daddy, right?" he asked you.

you shook your head with a whimper, "n–no, daddy... i'm sorry." you apologized.

"good girl." he praised you making you clench your walls around him tighter than ever.

all he felt was pure bliss, he can hardly move in your tightness against him, and it felt so good.

"please, daddy. let me come..." you moaned as you kissed him, he moved his lips into you roughly, his beard tickling you.

"wait for daddy, i'm almost near..." he threw back, you nodded and bit your lip, you can't wait anymore.

you need to come now, but you didn't want to upset him so you held yourself from cumming.

he thrusted faster, obviously nearing too. the sounds of skin slapping together along with moans and grunts was all the room was filled with.

his balls hit your ass every time he thrust and that's where you always knew he was deep into you, he always hit into your g-spot.

"cum with daddy, baby." he growled into your ear, his movements going fast.

you let out a loud pornographic moan as you came, panting as he thrust into you.

he slowed and you can feel the liquid inside you, his cum to be precise. he came inside you.

he pulled out slowly and dropped beside you, you both were breathless, trying to catch your breaths.

"t–that was my first time, thank you..." you shyly thanked him as it felt good, you'd rather it be him than anyone else.

"really, sweetheart? yer a virgin?" he teased making you shyly nod, he stood up from the bed and went to another room then came out with a white towel.

he pressed the towel into your cunt softly as he wiped your cum and his cum that was leaking out.

"you were so good fer daddy, baby. 'm proud." he admitted and patted your head as he placed the towel away, dressing you into another clean shirt of him and put you on your underwear, he also wore his underwear and got under the covers.

also covering you with it, you laid your head against his head.

you looked up at him and pressed a kiss on his jaw as you closed your eyes.

"sleep tight, baby." he ran his fingers through your wavy blonde hair as he pressed a kiss onto your head.

he never have felt so lucky before until now, he finally had you, and he was your first time.

he was for sure jealous earlier but the best thing ever came after it.

you and him, made love, fucked, had sex, or whatever you called it.

for him it was love, he had developed feelings for you back at the prison, the first time your group found the prison.

but as a dixon he always rejected it, pushing it deep down him and not acknowledging it.

but seeing you with that man and you angry at him, fueled something into him and it lead to this.

the only one great thing he could ask for besides safety, he was happy he found you through this world.

he loves you and adores you.

[silent-stories]

𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐍𝐎 𝐊𝐎𝐈 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

Pairing: Brother's best friend! Noah x reader

Summary: fearing that your brother would lose it if he found out that his best friend is your boyfriend, you keep your relationship with Noah a secret.

Tw: fluff, angst, sneaking out at night, gross drunk dude.

A/n: Yes, I revisited all the drabbles and one-shots I had written with brother's best friend!noah, changed a few details, corrected some mistakes, added stuff, and adjusted tenses to create this. I hope this means I'll find the inspiration to write a second part. The individual parts will be deleted soon.

You weren’t supposed to fall for him.

Noah was off-limits, a line you were never meant to cross. He was your brother’s best friend, probably the guy he trusted more than anyone and that you both had known since we were little more than kids, when for them becoming a band that performed for more than a hundred people was just a dream.

You weren’t supposed to fall for him. But it just happened, and it was one of the easiest things you’ve ever done because he was such an easy person to love. Maybe you had always loved him, even from the very first days when you were still in high school.

From the day your brother had caught a bad cold and missed school, and you, two years younger than Noah, had asked if you could sit next to him at lunch. You had been so shy back then, afraid he’d turn you down. After all, why would he sit with you? He was your brother’s friend, not yours. You had only exchanged a few words before. But he had said yes immediately, and you ended up talking about music the whole time.

The thought of Nicholas finding out sent a wave of panic through you every time you let yourself imagine it.

You were certain he'd find it weird, then likely get upset that you hadn't mentioned it sooner. He’d probably say that if people found out the lead singer of his band was the merch girl's boyfriend — merch girl, who also happened to be the guitarist's sister—rumors would start flying and people would start talking bad about you.

You were scared he’d feel betrayed, as though you were taking away his best friend. And even worse, you were sure he’d be mad at Noah for getting with his little sister, the one he’d always wanted to protect since you were kids.

It was as if the fact that you and Noah were together could ruin your little family, the one you had created years ago.

And yet, none of that stopped you from sneaking down the hall each night, heart pounding as you tiptoed past closed doors, barely breathing until you reached Noah’s room. He always left the door ajar, just enough for you to slip inside and into the safety of his arms.

The nights were yours.

You traced the outlines of his tattoos, memorized the constellation of freckles across his skin. His breath tickled your ear when he whispered your name, his hands warm as they pulled you closer, as if he feared you might disappear if he let go. You ways fell asleep to the steady beat of his heart, wrapped in his warmth, in a love you could never acknowledge outside the four walls of his room.

But the mornings hurt.

Every sunrise meant slipping away before anyone could see, carefully lifting Noah’s arm from around your waist, ignoring the way he stirred at the loss of your warmth.

By day, you were just your brother’s little sister and helper of the band in terms of merch and tour organization. You sat through movie nights with the guys, careful to keep your distance even when Noah’s fingers found yours in the dark, squeezing once before reluctantly letting go. His shirts hung in your closet, worn only in the privacy of your room or during those stolen nights when they smelled like him.

He made you playlists, sent you songs he wrote, ones that carried pieces of your story within the lyrics, some that he couldn’t share with the fans or his band, some with a more hidden meaning. The first time you heard one, you knew without a doubt that it was about you. And when your eyes met his across a crowded room, his gaze already on you.

Sometimes, the guys joked about who Noah was texting, trying to snatch his phone like teenagers, and he would only laugh, shaking his head as if they were ridiculous. They had no idea the messages lighting up his screen were from you, sitting just a few feet away. They didn’t know you were the reason for the stupid grin on his face, the one he couldn’t quite hide.

You weren’t supposed to fall for him.

But you did.

Every night you went to his room, the house was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the wooden floorboards beneath your feet. You held your breath with each step, your heart pounding in your chest like a drumbeat in a silent room. The hallways of the shared house were dim, moonlight filtering through the thin curtains, casting eerie shadows that danced with every soft gust of wind.

You paused just outside Noah’s door, the faint sliver of light spilling from the slight opening he always left for you. The door was always ajar, just enough for you to slip in without a sound. You pressed your palm against the wood and pushed it open, just a fraction more, enough to let you in. Inside, Noah was already lying on his bed, propped up against the headboard with his phone in his hands.

His long hair was a bit messy and he was wearing a big t-shit with a naruto character on it. There was something so inherently comforting about seeing him like this, so relaxed and at ease. That was the version of him you loved the most.

It wasn't that you didn't love seeing him on stage, under the spotlight, singing and screaming in front of the crowd while you took care of the merch stand, but what you saw now was the real Noah.

The Noah that the fans didn't see, the one that was just for you, the Noah you loved.

He looked up at the sound of the door, a soft smile but sleepy spreading across his face when he saw you. His eyes seemed to light up, a look of pure affection crossing his features. He put the phone aside, not caring about where its place was, and held out his hand to you.

"Hey,” you whispered, closing the door behind you with a careful hand. You took a few steps toward him, your heart racing even faster now, but for a different reason, you missed him more every day you couldn't spend with him.

"Hey,” Noah whispered back, his voice low and husky, carrying all the warmth you had come to cherish. His hand found yours, pulling you closer, until you were crawling into the bed beside him. He immediately wrapped his arm around you, drawing you into his chest. You could feel the steady beat of his heart against your ear, soothing and familiar.

Every night was like this. Sneaking into his room when the world was asleep, finding solace in his arms. That was your safe place, he was your safe place, where everything felt right, where you could forget the fear of being discovered, if only for a few hours.

He didn’t say anything, just leaned in slowly, giving you enough time to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn’t. You leaned in, closing the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a tender kiss.

His lips were soft and warm against yours, moving slowly, as if savoring every second of contact. The kiss deepened, a sweet yet desperate need to feel closer to him, to make up for the moments spent apart. His hand came up to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing gently against your skin.

You could feel the warmth of his breath against your face, the steady beat of his heart as his lips moved against yours. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, not wanting to let go. You could taste the lingering hint of the coffee he must have had earlier, and it made you smile against his lips.

Noah’s hand slid down to your waist, anchoring you to him, his grip firm yet gentle. When you finally pulled away, breathless and a little dizzy, you rested your forehead against his, your noses brushing, a few strands of his long brown hair tickling your neck. The room was only filled with the soft sound of your breathing.

“I missed you,” Noah whispered, his voice barely more than a breath, his lips still so close that they brushed against yours as he spoke.

“I missed you too,” you murmured back, your hand gently caressing the back of his neck. He smiled softly, a smile meant only for you, and pressed a light, lingering kiss to your forehead. You could feel the love in his touch, in the way his lips lingered against your skin, as if trying to make the moment last forever.

“How was your day?” he asked softly, his breath warm against your hair.

“Good,” you murmured. “Better now.”

You looked up at him, and he was gazing down at you with such intensity that it made your breath catch. His hand moved to your cheek, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes. His touch was always gentle, always tender.

“Wish we didn’t have to hide,” he said quietly, a hint of sadness in his voice. It was a sentiment he had expressed before, and one you felt just as strongly. You opened your eyes to meet his, the brown of his irises soft in the dim light.

“I know. But we have to."

He sighed, pulling you closer, his lips brushing the top of your head once again.

“I know,” he echoed, and you could feel the weight of his words, the heaviness that matched your own. You traced your fingers over his arm, feeling the smooth lines of his tattoos beneath your fingertips. You had memorized each one by now, the ink a familiar landscape that you found yourself returning to time and time again.

You knew every detail, every curve, every line. The two of you lay there in silence for a while, the quiet of the room filled only with the sounds of your breathing. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek, the steady rhythm lulling you into a sense of peace.

But all too soon, after you fell asleep in his arms and spent the night there, the first light of dawn began to creep in through the window, and you knew it was time. Your heart ached as you gently lifted his arm from around your waist, moving slowly so as not to wake him. Just as you were about to slip out of bed, a soft whisper broke the silence.

“Don’t go.” You froze, your heart clenching at the plea in his voice. You turned back to look at him, his eyes still closed, but his brow furrowed as if he was dreaming. You moved a stand of hair out of his beautiful, sleepy face, then you leaned down, brushing your lips softly against his and leaving a little kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“I have to,” you whispered back, your voice barely audible. You wished you didn’t. You wished you could stay here, wrapped in his arms forever, but you knew the reality of your situation. You couldn’t risk it, not yet. Maybe one day.

You slipped out of the room as quietly as you had come, the door clicking softly behind you. The hallway was still and silent, the house still asleep.

You made your way back to your room, your steps slow, reluctant. Each step away from him felt like a weight in your chest, a distance you hated to put between you. Back in your room, you leaned against the door, closing your eyes.

The scent of his cologne lingered on your clothes, a comforting reminder of the moments you shared. You held onto that, as you climbed back into your bed, pulling the covers up around you.

Despite the fact that both of you suffered from keeping your relationship a secret, it was probably Noah who struggled the most. The weight of it pressed down on him every time he had to pretend there was nothing between you, every time he had to stop himself from reaching for you in front of others. The worst part was moments like this—when he wanted nothing more than to declare to the world that you were his, to make it clear that no one else had the right to even think about being with you. But he couldn’t.

Instead, he had to bite his tongue and watch from the sidelines, forcing himself to act indifferent when every fiber of his being burned with the need to protect what was his.

Noah wasn’t one for parties. He never had been. The loud music, the drunken conversations, the meaningless socializing—it all felt exhausting. He wasn’t even sure why he had come tonight. Maybe because Nicholas had insisted. Maybe because the whole band was there. Or maybe, and most likely, because of you. You were the only reason he was here, the only thing that made enduring nights like this worth it.

Even if he couldn’t be by your side the way he wanted to, even if he had to admire you from across the room instead of holding you close, it was enough just to be near you.

His eyes found you easily, like they always did. The outfit you had chosen hugged you perfectly, and even from a distance, you took his breath away. He knew he wasn’t the only one who had noticed. That thought alone made his jaw clench, his fingers tightening around the drink he didn’t even want. He hated the idea of other men looking at you the way only he should be allowed to.

The party was in full swing, the room buzzing with laughter, music, and the clinking of glasses. The dim lights and thumping bass created a haze that made it easy to lose yourself in the crowd.

You had been keeping an eye on Noah from across the room. He was chatting with Jolly and your brother, his smile coming and going as he listened to whatever story they were telling. Spending too much time alone with him at the party would be suspicious, you had decided before going.

You were near the bar, sipping your drink, when a guy who was clearly a little too drunk stumbled up to you. His walk was wobbly, his grin sloppy and overconfident.

“Hey there,” he slurred, leaning in too close, invading your personal space with a breath that reeked of alcohol. “Haven’t seen you around here before. You got a name, or can I just call you beautiful?”

You tried to laugh it off, taking a step back to create some distance, but he followed, closing the gap again, his expression turning from playful to something more insistent. You glanced around the room, hoping to catch someone’s eye, but everyone seemed lost in their own conversations.

“Come on, don’t be shy,” he persisted, his tone dropping to something more suggestive. “Let me buy you a drink or…something.”

Before you could muster a response, you saw Noah weaving through the crowd, his face set in a tense, protective scowl. Nicholas was right behind him, his brows furrowed as he noticed the guy cornering you. The sight of both of them approaching filled you with a mix of relief and worry. You knew Noah’s temper could flare up in situations like this, especially when it came to you.

Noah reached you first, stepping between you and the guy, his voice was steady but brimming with anger. “Enough,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. The drunk guy squinted at Noah, clearly annoyed by the interruption.

“What’s your problem, man? Who are you, her boyfriend or something?” Noah opened his mouth to respond, the word "yes" almost slipping out, but he hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at Nicholas.

He stood there, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation. His presence reminded Noah of the delicate balance you were trying to maintain, the secret you were trying to keep.

Noah’s jaw tightened, and he looked back at the guy, then at you, his eyes softening with frustration and regret. He wanted so badly to say he was your boyfriend, to claim you as his in front of everyone, but he couldn’t. Not with Nicholas right there, watching every move.

“No,” Noah finally said, his voice low and edged with pain. “I’m not her boyfriend.”

The guy smirked, seeming to take Noah’s words as a victory. “That’s what I thought,” he muttered, turning back to you. But before he could say anything else, Nicholas stepped forward, his face a mask of calm but with a sharp edge to his voice.

“Look, she’s not interested,” Nicholas said firmly, placing a protective hand on your shoulder. “I suggest you walk away before you embarrass yourself any more than you already have.”

The drunk guy blinked, clearly not expecting a second confrontation. He muttered something under his breath and staggered away, leaving you with both Noah and Nicholas. You could feel the tension radiating off Noah, his frustration palpable. Noah clenched his fists at his sides, his face a mix of anger and disappointment.

��I need some air,” he muttered, turning abruptly and heading toward the door.

You hesitated for a moment, then quickly excused yourself, following him outside.

