#noah nags

[deciduouseuphoria]

A menagerie of jackalopes for my ceramics 1 class

Wood fired, 2023

[carbonateddelusion]

btw. related thought. Isaac and Noah each get their own wedding with their beef... he tries very hard to treat them equally, so he really stresses the importance of the weddings being about ISAAC AND NOAH, not him. he'd propose to them separately- Noah before Isaac, because Isaac can't keep a happy secret to save their life. they have a lil gathering with friends and family for either wedding.... and privately, they put something on for the kids so they don't feel left out.

honestly though J.Eddie would probably marry Isaac and Noah AFTER Noah dies. he'd be too intimidated by the thought of Jack returning to settle down. so he proposes to Noah and they have their own little ceremony with the kids.... Edgar stops by Noah's grave and leaves a ring and flowers there.

UNrelated thought: Edgar probably visits the kids' graves tbh. he does his best to not be seen so he doesn't get confronted by anybody. he leaves flowers and little notes, and makes sure the kids stay home whenever he goes out to do his rounds. he views it as respecting their life AND their death (presence as a ghost), although honestly he just tries to not think about how creepy it would be for the family to see a large, foreign, scarily pale adult man visiting the grave of a child that he didn't know in life

[hvbris]

𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐏 @countlessrealities, @governmentofficial

& countlessrealities / Bill & Noah (I'm not a fan of puppeteers but I've a nagging fear someone else is pulling at the strings) & countlessrealities / Mabel & Eve (Lately all I feel is bad and bruised but I'm confident when I'm with you) & governernmentofficial / Mycroft & Caesar (It’s you I look for in a crowded room)

[coffindolls]

I suddenly got so overwhelmed with anxiety that my ex might be following me but I know she’s never on Tumblr anyways so its whatever she probably wouldn't ever check this account anyways 

[misspygmypie]

The Promise

Part of the "Meet & Greet... and more?" Universe Pairing: Lando Norris x Noah, Lando Norris x reader Words: 1910 Request: Hello. Lando and Reader having a fight and Lando leaves for a race weekend but reader actually thinks he's going to leave them and tries to hide her crying from Noah but he sees and calls Lando scared he's leaving them making him fly straight back after the race to reassure that he is at leaving his family. Masterlist

Please do not repost, thank you, and leave some feedback :)

Lando and Y/N had always been known for their supportive relationship but as the current Formula 1 season ramped up the pressure started to show. 

The days leading up to the next race weekend had been some of the busiest for Lando. With meetings, media obligations and endless preparations he barely had time to catch his breath. 

Y/N had been supportive but clearly feeling the strain, especially with a six month old that needed all of her attention she was in desperate need of support. But instead their evenings together were now filled with quiet tension rather than shared moments of joy.

One evening when Lando was scheduled to leave for the next Grand Prix soon Y/N brought up the plans for their last few hours together. “I was hoping we could spend some time with each other before you leave,” she said softly as they sat in their living room. “Maybe a quiet dinner or just a night in? We could get a babysitter for Noah and Maebry.”

Lando, his mind still swirling with the demands of the upcoming race, responded with a distracted sigh. “I really can’t, Y/N. There’s so much to do. The team is depending on me and I need to be focused. This race is crucial.”

“Every weekend is crucial, Lando,” Y/N’s eyes flashed with frustration. “It feels like we’re just drifting apart. We barely see each other and now you’re going to be gone again.”

“You know how important this is! I’ve got a job to do and it’s not like I can just skip race preparations because you’re feeling left out!”

The argument escalated quickly. Emotions flared as Lando accused Y/N of not understanding the demands of his career, while Y/N felt neglected and undervalued. Their emotions got more tense by the minute and soon harsh words were exchanged.

In the heat of the moment Lando decided he needed space. “I can’t deal with this right now,” he said tensly. He packed his bags, his mind racing with the pressures of the upcoming Grand Prix and the unresolved tension with his wife.

Y/N watched him, feeling both sad and angry. “Is this really how you want to handle this? Just walking away?”

Lando paused for a moment, his hand resting on his suitcase. He looked back at her, his expression exhausted. “I don’t know how else to handle it right now. I can’t stay here and argue. I need to focus on the race. Maybe it’s better if we talk when I get back.”

With that Lando finished packing and headed out. Y/N, feeling powerless and desolate, stood by the door, her heart heavy while she watched him drive away. 

Y/N paced the living room, her heart racing with a fear that felt all too familiar. The memories of the argument with Lando replayed in her mind. She couldn’t shake the nagging worry that he might not come back, just like Noah’s biological father had done after their last fight. The way he had walked out on them when Noah was just two months old without looking back. 

She wasn’t just scared for herself but for Noah too, fearing that the stability and love they had come to rely on might disappear, leaving them both alone once more.

After bringing the kids to bed Y/N retreated to her own bedroom, shutting the door behind her as tears began to flow uncontrollably. She sank onto the bed, her shoulders shaking with the weight of her fears. The thought of Lando not returning gnawed at her, past betrayals and broken promises fueling her anxiety.

Unbeknownst to her Noah, unable to sleep, had wandered down the hallway and stood quietly by the door, listening to his mother’s muffled sobs. His small frame tensed as he heard her crying, his young heart aching with a growing sadness, sensing that something was terribly wrong.

The weekend dragged on for Y/N and Noah. Despite Y/N’s best efforts to keep things normal Lando’s absence was deeply felt. Y/N was preoccupied with her own emotions and the recent argument with Lando, making it challenging to fully address Noah’s growing distress.

The next day, while Y/N was busy in the kitchen, Noah quietly went into his room a few minutes after he had watched his dad on the TV finish practice for the day. Having secretly grabbed his mom's phone, he dialed Lando’s number, his small fingers shaking as he pressed each digit, just how his parents had shown him for emergencies. The phone rang several times before Lando answered.

“Hello?” Lando’s voice came through, busy with the race weekend’s chaos and the exhaustion after the practice session he had just finished.

“Daddy?” Noah’s voice was small and choked with emotion.

“Noah! What’s wrong?” Lando asked, his concern immediate as he recognized his son's voice instead of Y/N’s as expected and he listened to the trembling voice on the other end.

Noah’s tears began to flow freely. “I’m scared, daddy. What if you don’t come back? What if you leave us like… like the other daddy did?”

Lando’s heart instantly ached hearing the raw fear in Noah’s voice. He quickly moved into a private area and sat down, focusing entirely on his son. “Oh, Noah, I’m so sorry you’re feeling this way. I promise I’m not going anywhere. I love you, mommy and Mae very much and I’m coming home soon.”

Noah’s crying intensified. “But what if you don’t come back? I heard mommy crying last night! What if you just stay there forever?!”

Lando felt a sharp pang of guilt and sadness. “Noah, listen to me. I’m finishing up here and then I’m coming home. I’m always thinking about you and mommy and your sister. I would never leave you! I promise I’ll be back soon and we’re going to have so much fun together.”

Noah’s sobs were interrupted by hiccups. “Really? You promise you won’t leave us?”

“I promise,” Lando said firmly. “I love you so much. Just remember, even when I’m not there, I’m always with you in my heart.”

Noah took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “Okay, daddy. I love you!”

“I love you too, Noah. Be good for mommy and I’ll see you soon,” Lando said softly.

The call ended and Lando sat quietly, overwhelmed by the emotional weight of Noah’s fears and his own guilt. The pre-race tension seemed insignificant compared to the worry he felt for his family.

Unaware of the conversation that had just taken place Y/N continued her evening routine. When Noah rejoined her in the kitchen he was quieter but seemed somewhat reassured. Y/N noticed the change but was unsure of the source of his sudden calmness.

After dinner she put Maebry and then Noah to bed, her mind still occupied with the issues between her and Lando. When she turned to leave the room Noah’s voice called out softly.

“Mommy, can I tell you something?”

Y/N sat down on the edge of his bed. “Of course, sweetie. What’s up?”

Noah looked up at her, his small face still a bit flushed from his tears. “I talked to daddy. He said he’s coming home soon. And, mommy… I heard you and daddy talking and you crying last night. I was scared.”

Y/N’s heart sank. She reached out to hold Noah’s hand and took a deep breath, struggling to maintain her composure. “I’m so sorry you heard me, Noah. I was just having a hard time. But Daddy and I love you very much and we’re going to be okay. We’re all going to work things out.”

Noah nodded, seeming comforted by her words. “Okay, mommy. I love you.”

“I love you too, Noah,” Y/N said softly, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. She stayed with him a little longer until he fell asleep, the weight of the most recent events still heavy on her shoulders.

As Y/N left Noah’s room she felt relieved but also sad. The phone call had provided some comfort for Noah but it also highlighted the emotional distance that had grown between her and Lando. Y/N knew they had some work to do when Lando returned. For now she focused on holding her family together, hoping that soon they would rebuild their connection. 

________

After the race, despite the adrenaline and excitement of the weekend, Lando’s mind was consumed by worry. He couldn’t shake the image of Noah’s fearful face and the distress in his voice. The thought of his family struggling while he was miles away drove him to a resolute decision.

When the final checkered flag fell and the race weekend concluded, Lando made a swift choice. He bypassed the traditional post-race interviews and celebrations, driven by a singular focus: getting home as quickly as possible. His team understood his urgency after he briefly explained the situation and provided the necessary support.

Lando rushed to the airport and managed to catch the earliest available flight home, the hours stretching endlessly as he anxiously waited to be back home l with his family. The flight was a blur, his mind fixed on being with Y/N, Noah and Maebry.

It was late into the night when he finally arrived at home. Y/N was in the living room, feeling the weight of the past few days and the tension of the argument with Lando. The apartment was quiet except for the soft sounds of the city outside.

The front door creaked open and Y/N looked up, startled. Her eyes widened as she saw Lando standing in the doorway, looking both exhausted and determined.

“Lando?” she asked, relieved.

Lando stepped inside, his expression earnest. “I’m sorry I didn’t call ahead. I just needed to come back as soon as I could.”

Y/N rushed to him, her eyes filling with tears. “You’re here. You really came back!”

Lando enveloped her in a tight embrace. “I’m so sorry for everything. I heard how upset Noah was and he told me how he heard you crying and I couldn’t stand being away any longer. I needed to be here to make things right.”

Y/N clung to him, her tears falling freely. “It’s been so hard! We missed you so much.”

As they held each other they heard a small, hesitant voice from the hallway. Noah had woken up from the commotion, his eyes puffy from sleep. He peeked around the corner, looking at Lando with a mix of apprehension and hope.

“Daddy?” Noah’s voice was barely a whisper.

Lando dropped to his knees, opening his arms wide. “Hey, buddy. I’m home. I’m really sorry for scaring you. I love you so much and I’m not going anywhere.”

Noah ran into Lando’s arms, relieved as he hugged his father tightly. “Daddy, you came back!"

“I did,” Lando said, holding Noah close. “I’m here now. We’re all going to be okay.”

The tension and worry of the past days began to lift, Lando’s presence providing the comfort and reassurance they all needed.

After Noah was back in bed Lando and Y/N settled in the living room. They spoke quietly, sharing their feelings and discussing the issues that had come up. While the road to resolving their issues would take time, the commitment to being present and supportive was a crucial step forward. 