The cool night air hit you as you stepped out, and you saw Noah a few paces away, leaning against the wall in the dark hallway next to the club, his head down, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

“Noah,” you called softly, approaching him. He didn’t look up, but you could see the tension in his posture, the way his shoulders were hunched as if he was carrying a heavy weight. You reached out, gently touching his arm. “Noah, talk to me,” you urged. He finally looked up, his eyes filled with frustration and a deep sadness.

“I just… I hate this,” he admitted, his voice rough. “I hate that I can’t even say I’m your boyfriend, that I have to hide how I feel because of—”He trailed off, his gaze flicking back to the doorway where Nicholas had been. You stepped closer, your hand moving to his cheek, gently coaxing him to look at you. His skin was soft.

“I know this is hard,” you said softly, your voice steady but filled with empathy. “But you’re still here for me, Noah. Even if we can’t tell anyone yet, that doesn’t change how much I care.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath as if trying to calm himself. When he opened them again, there was a softness there, a vulnerability that made your heart ache.

“I just want to be able to protect you,” he whispered, his hand coming up to cover yours on his cheek. “To be there for you. Without hiding.”

“You are there for me,” you whispered. “Always. And I’m here for you, too.”

He sighed, his breath warm against your lips as he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a soft, tender kiss. It was filled with all the unspoken words, the emotions he couldn’t express in front of your brother, the love he felt so deeply but had to keep hidden. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, as if he was afraid to let go.

“Thank you.” He whispered, then.

"For what?" You asked.

"For being mine. Even if they don't know."

You smiled softly, your hand moving to the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair. “Always,” you promised, sealing your words with another gentle kiss, feeling the warmth of his arms around you.

You stayed like that for a while, the party almost forgotten.

But reality had a way of creeping back in. You both knew you couldn’t stay out here forever. With a reluctant sigh, Noah finally pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his fingers brushing along your jawline, memorizing the feel of you like he always did before you had to go your separate ways.

“We should head back before someone comes looking for us” you murmured, though neither of you moved.

Noah exhaled, pressing one last lingering kiss to your forehead. “Yeah,” he agreed, but the longing in his eyes betrayed him.

Hand in hand, you walked back toward the party, but just before stepping inside, Noah gave your fingers a final squeeze before reluctantly letting go. The second you crossed the threshold, it was like nothing had happened—like you were just Nicholas’s little sister, and he was just his best friend. But as you stole one last glance at him across the room, his eyes were already on you.

Every moment was an opportunity to steal a little more time together.

It didn’t matter how brief it was—every extra second he could spend with you was pure gold.

The streetlights outside the car flickered dimly, casting a soft, golden glow over the dashboard, while the faint hum of late-night traffic in the distance created a quiet, serene atmosphere.

When you had announced that you were going to visit a friend that afternoon and would return late at night, Noah had immediately offered to give you a ride. Anything for his best friend’s little sister, right?

You had to suppress a laugh when he did that—you both knew this would turn into making out in the parking lot of a gas station at two in the morning.

The world outside felt distant, and in his the car, it was just you and Noah for the first time in a couple of days. Noah’s hand had rested on your thigh, his touch light but steady, while his other hand had cupped your cheek as he pulled you in, against his bare chest, for another kiss.

Each kiss was slow, deliberate, as though he was savoring every second you could steal together. His lips were warm against yours, soft yet firm, moving with a gentle certainty that sent warmth flooding through your veins.

You pulled away slightly, resting your forehead against his as your breaths mingled in the tiny space between you. Noah had chuckled softly, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your cheek, and you couldn't help but smile in return. God, you loved the sound of his laugh.

There was something about those quiet moments that made them feel even more precious. You knew you shouldn’t do doing this—sneaking out late at night, stealing kisses in darkened rooms or cars—but it was hard to stop when being with Noah felt so right.

His eyes flickered with something tender, his gaze holding yours in the dim light of the car. The soft glow from the streetlamp outside caught the outlines of his features, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his lips, swollen from kissing you. His hair was all messy, and his brown eyes soft, almost hazy with affection.

You had leaned in to press a kiss to the side of his mouth, then another on his cheek. “It’s getting late,” you murmured quietly. “You think it’s time to go back home? I don’t want the guys to start suspecting something.”

“We’ll tell them you were still chatting with your friend. I don’t want this to end yet. Please. I need you for a little longer.”

You smiled at his words, your heart swelling in your chest. It was moments like those that made everything worth it: the sneaking around, the secret glances, the hidden touches when no one was looking.

All of it was worth it, just for the way he looked at you then, like you were the only thing that had mattered. You traced a finger along the lines of one of his tattoos on his chest, watching as goosebumps rise on his skin.

“Okay. Five more minutes, mh?”

He hummed in agreement, his hand slipping up to tangle in your hair as he had pulled you in for another kiss. That one was slower, deeper, as though he had been trying to commit every detail of you to memory. When you pulled away, your lips brushed his one more time, and you felt his breath on your skin, warm and comforting.

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. Minutes passed in comfortable silence, the only sounds being the quiet hum of the car’s engine and the occasional faint honk from distant traffic. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to simply exist in that moment with him.

Then, with a soft thud, something fell onto the floor of the car, pulling you from your peaceful state. You glanced down and noticed Noah’s wallet lying on the ground between your feet. You bent down to pick it up, handing it back to him, but as you did so, a small photograph peeked out from one of the folds.

Curiosity piqued, you gently pulled it out, and what you saw had made your heart stop for a moment.

It was a picture of you and Noah, one that you barely remembered taking. The two of you were nestled close, his arm around you while you had grinned up at him with so much joy in your eyes. His lips were pressed to your temple, and though the picture was slightly blurry, the emotion in it was crystal clear. It was so intimate, so raw—like a little snapshot of your love, captured in one fleeting moment.

“Noah?” you asked softly, turning the picture around to show him. His eyes widened slightly when he saw it, and a faint blush crept up his cheeks.

“I, uh… I wanted to make it my wallpaper at first,” he admitted quietly, letting out a sheepish chuckle. “But, you know… with your brother and the guys, I couldn’t. I didn’t want to risk anyone seeing it. So… I printed it out and kept it in my wallet instead. That way, I can have it with me, even if no one else knows.”

Your heart swelled at his confession, warmth flooding your chest. He kept that picture close to him, hidden away but still with him at all times, like a little secret he could carry wherever he went. You felt your throat tighten, your eyes stinging slightly, but you didn't shed a tear. Instead, you smiled, wide and soft, and before you knew it, you were pressing kisses all over his face—his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, anywhere your lips could reach.

“Noah, you’re… you’re the cutest,” you whispered between kisses, and he laughed softly under your touch, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer.

“Hey, now,” he said, grinning up at you like you were smiling at him in the picture. “You’re gonna make me blush.”

You giggled knowing he was already blushing even if you couldn't see it in the dark, pressing one last kiss to his lips before pulling back to look at him.

“I’m serious. You’re—you—God. I love you so much.”

His gaze softened, and he reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle.

“I love you more,” he murmured, his voice low and sincere.

You rested your head against his chest once more, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

And no matter how complicated things could get, no matter how long you had to keep the secret, it was all worth it. Because you had Noah, and he had you.

“Five more minutes?” he asked.

“Five more minutes.”

You had never really thought that you and Noah would ever have a real, proper first date.

But one night, it just happened.

The house was blanketed in silence. Each breath you took seemed loud in the stillness, a sound you could have sworn echoed down the hallway as you cracked open your bedroom door.

You glanced out into the darkened corridor, heart pounding. The faint sound of snoring came from one of the rooms, and you held your breath, listening. Everything seemed peaceful — no footsteps, no hushed whispers, no lights turning on.

The guys were fast asleep. You sighed in relief.

It was the same routine every night. You waited for your brother and his bandmates to finally crash after a long day of rehearsals or hanging out.

Then, when you were sure they wouldn’t stir, you got ready to sneak out. You knew the path by heart now — how to step around the creaky floorboards, how to push Noah’s door just enough so it wouldn’t squeak when you slipped inside.

So, you tiptoed down the hall, heart thudding like always as you approached Noah’s door. It was cracked open, just like always, a faint glow from his phone spilling into the hallway, inviting you in. You pushed the door open a little more, slipping inside and gently shutting it behind you.

Noah looked up from his laptop, a soft, tired smile spreading across his face as soon as he saw you. He was sitting on his bed, legs crossed, wearing a simple black t-shirt and sweatpants. His dark hair was tousled, his tattoos barely visible in the dim light, but he still took your breath away.

“You’re late,” he teased in a whisper, though his tone was playful rather than annoyed.

You rolled your eyes, moving to sit on the edge of the bed beside him. “I had to make sure everyone was actually asleep this time. You know how much of a light sleeper Nick is.”

You leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. For a few moments, neither of you spoke. The silence was comforting.

Then when you looked up, silently, he leaned closer, his eyes briefly darting to your lips before he closed the gap between you. His hand gently cupped your cheek, pulling you slightly closer with a gentle touch.

“I’ve been thinking,” Noah whispered, his lips brushing yours.

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him. “About what?”

He smirked, his hand trailing down your arm until his fingers interlocked with yours. “I want to take you out. Like, out out. Not just sneaking around in our rooms.”

“But we can’t. Someone might see us. You know.”

Noah’s smile softened, a hint of determination in his eyes. “It’s two in the morning. Everyone’s asleep. No one’s going to see us. And I'm not famous enough to be recognized walking around in the middle of the night.”

"Oh, you mean like... right now."

"I mean right now." He chuckled.

He was right. The idea of sneaking out into the quiet night, of walking beside him without having to hide — even if it was just for a little while — was too tempting to resist.

“Okay,” you whispered, a smile tugging at your lips. “Let’s do it.”

Noah grinned, his eyes lighting up with excitement as he jumped up from the bed, grabbing a hoodie and tossing it on. “We’ll be quick. Just a walk around here.”

You chuckled, standing and pulling one of his oversized hoodies over your own clothes, it smelled like him; comforting, familiar.

With one last glance toward the hallway to make sure no one was stirring, you laced your fingers with Noah’s and followed him out of the room, both of you moving as quietly as possible. You slipped down the stairs, tiptoeing past your brother’s room, both of you holding your breath until you reached the front door.

Once outside, the cool night air hit you, and you let out a breath of relief. Noah closed the door behind you, his shoulders relaxing now that you were out in the open.

“This is crazy.” you whispered, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you looked at him.

Noah laughed softly, pulling you closer.

You leaned into him as the two of you began walking down the quiet street. The city was calm, almost eerily so, with only the occasional flickering streetlight or distant sound of traffic. It was like the world had paused, and for a moment, it felt like it was just you and Noah — no secrets, no one to hide from.

His arm slipped around your shoulders, pulling you against his side as you walked. You tilted your head up, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, taking in the way his jawline was illuminated by the dim streetlights, how the faintest trace of a smile played on his lips.

You’d spent so many nights like this with him, but this time felt different. It felt freer.

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” you whispered, squeezing his hand a little tighter.

Noah glanced down at you, his eyes soft. “I’m glad we are.”

You walked together in silence for a while, enjoying the stillness of the night. Eventually, you stumbled upon a small ice cream shop, its neon sign buzzing softly in the darkness. You looked up at Noah, raising an eyebrow.

“You want ice cream? At two in the morning?” He asked.

“Why not? Ice cream’s good anytime.”

Laughing, he followed you into the shop. It was completely empty, just as you’d expected, and you both ordered your favorite flavors, sitting down on a bench outside to enjoy the cool night air.

As you ate, Noah kept stealing bites of your ice cream, making you giggle every time he did. It felt so normal, so simple — just two people on a date.

When you finished, Noah leaned in, his face inches from yours. His gaze softened, and before you could say anything, his lips met yours in a gentle kiss.

He tasted like vanilla.

“I wish we didn’t have to hide this,” he murmured, his voice soft, almost pained.

You closed your eyes, your chest tightening. “Me too.”

Eventually, the night began to wear on, and you knew you had to head back before anyone woke up. The walk home was quiet, both of you holding onto the fleeting moments of freedom as long as you could.

Once back inside the house, you slipped into your separate rooms without a word. Noah gave your hand one last squeeze before he disappeared into his room, leaving you to sneak back to yours. You climbed into bed, pulling one of his shirts around you, inhaling his scent as your heart ached with the desire to stay by his side.

The next morning came too soon, the sunlight creeping through the blinds. As the house began to wake up, you felt the familiar weight of your secret settle back on your shoulders.

But when you caught Noah’s eye over breakfast, and he gave you that small, knowing smile, you knew it was worth it.

What you didn't know was that someone in the house, the night before, around half past three, heard a noise coming from the garden and, looking through the curtains of his room, saw two figures holding hands enter.

"I fucking knew it." He had whispered before getting back into his bed.

You both thought you had done a good job keeping your relationship a secret, never suspecting that someone so close had known about it for months.

The dressing room you were in was dimly lit, quiet except for the low hum of the crowd outside as you were enjoying the pre-show silence, waiting for Noah.

You leaned against a wall, knowing he would pop in at any second before going out. It was almost ritual, by now, even if there was always a degree of risk.

The door opened without noise, and you smiled at the sight of him.

Noah's brown eyes caught your gaze. He said nothing; he merely came to you, his arms slipping about your waist as if that was the place where they belonged.

"Hey," he whispered, bending to press a soft kiss against your lips, the light brush sending warmth spreading through your chest.

"Hey," you whispered back, your fingers tracing down the fabric of his jacket as you drew him in a little closer.

"How're you feeling?" Noah asked low, like forgetting that he was the one who was about to perform in front of hundreds of people and not you, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His eyes were tender, the kind to make you forget you were in a room where anyone could walk in.

"Good," you said, being truthful-a small smile tugging at your lips. "Better now that you're here."

It was always the same answer. Because it was true.

He smiled, one of those smiles that skipped a beat in your heart. "I needed this before going out there."

You leaned up to kiss him again. His hand was against your back, tugging you closer, deepening the kiss enough to remind you just how much you both craved these brief moments alone.

But just as you pulled back, still feeling the warmth of his breath against your lips, you heard a slight noise from behind.

Both of you turned, and your heart dropped when you saw Jolly standing in the doorway with his arms crossed and an amused look on his face. Your stomach twisted.

You took a half-step backward, but Noah didn't budge; his arm remained around your waist. Neither one of you panicked. As a matter of fact, there was some sort of silent exchange of looks between you both, each of you waiting for the other's reaction to see how Jolly would take it.

"Man, look I-" Noah started, but Jolly waved his hand, a smile breaking across his features.

"Relax," he said lightly. "You don't have to explain anything. I've known for a while now."

You and Noah stared in surprise. "You... have?"

Jolly snorted, taking a further step into the room. "Yeah, I'm not blind. I have seen you sneaking around. And the way you two act with each other? I mean, it's not that hard, really, to figure out."

You exchanged a quick look with Noah; a slow smile pulled the corner of his lips down, part relief, part amusement. "Guess we weren't as subtle as we thought."

"Not even close," Jolly snickered, "but I don't care. Honestly, I've just been waiting for one of you to say something."

You relaxed completely now, a soft laugh escaping your lips. "You didn't think that it was weird? I mean, me and Noah? Nick thinks he is like... a brother to me too."

Jolly shrugged, his expression softening. "Nah. You're both adults. If this makes you happy, then what's the problem? You're not doing anything wrong."

Noah exhaled too, relieved. "You don't think he'd freak out?"

Jolly cocked his head, considering a moment. "Nick might be a bit surprised initially, sure. But he's not going to freak out. You're his sister, Noah's his best friend. If anything, he might actually be relieved it's you two-people he trusts."

That was something you hadn't considered. You'd always wished Nick would react badly, but Jolly's words showed you another perspective. "So. You think he wouldn't mind?"

"I think," Jolly said with a grin once more, "he's gonna be okay. He maybe just needs a day or two to get used to it, but he's not gonna blow up over this."

Noah chuckled softly and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "Well, thanks, man. We didn't want to cause any drama."

Jolly shook his head. "There's no drama." He said before turning back toward the door. "I'll leave you two alone. But don't take too long, they're waiting for you out there."

The air was lighter in the room with the door clicked shut behind him. Noah let loose a deep breath, and you couldn't but burst out in laughter with such an overwhelming feeling of relief. "Well, that went better than expected."

Noah grinned, pulling you back into his arms. "No kidding. I thought we were busted."

"Turns out we've been busted for a while," you teased, leaning your head against his chest.

"Yeah, well, I'm just glad he's cool with it." He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, his hands resting lightly on your waist. "Maybe we won't have to sneak around anymore soon."

You smiled, lifting your head to look up at him. "Mh. Maybe."

Noah leaned down and his lips captured yours in a long, slow kiss. It felt right, like finally some of the weight of hiding was lifting. As he pulled back, his thumb brushed your cheek light, his eyes filled with the warmth you'd grown to love.

"You need to go, rockstar. Or someone is really gonna get mad at you this time." You said moving a strand of his long hair away from his face.

"I know." He smiled, leaned in, and kissed you once more.

"Noah. You. Need. To. Go. Now." You tried to say. "And I need to go too. Your band merch won't sell itself. And I bet you want money to spend on your pretty tattoos."

"Okay, okay." He chuckled. "If someone hits on you, tell them your boyfriend is on stage."

You rolled your eyes. "You know I can't."

Noah sighed. "I know."

It had been a couple of weeks since Jolly found out that you and Noah were together. He promised not to tell anyone and he kept his promise.

The house was quiet as you lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. The soft hum of the voices coming from the TV still on in the livingroom was the only sound breaking the silence.

Outside your window, the stars were shining brightly in the deep night sky and the light filtering through the curtains was softly illuminating your bedroom.

Your phone buzzed on your nightstand, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You reached over quickly, hoping it was him. Knowing it was him.

Noah: I’ve been waiting for this all day

Noah: But Nicholas is still watching that damn movie.

Noah: If he doesn’t wrap it up soon, I’m gonna lose it.

You looked at his texts as a little sigh left your lips.

You: I know. I can’t even leave my room if he is still there.

You: It’s like he’s never gonna go to sleep.

Noah: Yeah, he’s definitely watching some crazy long documentary or whatever.

Noah: I bet we’re gonna be up til morning.

You rolled your eyes, imagining Nicholas sitting there with that seriousness of his. There was nothing that man loved more than a random documentary, sometimes.

You: That's so annoying.

For a moment, your phone didn't lit up with a new text from Noah, and you already knew he was thinking about something.

Noah: You think you can get out of your room from your window?

You froze. Did he just suggest what you think he suggested?

You: Have you gone crazy? You know that’s not a good idea. It’s like 2 AM and Nick is fucking awake.

You could almost picture him grinning in his room as he texted you.

Noah: It’s the first floor. Just a little jump.

Noah: I’ll be here to catch you, don't worry. Give me 10 minutes.

You stared at your phone screen for a moment, unsure whether to laugh or scold him.

You: This is a terrible idea. What if someone hears something? What if they realize one of us is not home anymore?

Noah: Trust me. I’ve got this, it's not different than sneaking into my room.

Noah: You’ll be fine. Just get ready.

Reluctantly, you placed your phone back on the bed and moved to the window. You cracked it open a few inches, peering into the night. You could see the glow of the porch lights shining on the grass below, but there was no sign of Noah. You waited for a couple of minutes more.

A moment later, Noah was standing there, his hands tucked into the pockets of his oversized hoodie, the hood pulled low enough to hide his hair. He immediately smiled at you like a kid.

“What the hell are you doing, Noah?” you whispered, trying to keep your voice steady as you leaned out just a bit further.

Noah looked up at you. “I expected a "oh Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?" Not a "What the hell are you doing, Noah?""

"Dumbass."

"But you love me. And I love you too. And I wanted to see you.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the soft smile that tugs at your lips. “Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, though the words came out more fond than annoyed.

Noah’s grin widened. “And I know you wanted to see me too. So here I am. Let's go.”

You chuckled softly, glancing down at the ground. He was right—it was the first floor. You could definitely jump without breaking anything.

"Why can't you just come inside now?"

"I liked our last "date", walking around and holding your hand like we are not hiding anymore. Even if it lasts only like an hour."

With a deep breath, you pushed yourself away from the window and quickly put on your coat.

Then, you took his hand, feeling the familiar spark of his touch that always both sendt your heart racing and calmed you down, and he helped you down onto the grass. The air was cool, but not too cold.

When he kissed you, for a brief moment, you let yourself forget the dangers, forget the secrets you were keeping, and just breathed in the fresh air before losing yourself in the taste of his mouth.

You both started walking down the street, side by side. It was quiet at that hour, with only the distant hum of streetlights and the occasional rustle of leaves in the trees. You couldn’t hold his hand like that during the day, couldn’t show him affection without worrying about someone seeing. But there, in the night, you were free.

The walk was slow, peaceful. You didn’t need to speak; just being together was enough.

You pointed to a group of stars in the sky, and Noah, pretending to know the constellations, started making up their names, causing you to burst out laughing.

“That one,” he said confidently, pointing to a cluster of stars, “is the Mighty Squirrel. It represents bravery and an undying love for acorns.”

You snorted. “Oh, of course. And what about that one?”

He followed your finger and nodded solemnly. “That’s the Sleeping Dragon. It only wakes up when there’s a solar eclipse.”

You giggled, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“That,” he said with exaggerated seriousness, “is the Ice Cream Cone. A sacred constellation said to bring good luck to those who eat dessert before dinner.”

You burst into laughter. “You are the worst stargazer ever.”

Then, out of nowhere, a small, scruffy cat darted across the road, stopping near a mailbox. Noah’s eyes lit up in amusement, and he immediately dropped to one knee, his smile softening.

“Oh my god,” he said, practically cooing. “Look at this little guy.” His voice dropped to a teasing whisper as he held out a hand to the cat. “You are the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, aren’t you?”

“Hey!”

“You are the cutest thing I’ve ever seen after my girlfriend, aren’t you?” he corrected himself.

You laughed, bending down beside him to join in. The cat didn’t seem to mind the attention, rubbing against Noah’s hand with a soft purr.

You both chuckled. It was so silly, so simple, and in that moment, it felt like you were just two people enjoying a night under the stars, not two people hiding your love.

Eventually, you both stood up, saying goodbye to the cat, and Noah put his arm around your shoulders, starting to walk back home, keeping your hand in his the whole time.

When you reached your window, Noah helped you back inside. He leaned up against the ledge, his face so close to yours that your heart nearly stopped. You could smell the faint trace of his cologne mixed with the night air, and you felt like you could stay in that moment forever.

“Goodnight,” he said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips as you leaned down the window one last time.

You smiled, feeling warmth spread through you as you gently pulled back. “Goodnight.”

“See you tomorrow,” he said, his voice lingering with the promise of another secret meeting.

“Yeah,” you whispered back, smiling as you watched him retreat to his own window.

That was your second date outside. You were almost getting used to it.

And you loved it.

The day after, you found out that while your brother was watching the whole extended version of The Lord of the Rings, he noticed that Noah had left his airpods on the coffee table in the living room.

And when he suggested bringing them to Noah’s room to avoid him thinking he had lost them outside like last time, Jolly insisted there was no need.

He was probably already asleep.

You definitely owed Jolly a big favor.

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @bloody-spades @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme @hurricanesfollowyou @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @missduffsblog @pandora-08

[misspygmypie]

Unexpected Return

Part of the "Meet & Greet... and more?" Universe Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader, Lando Norris x Noah Words: 1543 Request: How would Lando react if Noah's dad came back? And him wanting to know Noah but only so he can met all thease famous people? Masterlist

Please do not repost, thank you, and leave some feedback :)

Lando and Y/N had built a beautiful life together. From the day they met there was an undeniable spark between them, one that grew into a deep and fulfilling love. Lando, with his warm smile and unwavering support, had become everything Y/N had ever hoped for. They married in a cozy ceremony surrounded by close friends and family and Lando even adopted Y/N’s son, Noah.

Noah was now seven years old, full of energy and curiosity, a constant source of joy and laughter in their home alongside their daughter Maebry. Lando had embraced his role as a father with all his heart and Noah adored him in return. Their bond was unbreakable but one fateful day their happy bubble was about to be burst.

Lando sat at the kitchen island, staring blankly at the stack of papers in front of him. They were from a lawyer’s office, detailing the request for a meeting with Noah’s biological father, Tom. The words blurred together as a storm of emotions swirled in his mind.

He had been up all night, grappling with the realization that Tom was back. The man who had left Y/N and Noah without a second thought, the man who had abandoned them in their most vulnerable time, was suddenly reappearing as if nothing had happened. Lando’s heart pounded with anger and disbelief. How could he just show up now, after all this time? After not giving a damn for seven years?

He remembered the early days when Y/N had told him about Tom’s departure. The pain and uncertainty she had faced while raising Noah alone had been palpable. Lando had stepped in as a steady presence and he had come to love Noah as his own. To him, Noah was his son in every way.

The idea of Tom coming back now felt like an intrusion, a violation of the family that Lando and Y/N had worked so hard to build. He couldn't help but think of all the moments Tom had missed - the shared hot chocolates on a cold night, the splashing in the water together on the beach, the late-night cuddles on the sofa and the countless days filled with laughter and love.

He paced the kitchen, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. The thought of Tom sitting across from Noah, trying to claim a place in his life after so many years of indifference made Lando’s blood boil. It was about Noah’s well-being, his stability and the family Lando had fought so hard to create and nurture. Lando’s role was to ensure that Noah felt safe and loved and now Tom threatened that.

When Y/N walked into the room, her eyes filled with concern, Lando’s frustration bubbled to the surface. “I just don’t get it,” he said, his voice rough and loud. “He didn’t give a damn about Noah. Now he shows up like he’s entitled to something?! How can he just come back after all this time?!”

Y/N moved to his side, placing a calming hand on his shoulder. “I know it’s hard, Lando. It feels like a betrayal and it’s not fair but we have to handle this carefully. Noah deserves to understand his past but he also needs to know that we’re here for him, no matter what.”

Lando nodded, though the anger still simmered beneath the surface. “I just can’t stand the thought of Noah being hurt or confused. He’s my son. I want to protect him from this.”

Y/N squeezed his shoulder. “I know you do and you will. We’ll take this one step at a time, together. Noah’s safety and happiness are our top priorities. We’ll show him that, no matter what happens with Tom, you are his dad.”

They gathered in the cozy corner of the living room, the same spot where they had spent countless evenings reading stories and sharing moments of joy. Noah, sensing the seriousness of the conversation, nestled into the cushions of the sofa, his small frame wrapped in his favorite blanket. Y/N and Lando sat down beside him, their expressions tender but concerned.

Y/N took a deep breath and began gently, “Noah, there’s something we need to talk to you about. It’s very important and might be a bit confusing but we want to be honest with you.”

He looked up at her. “What is it, mommy?”

Lando reached over and gave Y/N’s hand a reassuring squeeze before speaking. “Your biological father has reached out to us. He wants to meet you.”

Noah furrowed his brow, trying to process the information. “But... why?” he asked, his voice small.

“We don’t have all the answers right now, sweetie,” Y/N leaned in closer, her voice soft and comforting. “He’s reached out because he wants to be a part of your life but what’s most important to remember is that nothing changes for us.”

Noah glanced over at Lando, his eyes searching for reassurance. “But I have a dad,” he said softly. “You’re my dad.”

Lando’s heart ached at the vulnerability in Noah’s voice. He smiled gently at the boy next to him. “I am, buddy. Nothing is going to change that. I love you and I always will. No one can take away what we have together.”

Noah’s face softened at Lando’s words, though the confusion still lingered in his eyes. “So... what happens now?”

Y/N wrapped an arm around Noah, pulling him close. “We’ll take things one step at a time. We’ll be there with you. And if you have any questions or need to talk about how you’re feeling, we’re here for you, always.”

Noah nodded slowly and looked up to his parents. “Okay,” he said quietly. “I guess we can figure it out together.”

The next few weeks Lando watched as Noah met Tom under supervised conditions, feeling every pang of discomfort and mistrust. Each visit was a reminder of the betrayal that Tom represented but Lando remained composed. Through it all, Lando’s love for Noah never wavered.

As time went on, it became clear that Tom’s presence did little to alter their family dynamic. Tom’s attempts were weak and in return it was almost as if Noah didn’t care at all about the man who tried to insert himself into his life.

The meetings with Tom had left Lando feeling uneasy and he couldn’t shake the nagging suspicion that Tom’s motives went beyond a genuine desire to reconnect with Noah. Lando had seen enough to know that something was off.

One afternoon Lando’s suspicions were confirmed. He received an unexpected phone call from a close friend in the entertainment industry, someone who had become familiar with Lando’s life through various public appearances. His friend revealed that Tom had been dropping Lando’s name in circles, speaking of the “potential” opportunities his association with Lando could bring. The friend had heard Tom’s comments about meeting famous people and leveraging Lando’s status for personal gain.

The realization hit Lando like a ton of bricks. It was as if Tom’s return was nothing more than a carefully orchestrated scheme to benefit from Lando’s fame and connections. Tom wasn’t interested in being a father; he was interested in the perks that came with being connected to someone like Lando.

His anger flared. He felt nothing but betrayal - not just for himself but for Noah, who had been unwittingly caught in the middle of this. The thought that Tom could use Noah as a stepping stone to further his own agenda was infuriating and he had to tell Y/N.

Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, her body tense and her eyes brimming with tears. She looked up at Lando with a mixture of disbelief and heartbreak. The weight of what she had just heard was clearly overwhelming.

“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“I’m positive,” Lando said, his tone resolute but edged with a deep-seated rage. “It’s clear that he doesn’t care about Noah or us, he just wants to use this situation to benefit himself.”

The tears she had been holding back now spilled freely down her cheeks. “How could he do this? How could he be so selfish?!” she choked out, her voice breaking with each word.

Lando’s heart ached at the sight of Y/N. Seeing her so devastated made his anger toward Tom burn even hotter. He moved to sit beside her on the bed, his own emotions threatening to overwhelm him. “I know, love,” he said softly, his voice filled with pain. “I hate that he’s causing all of us this hurt. He doesn’t deserve to be anywhere near us, especially not around Noah.”