________

AN: 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

[vasiktomis]

Loophole (Zayne x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: Zayne has an Evol flare-up while you’re visiting Snowcrest. You’re a good friend, so you help him out.

It doesn't mean anything if you don't move, right?

Rating: Explicit (Minors do NOT interact). Word Count: ~6800. Tags/Warnings: Female Pronouns and Anatomy for Reader, Reader is MC, Caretaking, Friends to Lovers, Inappropriate Doctor/Patient Relationship, Childhood Friends, Bickering, Cock Warming, First Time, Vaginal Sex, Photography, Unsafe Sex, Porn with Feelings, Switching. Post-chapter 4 spoilers. Read it on Ao3 Here!

“Let’s get you inside.”

The cold weather poses something of a threat to Zayne, you've realised.

He'd never admit such a thing, of course, but if he hadn't wanted you to make such an observation, he shouldn't have made it his responsibility to impose such an unexpectedly strong presence in your life.

A year ago, you barely knew him. To say he kept you at arms' length was an understatement, but with everything that's occurred in recent months — with such a void left in your life from the loss of Caleb and Grandma — and the ugly mysteries eclipsing once-happy memories — your doctor, of all people, is the one dedicating almost every minute of his time outside of work to trying to fill that void. It's not like he talks your ear off — he's Zayne, after all — but he makes a noticeable effort to make himself accessible to you whenever he can.

He's been a good friend to you at the sacrifice of his own comfort.

In the seven months that have passed since the explosion, you've had more exposure to Zayne than you've had any of your other friends. He rarely strays from his quiet stoicism, but it's far easier to read him. These days, you can't believe you once thought him intimidating. The softer aspects of his personality aren't offered willingly, but accidentally. A slip of the tongue here, a too-long stare at a community cat there, a smile he doesn't think you notice. He masks his requests for you to visit him in his overtime hours as nagging reminders for you to water the plants. He never asks you to bring him dinner, but there's always an extra seat pulled up at his desk when you arrive with it unannounced.

You’re sure he likes it well enough; getting to know you after all these years. You’re just not sold on how fond he is of you knowing him.

It shows stark on his typically taciturn features. Streetlamp light bounces off fluffy snow at all angles in the little village laneway, illuminating the man with an almost healthy glow as he walks stiffly beside you, right hand clutched against his side and his left doing all it can to keep from crushing the bones in yours.

“I’m fine.” He insists while you lead him up to the cabin, grimacing at a sudden chill of wind passing over the porch. There's a certain tone he uses when he's putting on the bedside manner. As a patient, you'd be soothed. As a friend, your patience wanes. He's not fine.

”I’ll get a fire going.” You mutter, ushering him inside. He tries amidst obvious pain to be gentlemanly, waiting for you to enter first, but a scowl on your part has him conceding defeat and ambling through the door. “Get in the shower. Can you turn it on by yourself?”

There’s no more warm light from the street in here. Dr. Noah likely would have fallen asleep hours ago, shortly after you’d left for dinner. Still, even in the dark, you can sense the irritation in him.

“You act like I’m frozen solid.” He retorts on his way to the bathroom, knowing better than to stick around despite the attempt to uphold his pride.

”Get your butt in the shower before I throw you in there myself.”

The warmer months gave you no initial reason to suspect anything, but as the weather worsened and temperatures dropped, Zayne began to feel more on-edge. You’d bore witness to his attacks in the past, but he was no more willing to share his condition with you beyond the odd occasion of being unable to switch it off after a battle. You knew what it looked like when his Evol was acting up. It almost caused a fight, the first time you asked about it. Then, when it became clear you weren’t simply going to leave him to his own devices whenever he was displaying the signs, Zayne steadily, reluctantly, began to let you assist. He couldn’t stand it — he still can’t, you’re sure — not playing caretaker for once, but the two of you found a rhythm; keeping an eye on his temperature, steering clear of fluctuations, little remedies that help him bounce back quicker when his Evol gets the better of him. It became second nature to you, like carrying an Epipen for a loved one at risk of anaphylaxis.

You won’t lie, though. It pisses you off. He’s a constant nag when it comes to your health regarding your heart condition, but there was no allowable mention of his  condition when he brought you to Dr. Noah. Not that your opinion counts for anything, apparently, but what idiot cashes out his annual leave for an extended stay in a tundra when he's so prone to such reactions?

It had shocked you even more when your friend declared he’d be staying back for the foreseeable future, conducting research for the old man on a solo expedition on Mt. Eternal. Your friend — the one who'd taken it upon himself to be a stand-in for your lost family — alone, in the worst possible place he could be in his condition.

It was unthinkable.

Four weeks was your breaking point after you’d returned home without him.

Sure, he responded to your texts within seconds. Reception wasn’t good enough for calls, but he made sure to give you no logical reason to worry about him. It didn’t help. Once your dreams started to take the shape of him disappearing into the mountains, you cut your losses and decided to visit for the weekend.

Just as well, considering he’d been massaging his wrist in your periphery for the entirety of your first day. Still, he'd insisted on showing you around Snowcrest, spending as much time away from Dr. Noah's cabin as possible. You knew his tells. He was bordering on a flare-up and hiding it from you. Had he mentioned it and agreed to stay in tonight, you might not of had to drag him home with frost seeping out of his clothes and a foul mood. Instead, he chose to be proud about it.

Idiot.

God knows what could have happened to him if he hadn't come down from the mountain to spend the weekend with you.

He’d never let you get away with such stupidity, and it’s hard not to hold it against him. You came here out of worry in the first place, and the visit isn’t doing a thing to set your mind at ease.

You tend to rekindling the dimming embers in the fireplace, content to mind your business once you hear the shower turn on. At least he’s doing what he’s told.

The living room heats up steadily. New flames settle into a longer-lived glow. You get yourself changed into more suitable bed wear; a commandeered hoodie from your doctor’s medical school era, large enough to reach halfway to your knees. The frayed cuffs have since lost their elasticity and there are a few choice stains, and most condemning, the drawstrings have been chewed to tassels — but god, if it isn’t comfy. Time stretches on, and while the worry gnaws at the back of your mind, you leave Zayne to his privacy. So long as you don’t hear a thump, you’re content to imagine he’s probably just in there being mad at himself over not being the sensible one for once.

Zayne keeps himself locked away for the better part of an hour, in the end. Even Pie pads out into the living room to investigate what you’re doing up alone in the middle of the night before a scritch sends the fox on its way back to bed.

You’ve slid most of the way off the couch by the time the man emerges from his room in fresh pajamas. With your back to the rug, you watch him approach stiffly, slowing to a halt upside-down. He’s still rubbing at that wrist, you note.

“You’re still up.” He mutters, brow knitted in discomfort.

There’s frost on his neck. His lips are blue. It wasn’t even this bad when you were outside. A pit forms in your stomach.

Then, his wake hits you. Cold air, chilling you to the bone, and you sit up in a flash.  

“Zayne—“

He silences you with a little hand motion, stepping around you to seat himself as close as he can to the fireplace.

“You’re half-frozen.” You continue when he offers you nothing else. Crawling onto the couch beside him, you reach up to tug at the collar of his sweater, trying to inspect the severity of the attack. “God, you should have said  something.”

“I thought you were asleep.” He replies quietly. “I’ve seen — how much it takes to wake you-“

Zayne flinches from your touch when your fingertip skims his neck. The most aggressive warning to stay back that he can risk without waking his mentor. You ignore him, of course. You always do. Sitting close, you press yourself to his side on the couch, guiding his right arm between your thighs. Your fingers lace between his from both sides, covering as much surface area as possible as you use your body to fend off the cold.

A moment is all it takes to see some of the tension in his face disappear. He breathes through the pain, eyes closed, and you shift your gaze to the fireplace to give him his privacy with it.

”You’re in so much trouble when this passes.”

A short, sharp chuckle slips through Zayne’s teeth. He nods once. “I know.”

You sit together like this for a long while, letting him sap the heat from your body to combat the flare-up. If not for the fire, you’d be shivering. It takes time, but eventually Zayne’s breathing evens out. His face relaxes, bit by bit. His half-frozen arm feels just a little cold to the touch.

Neither of you part. Not just yet. There’s too much left unsaid, and Zayne takes far too much solace in quiet to make the first move.

You let your temple drop to his shoulder. “Snow village dates are nice, but most girls would say yes to ‘Go Fish’  and hot cocoa if it means their date makes it through the night.”

After a second, Zayne rests his head against yours.

He inhales.

He pauses.

Then…

“I wanted you to have a nice time. I didn’t think it through.”

…God, he’s such a sweet man. It’s not wonder he’s got you wrapped around his finger.

There’s such a sense of finality to the way he says it. You suppose it’s not necessarily a wrong way to think of it, but it’s not his fault. Sure, it’s your last night together for what may amount to months, and he was stupid enough to think he could get away with poking the bear, but you’d rather have him come home alive and well. Not a victim to his own Evol.

It doesn’t sit right with you to let it end like this. The moment he’s recovered, he’s going to insist you both go to sleep. You’ll take the guest bed, and he’ll take the pull-out trundle, and he’ll remain there, soundless with his back to you. In the morning, you’ll say your goodbyes, and that will be that. The next time you see him will probably be for a check-up, and he’ll spend the entirety of the ECG acting like you’re mere acquaintances again.

No, you’re not losing momentum.

You’re not sure if it’s warmth in general, or if it’s a reaction specific to you — through trust, or the Aether core — there’s just no telling. Zayne keeps his cards too close to his chest for you to ever be sure, but you do know for certain that you hold the quickest remedy. If it’s just warmth, he never lets anyone but you get close enough to supply it. If it’s trust, likewise. The Aether core? You’re the only one.

“What are you—“

Zayne stiffens when you climb into his lap. He winces in discontentment; at such an intimidate proximity, at the physical danger he still poses, at the feeling of your thighs astride his. He doesn’t look pleased in the slightest, but still, his knees shift together, offering you a more comfortable perch on which to explain yourself.

You can feel the cold still radiating from him, fighting his body to keep from regulating its own temperature. It’s unpleasant, the way the chill claws at you, reaching across the expanse of your front. The joints in your hands already ache just from holding his arm to your chest. It’s imaginable, what it must be like to host such an Evol. What it must be like to have your own flesh freeze from the inside-out on a whim.

“Not done keeping you warm.” You answer simply, making a conscious effort to keep your teeth from chattering for his sake. He’s exercising enormous restraint not flinging you off of him already. You shouldn’t push your luck by sending him into any more of a panic.

“It’s not safe for you to be this close.” Zayne protests.

“Then I’m making you safe.”

This time, a growl escapes him. Pain cuts his patience with your impudence short. “You’re going to get yourself hurt—“

Zayne’s words die in his throat when you drape yourself over him, chest to chest, arms languidly curling over his shoulders. He goes completely silent.

“Aren’t you always telling me you can control it, anyway?” You muse, relaxing into him, moulding yourself to his body. The white frost that blooms beneath his skin begins to fade from his throat, unable to contend with the warmth of your breath. “If you didn’t want me doing this you shouldn’t have shown me how well it works.”

“That was after the aid of a hot shower.” Zayne argues. His logic might apply for that aborted attempt at an early-morning hike, but it falls flat tonight. “I was trying to warm up after the shower.”

Yeah, look how well that turned out. He’s as bad at lying as you are.