“We can’t let him do this,” Y/N leaned into Lando, seeking comfort in his embrace. “Noah deserves so much better,” she said, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

“I won’t let him hurt you or Noah. Never.”

The next step was clear. Lando and Y/N made the difficult decision to formally sever contact with Tom. They consulted with legal advisors to ensure that Noah’s well-being and safety were protected, ensuring that Tom’s presence would not be a part of Noah’s life moving forward.

________

AN: This was actually a bit challenging, so Anon I hope you like it and if not let me know and I can rewrite 😊🫶

Taglist: @eloriis @pacifierbby @landossainz @littlegrapejuice @barcelonaloverf1life @poppyflower-22 @itsjustfranzi @vickykazuya

[doomhands-jr]

The Devil's Advocate - Chapter 14

Pairing: Delinquent!Noah Sebastian X Pastor's Daughter!Reader

Summary: Noah is a delinquent with a lot of anger at the church. You're a pastor's daughter plagued by moral perfectionism, charged with overseeing the community service he's been sentenced to complete. You've never encountered true temptation before. How will you fare up against Noah, who not only isn't bound by the same rules of purity as you, but actively scoffs at them?

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Smut

Masterlist

Thanks to @flowerynerds for the banner!

Thanks to @throughwoodsanddirt for the beta!

Buy me a coffee

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Noah pushed in slowly. That was always his favorite part: that slow first push, the quiet gasp she makes at the initial stretch… It was almost as good as coming. 

Fuck, she was so wet. She gushed around him, hot and slick around his throbbing cock. 

He groaned against her neck, snaking his hand up her shirt and squeezing the soft flesh, thumbing over her perky nipple. She threw her head back as he thrust into her again, exposing her neck for him to lathe his tongue across. It was hot, and slick, and he slid in and out of her over and over again. 

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“What the—ow!” 

You were still half-asleep when your elbow crashed into the coffee table, but you woke up just fast enough to catch yourself before your head followed suit. 

Adrenaline coursed through your veins. You struggled to catch your breath. Searching around for what had sent you tumbling off the couch so early in the morning, you caught a glimpse of Noah’s tall silhouette disappearing around the corner. A few seconds later, you heard the latch to the bathroom door close softly. 

Your elbow throbbed, and you pushed up the sleeve to see the damage. Already, an angry red lump had begun to form. 

What the hell had happened? 

You’d been having a good dream, though you couldn’t remember what it was about. Just that you were warm—a stark contrast to the unexpected chill that slowly started to register now that the spindly fingers of sleep had begun to release you from their clutches. 

You exhaled slowly, noticing a chill in the air that hadn’t been there before. 

What were you dreaming about? 

Noah was there, you were fairly certain. The two of you were pressed up close to one another, him behind you, and…

…oh shit.

You clapped a hand over your mouth, eyes growing wide. 

That was real. 

Everything froze as your brain began to fill in the holes of your memory. 

You and Noah had fallen asleep on the couch together, and you were sure you’d gravitated towards each other in your sleep. Beyond that, and this may or may not have been real, but you thought you felt movement. 

Your skin tingled with its own memory—one your brain couldn’t yet latch onto. The back of your neck, your right breast, all along your back, your ass…they thrummed with the knowledge that Noah had been there. You could almost hear him groaning softly in your ear as he moved against you. Your neck understood what it felt like to have him sighing, open-mouthed, against it, and down in between your legs, you were damper than you’d ever been. 

It was too much. 

Flopping back onto the couch, you stared at the faint outlines of smoke stains that decorated the corners of the stucco ceiling. 

Noah must have woken up and abruptly realized he’d been dry-humping you in his sleep. That’s probably what had sent you tumbling into the coffee table, him getting up in such a hurry.  

You rolled over to face the back of the sofa. 

It was so nice. You didn’t even need to be cognitively present for it to know that it had been nice. You let your eyes drift shut, allowing your body to sink into the memory of him behind you, arm wrapped around and clutching at your chest. Noah, firm and hot against your lower back, grinding himself into you. 

You reached down to cup your sex over your clothes. Not much—just enough to relieve some of the tension. 

You must have fallen into a micro-sleep because the next thing you know, you woke up to the sound of Noah clearing his throat. You blinked your eyes open to see him standing awkwardly at the far end of the couch. He shifted from foot to foot, clasping his hands in front of him.

“Sorry about that,” he said. The words were awkward as they tumbled past his lips. “I, uh, had to go to the bathroom.”

“It’s okay,” you said, pretending you had no idea what had happened. 

“Power’s out,” he continued. “We should probably get you back to your dorm.” 

You sighed, not wanting your time with him to be over quite so soon. The last time you and Noah had been sexual, he’d disappeared immediately after. You wondered if it was a pattern of his, whether or not he would get in his head, decide your presence in his life was too much trouble, and ghost again. 

Part of you was already preparing yourself emotionally for that. 

“What time is it?” you asked. 

“Almost nine.” He crossed the room to open the blinds and let the sun in, flooding the dark room with light. “Jesus,” he muttered, scanning the scene outside. 

You sat up, craning your neck to see what had drawn that reaction out of him, but didn’t have to wait long. 

Overnight, the snow had collected in droves, piled so high you could barely make out the cityscape underneath it. The road out front showed evidence that salt trucks and plows had already begun working, but that just meant that the snow had been pushed to the side in large piles, blocking sidewalks and driveways. In the yard, the landscaping had been blanketed over, sharp edges reduced to vague white shapes that were your only clues that beneath the ice, you may find where the sidewalk stops and the steps to the porch begin. 

“Looks like the power’s out all over this side of town,” said Noah. You looked over to find him thumbing over his phone screen. “And my shift got canceled.” 

“Yikes,” you said. “Phones are still working, though?”  

He nodded, striding across the room to check outside the front windows. 

You fumbled around in your bag for your phone, opening it to see a text from your parents asking you about the storm, as well as a notification from the university. 

“Power’s out at the university too,” you said. “Generators are down. It says a temporary shelter is being provided at the fire hall just off campus.” 

Noah disappeared down the hall, coming back with a bundle of garments in his arms. He dropped them on the floor, then picked out a black hoodie from the pile and threw it on before looking at you. 

“Get your coat on.” 

You stared at him blankly, then out to the window, and then back to him. “Noah, there’s no way I can make it to the fire hall in this,” you said. “The sidewalks aren’t even passable.” 

“I know,” he said, throwing on some sweatpants over his basketball shorts and tying a knot in the drawstring. “We have to check on the neighbors though. There are some old people that live down the street. We gotta make sure they’re okay.” 

You slapped a palm against your forehead. 

Of course.

How had you missed that? Usually, you’d be the first to jump into service mode, always thinking of how the people around you were affected by problems before worrying about your own comfort. Truthfully, you were a little ashamed you hadn’t considered it.  

You allowed that shame to motivate you into action, throwing your coat on and searching around for where you’d put your boots. 

“Do you have any shovels?” you asked, working to right a sleeve of your jacket that had turned inside out when you removed it last. “We could at least clear the sidewalks for people so they can get to a shelter if they need it.”  

Noah tossed you an extra pair of socks for you to slip on over the ones you were wearing. “Yep,” he said, zipping up a heavy black puffer coat. Then he slipped into a pair of heavy black work boots and began lacing them up. “They’re on the porch. The fire hall’s only a few blocks away. Let’s work on shoveling and salting the sidewalk and then we’ll check on houses as we go.” 

You nodded, pulling on your gloves and following Noah out. 

Ridding the sidewalks of snow was tedious, but the two of you weren’t the only ones working at it. Across the street, a few men worked to get their sidewalk cleared. Down two blocks were another few people with snow shovels, chipping away at the thick blanket of snow. 

As soon as the pair of you cleared the sidewalk in front of a house, you knocked on the door to see who might be inside. So far, only two houses were still occupied in the area. The rest must have evacuated prior to the storm or were visiting relatives for the holidays. One older couple had a fireplace in the house and were taken care of. The other—a frail elderly lady who lived alone, had already arranged for her son to pick her up in his truck and take her to his house. 

The two of you worked until lunch, where you heated up a frozen pizza in Noah’s gas oven and ate in relative silence before heading back out to finish shoveling the next block. 

The work was heavy and strenuous, but it allowed you to clear your head until you were devoid of thoughts and feelings and existed simply as a body, utilizing its strength to accomplish a task. You worked until your muscles burned with the effort and sweat caused your sweater to cling to you and your fingers to prune beneath your gloves despite the cold.  

Ten or so meters away, Noah had his back turned to you as he stuck the shovel beneath the pile of snow, nudged it deeper with his heel, and flung it back over his shoulder. He worked far quicker than you, those days at the gym providing him with ample strength and stamina while you struggled to accomplish even half as much. 

There was something about how driven he was to help his neighbors that had you in your feelings. He never once complained or acted like it was a chore, and he never expected any thanks, either. He did it because it was the right thing to do. 

You turned back to your own section of the sidewalk, punching through the snow with the shovel again and straining under its weight while you tossed it into the yard. You’d developed blisters on your fingers a few hours ago, but kept pushing through, determined to see the sidewalk cleared. It took until the sun was three quarters of the way across the sky to finish the job, but ultimately, you managed it. 

Heaving deep, frozen breaths that cracked your lips on the way in, you locked eyes with Noah and shared a mutual understanding: the work wasn’t finished. 

“Fire hall?” you suggested. 

Noah huffed a laugh, face red and skin scrubbed raw from the way the wind had whipped at it all afternoon. “Yeah,” he said, and you both ditched your shovels on his porch, heading to the hall. 

You arrived to a flurry of activity. The hall was in the middle of being converted into a temporary shelter. A handful of volunteers were busy setting up temporary cots, carrying supplies in from trucks, assembling care packages, and distributing blankets. 

You and Noah parted ways for the time being, him heading to help with the unloading of supplies and you making a beeline over to where two middle-aged women were in a corner, sorting blankets into different piles. 

“How can I help?” you asked. 

“Oh! Good, glad you’re here,” one of them chimed immediately, not even bothering to introduce herself or ask your name. She handed you a pile of folded blankets. “Would you mind setting one of these on each of the cots? Come back when you run out and we’ll have more for you.” 

You got to work, methodically distributing the blankets, weaving in and out from the cots. Some already had occupants, who gratefully accepted the offerings. You noticed a number of them looked like they may have not come from the most secure living environments, possibly unhoused, and it pained you to think of them facing the elements on their own. Rather than fighting back the emotions, you let them spur you forward, determined to see as many people taken care of as possible. 

Once all the blankets had been passed out, you made your way to the kitchens, where volunteers sorted donated food from boxes into piles. Again, you got right to work, asking how you could best be of service and not minding when you were given the task of sorting expired food from fresh. You didn’t even squirm when you had to shovel out a pile of rotten potatoes from the bottom of a crate, though the smell alone had your stomach clenching uncomfortably.  

After that, you got to work scrubbing dishes leftover from the morning’s meal service in preparation for dinner. The staff at the kitchen were in the midst of preparing large batches of soup to hand out, complete with bread and sides of vegetables, and when you finished with the dishes, you switched to chopping carrots for the soup. 

The whole time, the only thing you could think was that this was what philanthropy was supposed to be. There was no ulterior motive to ensure the people receiving help believed in a specific god or religion, just a deep desire to see those in need taken care of. 

It was nearly eight o’clock when you finally stopped to take a break. Warm at last, the sweat dripped down from your temples and your lower back, and you started to realize just how exhausted you were. It was a good tired, but tired nonetheless. 

Wiping your brow, you collapsed into one of the metal chairs lining the hallway outside of the kitchen. As you drank deeply from your water bottle, you observed the scene before you: 

The entire community, or what remained of it, had come together to help each other out. Old and young, rich and poor, all working beside each other to ensure everyone was taken care of and had what they needed.

And in the middle, lading soup into bowls and handing them out was Noah. 

In the back of your mind, you knew that the modern depiction of White Jesus wasn’t remotely accurate to what the actual person probably looked like. Biblical iconography has been whitewashed over centuries of European colonialism, and the real Jesus looked a lot more like the colonized than the colonizer. 

Still, the small part of you that fell in love with the depictions of Jesus you grew up with couldn’t help but notice the similarities between the man that hung from the crucifix in your childhood living room and the man that stood before you. 

Glued to your chair, you watched in awe as Noah smiled at the strangers he served. He offered food to the hungry, rest to the weary, and comfort to those who sought it. 

Several things dawned on you at once: that the metaphor playing out in front of you was disrespectfully on-the-nose; that you didn’t have a simple crush on Noah, but instead actual, tangible feelings for him; that acting on these feelings would mean taking a serious risk considering he’d already hurt you before; and that you were going to act on them anyway, and in many ways were already in the process of acting on them. 

It wasn’t butterflies, but an entire hornet’s nest that erupted in your stomach. 

Holy shit, you were in love with this man. 

You forced yourself to breathe slower, counting to eight on each exhale because the last thing you needed was to lose it in the middle of a crowded fire hall. 

You had to slow down. Was it possible you were deifying him? Had you put this person on a pedestal, failing to see him for who he really was? Had he reminded you of a figurehead you’d always admired, and was that why you were convinced you were in love? 

It was possible. You’d been known to idolize crushes in the past. 

But Noah had been up front about his flaws from the moment he met you. If anything, you’d had to dig deep to find the parts of him that were pure, like what you were currently witnessing. 

You observed him, taking in the way he greeted everyone as they passed him in line, ladling soup into bowls and handing them off with a warm smile. With his hair net and apron, he may have looked more like a lunch lady than any religious icon, but you couldn’t call the humble kindness on his face anything other than Christlike. 

Gratitude. That was what you were feeling. You were overcome with gratitude for the opportunity to know this person. 

Though there were perhaps a few more tasks you could have finished if you’d really looked, most of the work was done by that point, and you were struck with the notion that perhaps the best work you could do at that point was to take in everything happening around you. To let it change you. 

So you did. 

--------

Walking out of the fire hall half an hour later, you and Noah strolled down the cleared sidewalk in companionable silence, both tired from the day’s events and content to reflect on the shared feeling of a job well done. 

When you came upon the intersection that would take you to your dorm and Noah back home, he finally broke it. 

“You heading back to your dorm?” he asked. 

“Yeah. I’m gonna grab a change of clothes and probably head back here for the night.” You shoved your hands in your pockets, rocking back and forth to dispel some of the nervous energy that had built up in your gut. 

“Power’s still out, then?” 

You nodded, having just checked on your phone before leaving the hall. 

“What about you?” you asked.  

Noah looked down the street in the direction of his place, then back to you. “I was gonna head to my studio. I’ve got a wood stove in there. Keeps it pretty warm.”  

You shifted your weight from foot to foot, not wanting to end the interaction, but not sure how to keep it going until Noah chimed in. 

“You’re welcome to join…if you want.” You looked at him, watched the steam of his breath swirl in the air as it exited his lungs, noticed the earnestness in his face, the vulnerability behind his eyes. 

In the pit of your stomach, you were aware of what could happen should you take him up on his offer. The energy between you had been building for quite some time, and there was something in the air that night that hinted at the unknown—that whatever happened between you that night, it would be formative. You wouldn’t walk out of that shed tomorrow without knowing exactly where you and Noah stood.  

“Yeah,” you said. “That’d be nice. Thanks.” 

“I’ll walk you to your dorm if you still want to get changed.” 

“Thanks,” you repeated. 

Inside, you trembled with nerves, already having been overwhelmed by the emotions of the day and anxious about what might come next. 

Those feelings from earlier—they didn’t hit you like past crushes. They weren’t something that needed to be acted upon or expressed immediately. 

You didn’t need to know whether Noah felt the same. It wouldn’t crush you if you found out his were platonic, though you knew you were about to find out. 

Even if nothing happened tonight, you knew you’d be okay. Your feelings were selfless. They arose from the knowledge that this was a person you cared about, whose company you enjoyed, and whose wellbeing you cherished. 

You reflected on them on the short walk to your dorm. When you arrived, you fumbled in the dark to find your phone to use as a flashlight. 

The two of you climbed the stairs slowly. Your battery was almost dead so you turned the brightness to its lowest setting, which made navigating through the darkness a little more difficult. 

Once at your dorm, Noah waited politely outside the door while you changed into a fresh pair of pajama pants and a sweater, taking special care to scrub your teeth with some toothpaste and rinse your mouth out with a bottle of water that was sitting on your night stand. You spat into the trash, feeling much better than you had earlier. It had been almost a full day since you’d brushed your teeth and they’d started feeling gross. 

You threw your phone charger in your purse in case the power came back on in the middle of the night, then checked to make sure you had everything else you might need before leaving. 

“Got everything?” he asked once you made your way back out into the hall. 

“I think so,” you said just as the battery on your phone finally gave out. 

“I got it,” said Noah, pulling out his own phone. You could only make out his silhouette in the darkness, but his presence was still comforting. 

“Thanks,” you said. “Lead the way.” 

There was no light or warmth in the studio when you arrived. It was just as cramped as you remembered, and the added chill left it feeling less than cozy. 

Noah immediately got to work loading the small wood stove in the back while you bundled up on the couch with a few blankets that were stacked in a corner. He fiddled around with some old newspaper as kindling, threw in half a brick of a starter log with a few thin strips of wood on top, then started building out the pile with thicker logs until he was satisfied and lit it, keeping the door of the stove open. 

“Should be warmer here in a minute,” said Noah, sitting back on his heels to watch his work. 

“Hey,” you said, shifting to the other end of the couch to be closer.

Noah turned his head to you, quirking his eyebrows up in curiosity. “What’s up?” 

“Thanks for today,” you said, bringing your knees up to your chest and hugging them. “It felt good to help out.” 

Noah averted his eyes and chuckled, flashing that grin you loved so much. “Just doing my civic duty, ma’am.” He finished with a tilt of his head, as if he was tipping his hat to you and you giggled. 

“Still,” you continued. “Not everyone cares about the people around them as much as you. It was refreshing to see.” 

Noah fidgeted with the lighter in his hands, flicking it a few times in lieu of a response. You allowed him to play off the compliment, knowing full well that sometimes you tended to be too heartfelt with your sentiments, but you were glad you said it, just the same. He deserved to know. 

“Want some wine?” he asked, reaching under his desk and fetching a bottle out of a small fridge that had now been rendered useless in the power outage. 

“Please,” you said, sitting back further into the cushions and watching the flames dance up the sides of the stove while Noah uncorked it with his teeth. 

“I don’t have any cups,” he said, plopping down beside you and taking a swig from the neck. He handed it to you and you followed suit, wincing at the bitterness that flooded over your tongue. “Sorry,” he said, frowning. “I like a dry wine. I should have mentioned that.” 

“It’s fine,” you said, swallowing the large gulp with some effort. You caught Noah working to suppress a smile and you passed the bottle back to him. He took another swig and then tensed as the liquid made its way down. 

“Hypocrite,” you teased. 

Noah sucked in a breath. “That wasn’t the wine,” he defended. “I shivered. It’s fucking freezing.” As if to emphasize, he wrapped his arms around himself. 

“Oh,” you said. That made more sense. “Want to share?” You lifted the edge of the blanket and gestured for him to join you. 

Noah sighed, scooting close and pressing into your side. “Fuck, you’re warm.” 

You giggled, adjusting yourself on the couch so you could curl into his side for more warmth. You brought your knees up to your chest and wedged your frozen toes under his thigh, the double layer of socks no longer doing enough to keep them from going numb. He offered the wine to you again and you took another drink. Now used to the flavor, you found it wasn’t that bad. It had a richness you couldn’t appreciate on the first try.

“How do you normally spend Christmas?” you asked, passing the bottle back to him. 

“Usually I’m working,” he said, wrapping the blanket tighter around him. “That takes up most of my time. If I’m not, then I’m either writing music or playing video games.” 

“Doesn’t it get lonely?” you asked. 

Noah chewed on his lip, then took a sip from the bottle, held it in his mouth for a second, and swallowed. “Sometimes,” he said, then wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “Not right now, though.” You flushed, burning under his touch, despite the cold. “What about you?” he asked. “What’s Christmas like at home?” 

“Ha!” you spat out. “We’re so busy with church events we usually don’t get around to actually celebrating.” It wasn’t entirely true. You did receive gifts, but you often opened them whenever you could get around to it, in between helping your family organize different toy drives, attending special services, participating in productions and leading the children’s pageants. There was no time for the kind of cozy holiday celebrations you longed for. That’s why you’d been so excited to stay on campus this year—you could celebrate however you wanted. 

“That sucks,” he said. 

You shrugged. “It’s not so bad.” 

You chanced a look up at him to find the firelight flickering in his eyes. There was a quiet intensity in the way he held your gaze. Nerves ignited in your stomach, sending the wine churning and causing you to squirm in his hold. For a second, it looked like he might try to kiss you, until he took another sip from the bottle of wine and passed it to you. 

You supposed it was wishful thinking on your part, considering how he’d been very clear about his boundaries. Even this much physical contact was more than you’d bargained for. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss once the moment had passed. 

“So you really left the church, huh?” he asked, drumming his fingers on your ankle. You sipped from the bottle, working to keep the nerves in your stomach from spreading out through your whole body. 

“It was time,” you answered. You offered the bottle back to him but he declined, so you took another sip. Half the wine was already gone, and you’d started to feel the pleasant buzz creeping through your veins. 

“The faith itself or just the organization part?” he asked. He wrapped his hand around your ankles and adjusted your legs so they could drape over his lap. The backs of your thighs met the top of his and they immediately warmed upon contact.  

“I don’t know,” you answered, trying to focus on the conversation instead of the tingles sparking to life everywhere your body connected to his. “I don’t know what I believe anymore, and at this point, I don’t really care. It might be good for me to figure out who I am when I don’t have anyone telling me who I should be.” 

“I can respect that,” said Noah, sliding a palm up your calf. Jesus, was he even aware of the effect he had on you? For a minute you said nothing, choosing to focus entirely on his touch. You leaned into the couch, letting your head rest against the back cushions and your eyes drift close. You didn’t care if you were letting your cards show—Noah might as well know just how much you craved him. 

“What about you?” you asked after a while. 

“What about me?” 

You opened your eyes to find him quietly regarding you. “Any plans to surrender your soul to the Good Lord?”��

Noah snickered softly into his chest. “Not at the moment,” he said, taking the opportunity to pick at a stray thread on your sweatpants. “I don’t know though,” he continued. “Maybe there’s something out there. God, or the universe, or whatever. A divine sort of energy that gives people a sense of meaning.” 

“You think it’s all the same?” you asked, noticing some of his hair had fallen into his face. Your fingers itched to push it back, so you did, tucking it behind his ear. He caught your palm in his, bringing your clasped hands to rest on your knee. He flipped your hand over palm-side up and started tracing patterns over your wrist. 

“Maybe,” he said. “Maybe it’s the accumulation of all our souls once we die—a divine collective. Maybe all our religions are just each culture’s best attempt at explaining where it comes from.” 

His fingers stilled in your palm and you closed yours around them, lacing them together with his. 

“I think,” you began, glancing back up at him and trying not to be consumed by the way the light danced across his face, “that maybe we’re not meant to figure it out.” 

He smiled a half-smile, the corner of his mouth lifting up and perhaps you’d appreciated his mouth before, but never in this much detail. 

“You might be on to something,” he said. He dropped his gaze to where your hands remained interlocked, running his thumb along your knuckle. “Can I ask you a question?” 

You sat up a little more. “Sure.” 

He hesitated before speaking, sucking in a breath and holding it for a moment before exhaling and turning back to you. 

“What was it like kissing Folio?” 

Your gaze dropped back to the bottle of wine in your hand. That was not a question you’d expected him to ask. You’d locked the memory of the kiss in a compartment in your brain titled Things You Won’t Bring Up to Noah, and as far as you were concerned, that’s where it should stay.  

“I don’t know,” you said, bringing the bottle up to your mouth and taking a large swig to kill some time. “Do you really want me to answer that?” 

Noah shrugged, relaxing his grip on your hand and you slid your fingers out of his grasp, using it for balance so you could sit up a little straighter and collect your thoughts. 

“I don’t remember much, to be honest,” you said. “I was pretty drunk. And in my defense, I didn’t know you were there.” 

“Hey,” he said softly, “No judgment here. I was just surprised, is all. Call it morbid curiosity.” 

The question felt like a trap, like anything you could say would be the wrong thing, but Noah had asked, so you decided to be honest. You took another large gulp of wine for good measure before you answered, after which, Noah took the bottle and downed the last of it. 

“So,” you began, feeling your cheeks flush under his stare, “it was fine, I guess. He tasted like stale beer and cigarettes, which wasn’t great, but he’s a good kisser.” 

“How?” Noah asked. 

“I don’t know,” you said, sinking back into the cushions. “He’s just… enthusiastic? I guess. He’s not too sloppy or anything.” 

“So, you liked kissing him?” Noah prodded. 

“Noah,” you whined, rolling your eyes at his questions. “Do we really have to talk about this?” 

“Please?” he asked. “I just wanna know.” 

You took a deep breath, pursed your lips to slow the exhale, and then rested your forehead against his shoulder so you didn’t have to look at him as you said the next part. 

“Yeah, I liked kissing him,” you admitted. “It was better than kissing Isaac, at least.” You rolled your head back again so you could see his reaction. “But keep in mind that I don’t have a ton to compare it with. He could be a trash kisser for all I know, and I only liked it because it was my first time making out with someone and that was exciting.” 

“I think you’d know if he was a trash kisser,” Noah said. 

You rolled your eyes again. “Still, we were drunk. It was just for fun. It’s not like I’m in love with him or anything.” 

“No?” Noah asked, fingers digging into the back of your knee. 

You held eye contact, and suddenly you noticed the vulnerability there, just behind his eyes, and in the slight pout of his lower lip. 

“No,” you said, softening. “Not even a little bit.” 

Noah swallowed, pulling his lower lip into his mouth to wet it. Suddenly, you could feel your heartbeat in your throat. Your palms grew sweaty and you couldn’t seem to draw in a steady breath. 

“Well,” he said, exhaling a half-laugh. He broke eye contact and let his eyes drop to your legs. “You sure? He’s a real catch. I could put in a good word for you if you want.” 

“Noah!” you whined, and you were about to tell him to stop being a jerk, when he wrapped his hand around the back of your neck and pulled you into him. 

The first kiss was slow, meant to give both of you time to process the fact you were finally kissing. Then he went in for a second, this one deeper. He licked at the seam between your lips, and you parted them, allowing him to dip his tongue into your mouth. You released a shaky breath, hands trembling slightly, and not from the cold, until they found purchase around the neck of his hoodie. 

For a while, you stayed like that, exploring the textures and tastes of each other, memorizing the shape of his lips and movement of his tongue as it slid over yours. Noah tasted of the wine you’d shared, layered over a heady mixture of herbs and spices and something else entirely his own. 

His hand wandered up your leg, fisting itself in your sweatpants and he pulled you closer until you were straddling his lap, desperate to eliminate as much distance between your bodies as possible. 

He dragged his teeth along your bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth before letting it spring back into place and when he was satisfied with how swollen it had become, he pulled you closer by the neck so he could suck a bruise into the skin behind your jaw.

You arched into his touch, digging your nails into his shoulder as he took your earlobe in his mouth and tugged at it, sending all the hairs on the back of your neck standing at attention. 

Deep in your core, something stirred. A deep need made itself known to you, hot as liquid magma, winding itself around you like a coil—a sensation you’d always associated with the forbidden. The coil would wind tighter and tighter, but it was never allowed to snap. 

Senses on overload, you rocked against him, exploring what would happen if you allowed yourself to give in. Noah’s hands clutched at your hips, bracing you against him. 

Needing more of him, you took his face in your hands and brought your mouths together in another kiss. Gone were the slow, rhythmic kisses you’d shared before. Now it was a tangle of teeth and lips and tongues and you stopped being able to tell where you ended and Noah began. 

You rocked into him again, this time feeling a distinct presence that hadn’t been there before. Noah groaned into your mouth and you swallowed the sound. He rolled his hips into yours, and you felt yourself losing control. 

“Are we moving too fast?” you whispered, finally breaking the kiss. Noah wrapped his hand around the back of your neck, bringing your lips back together. 

“Mmph,” he said into the kiss. “I don’t know.” He spoke in short bursts between kisses, only half-focused on the conversation. “What do you think?” 

“We should probably,” you said, pausing to suck on his lower lip, “slow down.” 

“Yeah,” he breathed, fingers dragging across your neck. “Let’s slow down.” 

It was a nice thought. The intentions were there, but you both fumbled the execution as soon as Noah sucked a deep red mark into a particularly sensitive area of your neck and your body responded by grinding down onto Noah’s lap. 

“Fuck, baby,” he whispered, releasing your skin from his teeth, “baby, I’m trying to be good here, but you make it hard when you do that.” 

Not even registering the words, only the way your body responded when he called you baby, you bit into his lip, sucking on it hard as your hips gyrated on his. 

“Hold on,” he said through the kiss, placing his palms on your shoulders to still you. “Hold on.” 

It took you a second to register that you were no longer kissing, and when you did, you let out an involuntary whine.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, trying to catch your breath. 

“We’re moving too fast,” he said. Your eyes scanned his face, noticing how red and bitten his lips had become. 

“Oh,” you said. You didn’t want to slow down, though. Everything you’ve learned up until that point taught you that youshould want to slow down, but slowing down was the exact opposite of what you wanted. 

He tilted his head, sliding his hands down your body to rest on your waist. “I don’t want to take advantage of you while you’re drunk.” 

“I’m not drunk though,” you said. 

He tucked his lips into his teeth, looking at you with amusement. “Even so, I think we should take it slow.” 

You pouted, letting your fingers trail down his chest. “It’s just,” you began, trying to find the right words to articulate your thoughts, but the cloud of lust in your head had your brain fighting to stay afloat. “Do you feel like this is too fast?” 

Noah swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing up and down, slightly distorting the shape of his tattoo. “For me? No.” His fingertips dug into the flesh of your ass as if to demonstrate his point. “But my virginity isn’t on the line here.” 