“So you’re saying I ought to have—“

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“If it’s not helping, Zayne, tell me.”

“…It’s helping.” He mutters.

You declare your victory with a hum, tucking your face into the collar of his sweater.

Even his scent is cold, somehow.

Beneath you, Zayne shifts, conceding defeat. You feel his lips ghost the side of your head. Considering — then retreating from a kiss — opting instead to rest his chin on you. His affected arm remains wedged between you, while his free hand comes to rest on your waist.

Minutes pass. Zayne’s breathing steadies to a resting rhythm. Eventually, the ice retreats into his flesh, disappearing with only a lingering chill. It shifts, marking the man’s return to normal, but he doesn’t announce anything. Instead, he tugs his arm out, only to wrap around you, surrendering to the moment.

“Do you have plans, while I’m away?” He asks.

“Tara’s been looking at the blank spots on my calendar, so I’ve probably got things on without knowing, yet.”

“Blank spots.”

”Yeah. Some of us have those.”

”Sounds like you don’t know what to do with yourself without me.”

“Please. I won’t have to worry about you bullying me. Maybe, y’know, I’ll do just fine without you.”

A chuckle escapes him. Tentatively, he toys with the fabric of your hoodie. “You’re not going to wash this at all, are you.”

Heat climbs up your neck at the suggestion. Of all the night clothes you had to bring, why did it have to be something you’d stolen from him?

You’re no coward. You rise to challenge. “Can’t miss you when it feels like I’ve got you with me.”

“I know  you’ll miss me,” Zayne retorts, and wow, he’s really  angling for a comeback after having you subject him to being taken care of, “But that’s no excuse for poor hygiene.”

“Poor hygiene—!”

You lean back to glower at the man, only to find him smirking up at you.

“I’ve half a mind to expect to find you asleep on the platform when the train pulls in, simply because you were too excited to wait at home for me to drop by.”

Your ears are positively scalding. You feel yourself shrinking, suddenly not so confident taking up as much space in the room. How does he have you so well figured out? Are you really that much of an open book? Compared to him, sure, but you’d hoped you carried a little more mystery about you than sitting on a station platform for a quasi-boyfriend-without-benefits  like a dog.

Even if that is  the case — does he really have to rub it in your face?

He can’t get away with this.

Speaking plainly, Zayne’s warmed up plenty. There’s no real reason for either of you to remain this close, and yet — despite lauding himself as the rational half of this friendship, his arms almost keep you from moving any further away.

His expression doesn’t falter with your silence, remaining ever-undisturbed. It unnerves you. His smiles never last more than a second, and you can count on one hand the amount of times he’s looked you in the eye with a pleasant face on. He’s on a power trip. If you don’t cut him down right this second he’ll go nuclear. He’ll leave you hanging with a ‘goodnight’  and a kiss on the forehead and you’ll both never speak of tonight again.

This is it. This is the last straw. Tonight, you leave him  hanging. 

“You want me to miss you so fucking bad, huh?” You accuse him, tapping a finger to your chin as you pretend to wonder. His eyebrow ticks. “Is that what you’re into? Man, you medical staff are all so power hungry.”

Zayne looks thoughtful for a moment. A thumb idly traces back and forth along your skin, barely tucked beneath your hoodie. It’s such a cautious touch. You wish  he wasn’t just all talk. “Perhaps you’re easier to deal with when one considers you might actually like getting bossed around.”

There’s no hiding the erection that sits wedged between you. There’s no ignoring the heat that pools in your core every time it strains against your cunt, blocked only by his sweatpants and your underwear.

There’s no way he can’t feel your heart beat throbbing against him.

And yet — he pretends not to be taking part in any of it.

You think about it for a moment.

Then, you roll your hips forward, slowly, gently. Your nerves spark as your clit finds the pressure it needs against the underside of his cock.

It takes everything in your power to keep from doing it again.

A tiny shiver makes its way out of Zayne. Frustration, perhaps. You angle a knowing little smile at him, and his throat bobs. He knows he’s been caught.

Checkmate.

“Doctor Zayne, are you getting off on this?” You ask, and his face flushes scarlet. His eyes widen, caught off-guard by you finally crossing the threshold.

”I…don’t know what you’re talking about.” He answers lamely, pointedly avoiding looking down.

“You are!”

“Not so loud. It’s n-… it’s nothing.” He insists in a hushed voice, shooting a look over your shoulder before he’s satisfied that the coast is clear of anyone who might be privy to what the two of you are doing. “Just a biological reaction to stimuli.”

“Which stimuli?” You ask, feigning curiosity. “The cuddling, or this?”

To stress your point, you do it again, biting back the swell of enjoyment at the way his lips part of their own accord. A little hum spills forth, and his own hips chase the motion, just for a second, before he halts.

“Please.” Zayne murmurs, moving to hold you still. Inching you back onto his thighs, condemning himself to reveal two little damp patches. One where the grey fleece of his sweatpants pulls most taut. The other a little lower, where you’ve been rubbing your cunt along his clothed shaft.

“You need to learn when you’ve teased enough.”

What — fall back? Now? When all your nerves are alight?

Your tongue wets your lips as you take in the sight of him. Well on his way to wrecked, but not quite there. His expression remains otherwise impassive, but his pupils are far too blown to help him maintain the facade.

“You’re one to talk. Can’t hack it when it’s not you in charge?” You challenge him. “You’re not usually one to shy away from uncharted territory.”

You can’t help but reach out, itching to touch him. Fingertips smooth along his length, feather-light from the bottom up. His cock twitches when you reach the tip, begging for more.

“Ah—“ Long fingers snatch at your wrist, holding you fast. “Try no man’s land.”

“It’s nothing.” You assure him. “You said it yourself.”

Nothing. No different to how he so often strays into treating you, with all his dates and touches. Nothing, midday naps and linking your pinky-fingers as you walk together. Nothing, like the spare clothes you both reserve a drawer for.

“Just warming you up. That’s all.”

Zayne’s chest expands. His gaze fixes on your fingertips curling insistently at his waistband despite his grip keeping you at bay. “That’s all.”

Disbelief? Determination? Disappointment? You’re not familiar enough with how each of these sound in his throat to properly identify it, but Zayne’s grip on your wrist releases nonetheless. He opts to help you make more comfortable work of his track pants, pushing them down just a little to allow you easier access. There’s no presence of approval at how greedy you are about it, pawing and snatching at your prize while he tries to remain nonchalant.

You do try to give him the dignity of privacy by not looking down when he settles and you finally wrap both hands around his cock. He’s already indignant as it is, and the rumble that vibrates deep in his chest as your fingers close around him isn’t helping.

Oh — maybe just a little tease.

“Hey.” You chide, grinning. His eyes crack open, just enough to narrow at you. “Don’t make it weird. I’m a professional.”

It earns you a scoff. Zayne’s fingers, settled on your thighs, give a retaliatory squeeze, thumbs pressing just hard enough into your adductors to skirt on discomfort. He watches you tense at the feeling, and sensing an opportunity to shift the attention back off himself, decides to squeeze harder.

You finally flinch with an “Ow!”, and the man smiles to himself. Mission accomplished. He lets go.

”You’re the professional? How many surgeries have you performed?”

”How many have you  performed?”

”…A lot, genius.”

“Didn’t you tell me that some of your worst patients are doctors themselves?”

“Your point being?”

There’s no point — at least not in arguing with him. He’s only trying to distract you. You shift over him, and his attitude dissolves. He leans back, maintaining as much distance as he can — or perhaps to watch, as you tug your underwear to the side — line yourself up — and sink down onto his cock.

Zayne’s chest expands, but he makes no noise. His eyes close. His lips part. A minor crease forms between his eyebrows. It might as well be a sob. You’d use such a reaction against him if you weren’t more concerned with suppressing your own, lest he catch you out. Your cunt burns from the sudden, full intrusion, and his diverted attention gives you the moment you need to grow accustomed to it.

Once you’ve gotten over the initial shock of the feeling, you brush any intrusive thoughts aside. It doesn’t matter if he’s one of your oldest and closest friends. It doesn’t matter if he’s your doctor. You were already squarely planted in conflict-of-interest territory the moment he took you on as a patient.

You try to ignore your own desire. Your body catches up with your actions quickly, igniting touch-starved nerves that you’ve long-fantasised him satisfying. Heat builds inside you at a nervous system realising you’re finally giving it what it wants, and it only screams for more. Of course you’ve wanted Zayne. You adore him, but he’s not the kind of man who could balance a friendship with benefits; if anything, he finds a way to be the inverse of such a thing. He gives you everything in the way of a relationship except sex, and with him steering so clear of crossing that boundary with you, you have to tread carefully.

As much as you want to, this is delicate.

“My point is: zip it and let me take care of you.” You manage.

Besides, its not like you’re actually having sex with him. He’s continually pushing the boundaries of platonic with all his touches and hugs anyway. It’s not like he has a leg to stand on if he wants to protest what sitting on his cock might mean for your relationship. Hell, this isn’t even the first time he’s been hard when you’ve had his hips pinned down with your own.

If anything, you’re doing the guy a favour by taking the responsibility off him to go this far.

Zayne doesn’t bounce back as quickly as you do. His eyes remain scrunched shut, his core engaged beneath your palms as you brace your weight to settle into a more comfortable position in his lap. He looks worried. Apprehensive.

“Doctor Zayne?” Concern begins to creep in, just a little. “Okay, you can say something now.”

“Please,” He grits between his teeth, and relief floods your body as some semblance of calm returns to his expression, “Don’t call me that — like this.”

“Like what? I’m just warming you up, remember?” You offer a smile when he opens one eye, mood shifting to quizzical.

“You’re so immature. And for the record, this constitutes malpractice. You’re a terrible doctor.”

”Trust the process.”

”Fine. What’s the course of treatment?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing.”

You can’t help but chuckle at such quiet outrage. It’s getting easier to read him. Relaxing against his front, you ignore a little gasp on his part to loop your arms around his neck again. Dishonest pretences be damned, this really is doing the trick. “All you need to do is stay still.”

Zayne weighs up his options for only a moment before giving in. His arms slip around your waist. His chin hooks over your shoulder, just barely nuzzling into the crook of your neck. He’s breathing in your scent, and the following exhale into your skin has you stifling a shiver.

Then, there’s a flex within you.

“Hey!” You choke, “I said stay still back there!”

“Quiet down. It was only a reflex.” Zayne defends, a little too cavalier to fly under the radar. “Besides, I’m not the one squirming.”

“I’m just getting comfortable. Your hips are pointy.”

Zayne’s hips slot up into yours, and the feel of him nudging just a little deeper has your eyes stinging. You fail to stifle a little squeak, and you’re shushed for it immediately.

“Just getting comfortable.” Zayne’s words lick at your ear, and the sound of him sends shivers through you, pooling between your legs, pleading with you to satisfy the ever-nagging want to start riding him. “You’re like a vice.”

He has to know how much of an effect he has on you. There’s no way he doesn’t.

You don’t respond to his attitude — however, the condemning, responding, constricting  of your insides around his cock surely doesn’t go unnoticed, and with a hollow breath, he lifts you, just a little, enough to draw back and push back in. He’s slow about it; infuriatingly so, almost like if he inches in and out at enough of creeping pace you’ll either not bother to be strict with him, or you’ll simply abandon your own rules in favour of crossing the boundary he’s silently begging you to cross for him.

No. He’s not getting the upper hand here. Not when he gets to pretend all his little actions are forgettable. Platonic. Accidental. Misunderstood. There’s only so many times a guy can subtly grind on someone during a spooning session and claim ignorance when called out about it.

You lock your feet beneath his knees, and sink down onto him, hard. Pleasure blooms. Your cunt aches for more. A sharp breath escapes Zayne, threatening to blossom into an appreciative groan that would only serve to tempt you without your hand clapping over his mouth and a ‘shh!’.

“You can keep still, or this stops.” You announce in a whisper, and he watches you defiantly from behind your hand.

Zayne’s gaze eventually breaks away from yours. Conceding. For now, at least. You lower your hand from his mouth, and relax, reaching across the cushion to pluck your phone from the couch and check your messages.

Already, he’s bothered by your lack of undivided attention.

“You’re on your phone.”  He huffs.

“I’m not rewarding your behaviour.” You reply simply.

“You’re not implying that behaving differently would warrant a reward, are you?”

That’s for him to figure out.

You shift your weight maybe just a little more than you need to, indulging in the feeling of his cock shift with you, within you, pressing insistently against that one spot that almost has your constitution coming apart at the seams. Zayne trembles momentarily beneath you, swallowing hard. He’s keeping his cool well enough, but as you settle into the new angle, no longer moving, his frustration makes itself known with another twitch inside you.

If he keeps doing that, you’re not sure you can hold out.

“You really  think this is helping?” He asks, voice tight.

“You don’t believe me?” You pout, tapping your home screen and opening your camera app. “Fine, let the expert see for himself.”

Switching to selfie cam, you watch as the man glances at his image on the screen for half a second, before tearing his gaze away. Not a shocker, you reason. He’s probably never seen himself with a hair out of place. Flushed cheeks and dilated pupils? You might as well have shown him a traffic collision.

“Aw, come on. Look how much colour’s come back to your face.”

Zayne musters the courage to look up, but not at the phone. His eyes narrow at you. Accusatory. “I’m not interested in giving you blackmail material.”

“What? Get real. There’s nothing incriminating going on. Especially not when you angle it like this.” You switch on a filter and lean down into the man. “See?”

Curiosity gets the better of him, and his head tilts to get a better look at whatever scheme you’re cooking up. On the screen, both your flushed faces smooth out, blushing perfectly. Cat ears and whiskers. Cheek to cheek. Just another one of your countless selfies with completely platonic friends.

You take the shot. The shutter clicks.

“Cute.” Zayne mutters drily.

“You think so?”

“Only how much fun you seem to be having of it.”

Your brow knits. “Oh yeah? All right, stick in the mud, you take over.”

He gives too much away at that response. His long fingers immediately slip over your hips. He’s readying to flip you onto your back before he notices you’re holding the phone out to him. Then, knowing he’s shown his hand, he has no choice but to recover his pride.

Much to your chagrin, Zayne plucks the phone from your hand, aborting whatever miraculous step he’d been about to take. A corner of his mouth ticks, minutely. He angles your phone away from you, tapping and swiping. His own phone buzzes. Then, he casts the device at the other end of the couch, out of your reach. “I think it’s getting a bit late for screens.” He murmurs. Fingers smooth up and over the swell of your hips. His long arms uncoil from your waist, releasing you as he leans back. Leaving you with a lonesome chill.  “And you ought to be going to bed.”

Is that…rejection? Has he just been humouring you up until this point?

You tilt your head. “I’m sorry. Is this not okay?”

“This is fine.”

He looks at the fireplace. Stoic as ever.

“Then what?” You frown.

He doesn’t respond.

Your throat runs dry. Dread creeps up through your heart.

“Hey. Talk to me.” You urge, smoothing your fingers along his jaw, and he leans into your palm.

Seconds pass. Zayne finally regards you again. There’s an acknowledging incline of his head — almost a polite bow. A pre-emptive apology for what he’s about to say. 

“What happens after this?” He asks. “Do we part ways at the train station in the morning and the next time we see each other, it’ll be as doctor and patient?”

Oh.

“Is that what we are to you?” You ask, not entirely sure if you want to know.

He dodges the question the best way he knows how: with rationality. “I feel that if that scenario is what you want, we should say goodnight. My understanding of our relationship won’t change, I promise you, but if this goes further, at least one of us is going to feel differently. It would be better if there were no misunderstandings between us.”

Something tightens in your chest. Something dreadful and lovely all the same, anxiety and anticipation at the prospect of a tipping point, at least before saying goodbye. Trust Zayne, of course, to turn to smoke and mirrors when it comes to a confession of feelings, but you’ve known him long enough to see how far out of his comfort zone all of this is.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” You ask, aborting an attempt on his part to avert his gaze with a finger beneath his chin.

His expression remains inexplicable. Then, there’s that little tilt of his head. The quirk of an eyebrow. “Your assumption is correct.”

The apprehension that’s been building in the back of your mind disperses the moment he says it. Your resolve all but disappears.  “My understanding,” You begin, reaching up to cup your hand over the other side of his face, “is that I’ve wanted you ever since I walked into that restaurant last year.”

Zayne doesn’t hesitate. His mouth finds yours in a heartbeat. Previously unsure hands pull you against him, locking you in his embrace. He’s so awfully gentle about it all despite your combined strength. Such a gentleman. It comes as no surprise that he shudders at the intrusion of your tongue past his lips — what does surprise you is how quickly he catches up to your pace. Inviting you in. Slipping an arm lower to brace your weight, and you feel yourself being pulled up off of his cock, just until only the head remains at your entrance. 

The loss of him has you incensed. He keeps you from sinking back down, and your protesting whines are suffocated with another kiss. All he’s left you with to express yourself is your hands, and you seize the opportunity, combing your fingers through his hair and tugging, just slightly at the roots.

He breaks away with a little noise. Not pained, but shocked. Another one of his spots, you reason, and he’s just as displeased that you’ve found it. 

“You don’t know when to quit.” Zayne pants. His fringe dusts your forehead. “What — what were we saying about bad behaviour going unrewarded?”

You’re too mindless right now to play any games. There’s no more thrill of the build that you can handle. Not after this long. 

You break, instantly. 

“Please —“ You whimper, almost trembling in his grip, trying in vain to take him back in again. “Zayne, I need it — please—“

Zayne relents right away. He gives you what you want, lowering you, burying himself in you to the hilt. Then he lifts you again, building into a steady rhythm.

”You’re so — you’re so frustrating.” He manages between kisses. “Should’ve told me this is all it takes for you to do as you’re told.”

More. You need more. Heavenly as it is, it’s not enough, just having him in you. You push back, and Zayne takes the hint. He’s said his piece. He lets you take the lead again without a fight, admiring the view as you roll onto the balls of your feet, gripping the back of the couch to keep yourself stable. The new angle feels deeper, each stroke rolling drifting sharply over your nerves as he brushes that spot inside you. It takes a moment for Zayne to kick into gear, brain short-circuiting as he watches you squat on his cock, taking what you need from him. Then, he leaves you to support your own weight. Fingers wrench at the front of your hoodie, yanking it up to your sternum, and his tongue sweeps a nipple. In the time it takes for you to react, his other hand has snaked between you, between your legs. His thumb rolls over your clit just as he latches onto your nipple and sucks. The keen barely escapes your lips before Zayne’s hand claps over your mouth, continuing his assault. 

It goes from too little to too much. It creeps up on you so fast, so suddenly, and there’s nothing you can do but ride through it. A muffled hum is all the warning you can give him. Your pace staggers as the burn in your thighs catches up to you, but Zayne only goes faster, rubbing merciless little circles into your nerves. His hips roll up into you, compensating as best he can for your loss of control. Finally, the band snaps, and you sob against his hand, spasming around him, tears pricking at your eyes with the intensity of it all. You go positively boneless, and Zayne breaks away just enough to let you collapse into his chest as he carries you through it, breaths quickening as the lingering spasms of your orgasm invoke his own. 

“Fuck, I’m—“ He barely stammers, releasing you only to coil his arms around your torso again, readying to pull out.

“Not going anywhere.” You promise, clinging to him. Your fingers comb through his hair, tugging again, and a whimper dies in Zayne’s throat. He buries his face into the crook of your neck. His hips roll up into you once, twice, thrice more, and then he goes still. Buried in you to the hilt as he tips into oblivion.

He’s so subtle about it that you barely even realise he’s coming. Maybe it’s the effort not to wake Dr. Noah. Maybe it’s like this every time. Having him hold you with such desperate reverence while he does his best not to judder in stark contrast to to the feeling of him pulsing within you, you reason you’d like to find out. He hides his face from you throughout, only pulling his forehead from your clavicle when the aftershocks have come and gone.

Zayne looks lovelier than ever like this — coming out of a blissful haze, gazing up at you with cautious adoration. His focus flickers between your eyes and your lips. His chest expands and collapses like he’s like a 5-miler, but his breaths are smooth.

Even now, he’s trying to maintain a cool composure.

“Forgive me.” He mutters, not quite meeting your eye.

Your head tilts. Chasing him. “Huh? Why?”

“I exercised poor judgement. That was rotten of me. I should have known better, given I’ve never prescribed birth control to you.”

“You really think I’d come to you for birth control?” You snort.

Zayne’s brow creases. An incredulous look totally undermined by how positively wrecked he looks right now. “I am  your physician. Or has your other doctor friend decided to become real after all?”

Your fingers comb through his hair again. Despite a pleasant sigh on his part at the sensation, his expression remains steeled.

“Hey.” You finally manage to capture his gaze, only for any tells to evaporate. “Could you tell me something?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Are you more jealous that I might have had sex with someone who wasn’t you, or that I might have gone to another doctor?”

Zayne considers his answer for a long moment. His head tilts in that particular way it does when he has to make a decision, eyeing you expectantly. Punishment for daring to push him out of his comfort zone.

He presses a hand to your forehead. 

A thoughtful hum escapes him.

“Curious. Your temperature’s dropping. On second thought, you should stay another day so I can observe you.”

“You’re avoiding the question!”

“Here. I’ll keep you warm. You can install those camera filters on my phone to pass the time.”

[deathblacksmoke]

sink into your sunlight / n.s. fic

pairing: noah sebastian x f!reader

word count: 1.2K

content warnings: hurt/comfort, mostly fluffy, unprotected p in v

author's note: needed a sweet little noah thing 🤍

divider: cafekitsune / title: "daylily" by movements.

You can see the tension coursing through him, the unease that sits nagging and uncomfortable just beneath the surface of his skin.

He hasn’t quite settled since he’s been home — a little more quiet than normal, a lot more rigid, unwilling to talk about what’s bothering him. You know it’s because he doesn’t want to bother you, and it stings.

You catch him with his brow furrowed, a vague sadness in his eyes. He’s touchy, jumpy, likely to shy away from physical affection. He gets just a bit more tactile at night, more likely to wrap himself around you, let his hands drift along your exposed skin, breathe sweet sighs into the side of your neck.

His mouth downturns at the sides and you’ve lost count of how many times it’s happened. Hesitantly, you run your hands along his side to dip under his t-shirt, just to have him close, remind him you’re there. He doesn’t cringe away, but ever so slightly, you feel him tense beneath your touch.