He had a point, but was your virginity something you even wanted to protect? Lately, it had started to feel much more like a cage than anything of value. 

Rather than answer him, you rolled your hips against his one more time, and he sucked in a breath through his teeth, wrapping his arms around you to hold you in place. You could feel him throbbing under you, a few layers of cotton the only things separating you from the freedom you craved. 

And that’s exactly what it was to you, you realized. Taking this next step meant setting yourself free from the guilt and shame you’d always associated with your sexuality. It would mean reclaiming your body as your own. And who better to experience that with than the person who encouraged you to let go of that shame in the first place. 

You leaned in to flick your tongue against his upper lip. He caught it in his mouth, nipping at it with his teeth.

You smiled into the kiss, grabbing the hand he kept around your waist and moving it under your shirt until he cupped your breast.  

“Succubus,” he whispered into your open mouth.

“Sinner,” you countered. 

Something happened in that moment—a transmutation of your soul. In the past, you’d always looked up to the men in your life, idolizing them or striving to be worthy of their time and attention, but here, warmed by the light of the fire and the heat of Noah’s body under you, the tide had shifted. 

“Say it again,” he said, pulling you further into him. 

You were no longer an unworthy peasant, begging to be noticed—but a goddess. Someone worthy of being celebrated and admired. It was divine and sacred and potentially sinful, but after spending so much time worshiping, perhaps you could allow yourself to be worshiped for once. 

“Sinner,” you whispered, draping your arms over Noah’s shoulders. Your mouth hovered just over his, lips parted and wet, begging to be kissed. 

For a moment, neither of you moved. It was just you and Noah, sharing the same breath, caught in a game of chicken, each daring the other to move first. 

In the end, it was Noah who ran out of patience. He crashed his lips into yours, and you surrendered your body easily to him. When the friction of your hips on his was no longer enough, he lifted you up, flipping you until your back hit the couch, legs wrapped around him while he ground his body into yours. 

He was slow to undress you, starting only with the removal of your sweater, and with your skin finally exposed to him, he wasted no time in exploring every inch, sucking a nipple into his mouth and flicking his tongue across until it pebbled between his teeth. He then moved on to the other, repeating the act until he was satisfied, and then began kissing his way down your stomach and back up, trying to discover every sensitive spot he could find.  

You flushed under him, heat creeping up your chest and neck despite the chill in the room. When Noah was done painting your collarbones with hickeys and teeth marks, he moved lower. 

“Wait!” you said, and he stilled, worried that he’d crossed a line, until you grabbed the hem of his hoodie and pulled it over him, needing to feel his skin on yours. 

He dropped back down to kiss you, and for the first time you could enjoy touching him without any barrier. You sighed into the kiss, running your hands all along his back and shoulders, logging every rope of muscle and ripple of skin and trying hard not to put too much pressure on the freshly tattooed parts, but having a hard time controlling where your hands wandered. 

In the time it took for you to register what was happening, Noah had already slid your sweatpants down over your ass and you separated so you could kick them the rest of the way off. 

He went slow, at first only caressing the apex of your thighs with delicate fingers so you could get used to being touched in such a sensitive area. It wasn’t long before you were begging for more, however, wrapping your hands around his wrist and pulling him into you. 

Apparently, that was the wrong move, because Noah flipped his hand, easily catching both your wrists and slamming them above your head. He switched his hands so he could hold yours with his non-dominant one while the other cupped your sex. 

“I have waited a long time for this,” he hissed, eyes boring into yours. “Do not rush me.” It was both a command and a threat. 

You bucked your hips into his hand, needing more friction and he removed it, slapping your inner thigh instead. 

“Use your words.” 

“Please,” you rasped out, flushing a deep scarlet at just how pathetic and needy you sounded. 

“What do you want?” he asked again, letting his hand roam down once again to stroke your clit. 

You swallowed, feeling uncomfortable being so lewd, but in an effort to rip the band-aid off, you chose to be direct. 

“I want your fingers inside me.” 

He smiled, slipping one long digit past your entrance. It slid in easily, finding no resistance as by that point, you were dripping. 

You weren’t a complete stranger to the sensation of having something inside of you—you’d masturbated before, so you knew how your own fingers felt, but you weren’t prepared for the feeling of his. 

They were long, and thick, and moved with a dexterity you had never been able to achieve. The second they entered, a strangled moan escaped from deep within you—one you think may have been begging to escape for years. 

Within minutes, he’d worked you into a frenzy. You were no longer the graceful goddess from earlier, but a gasping, writhing mess of a person, falling apart around his fingers. 

“Do you want to come?” he asked. 

You nodded, fighting to stay in control of your breath. “Please,” you whispered. 

“Okay,” he said, speeding up his ministrations. “Be a good girl and come for me.” 

Whether it was the dirty talk or the sheer skill of his hands, your entire body seized up and then exploded, sending a rush of fluids to your center, resulting in a loud squelching noise that carried over the sounds of your moans. 

Waves upon waves of sensation rippled through your body, muscles twitching from overstimulation and rendering you boneless.  

Noah extracted his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth and sucking them clean, then smiled down at your lifeless form as he stroked your hair. “Good,” he murmured. “Good.” 

He hoisted himself off you, sliding off the couch to kneel on the floor next to you, and bent down to kiss you lazily. 

Not being satisfied with so little contact, but still not having control over your legs, you slid off the couch and onto the floor with him, the plush area rug providing a decent barrier between your naked body and the cold concrete floor beneath you. 

You straddled his hips once more, kissing him slowly, this time with gratitude. His hands roamed down your back and caressed your thighs and you could feel him, painfully hard underneath you.

You were still sensitive, but not too sensitive to move against him and he sighed into the kiss. 

“What do you need?” you asked. Though your body was drained, wrapped in a post-orgasmic glow, you still had an unyielding desire to give as much as you’d received. You wanted him to feel good and though you might not be experienced enough to know exactly what to do, you at least wanted to try. 

“I just need to feel you,” he said. 

You knew what he meant by that, so you slid off his lap and tugged on the drawstring of his pants until they were loose enough to inch down his thighs. 

Once they were gone, you were free to take in the sight of him. You’d never seen a naked man in person, so you weren’t sure what to expect, but you were caught off-guard at how big he was. Tentatively, you wrapped a hand around him, noting how soft and smooth the skin was underneath your fingers. 

“Did you really have it pierced before?” you asked. 

Noah laughed, and in your hand, a pulse surged through him. 

“I did,” he said, taking himself in his hands and tilting it up to show you. “The scar is still visible,” he said pointing to the underside. You squinted, trying to make it out, but couldn’t see much in the light of the fire. You ran a finger along the underside and could feel where the texture changed and he hissed out a breath, grabbing your hand. He leaned over and spit into your palm, then wrapped it around his shaft, squeezing to show you what level of pressure to apply. 

He guided your hand up and down. “Please?” he said softly, and you nodded, taking over the motion and watching in awe as he let his head fall back, exposing his neck to you and sending a new wave of desire surging through you at the sight. You allowed your mouth to roam over his neck, trailing your tongue over the pulse point and taking in the expansion of his throat as inhaled. 

His breathing sped up, and it wasn’t long before he pulled you into another bruising kiss. He clutched at your hips, digging his fingers in and it was hard to keep hold of him in that position, so you let go and settled for grinding yourself against him, which he didn’t seem to mind. 

He set the rhythm, using his hands to rock your hips back and forth over himself. You found yourself growing wetter by the second.

A flood of emotions hit you all at once—pride, fear, anticipation, but strongest was desire. You wanted this. You wanted to be in control of your own body. You wanted to decide for yourself what to do with it, and you knew more than anything that you wanted this with Noah. 

Unbeknownst to you, Noah had been carrying condoms his pocket for weeks, just in case this moment arrived, so it was no trouble for him to fetch one, tear the wrapper with his teeth and roll it onto himself. 

He laid you down on the plush rug and spread your thighs, positioning himself in between them. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, holding your gaze. You’d never seen him look so serious before. 

“Yes,” you said, staring back and trying to communicate nonverbally just how very sure you were. 

“Okay,” he said, breaking eye contact to kiss you one last time. He brought his fingers to you again, sliding them through your folds and scissoring them inside of you to make sure you were ready. “It might be uncomfortable at first.” 

You nodded, slipping his hair over his shoulder so you could better see his face. “Just go slow.” 

He did, pushing into you centimeter by centimeter until just the head slipped past your opening. He paused, forehead resting against yours while you adjusted to the stretch. It was big, and he was right that it was a little uncomfortable at first, but it was also better than you could have ever imagined. 

“Okay?” he asked, and you nodded, pulling him into a kiss as he slid farther into you. 

An overwhelming sensation of fullness—that’s the best you could describe it. He was warm and solid and stretched you in such a way that you knew you’d be replaying this moment in your head for the rest of your life. 

He backed out just an inch and pushed in again, and you wondered how and why anyone could possibly consider an act that felt so completely right to be sinful in nature. You threw your head back, exposing your neck and he ran his mouth along the column of your throat, tasting the skin while you soaked in the feeling of being so intimately connected to him. 

You pushed yourself off the floor, gesturing for him to lay back against the couch so you could straddle him. You felt safer if you were in control of the motion in case it proved to be too much.

Gently, you rocked against him, feeling the pressure of him inside you stretching you to your limits. He was almost too big in length. You couldn’t sit fully on him without him pressing uncomfortably against your organs, so you hovered just over the base of him, moving your hips back and forth. 

You found it easier to brace your hands on his thighs behind hind you and lean back, and when you did, he brought his thumb to your clit so he could trace small circles around it. 

Your movements were slow and shallow at first, but with time, you found yourself adjusting better to his size and capable of taking more. You began to bounce, throwing your head back as your hips met his over and over in messy repetitions. Sounds escaped from Noah, first quiet gasps and whimpers, but growing lower and gruffer the more you moved. 

His nails scraped along your back, digging into the flesh and pulling you into him, and he held out as long as he could, but eventually needed to be back in control, so he flipped you around so you were once again on your back and hooked his arms under your legs to prop you up. 

“Okay if I go harder?” he asked, and you sputtered out something that sounded enough like “yes” to satisfy him. 

He sped up, no longer holding himself back and you only now understood the sheer force his muscles could exert because for a second you lost the ability to comprehend what was happening. 

Sounds you didn’t know you could make escaped without your permission. Noah threw your legs over his shoulder so he could brace himself on either side of your head, folding you in half as he drove himself into you. It was all you could do to keep your eyes locked on his, watching the intensity of his gaze as it burned into you—pupils blown, brow furrowed, jaw tensing. 

“Fuck,” he spat, pulling out of you and flipping you over to all fours before reinserting himself. Wrapping his arm around your middle, he pulled you up so your back was flush against his chest. He held you against him by your throat, hand easily wrapping around the circumference and putting only enough pressure on it to keep you where he wanted.

“This okay?” he whispered against your neck and you nodded, body existing on an entirely different plane, just trying to take in everything happening at once. 

He bit your shoulder, sucking another angry red mark into it before releasing you so you could fall forward and rest your face against the soft fibers of the rug—something to ground you while he continued his barrage inside of you. 

He dug his fingers into your hips and used them for leverage as he pounded a steady tattoo into your pussy and you felt the same welling up of energy you’d felt when he had his fingers in you. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” he hissed in time with his thrusts. One arm reached around you to feel around for your clit, fingers slipping over the sensitive bundle of nerves as he tried to lock them into place. His thrusts grew sloppy and unfocused, losing control of the rhythm he’d been holding before. 

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Fuck, I’m gonna c—,” he began, but never finished his sentence because the rest came out choked, morphing into a guttural groan. He throbbed inside of you, fingers releasing your clit so he could brace them on your hip as he chased his orgasm to its end. 

As soon as he caught his bearings, he replaced his fingers on your clit, drawing steady tight circles while he continued the best he could to thrust inside of you despite the fact he was well beyond fucked out by that point. 

Already on the brink, you tumbled over the edge easily, cascading waves of pleasure coursing through your body as you rode out your high against his hand. 

You collapsed on the floor, Noah on top of and inside of you, muscles twitching while you fought to catch your breath. 

“Holy shit,” Noah whispered between deep exhales. “Holy shit.” He reached out to tuck your hair behind your ears. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” you breathed, nodding against the rug. “Yeah, I’m good. You?” 

“Yeah,” he sighed out, wrapping his arm around your middle and rolling you on your side. He peppered kisses over your shoulder and up the back of your neck. “Water?” 

“Please,” you breathed. As you returned to your body, you noticed just how much hydration you’d lost in sweat and other fluids. Your mouth was dry, throat parched and aching against the chill of the air as you sucked in breaths. 

Slowly, Noah removed his softening cock from you. He slipped off the condom, tying a knot in the end and throwing it in the trash can under his desk. Then he fetched a bottle of water from the same mini fridge that had produced the wine, unscrewed the cap, and handed it to you. 

You took it with trembling hands, lifting your head to sip at it, but struggled to force yourself upright. 

“Here,” he said, taking your arm and pulling you to a sitting position so your back could rest against the couch. 

He dragged a blanket from the sofa, throwing it around your shoulders and turned his focus to your legs, caressing your calves while you came down from your high. 

Noah slumped against the couch, resting his forehead on the arm while he drew slow patterns into your legs. After a few more sips of water, your thoughts became less cloudy, awareness returning to the room. You over at Noah, finding him just as exhausted as you felt. 

He turned his head, watching you watching him and his fingers stilled on your leg.  

“Hi,” he said, breaking out into a smile.  

“Hi.” You breathed out a laugh, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him to you. He put up no fight, sidling up to you and wrapping an arm around your waist. He took the bottle of water from your hands, drinking deeply before handing it back to you and encouraging you to drink more. 

“How are you?” he asked, and all you could do to answer was giggle, still high off endorphins. 

He chuckled softly, lacing his fingers with yours and pulling you in so he could kiss you lazily. After a few minutes, he pulled away, collecting a few blankets and cushions from the couch and fashioning a warm nest on the floor. 

“We should get some sleep,” he suggested, and you agreed, finally (albeit reluctantly) sliding back into your clothes and cuddling up next to him on the floor. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you back into him and you rested your head on his chest. 

You were both aware you had a lot to discuss in the morning, the biggest question being what this meant for you, but for the time being, you were content to remain in a post-coital haze, listening to his heartbeat, comforted by how solid and sturdy he was underneath you. 

He kissed the top of your head as he wished you goodnight, and the last thought you had before you drifted off to sleep in his arms was that if that was a sin, you could understand why Jesus would feel compelled to die just so you could enjoy it. 