“Noah,” you sigh, gently withdrawing your touch to give him a chance to take the distance he needs, if he needs it. He doesn’t let you, his hand landing atop yours to keep you close. You feel grateful for his small concession. “You need to let me help you feel better, baby. You’re breaking my heart.”

He stills, pauses before exhaling, an air of sadness around it. You can tell he isn’t mad, but there’s a frustration there, an exasperation. “I just feel stuck.”

You pull him in closer and he doesn’t tense this time, relaxing into your touch.

“Why don’t I take you for lunch?” you offer, placing a kiss to his shoulder, relief coursing through you when you feel his body shift with his nod. “It’s a gorgeous day. We’ll sit outside, somewhere quiet, just talk. My treat. Does that sound okay?”

He nods before leaning into you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. He’s as relaxed as you’ve seen him in days, as tactile as you’ve felt him in the daylight in just as long. You feel hopeful that you’ll be able to get him to open up this afternoon, as you beckon him off the couch and lead him up the stairs to get ready for your afternoon out.

You settle for having your sandwiches and teas in the park, propped up against a tree you’ve taken a liking to, in a far off corner overlooking the pond.

Lunch begins quiet, enjoying your lunches and each other’s company in the warm sunlight before some nudging and encouragement finally starts him talking.

It’s a lot of what you expect: guilt, restlessness, worry. He’s always had difficulty staying still for long, and the newfound necessity for him to do so is taking its toll. You wish he’d let himself enjoy the break he’s been given, but as he continues, you watch him as he visibly relaxes. His lips upturn just a little on the edges, and you can feel as your anxiety eases along with his own.

“You need the break, Noah. You deserve it,” you tell him. He sighs but nods along with you, leans himself further into your side. “You need to sit still or you’ll run yourself ragged.”

“I’m pretty sure I already did,” he responds. You know it to be true — have seen it building for ages. You’re proud that he was able to notice it, that he’s doing something to fix it. Small steps.

“Let’s just enjoy it, okay? All this new free time we have.”

He agrees, relaxing back against your tree. His pretty brown eyes look almost golden in the sunlight, his skin soft beneath your fingertips. He has a bit of pesto on the corner of his mouth — you wipe it off for him, drawing your finger into your own mouth.

He smiles. He’s happier than you’ve seen him in months, sitting with the permission he’s been given to ease up.

Not long later, you take him home. You throw on a movie — something you’ve seen a dozen times before, can recite from front to back, know by heart — he falls asleep in your lap halfway through. You can’t help but rearrange the both of you, curl yourself around him and enjoy the early evening snooze with your freshly-soothed darling.

As he flits about the kitchen later that evening cooking dinner for the both of you, you catch him humming a song to himself. There’s a lightness in his step that’s become uncharacteristic of him — like he was just waiting for permission to let go of all of his angst.

The night ends early, curled up in bed, under the covers with a comfort show. His hands wander, more exploratory than they’ve been in the time since he’s been home.

You’ve been able to tell that he hasn’t been up for it, and you haven’t pushed it. You’ve been far more concerned with having him happy and healthy and soothed, relaxed and healing. As his touch moves from its place beneath your t-shirt, to delicately inching beneath the waistband of your panties, you shiver. You’re eager for it. Your gaze shifts up to him and finds his already trained on you. He gasps as you angle your body towards his, a leg thrown hesitantly but hopefully over his, his arm moving to draw you closer.

“Do you want to?” you ask him, your fingers moving over his bare torso, his skin goose pimpling and his stomach muscles tightening beneath your wandering touch. You feel his deep breath in when you place a kiss to his chest, and then another.

“Treated me so nice today,” he whispers, his grip on you tightening, your skin giving beneath his grasp. “I want to feel you on top of me. Please?”

And you’ve never been one to say no to him, not that you’d want to. You haven’t taken even a moment to think about it, focused only on him and what he needs to get himself back to normal. The prospect sets a buzzing beneath your skin, a want coursing through your bones as you shift yourself on top of him. 

There’s no bother with undressing, eager to feel him as he slides his boxers down his thighs and pushing your underwear to the side — the slick slide of his fingers through your folds is easy, on the wrong side of not quite enough when you move his hand away and sink down on top of him.

It’s like puzzle pieces, every time you fit yourself against him. His sweet little sounds, his soft exhales and barely-audible whimpers when you move yourself over him. It’s slow-moving, a soft glow cast over everything, always perfect with your love. 

“Always treat me so nice,” he says, softly and almost to himself. You shift yourself down, pressing your lips to his, your chests touching, more of a grind than anything else as he moves you over him. The world slows around you, everything fading out but you and him, and it’s with a whine and tightened grip on your hips that he spills inside of you. It barely registers when you follow him over the edge and everything quiets.

His shoulders don’t tense again, his muscles don’t tighten, his heart doesn’t race. He tumbles into sleep, fitting you close to his side, finally accepting the rest he’s been needing.

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[slvttysstuff]

Wanna be yours

(Owen knight x reader)

Summary: you hated it when Owen got into fights you always nagged and scold him about it but what happened this time is new to you..

I was sitting my ass in this hard chair for an hour now doing my school works, suddenly my attention got taken away from my works when my phone makes a 'ding' noise, someone texted me

I looked at my phone for a minute before taking it, I pressed the button turning it on revealing my lock screen a picture of me and Owen together, a small smile plastered over my lips as I saw the picture of the two of us

I unlocked my phone looking at the notification Noah sent a message I take a look at my messages it was noah, my friend and also Owens, what could she be sending me this time? I thought as I opened her message

' y/n! Owen got into a fight again, I don't know where he went He just left immediately ' noah texted,

my heart raced, I immediately put my phone on my desk and stood up from my seat not minding if I haven't finished my school works yet. Owen comes first I took my jacket and wore it putting my phone inside it's pocket before leaving my apartment with my own bike with me

I rode off letting my feet pedal where it's taking me, Me and Owen had been friends since elementary, he was a very good friend of mine, he makes me smile, laugh and everything, but one thing I hate about him is when he gets into fights, any kind of fight that involves him, I hate it, Owen is not a short tempered guy but once his red button has been clicked

may God be with you

It was already night, at 9pm sharp the sky was already dark and the street lights illuminated the street, it was quiet, suddenly I stopped my bike when I saw a familiar blonde haired figure sitting in a bench his head was fall down in his hands holding it, I walked towards that person I already knew who it was, without hesitation I smacked his head making him jolt in shock and also in pain

Owen looks at me pain wais visible on his looks, bruise was all over his face making me feel bad for smacking him earlier if I could go back in time I would definitely repeat that...

"Did you get into another fight again?" I asked even though it was completely obvious, but he just looks at me for a second

" Wasn't it obvious? " He sarcastically said I was about to open my mouth and start scolding him when he spoke

"Can you please stop scolding me?" He said as if he already knew what I was going to say, He raises an eyebrow, but remains calm and direct with you, despite his rage over what happened after he lost the race earlier against Jay, his words makes me close my mouth

" what happened this time Owen? " I asked looking at him worried " nothing.." he answered looking away from me then looking down at his bruised fists" How many times do I have to tell you that stop getting into fight- "

" Enough, I told you to stop scolding me " he cut my sentence once again, I scoffed at his attitude and words

" how can I not scold you? You always got into fights" I spoke putting both hands on my waist looking at him " how many times do I have to tell you to stop getting into fights owen!"He rolls his eyes as you continue to scold him

you sometimes feel guilty for nagging him, but he's just so hard headed, even though he seems to ignore it

"What am I supposed to do?" He sighs "Just stand back and allow Jay to do whatever he wants? I can't just let him." He continues

" why do you have to fight? You can talk with him about it Owen, you don't need to fight with someone every time, don't you understand what I am saying? " I frustratedly said to him, looking down at him as he was sitting on the bench

I pulled his chin making him look up at me " look! You're all bruised up again " I nagged

"Oh please, don't be so dramatic. It doesn't hurt that bad, plus it's not the first time." He raises his eyebrows and looks at you sarcastically. He thinks you're joking right now "I'm used to fighting, you should know that by now." He continues

I looked hardly at him before letting go of his chin huffing at the air, gosh his head is hard as rock I put my hands back on my waist turning around not knowing what else to say, He won't listen to me

" can't you listen to me for once? I've been scolding and telling you 'bout this since we were kids " I muttered to him glancing at his side view

Owen scoffs at my words before he shakes his head. "You're still scolding me till this day. Haven't you done enough?" He sighs and looks at you with a serious face.

"Look, I appreciate you for worrying about me, but you're being overprotective. Let me handle my business." He hissed before looking away His words sent me to the edge of my temper

" I'm your god damn friend Owen and I care that's why I worry about you! " I yelled at him, gritting my teeth as I feel frustrated and annoyed about what was happening right now

Owen rolls his eyes at me "You're still treating me like I'm a kid. It's different now. I can handle it myself! I don't need you to tell me what to do! Mind your own business damn it!!" He raises his voice emphasizing each words

His words shots a million bullet in my heart

' I don't need you to tell me what to do '

' I can handle it myself '

I got hurt at what he said I feel like he's saying that he doesn't need me anymore, I put both of my hands inside my pocket, I looked up trying not to let my tears fall down, luckily it's night time and he can't see it, how can he say those words easily? How do he expect me to react at his words? Should I laugh?

" y-yeah you're right..." I looked down at my feet as I let out a fake laugh " you're not a kid anymore...you can handle yourself already haha..." I bit my lip trying not to let out a sob " okay fine..." I said " I'll just go home, I don't know why I am here anyways " I said as I pointed at my back, looked at him first before turning my back at him taking my bike with me

Owen immediately notices how you changed in a second. He knew that look when you were struggling to keep it together so he quickly stood up and went to you. He knows that he's wrong and he immediately felt guilty,He gently grabs your shoulders and turns you around so you can look at him in the eyes.

"Hey, I didn't mean it like that. Don't take it personally." Owen sighs, it wasn't like him to be rude and insensitive to you, he just got carried away by his emotions and he hated it every time his emotions take over him, he doesn't like hurting you, how can he hurt someone he love? He loves more than friends

I just scoffed at him not looking at him, a tear left my eyes making me wipe my cheeks with my sleeve

Owen sighs, he hates it when he makes you sad. Seeing you hurt hurts him also

"Hey..." He gently caress your cheek and pulls you closer in front of him, so you can make an eye contact with him. "Look at me." He said, I do as what he told me to, I looked at his baby blue eyes those orbs that left me speechless and mesmerized " you speak as if you don't need me anymore, like I was just a mere distraction to you " I spoke as a tear left my eyes

Owen's heart sinks as soon as he heard you say those words. He immediately wraps his arms around you and pulls you in tightly on his chest."Stop that, you're always going to be important to me. I'm sorry if what I said had hurt you." He said as he wiped your tears with his fingers.

"I'll never act like that again, I promise. You're so important to me how can you be a distraction? You're the one person I always seek comfort from you're too important for me to lose." He said as he gently strokes your hair,he felt guilty for acting like that he doesn't like what he did to you, I rested my head on his shoulder as I let out a quiet sob

" I hate you so much Owen " I sob as I grip his shirt " I hate you for making me worry about you all the time " I cried

Owen chuckles slightly because of how you're expressing your feelings while crying on his shoulder. He smiles, he finds it so adorable and charming to see you so emotional towards him. He hugs you a bit tighter and strokes your hair again.

"I'm sorry, you might hate me right now, but that will never change the fact that you're always going to be an important person to me. I'll make it up to you. Just forgive me." He whispered to my ears his hot breath hitting my ears his gesture makes my heart beat so fast and the closeness we had he might notice my heart so fast

" do you know how worried I am?earlier when noah texted me that you got into a fight with jay again?! " I yelled " I don't want you getting hurt Owen " I punched his chest slightly " why are you so stubborn? " I mumbled

Owen couldn't help but feel guilt and regret for making you worry about him so many times. The way you're crying into his chest and begging him not to get hurt anymore makes him feel like he's the worst person you ever had.

He sighs and shakes his head, wishing that he hadn't said what he said earlier.

"I'm sorry, I'll promise you I won't fight anyone anymore." He said as he looks at you with his blue eyes that look so irresistible under the night sky I looked back at him, looking at his wounds " damn you Owen! You always know how to make me soft towards you " I said as I bit my lip looking at him

Once again, he couldn't help but chuckle when you were being so cute and sweet towards him. You were very vulnerable and emotional right now and that's what he really loves about you.

"I'm a bit stubborn, but I really mean it." He smiled and leans closer to your lips. He gently grabs your chin and turns you toward him.

My heart started to run like crazy, out face are so close to each other, I looked deeply in his baby blue eyes noticing the affection it was in, this time I'm already sure that owen does feel the same as I am

I felt my cheeks heated up as I looked at him with my red eyes and red cheeks, I feel embarrassed fuck

Owen couldn't care less how red your eyes are, in fact he loved it because it makes you look irresistible to him. A grin appears on his face as he gets closer and caress your cheeks slowly with his hands. He brushes your jawline and chin with his fingers. You can feel his touch as it sends shivers up and down your spine.

His breathing is heavy and he leans closer and he's almost inches away from your lips.

" God damn it Owen " I hissed

then pulled his face to me as our lips crashed into each other, it was obvious that he was shocked at what I did but didn't mind it was also his plan in the first place, he wrapped his left arms on your waist pulling you close to while his right find it's way to you cheeks, his lips started to move and you did the same, you both kissed under the moonlight, he kissed you passionately with full of love

After a second he pulled away catching an air, he layed Hindi forehead on yours as your eyes were still close, I hope this isn't a dream

" Y/n....I like you "

Owen finally said, making you look at him, a smile went on your lips

" I like you too Owen.."

I confessed back, same as mine, Owen smiled as he cupped both of my cheeks before placing a light peck on my lips

" That's good to hear then.. I've been wanting to tell it to you..." He said closing his eyes before saying..

" wanna be mine y/n? "

[norrizzandpia]

What We Could’ve Been and What We Are Now: The Masterlist (LN4 x Reader)

Summary: Jon’s daughter and childhood best friends, Y/n and Lando share a special type of love. A love that has always made them prioritize each other, show up no matter what when the other needed them. A love that turned romantic so incredibly, strikingly fast. When their friendship finally addresses that shared feeling and labels are thrown around, their connection takes a turn. Arguments, trust issues, and petty insults make up their young love and it’s not what either of them expected. A turning point, a stupid mistake, brings out an inevitable end and the two are left to stand in the midst of a destroyed relationship, a friendship that is no longer salvageable. However, young people make stupid mistakes that they later grow from and what happens when years later numbers are unblocked, words are shared again, and the love they shared burns once more? Warnings, an author’s note, chapter links and summaries, and a playlist below the cut!

Warnings: language, smut in later chapters (that will be specified on specific chapters), cheating

Note: please don’t be turned away by the cheating warning 🙏🏻 trust me when i tell you it all works out in the end in a way that does not have Y/n looking like she has no self worth

Chapter Links:

The Youngest Love (Chapter One)

A backstory to the beginning of a love story.

A Beautiful Start (Chapter Two)

Ever since their first official date, Y/n and Lando fall into the honeymoon phase.

Why Can’t You See It My Way?! (Chapter Three)

Arguments and bickering turn what once was into something messy and painful.

A Stupid Mistake (Chapter Four)

In the wake of their fight, Lando wakes up to someone who is not his Y/n.

If You Don’t Tell Her, I Will (Chapter Five)

Something that started out with the purest of intentions ends with the most dirty confession.

Please, I’m Sorry (Chapter Six)

Lando tries and tries to contact Y/n after their fallout. However, with a blocked contact and an angry Jon, he can only do so much.

Reconciling (Chapter Seven)

When he can’t reach Y/n, Lando goes to apologize to his second father.

Years Later (Chapter Eight)

His first race win is not the only reason why Lando is having the best day of his life.

Stay Up With Me? (Chapter Nine)

Picking up where they left off has never seemed so easy yet Y/n can’t get rid of the nagging fear of what could be repeated.

Listen To Me (Chapter Ten)

At the risk of another fallout, Lando works to stop from losing what he so foolishly lost before.

The Playlist:

1. The Grudge by Olivia Rodrigo

2. Logical by Olivia Rodrigo

3. Making the Bed by Olivia Rodrigo

4. Lacy by Olivia Rodrigo

5. Take It All by Adele

6. Tolerate It by Taylor Swift

7. Right Where You Left Me by Taylor Swift

8. Hurt Me Once by Ben Platt

9. Illicit Affairs by Taylor Swift

10. Keep That To Yourself (voice memo) by Tristan

11. I Miss You, I’m Sorry by Gracie Abrams

12. Ceilings by Lizzy McAlpine

13. Movies by Conan Gray

14. Cardigan by Taylor Swift

15. Your Needs, My Needs by Noah Kahan

16. Betty by Taylor Swift

17. TV by Billie Ellish

18. Footnote by Conan Gray

19. Fine Line by Harry Styles

20. August by Taylor Swift

21. The 1 by Taylor Swift

22. Special by SZA

23. Marjorie by Taylor Swift

24. Decode by Sabrina Carpenter

25. Champagne Problems by Taylor Swift

26. Strawberry Wine by Noah Kahan

27. All My Love by Noah Kahan

28. Talk by Hozier

[jennay]

Last Night

Noah Sebastian x Reader

Tags: @lma1986 @jilliemiw86 @dominuslunae @myownthoughts12 @cookiesupplier @somewhere-diamond @lacktoesandtoddlerants @bloody-delusion-expert

Master list

You were supposed to be having a good time at the bar, but something in the back of your mind told you it wouldn't work out that way.

You were attempting to ignore the feeling by sipping on your drink and ignoring the thoughts, but your stomach was uneasy, and your thoughts continued to race. Something didn't feel right.

"Go sing." Folio teases, breaking you out of your trance, "You've had at least three drinks; you'll be fine." He beams from across the table.

You shake your head and smile before walking to sit next to him and across from Jolly. Your nerves were getting the best of you, and you had difficulty sitting in one place. You wonder where Noah is but try to brush it off. You know he's around somewhere, and you didn't want to act like a jealous girlfriend and hunt him down for socializing with other people. You remained calm, and you put your trust in him. You knew if something was wrong, Noah would tell you. The two of you were close to celebrating your third anniversary, and in that time, you had worked so hard on communication skills and learning how to be with one another, fighting the stereotypes of dating an upcoming rockstar; you knew if you could get through the last few rough years, then there was nothing stopping you from being together.

You had no reason to doubt him at least not yet.

"I'll sing with you!" Jolly encourages from across the table, holding his drink up to you as if he wanted you to clink yours in agreement. "It could be fun!"

"No," You laugh as you clink drinks with him. "I'm not doing it. I know you guys and you'll record it and hold it over my head to embarrass the shit out of me tomorrow." You had a decent voice but were not confident enough to show it off.

Bryan and Matt are seen from the door walking toward the table to join in on your fun night out. You wave them over, hoping that it will take the heat off you. They were always up for causing any form of chaos.

"Have Matt and Bryan go with you! They look like they're ready for a good night." You suggest, pointing at their cheerful faces.

Jolly dramatically rolls his brown eyes, "It's not the same." He says, pouting. You knew he wanted to distract you from Noah's absence; he noticed it bothered you more than you let on. He felt something was off about Noah but didn't want to ruin your night.

Jolly was the one who introduced you to Noah, and though he didn't exactly approve of you dating Noah, he gave you his blessing because he knew how much he meant to you.

You shrug him off, standing up, "I'm gonna go find Noah." You announce, feeling a sudden urge to see him. You wanted to know what kept him so long and why he hadn't returned to the table.

"I think I saw him go outside," Ruffilo adds. He'd seen Noah sneak out of the bar about half an hour ago and wondered what he was up to. He hoped it was nothing serious, but he had a nagging suspicion that it was. Noah's vibes were off tonight, and it didn't take much for anyone to notice.

Usually, by this time, you would feel his arm around you, his kisses on your face, and his compliments in your ear. But tonight, Noah was acting distant and cold. He barely touched you, looked at you, or talked to you. You felt a pang of sadness and confusion, wondering what was wrong.

You nod and push your chair back to stand up. You glance over to your side, seeing the sea of people. "Wish me luck." You say with dread; you hated the crowded and noisy bars. You tuck your chair back under the table, taking a deep breath as you try to make your way through the masses. You finally reach the door.

You sigh in relief as you step outside, escaping the noisy and cramped bar. You look around the small patio, illuminated by fairy lights and candles.

You spot Noah sitting at a table near the corner, his back to the wall. You walk over to him with a smile, eager to see him. You stop when his head snaps up at you. He doesn't smile back, and you see the worry in his eyes. You feel your heart sink into your stomach; something is wrong.

"You okay?" You notice he doesn't jump up at the opportunity to hug or kiss you like usual.

He gives you a pained and apologetic glance like he has a secret to tell. You notice him gulp, and you feel his anxiety. You are afraid of what he'll say.

Noah shakes his head, "There's something we should talk about." He says, in a low and serious tone. He signals for you to sit with him, but you don't. You feel reluctant, and you stay where you are. You don't want to give him the opportunity to hurt you because you know he's about to, and it's gonna be agonizing.

You know what those words mean. You had hoped Noah was different and wouldn't hurt you like they did. But now, you realize he's just like them and is about to hurt you more than they ever did.

Noah stands but creates distance between you, unsure how you will react to his words. He knew you weren't going to get violent with him, but he also knew he was about to willingly break your heart, and he hated himself for it. "I didn't want to do this here, but I need to get it out." He sighs, nervously running his tattoed fingers through his long brown hair, attempting to distract himself from what your face will show. "This isn't working." He finally locks eyes with you, ready for you to scream at him.

He shamefully lowers his gaze, and you see him bite his lip. You wonder what else he will say, and a part of you doesn't want to know.

You gasped, your eyes wide open. Even though you felt it was coming, it was still shocking to hear him say it. Noah had promised you everything and was destroying your hope for the future.

You see his nostrils flare, and it looks like he is suppressing his emotions. Noah seems like a different person, not the man you adore. You feel stabbed in the back. You can't believe he is discarding everything you had, shared, and felt.

"What the fuck …" You trail off with a whisper, feeling a lump in your throat.