___________________________ A/N: IT'S MY BIRTHDAY! Happy birthday to me! If you feel inclined to support my writing, buy me a coffee. (I also have Venmo if you want to buy me a birthday drink. Dm me)

__________

All rights reserved to @doomhands-jr, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

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[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

THE BATH- J. WASHINGTON

pairing: bf!josh x fem! reader

word count: who knows. small drabble

summary: you keep trying to have a bath at the lodge to warm up, but your golden retriever boyfriend josh keeps trying to come in and talk while you relax

warnings: none! nudity and light drinking, but all fluff

not proof read sorry for any mistakes!

not inspired by any song, but i listened to she calls me back by noah kahan while i wrote this, if people like music for vibes<3

got inspired for this drabble by none other then my cat, who keeps pushing the bathroom door open while im in the bath, and then leaves, and then when its shut he meows like crazy. yes josh is like a clingy cat.

it had been a long day, and the clock hadn't even struck ten yet. from hauling suitcases (josh hauling suitcases) and hours of (josh) driving, you had finally found yourself at blackwood mountain.

it was a relief, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of nostalgia for the place, despite the dust and creepy noises from the old pipes. everyone had already arrived by the time josh rushed in to start a fire for you, after he sae you shiver.

he had rushed you up to the doors, wrapping you in his coat and sticking his beanie on your head, making his pretty dark hair all tossled. you smiled at the thought that had happened a few hours prior, the pepper of kisses all over your face as he rushed you inside, wrapping you in fresh blankets- leaving the mothcovered ones for mike and chris.

it was weird in a way, to be here this year.

this was the first time you were here as a couple. before this, it had been years of slight touches and teasing, drunk forehead kisses and praises. but finally- finally you had gotten your wish. and apparently, josh had too.

a little knock sounded at the door, and you poked your eye open towards the door, neck rolling lazily from where it rest on the side of the bath.

"mike if you come in here right now i will chuck this candle at you." you called. the door poked open a creak, and a familiar eye peered over at you. "am i immune to candle throwing?" josh asked, making you giggle.

"you're in the clear." you smirked, water sloshing as you adjusted yourself so your elbows perched on the edge towards him. "hi handsome. whats up?"

"i missed you." he shrugged crouching down to be at your height, a soft smile on his face. "i think its been.. like twenty? twenty mintues maybe?" you teased, making him roll his eyes.

"i also wanted to take advantage of this whole, bathroom thing. you know how many times i wanted to come in before? now i can. boyfriend access only." he smirked, hand coming up to brush your warm cheek, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear. his hand lingered and you leaned to kiss his inner wrist, savouring the softness of his skin.

"i think you're just a pervert. and clingy."

josh rolled his eyes. "god forbid men have hobbies. can i not be both?"

you laughed, kissing him again.

"i just wanted to come in to see if you needed anything. and cause i missed you, and chris is drunk and trying to get me to play president with him and matt."

he nearly became asshole in that game everytime. he was terrible at cards.

"what, you dont wanna be asshole again?"

"something like that. i like your ass though."

your eyebrow raised. "don't we all." you teased. "but hey, if you're offerring me something... maybe.. a glass of wine?"

he stood quickly, giving you a firm salute. he drank with you enough times to know exactly what kind you wanted without needing to ask. "godspeed pilgrim!" he ran out of the room, leaving the door wide open as he left.

"HEY! DOOR?! CLOSED PLEASE? IM NAKED!" you yelled out.

"OOOH NAKED?" you heard sam call out from the main room, making you roll your eyes. now you had them all riled up.

two seconds later, josh reappeared, glass of white in hand, water in the other. "thank you honey, but maybe next time shut the door? i almost had an audience." you cringed, taking the chilled wine glass from his hands. you took a sip, the sweet, dry liquid coating your throat.

"i get front row next time." he shrugged, planting a kiss on the top of your head before he snagged your towel.

"kay i'll leave you be baby. but im taking this so you have to come find me naked to dry off." he smirked, dangling the fabric in your direction before slipping out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

before you had time to protest, he was gone. you closed your eyes, sighing as you took another sip. he was such a tease. but thats what you loved about him. he never failed to make you laugh, he was so quick and witty.

it also meant he liked to get on your nerves, lovingly.

no longer then five minutes later, a knock was on your door. "yes?"

"its me again." josh murmered from behind the oak. you smiled, laughing softly.

"come in joshy." he sheeplishly smiled, sliding his large body through the doorway, firmly shutting it behind him. a deck of cards was in his hands as he approached you, sitting down on the tile floor next to the tub.

"can you play president with me?" he asked, starting to take the cards out of the paper box.

"baby, you can't play with two people."

he frowned. "well, can you teach me how to do this again? so i can kick everyones ass?"

you smiled. "of course baby. my sore, sore loser."

[theonottsbxtch]

99 PROBLEMS PT2| MV1

an: after many requests, i've changed up our beloved max. this has not been proof read so pls don't judge i am tired and have had the shittiest week of my life i swear but im slaying i promise!

wc: 5.5k

part one

The morning after was a slow burn of pain.

Noah woke up with a headache that felt like someone was hammering on his skull, each pulse a reminder of his poor life choices. His mouth was dry, and the room seemed to spin even though he was lying still. The sunlight creeping through the curtains made his head throb even harder.

He groaned and pulled the blankets over his head, trying to bury himself in the comfort of the pillow, but it was no use. The light was relentless.

With a resigned sigh, he threw the covers off and staggered to the bathroom. His reflection in the mirror was enough to make him want to crawl back into bed—hair a tangled mess, his face pale, and his eyes bloodshot. He splashed water on his face, feeling the coolness settle his nerves slightly, but he still wasn’t ready to face the world.

A thought occurred to him—he hadn’t eaten last night, and he needed food if he was going to survive this hangover. He stumbled toward the kitchen, squinting against the light.

The kitchen felt like a foreign land. The open windows made it bright, the kind of brightness that seemed determined to make him suffer. Noah squinted, trying to locate anything he could eat without being blinded.

Lights off, he thought, grumbling. He reached up, turned off the overheads, and then fumbled his way around the counters until he found the stove. The dim light coming from the street lamps outside was barely enough, but it was better than the harsh sunlight.

He opened the fridge and pulled out eggs, butter, and a bottle of orange juice, setting them on the counter. He moved with the deliberate slowness of someone trying not to trigger the next wave of nausea, and as he grabbed a frying pan, something on the counter caught his eye.

A small bag. A lipstick. A pair of earrings.

Noah froze.

He had no idea whose stuff it was at first, but the instant he saw the ID half-hidden under a paper towel, he couldn’t look away.

He reached for it cautiously, flipping it over to see the name on the card: Rosa, 21 years old.

He stared at it, blinking in disbelief.

Twenty-one.

His brain took a second to process the shock. He’d seen a lot of women come and go last night, but this was different.

His dad—Max—had slept with someone only four years older than him.

He shook his head, trying to push the thought away, but it lingered, making the room feel hotter and his stomach churn.

He bent down, rubbing his temples to stave off the headache, and that’s when he saw them—clothes strewn across the floor. A dress in a heap near the kitchen table. A pair of high heels kicked to the side like someone was in a rush to get out.

Eugh, Noah thought, feeling his stomach twist in disgust.

Thank god he’d come home early with Charles. He’d heard the stories—heard about what Max was like when he had a good time—but seeing it for himself, well, it was a whole different level of uncomfortable. He would’ve had to witness this, the aftermath, the leftovers of his dad’s typical antics.

Noah closed his eyes, leaning back against the counter as if he could shut out the entire night. He’d had enough of his dad’s antics for the next year—or lifetime.

Sighing deeply, he pulled the pan from the stove and cracked the eggs into it, the sizzling sound a small distraction from his thoughts. The smell of cooking eggs filled the room, but it didn’t do much to calm his nerves. It was just another reminder that life went on, even when things felt messed up.

As he scrambled the eggs, he couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d seen—the lipstick, the earrings, the stupid ID. Four years older than me?

He made himself a plate of scrambled eggs, avoiding the now-infamous counter, and took a seat at the table. He sat there quietly for a while, the silence pressing in around him.

Noah was just finishing his eggs when he heard footsteps behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, and to his surprise, Rosa—Max’s most recent conquest—emerged from the hallway wearing nothing but one of Max’s oversized t-shirts. She looked a little uncomfortable, and her eyes flickered nervously toward him as she stepped into the kitchen.

Noah immediately pointed toward the hallway. “The dress is right there,” he said flatly, trying not to look at her.

She hesitated, clearly flustered, and then lowered her gaze. “I—sorry, I just—uh…” She trailed off, clearly not sure how to act around Max’s son.

Noah watched her, already knowing the answer but still asking. “Why did you do that?”

Rosa bit her lip. “He’s... he’s Max Verstappen,” she said quietly, as if that somehow explained everything.

Noah felt a pit grow in his stomach. He leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow. “He’s at least fifteen years your senior,” he replied, his voice laced with disbelief.

She seemed taken aback by the bluntness, but nodded sheepishly. “I... know. I don’t usually—well, I guess I’m not exactly thinking straight when it’s him, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it,” Noah said dryly, then added for her benefit, “It’s Max Verstapen, right?”

She bit her lip, then grabbed her dress from the hallway and quickly went to change. Noah couldn’t help but feel relieved—he had no idea what to say to her, and honestly, he didn’t need to.

The sound of footsteps coming from the hallway brought him back to the moment. A few seconds later, Max appeared, stretching lazily as he entered the kitchen. His hair was still a mess from the night, but his grin was as wide as ever.

“Morning mate,” Max said, ruffling Noah’s hair as he walked by. 

Noah just stared at him, unimpressed. “Twenty-one, really?” he asked, shocked.

Both of them ignored her as she walked out, Noah still in disbelief.

Max chuckled, clearly not fazed, and started rummaging through the fridge. He opened a carton of eggs, cracked a couple into a pan, and began cooking.

It wasn’t long before Max’s phone buzzed on the counter. He glanced at the screen and swore under his breath, muttering, “Fuck.”

“What?” Noah asked, curious, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

Max looked up, his face briefly reflecting an uncharacteristic moment of stress. “My personal assistant,” he muttered. “She’s off annual leave today.”

Noah raised an eyebrow. “What’s so bad about that?”

Max sighed dramatically. “She keeps my life together, kid. Without her, I’d be completely lost.”

As if on cue, they heard the front door creak open. The sound of heels clicking against the floor echoed in the hallway.

Max’s face fell. “Oh, double hell,” he muttered.

Noah looked at him, confused. “Who’s that?”

The door to the kitchen swung open, and a woman walked in, looking both exasperated and amused at the same time. She was in her early thirties, with sharp features and a no-nonsense attitude that immediately made her stand out.

She didn’t waste any time. “Blocking me during my annual leave doesn’t work, Max Emilian,” she said in a voice that brooked no argument.

Max stood up straight, putting on his most charming grin, which, unsurprisingly, didn’t seem to work on her. “Hey, sweetheart, how was the holiday?”

She didn’t even look at him before turning her gaze to Noah, who was watching this whole scene unfold with a mix of amusement and disbelief.

She raised an eyebrow. “Who’s this?”

Max froze for a split second before clearing his throat. “Uh, this is my son... Noah,” he said, sounding almost awkward.

The second she heard “son,” her eyes widened in shock. “MAX EMILIAN VERSTAPPEN,” she snapped, her voice sharp as a whip. “What on earth have you gotten yourself into now?!”

Noah couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the way she was laying into his dad. Watching Max get his ass handed to him by someone who clearly had authority in his life was, honestly, one of the funniest things Noah had seen in a long time.

He leaned back in his chair, his mouth twisting into a grin. “This is... amazing,” Noah muttered under his breath, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

Max, on the other hand, looked like he was regretting every decision he’d ever made. “Sweetheart, come on,” he said weakly. “It’s not that bad.”

“No, Max,” she said, crossing her arms, unimpressed. “It’s exactly as bad as it looks. I leave you alone for three weeks, and you end up with a what? a 16 year old who clearly looks hungover!” She turned to Noah, her expression softening just a little. “Nice to meet you, by the way. But please—please tell me you’re smarter than your dad.”

Max groaned and rubbed his temples, clearly still nursing the hangover. “Ugh, I’m hungover,” he muttered, dragging himself to the kitchen table and sitting down.

She didn’t even glance up from the folder she was pulling out of her bag. “Don’t care,” she said with a roll of her eyes, clearly unimpressed by his state.

Noah snorted with laughter, the sound escaping before he could stop it. He couldn’t help it—there was something undeniably hilarious about watching Max get shot down so effortlessly. Watching the great Max Verstappen, the Formula 1 champion, get treated like an everyday guy was something he hadn’t seen before.

She caught the laugh from across the room and shot Noah a playful smirk. “You think this is funny, huh?” she asked, but her tone was light, not harsh.

Noah raised both hands in surrender, still grinning. “You have no idea,” he said, shaking his head. “This is gold.”

Max shot him a sideways glance but didn’t say anything—probably because he was too busy trying to drag himself through the worst hangover of his life. He ate his food silently, still looking miserable, while she—who, honestly, looked like she had her life together more than anyone else in the room—slid a thick folder across the kitchen table in front of him.

“Here’s the menu,” she said, flipping it open. “You’ve got a race in two weeks. Act like it.” Her voice was firm, almost maternal, but there was a certain softness to it that suggested she genuinely cared about Max’s well-being. And maybe Noah’s, too.

Max groaned again. “Really? The race is two weeks away. Can’t you just let me suffer in peace for one more day?” he asked, looking up at her with a feigned pout.

She didn’t even blink. “I don’t care,” she said again, flipping through the folder with surgical precision. “You’ve got media events, sponsorship meetings, and training sessions that you will attend. You can wallow later, when you’re not about to crash a car into a wall. So do me a favour and get it together, darling.”

Noah watched the exchange with a growing sense of admiration for her. She had a way of keeping Max in line that Noah hadn’t even thought possible. The pet names, the obvious affection she had for him, it was like a love language they both spoke—but she could flip into business mode faster than anyone he’d ever seen.

Max’s face softened, and he finally gave in, wiping his face and nodding. “Fine. Fine,” he muttered, his voice rough. “You’re right. Just... can I get through one cup of coffee before I start pretending I’m an athlete again?”

She raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips. “You’re not pretending, you are an athlete,” she said, her tone turning teasing, but still with that edge of authority that made her impossible to ignore. “But I’ll let you have your coffee.” She shot a glance at Noah. “Don’t get any ideas. You’re not allowed to slack off like him.”

Max snorted. “What ideas? He’s seventeen,” he shot back, clearly exhausted but trying to rally for the sake of their ongoing back-and-forth. “You think he’s gonna let me off the hook?”

Noah grinned. “If you can get away with it, I might give it a shot,” he said with a wink, feeling a rare moment of camaraderie with his dad—well, his dad when he wasn’t being an idiot.

She just shook her head. “I don’t get paid enough for this.” She pushed the folder over to Max again. “I’m serious, Max. The team’s not gonna wait for you to nurse a hangover. You’ve got a busy week, and you need to start acting like it.”

Max finally straightened up, rubbing the back of his neck, but then something like a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He looked at her with that familiar cocky glint in his eyes, a look Noah had seen a hundred times before. But this time, it wasn’t as obnoxious—it was affectionate.

“Alright, alright, you got it, princess,” Max said, using one of his usual pet names. She didn’t flinch, but Noah swore he saw the faintest trace of a smile tug at her lips.

Noah felt like an outsider looking in on this little dynamic, but in that moment, he couldn’t help but laugh. “Seriously, princess? Can’t you do any better?”