You feel your jaw harden with anger. You feel so blindsided. How did you trust his lies, his promises, his charms? How did you let him manipulate you and make you think he loved you? Noah wasn't any different from any other man.

"You said you loved me three hours ago…" You say, recalling your conversation as you walked with him to the bar. You'd been holding hands, laughing, and kissing. You'd been happy, and so had he. Or so you thought. He gazed at you with love in his eyes and whispered in your ear that you were his everything. He said he couldn't imagine life without you and wanted to grow old with you. You had meant it, but he hadn't. Now that the truth has hit you, Noah means nothing to you.

"Is there someone else?" You wonder, feeling your heart beat rapidly against your chest.

Noah nods, his eyes darting to the ground, and he feels shame. He can't look you in the eyes because he knows he doesn't deserve to.

You instantly wonder who she is, what she looks like, what she has that you don't. You wonder how he met her, if he loves her, if he tells her the same things he told you, if he makes her happy.

Noah knows that what he is about to say will make him lose everything, and he doesn't want to see the end, the death, the goodbye in your eyes, but it's too late now.

"She's someone I used to love, and I just, I never got over her, and she's back in town. I don't want to hurt you by continuing this with you if I'm still conflicted about my feelings for her. I have to find out what this means… I'm sorry." He says, sounding genuine but not apologetic. He's only sorry for himself.

You look at him, speechless, numb, broken. You can't comprehend what you just heard, what he just said, what he just did. You can't understand anything except for the pain that consumes your heart, your soul, and your body.

You feel a tear slide down your cheek and brush it away with your hand. You don't want to cry, not for him, not in front of him, not because of him. You don't want to give him the pleasure, the power, or the control.

You don't want to show him your weakness, vulnerability, or humanity. Your anger burns in your chest. You're consumed by it, and he's the target right now.

"Fuck you, Noah… It's fine." You say with a huff. You feel your shoulders tighten and throw your hands up in disbelief. "I'm thankful this happened now and not later when I was super attached to you in the future, and thanks for showing me you're just like every other fucking guy I've dated." Your hands land back at your side with a loud smack. "You promised me you were different, but you're not! You're just like every other half-assed dude. I should have listened to my friends-I should've listened to myself in the beginning! I knew this wouldn't work; you were all these walking red flags and I still tried to look past it and give you a chance!" You shake your head, tilting your gaze up to not let any more tears well up and slide down your face. "I'm going to be fine." You assure him, "Do not come crawling back to me when you're miserable and realize what you've lost."

Noah flinches at your words. His eyes wander your face. He's shocked by your words, anger, and who you just became.

"What's worse is you did it at the bar with all our friends inside. You did this to me in front of Jolly…he was right you know? I should've stayed away from you." You take in a deep breath, your eyes wandering around the patio. You close your eyes and try to maintain your composure. You're greeted by Noah's brown eyes locking with yours when you open them. "I feel like a fucking idiot." You harshly say, not dropping your eye contact with him. It shocked you how those eyes you loved so much made you sick to your stomach.

"I didn't want it to be this way." He whispers, his voice barely audible.

"But it is Noah and I regret ever letting you in. I'll never be able to trust my own judgement again. You wrecked that for me." You say, your voice is cold and bitter. "I hope you fall for that woman so hard, and then she dumps you and shatters your heart, and I hope it hurts so bad." You dry the tears from your eyes as you turn away from him and head back inside the bar.

Jolly sees you crying and trying to get away from the crowd. He notices the pain in your eyes and feels the worry in his chest. He rises from his seat and follows you out the front door, calling your name with concern. He reaches you on the sidewalk and asks you to stop. And when you turn around, you're face to face with him.

You can't talk or breathe; you let him hold you and gently stroke your back. He enfolds you in his arms, and he draws you close to him. He presses his cheek to your head and whispers in your ear. "What happened?"

"He ended it. Like I was nothing to him." You let out another sob.

You feel Jolly's jaw clench and sense his anger, but he's not mad at you. He's angry that he gave Noah the benefit of the doubt. "Do you want me to take you home?" His voice is soft and kind. He knows you need a place to rest, heal, and recover. He knows you need a friend to listen, support, and comfort. Jolly knows you need anyone but Noah. Noah is nothing but the one who broke your heart.

[deciduouseuphoria]

Google how do you get your school's registrar office to do what they're supposed to.

[thefallennightmare]

Miracle-five

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings/Tropes: forced proximity, slight enemies to lovers, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff, mentions of death, and swearing.

Summary: Reader is the merch girl for Bad Omens. It wasn't what she wanted to do with her life but when her mother got sick with Alzheimer's, reader took a job where she could to help with the costs. She thought it would be a one-time gig but the longer she was on the road with them, the harder she fell for Noah Sebastian; even if he wanted nothing to do with her. She needed a miracle to save her mom and her future.

Author Note: now we're getting somewhere.

Tags: @ada-clarence @nonamessblog @thescarlettvvitch @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @theoneandonlykymberlee @yumikitten @blackveilomens @cherrymedicine13 @thebadchic @notmaddihealy @jay02bo @beaker1636 @jakekiszkasguitarpick @punk-pr1ncessxoxo @er3nslovergirl

It was just after one in the morning and after the long night of the show, everyone had crawled into bed as soon as we got back to the house. It's been a few hours since then but I stayed outside in the backyard of the house as long as I could, enjoying the quiet night air. The show went off without a hitch; the energy from the crowd was intoxicating. Since the merch booth was located away from the stage, I only watched a few minutes of the guys set.

They left the venue before I did since I took my time tearing down and to help the rest of the crew tear everything down. I wanted to avoid coming back to the house as long as I could because my mind was clouded with too many thoughts. Between my mom, money, and Noah I couldn't think straight.

I ended up wearing Noah's shirt but haven't seen him since he left me in my room earlier today. There was this nagging voice in my mind that begged me to ask him how he knew I still had the shirt. He obviously remembered giving it to me.

The shirt I was still wearing, not bothering to change when I got back to the house. As soon as my feet crossed the threshold, I grabbed a blanket and a random book from the stocked bookshelf and parked my ass outside on a large chair swing. The time at the venue did nothing to clear my mind, so this was my last option. I desperately needed a shower but knowing that Noah was asleep on the couch right outside my room gave me some reserve. It wasn't like he knew I would shower so why did the thought of having him watch me turn me on so much? The way my core tightened made me close by the book with a sigh.

When I watched their set for a few minutes tonight, I got so turned on by Noah seeing and hearing how beautiful he sounded. And those growls? Fuck, who'd be so turned on by someone growling like that?

Me.

I probably would have came by the breeze that's how wound up I was right now.

"I'm so horny like a god damn teenager," I grumbled while standing up from the chair.

I spun on my heels, ready to go inside, but froze when I saw Noah leaning against the sliding door frame, hair tousled from sleep. My breath caught in my throat as I worried if he heard what I said.

"When did you get back?" Noah asked.

Even his sleep riddled voice sounded sexy and he was only wearing a pair of grey sweat shorts that did absolutely nothing to hide the imprint of his cock. The tattoo's that covered every inch of his chest, arms, and neck almost glinted in the moonlight. I forced my gaze to stay locked on his face, not wanting to deter any farther.

I licked my suddenly dry lips and tried to find my own voice. "Not that long ago."

He pushed himself off the doorway so he could stand straight up.

"Why did you stay so late?"

"Some of the other members of the crew needed help tearing down, so I figured I would help," I shrugged.

Noah hummed while taking a small step towards me. "You didn't have to do that."

"I know," I nodded.

Silence fell between us for a few beats, him watching me with such an intense gaze I almost folded right in front of him. His eyes took in every inch of me from my reddened cheeks to the rise and fall of my chest then to the way my thighs clenched together. Noah moved past me to sit on the outdoor couch with his legs spread wide. I bit my lip at the sight, almost forgetting that he was watching me.

"Do you need help with something?" He asked, breaking the silence.

My eyes snapped away from his lap to his eyes. "What?"

Noah reached for my hand and pulled me down to his lap, situating me so my legs were hovering over his thick thigh. The coil in my stomach tightened even tighter while I held my breath at our proximity. We'd been close to each other before but nothing like this; his large hands held tightly on my hips as he leaned his head back against the couch. Brown eyes stared up at me under long lashes and my hands rested on each side of his head to keep myself upright, not wanting to fall into him.

"Relax, angel. I want to help you," he breathed.

I shook my head. "I don't need-."

Noah hushed my words when he forced my hips to move along his thigh, the sensation immediately sending a shock wave throughout my entire existence. My eyes fluttered shut as a soft moan fell from my lips when he shifted his position so his thigh was pressed up against my aching clit. I let my head fall forward onto Noah's bare shoulder, his skin on fire.

"Such a good girl riding my thigh like this," he groaned into my ear.

I should push him away for my own self respect since he's been an asshole to me lately but my body outweighed my morals. It needed this so fucking bad; needed this release.

Just this once.

I couldn't speak, the sensation of how good this felt took away my breath, so I did my best to nod against him. I was so wound up that my orgasm was cresting higher and higher to a crescendo and I rutted harder against Noah.

A noise sounded from inside the house that made my head whirl up and my hips halted. Noah, however, kept his grip on me, not allowing me to stop for more than a few seconds and started moving me against him once more.

"Fuck," I bit out when I saw Folio rummaging around the kitchen for something to drink.

"Who is it?" Noah asked into the crook of my neck.

"Folio."

His grip on me turned bruising, and I seethed in pleasure. I knew Noah was jealous about my friendship with Folio but that's all it was. Folio and I didn't think of each other that way, not when Noah was the only one I thought about.

"Did you want him here instead?" Noah bit down onto the skin between my shoulder and neck.

I cried out in pleasure, quiet enough that only the two of us could hear.

"No," I panted out, my orgasm so fucking close to plowing through me.

The white haze brushed along my vision as I shook in Noah's embrace, his strong arms now wrapping around me to bring himself closer to me. The heat that radiated off of his bare chest was enough to make my breath hitch as the coil snapped deep in my belly, orgasm finally releasing in such a way that I collapsed deeper into him.

I came hard on his thigh, his name falling from my lips in a quiet whine. Noah brushed away the strands of hair from my face as he forced me to look into his eyes; pupils dark with his own desire. I could feel the press of his hard cock against my thigh.

"Is he still there?"

Through fogged vision, I peered past his shoulder to the house and noticed that the kitchen was empty so I shook my head.

Noah didn't say anything as he hand brushed against the skin of my stomach underneath my shirt; his shirt. I shivered under his rough palm, wanting more but knowing I should push him away.

"You should get some sleep, angel."

Before I knew what happened, Noah had lifted me off of him and set me to my feet. When he rose to his, he went to walk past me but I grasped his hand to stop him.

"What just happened," I nodded towards the couch. "Was a onetime thing. Understand?"

Noah let out a low noise from his throat before running a hand through his hair. With a quick cast downward, I noticed how effected he was by what happened. His cock was hard as it pressed against his shorts, almost begging for its own release. But I didn't let the mouthwatering sight change my mind.

"I mean it," I stuttered out.

Noah's fingers brushed over the tattoo that I had on the inside of my arm. It was a simple design of a Cosmo flower; the birth flower for October. I got it earlier this year for my mom, since both of our birthdays were in October.

"Whatever you say, Y/N."