She looked at him, her eyes narrowing playfully. “Don’t get me started on the pet names,” she warned. “You’ll regret it.”

Noah chuckled, obviously enjoying the banter. He turned back to her. “If I call you princess, will you cut me some slack?”

“Not in a million years,” she replied with a smirk, her voice as calm as ever.

Max sighed dramatically, clearly not used to being outside of a joke, but he dropped the act, finally flipping through the folder in front of him. “Alright, alright. Let’s get this show on the road.”

Noah leaned back in his chair, watching the two of them with a mix of awe and amusement. It was clear—she wasn’t just a personal assistant. She was the one who kept Max’s world from falling apart, and soon maybe Noah’s, too. He’d never seen his dad so... well, manageable before. She’d probably seen it all—his dad’s hangovers, his cocky attitude, his late-night escapades—and yet she still kept things running smoothly.

Maybe that’s what he’d needed all along—someone who could manage the chaos, someone who could actually keep him grounded.

“Well, I guess I can’t slack off anymore either,” Noah muttered, pushing away from the table and grabbing his plate. “Guess I’m in this with you, huh?”

Max looked up at him and gave him a playful nudge. “You know it, kid,” he said, grinning. “The real work starts now.”

She stood at the counter, her movements fluid as she made a cup of coffee for Max. She placed it gently in front of him, then gave him a look that made it clear she wasn’t done yet.

“Your room,” she said firmly, raising an eyebrow. “Strip your sheets, air it out. It smells like sex in there.”

Max groaned, but his tone was playful. “Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he muttered, picking up the coffee and winking at her as if it was no big deal.

Noah watched the exchange, silently chuckling to himself. It was actually kind of adorable how well Max and she worked together. They didn’t seem like just a typical boss-assistant duo—they had a rhythm, a comfort with each other that made it hard to believe they weren’t more than that.

She raised her eyebrows at Max, clearly not impressed by his teasing. “Go,” she commanded, making a shooing motion toward the hallway.

Max rolled his eyes but shuffled off to his room, his back already to them.

She then glanced over at Noah, her expression softening now that it was just the two of them. “Alright, kid,” she said, her voice changing slightly. “Now, how did you end up here?”

Noah hesitated, unsure how much to share. He wasn’t used to talking about his family—about his mum. But she had a way of making him feel safe. She didn’t press, didn’t rush him, but her eyes were kind, giving him the space to speak if he wanted to.

He sighed, leaning back in his chair, trying to find the words. “I was an accident,” he finally muttered, looking down at the table. “My mum... she was one of the many girls in and out of his life. She never really stuck around, I spent more time with my grandma.”

She nodded, encouraging him with a soft, understanding smile. She was so good at making him feel like his feelings mattered, like he wasn’t just a burden. “And after that?” she asked, her tone gentle but full of curiosity.

Noah paused, swallowing hard. “She just had enough, I guess. She couldn’t wait until I turned 18, so she shipped me off here to my dad.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, a little embarrassed by how honest he was being. “I don’t know if she ever really wanted to be a mum. But when it came down to it, she couldn’t even handle me for a few more months.”

Her expression softened even more, and she leaned forward slightly, her voice low and comforting. “That must’ve been really tough on you.”

Noah gave a half-shrug, but there was a weight to it. “It was. But, I mean... what can you do? She made her decision, and now I’m here. With him,” he said, glancing toward the hallway where Max had disappeared, an almost nostalgic look on his face. He wasn’t sure whether it was disappointment or something else—maybe just the surrealism of the situation.

She watched him closely, like she was trying to read him. “Do you want to stay after your eighteenth birthday?” she asked carefully. “Or do you think you’ll go back to the States, I’m assuming that is where you’re from?”

Noah felt a tight knot in his chest at the thought. He hadn’t really thought about it—hadn’t been asked. His whole life had been in limbo for the past three weeks, ever since he’d arrived in Monaco. “I don’t really know,” he said, exhaling deeply. “I’ve only been here for a few weeks. I turn 18 in a couple of weeks... and I guess I’m still figuring things out. It’s... it’s a lot to take in.”

She nodded again, giving him time to process the weight of it all. “Of course,” she said, her voice warm. “But listen, if you want to leave, we can make up for the missed child support. If you don’t feel comfortable here, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of, okay?”

Noah didn’t know what to say at first. He felt like he hadn’t even had time to adjust to life with his dad before people were talking about the next step. But then something in her words hit him. We can make up for the missed child support. She was offering him an option. She wasn’t trying to guilt him into staying; she was giving him a choice, and that felt... different.

“But if you want to stay,” she added with a smile, “we can make up for lost time. And I’ll take you shopping.”

Noah chuckled, feeling a little lighter at the thought of her offer. It was a small thing, but it was enough to make him feel like he had options. Like maybe, just maybe, he could make a life here.

“Shopping, huh?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Is that the deal-breaker?”

She smiled knowingly. “A little retail therapy never hurt anyone. Plus, it’s a good way to build a real wardrobe.”

Noah smiled back, surprised by the warmth in his chest. For the first time in weeks, he felt like he wasn’t just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Maybe—just maybe—he could find a place for himself here.

Over the next few days, Noah couldn’t help but notice the unique dynamic between his dad and her. It was almost like a carefully choreographed dance—Max would slack off, mess around, maybe even throw a tantrum, and she would step in like a well-oiled machine, putting everything back in order without missing a beat.

She was the one who could actually control him, Noah realised. Not that Max ever looked like he was being controlled—he had that cocky, self-assured air, like the world owed him something. But she was the one who could gently rein him in, who knew exactly when to cut him off, when to play the tough love card, and when to let him have his moment of weakness.

And Noah saw it. He saw how Max listened to her. He’d always thought that Max did whatever he wanted. But with her around, he noticed a shift. She was the one who could keep Max grounded in ways Noah never could, and in that, Noah saw something—something that made him wonder if, maybe, she was the only one who could be perfect for his dad.

It was race week, and everything was running at full throttle. Max was his usual self, the high-octane Formula 1 driver, constantly on the go, living off adrenaline and the expectations that came with it. They boarded the private jet with a few of the other drivers, and as soon as they were in the air, Max and his mates turned their attention to technical talk, while Noah, feeling out of place but not entirely unwelcome, found a seat beside her.

As the engines hummed in the background and the landscape below them blurred into a sea of clouds, Noah let himself relax for the first time in what felt like forever. She was reading through a set of files, occasionally glancing up at him with that comforting, steady gaze she had perfected.

“So...” Noah said, breaking the silence after a while, “How did you get this job?”

She looked up, offering him a warm smile as she closed the folder in her lap. “That’s a loaded question,” she said, her voice playful but still laced with that underlying wisdom. “How much time do you have?”

Noah grinned, leaning back in his seat. “I’ve got all the time in the world, it seems. Might as well learn something interesting.”

She chuckled softly. “Fair enough. Well, I’ve always had a thing for organisation. I’ve worked in a lot of high-pressure environments, but this—” she motioned around the jet, a flick of her hand that encompassed the luxury, the chaos, the busy hum of the race world “—this was different. I actually came into it by accident.”

Noah raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Accident? How does someone accidentally end up working with the best Formula 1 drivers in the world?”

She shrugged casually, like it was no big deal. “I used to be a personal assistant for a couple of big-name corporate execs, and after some... interesting situations, I realised I needed a change. My family had always been involved in motorsports, so I started working for a racing team, just answering emails, scheduling meetings. Then one day, Max’s manager called me in to help out with his chaotic schedule. The rest is history.”

Noah laughed. “I’m guessing Max’s schedule is a nightmare?”

She gave him a knowing look. “You could say that.” She lowered her voice as though she was telling him a secret. “Max’s not the easiest guy to manage, but we get along just fine.”

Noah nodded, his curiosity piqued. “What’s it like... working with him? I mean, really working with him?”

Her expression softened, and for a moment, she seemed almost nostalgic, like she was remembering the past. “He’s a pain, honestly. He doesn’t listen half the time, and he thinks he can do whatever he wants. But that’s Max, right? He’s got this fire in him, this energy that doesn’t let anyone or anything hold him back. And... well, someone has to keep the wheels turning when the engine’s running at full speed. That’s where I come in.”

Noah couldn’t help but grin. “Seems like you’re the only one who can actually keep him in line.”

She gave him a small smile, her eyes sparkling with that quiet confidence. “I don’t keep him in line—I just know how to get him to do what’s necessary. There’s a big difference.”

The jet hummed steadily, and Noah leaned back in his seat, thinking about what she’d said. She was good. Too good at her job to be just another assistant. She was like the secret engine that kept Max running, and Noah didn’t think he’d ever fully understand why she chose to work with him, but he didn’t mind. She clearly had everything under control.

“So, do you like it?” Noah asked, after a beat of silence. “The job? I mean, it’s got to be crazy, right?”

She smiled at the question, looking thoughtful. “It’s a lot, yes. But it’s also rewarding. I’ve always loved a challenge, and Max... well, he’s a big one. But he’s also got a heart under all that arrogance. It’s just buried deep. You’d have to stick around long enough to see it for yourself.”

Noah stared at her for a moment, absorbing her words. He wasn’t sure if he believed she meant that, but it made him wonder about his dad in a way he hadn’t before. Maybe she was the one person who understood Max better than anyone. Better than he did, that’s for sure.

As the flight continued, the other drivers gathered in the back, talking racing tactics and joking among themselves. Max glanced over at Noah, giving him a quick nod before returning to his conversation with the others. But even from where he sat, Noah couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted.

He wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but he felt... maybe a little bit more at home in this strange new world.

It wasn’t just about living up to the chaos or trying to impress his dad. It was about finding a balance between who he was and what this life could offer him. And maybe, just maybe, the one person who could make him see it clearly was sitting right in front of him, offering him coffee and a chance to truly know her story.

Race day had arrived, and the atmosphere was electric. The entire paddock was buzzing with energy as the team prepped for the race. Max’s PA was in the hospitality area, typing away at her laptop, responding to emails and making sure everything was in place for the post-race debrief. Her calm, focused demeanor was the eye of the storm, while around her, chaos seemed to swirl.

Noah had been lingering nearby, watching the action unfold. The race cars lined up, the drivers warming up in their suits, engineers giving last-minute adjustments. But Noah couldn’t shake the feeling that there was still so much he didn’t understand. Formula 1 was more than just fast cars; it was strategy, timing, and a whole world he hadn’t fully cracked yet.

She noticed him staring into the pit, looking like he was trying to figure it all out, and her lips quirked into a small, knowing smile. She closed her laptop and pushed her chair back, standing up.

"Hey," she called over to him, "You look a little lost. Want to get some fresh air?"

Noah blinked, his gaze lifting to meet hers. "Sure. I mean, I could use a break."

She motioned toward the balcony, a quieter spot away from the noise of the paddock. "Come on. Let’s go up there. I'll teach you a few things about the race."

They made their way out, and as soon as they stepped onto the balcony, Noah took in the view of the circuit below. He hadn’t even noticed the race started. Or was this the formation lap? He was sure he read something about that. The track was alive, filled with motion, the cars zipping around as the tension built toward the start.

She leaned against the railing, her arms folded as she studied Noah. “So, how much do you know about all this? The strategy, the pit stops, all that?”

Noah shrugged, feeling a little self-conscious. “I know a decent amount. I mean, mum sometimes put on the race for me to shut me up, but I didn’t really get into the details. She wasn’t into it, and I didn’t have anyone to talk to about it.” He paused, then added with a bit of a sheepish grin, “So I know the basics, but it’s a lot more complicated than I thought.”

She nodded, a knowing look crossing her face. “Yeah, it’s a lot more than just fast cars and fuel. Let me give you the rundown.”

She began explaining the finer details of race strategy—the tire choices, how teams monitored fuel and tire degradation, the timing of pit stops, the importance of keeping track of the weather. As she talked, Noah found himself listening intently, his mind absorbing the information. She wasn’t just teaching him about the race; she was showing him how the puzzle pieces fit together.

“You’re getting it,” she said, smiling at him as he absorbed it all. “The strategy isn’t just about winning; it’s about staying ahead of the competition at every turn. A good driver can have the skill, but it’s the team that makes them successful.”

Noah nodded, feeling a new sense of respect for everything that went into a race. “I get it now. It’s more than just the guy behind the wheel.”

She grinned. “Exactly.”

The sound of the race engines revving up brought them both back to the present. The cars were lining up, and she could feel the tension building as the race was about to begin. She turned toward Noah, her tone shifting slightly. “Alright, time to get back to work. Max has quite a few places to make up.”

They both turned toward the pit, and with a knowing glance, she led Noah back inside.

The race was intense, but as the laps ticked down, Max started to pull away from the pack. Noah could see it happening before anyone else—his dad was dominating, racing like the champion he was. It wasn’t just about the car; it was about Max’s relentless drive.

And then, it happened. Max crossed the finish line in first place, and the entire team erupted in celebration. Noah felt a strange mix of pride and awe. This was his dad—he was winning, and it was like nothing else mattered in that moment.

She was already moving, heading straight for the garage to make sure everything was set for the post-race celebrations. Noah followed behind her, curious but also wanting to see what happened next.

As they entered the garage, Noah couldn’t help but ask, “Why are we back here?”

She turned to him with a knowing smile. “Away from the cameras,” she said simply. “Sometimes the celebrations should be private.”

The doors opened just as Max walked in, his face flushed with triumph, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on her. Without a second thought, he crossed the space in long strides, pulling her into a tight hug.

Noah watched them, a small smile tugging at his lips as he saw the chemistry between them. It was impossible to ignore—the way Max’s arms wrapped around her, how she laughed softly in his arms, as though they had all the time in the world. It wasn’t just the physical connection between them, it was the way they fit together. They had this unspoken understanding, this quiet intimacy that Noah couldn’t deny.

For the first time, he felt like an outsider—just a kid who had stumbled into a world he didn’t fully understand, yet somehow found himself caught in the middle of something bigger than himself. Watching them together, he couldn't help but think they were cute—and it was a thought that made him feel oddly warm inside.

Max pulled away from her, looking down at Noah with a mischievous grin. “Atta boy, kid,” he said, pulling Noah into a hug. The older man’s arms enveloped him easily, and for a second, Noah felt the weight of everything—his confusion, his place in all of this, but also the new undeniable love for moments like this, moments he never had. 

It was rare, moments like these, where Noah felt like he truly belonged in this world, like he wasn’t just a spectator in anyone’s life. The hug felt like a reassurance, like Max was showing him, in his own way, that he was happy he was here.

As they pulled apart, Noah found himself grinning, the rush of the race and the moment of connection filling him with something he couldn’t quite name. But whatever it was, it felt real.

She stepped forward, brushing off a stray piece of hair from her face. “Good job, Max,” she said, her voice soft but proud. “You didn’t screw it up for once.”

Max shot her a playful look. “Who are you calling a screw-up?”

She winked at him. “You, it’s just not obvious because I pick up your slack Max Emilian.”

Noah looked between them, watching the playful banter, and for the first time since he’d arrived in Monaco, he felt like things were... right. Whatever this was between his dad and her, it was something real. And maybe, just maybe, it could be the foundation for something that could help him find his place in this chaotic world.

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