With that, Noah left me standing in a heap of my arousal soaking my panties.

NOAH

Fuck.

I didn't expect that to happen. I had no intention of making Y/N ride my thigh when I saw her outside. I only wanted to check in to see why she came back to the house so late. But hearing that she was horny made my dick twitch. It's something that always happened around her, I couldn't stop it.

I didn't want too.

Ever since the first day she came to work for Bad Omens, my cock throbbed with need. She crept her way into my everyday thoughts even though I tried to stop it. I told myself that I would never get involved with someone that worked for us because if it ended sour, it would make things awkward for everyone. But there was something different about Y/N that made me throw that rule right out the window. The way her eyes sparkled as she watched us on stage, or the way her infectious laugh made my heart flutter in my chest. It was that typical romantic bullshit you read about in books but it was true.

Y/N had her claws dug deep into my heart and I wanted her; in so many ways.

But ever since that night in Chicago, I had a thick wall around my heart.

She had gotten drunk, which was fine. That didn't bother me but the reason she did bothered me still to this day. Some asshole was flirting with her all night who ended up being married. When the wife found out, she said some hurtful things to Y/N which dulled the light that I became infatuated with. As I walked out of the venue that night, I saw that asshole trying to get her into his car. I didn't stop to think; I acted instantly and rushed over to them to remove her from his arms. She didn't even protest, only mumbled drunken words under her breath as she snaked herself against me.

He fumed saying that they had plans to hang out after the show. Furry filled me she would stoop so low to hook up with a married guy when there was someone willing to give her everything right in front of her. Not only that, but this piece of shit was going to take advantage of her in her drunk state.

But of course, I was too stubborn to tell her how I felt. I also never told her about me knowing that she had plans with that guy so instead, I became an asshole to her hoping it would stop my feelings for it. Except, it made it worse because when I tried not to want her it made me want her more.

The fire behind her whenever she stood toe to toe with me made something ignite inside of me and I wanted it more and more.

My eyes darted over to her small form as she came upstairs, our gaze locked for a few beats before she slipped inside her room letting the door shut behind her. My cock ached in my short, begging for its own release and I groaned while palming myself hoping it eased the pain. I couldn't take care of myself out here in case someone walked out of their rooms.

At that thought, I remember Folio walking into the kitchen when Y/N was riding my thigh and for a moment, jealousy raged through me. I knew nothing was going on between them, Folio told me they were friends but it did nothing to ease the ache in my chest. It was bad enough her and Davis were close, now her and Folio. I wanted to be that with her, someone she can confide in.

I heard her phone conversation earlier and knew something was going on her with mom but was unsure what. When I brought it up to Folio and Davis, neither of them knew.

"Whatever it is, let her be the one to tell you." Folio had said.

My eyes glanced over to the closed door of her room as I wondered what she was doing right now. Was she sleeping? Browsing on her phone? Laying in bed?

The thought of her laying there naked did nothing to help the deep ache in my balls and I snatched my phone before trekking over to the bathroom downstairs. With the door locked, I pulled up the Only Fans website and browsed through the collections of profiles. I had a fake account, not being stupid enough to use my real name, and my finger hovered over one specific profile. It was a new one, only being created within the last week, and deciding for something new I clicked on it. My dick throbbed at the profile picture of a girl kneeling on a bed, arm covering her bare chest. She was wearing a pair of deep red lace panties and you couldn't see her face. But what I did see on the inside of her left arm gave me pause.

A tattoo of a Cosmo flower; the same design Y/N had in the exact spot.

"No fucking way," I said.

She created an Only Fan's page, just a few days ago. For what?

Obviously, it was none of my business but that still didn't stop me from subscribing to her page. This was wrong, it had to be. I was about to watch her videos and cum to it.

It can't be so bad considering what happened outside.

With that thought, I clicked on the video of Y/N laying spread open, a light blue vibrator pressed to her clit, and let her moans fill the small bathroom as I pulled my dripping cock out from my shorts.

READER

The laughter carried all the way from outside to up to me as I descended the stairs, donning my bathing suit and towel draped over my shoulder. It was well into the early afternoon and knowing I couldn't sleep anymore cause Matt wanted to do this team bonding bullshit; I forced myself out of bed.

Noah and you did plenty of team bonding last night.

My cheeks reddened at the reminder of what we did as I stepped through the doors, the warm afternoon air sticky with humidity. The guys were either in the pool or at the grill making lunch.

"There she is!" Davis raised a beer at me. "We were taking bets on how long you'd sleep for."

I gave him the finger while tossing my towel on the spot where I came on Noah's thigh last night. Knowing what we did last night while the others didn't made my heart thump loudly in my chest.

"I didn't back till late and since it's my day off, I slept in," I said.

My eyes dared a glance over to the pool where Noah and Jolly were leaning against the wall. Noah wore a pair of black sunglasses as he peered over his shoulder to me. Now in the sunlight, I saw some dark stubble graze his chin and upper lip. As I took him in, Noah did the same; drinking in the sight of me in my black bikini. He gave me a knowing smirk before returning to his conversation with Jolly.

Folio brought me a plate of food and motioned for us to sit at the table. I followed and took the plate from him with gratitude until I remembered he was in the kitchen last night and could have seen what Noah and I were doing. But Folio gave nothing away if he knew so I breathed easier.

"Noah mentioned you hung back late last night," Folio said after taking a sip of his beer.

"Is that all he told you?" I wondered while moving my food around with the fork.

"Just that he saw you get in after one in the morning and go to bed."

I nodded. "Yep, that's it."

He raised a quizzical brow at me. "Did something else happen?"

"Nope," I said popping the 'p' loudly.

Folio hummed then we talked for the next while. The ease and flow of our conversation made me forget all the bad in my life for the moment and for the first time in a long time, I let myself relax. I enjoyed the afternoon, smiling and laughing with everyone.

A large shadow blocked the sun from my vision and when I looked up, I saw Noah towering over me. Water dripped from his hair down to the tattoo's on his chest

"Need something?" I asked.

Without a word, Noah lifted me from the chair and tossed me over his shoulder. I fought against his grasp when he began walking towards teh pool.

"Noah, no! I don't want to get wet," I protested while thrashing against him.

A large hand came down on my ass, the smack echoing outside, and immediately I froze as a moan bit out of my lips.

"We both know you love getting wet, angel."

Those were Noah's parting words before he tossed me off of his shoulder directly into the pool.

[darksigns-exe]

I haven't been able to sleep well in days, can we talk soft boy hours with Noah, please? The cuddles from him trying to help get sleep. The affection. I could cry.

Oh I'm sorry dear 🥺 big hugs for you 🩷

That sweet boy is doing whatever he can to help. As soon as he realises that you’re struggling to fall asleep, he kicks into action. At first, you wonder why he’s sneaking out of bed, but he soon returns with a steaming cup of chamomile tea. Without having much of a say in it, you’re wrapped up in one of his hoodies and a moment later he’s got his arms around your middle.

Noah’s not one to pry, but he offers that you can always tell him if something's worrying you. That he’s always here if you need to unload whatever is stressing you and keeping you from finding sleep.

The gentle conversation you have helps to take a little bit of that nagging worry off your mind, and soon enough he’s pressed up behind you, arms wrapped around your middle to keep you close. He’s humming a soft little tune, fingers tracing across your back to soothe you to sleep. He’s pressing kisses to the top of your head. His firm presence at your back eases your mind, and before you know it, sleep takes you over.

You’re still wrapped up like that when you wake up in the morning. Safe and comforted in the embrace of that boy you love so much.

[luveternals]

paring: 4. simon 'ghost' riley x artist male reader. cw: introvert reader with low self-esteem, there's a waiter whose love language is food, ghost has selective mutism(tell me if I got anything wrong), swearing, the seafront location was originally inspired by Naples' Lungomare, Italy. <- posto da visitare assolutamente, guys. a/n: bam! they thought I was gone, but I ain't. Lol guess whose first language isn't English. anyway, new posts' schedule: still to be decided (check the my pinned post). ~ ~ ~

You've seen this trend around for a while and decide worse case scenario people get offended, call you a creep, and you won’t be able to show your face to the public ever again.

What could possibly go wrong?

Put on the brave face, man, you tell yourself taking in a fortifying breath. It’s not that they don’t know how much of a loser you already are.

Not wanting to be the stalking weirdo on the train or subway, you choose a nearby café. They know you here, at least. Though, you can’t decide if it’s for the better or worse.

The waiter is already setting up a tray on the counter when you open the door, and from the cheeky little wink he gives you, you know it’s for you. Noah knows your goto morning food and drink, though you never told him. He found out all on his own — honestly, you don’t even recall having a favorite to begin with.

“There he is,” he says and pushes the tray towards you when you stop at the counter, “precious little artist. Punctual as ever.”

You try to smile, but it pulls at your lips and you know it looks nothing but awkward. “How do you know I might change my order today?”

“Are you going to?”

You shrug.

“Thought so.” He pokes at the tray and points at your table, set way at the back of the café. “Now, this better not go cold, hmm,” he leans forward and squints at you, “I mean it.”

You huff at him and turn away with the tray in hand. “Whatever, mom.”

“Oh!” you hear him gasp offended, “kids these days.”

Idiot.

One thing is certain, being a loyal customer of theirs has its little perks. One being your usual table has an unspoken reservation on it. Every time you come here, it’s there for you. The fact that people don’t usually sit this far from the counter unless there’s no other option is an appreciated bonus. You place the tray on the table, set your bag on the empty chair next to yourself, and finally take a seat.

Unsure of how to start, you pick Noah as the first subject of your little experiment. He’s been nagging you about making a portrait of him for ages now, so you know for a fact he’s not going to mind.

You start your sketch with his beaming face. A circle for the shape of the head. A downward line at the center to keep everything spaced correctly. Find the position of eyes and nose. Shape of the face. Erase the lines you don’t need anymore.

You brush off the little eraser crumbs away and raise your head to check his face again. He’s turned away though, and your attention slides to the customer in front of him waiting for his turn.

He’s a hulking figure, dark wear and face mask covering mouth and nose. You’ve never seen him around before.

Noah's café is small and cozy, tucked away in a little corner. Tourists don’t really pick this as their first choice.

You move to draw on an empty part of the page.

-

“Oh ho! Looky here.”

You jerk and almost fall off the chair at the sudden presence peering over your shoulder. "Jesus, fu— what the hell is wrong with you?”

He steals the sketchbook and flips through the pages. “Love struck, aren’t we?” he snickers, inspecting the lastest drawings you’ve added to your collection.

You snatch the book back and fight the urge to check if anyone heard. “I thought I told you not to touch without permission.”

“I’m sorry,” he says and raises his hands before him, “I just… it’s been a while since I saw you draw so passionately, and I got curious. thought you lost your muse.” He glances down at the sketchbook and gives you a playful grin, “I guess you found a new one?”

-

“It’s been an eternity, are you ever going to talk to him?” Mr I-don’t-know-how-to-mind-my-own-business sets a second pastry you never ordered beside your empty plate and lean over to look at your current drawing.

“Can you, like, leave me alone?”

“You’re an artist,” he says with the flattest tone, “without me, who would keep you fed and hydrated and alive, you?”

You purse your lips and raise your chin to stare up at him. How dare he? You don’t need no one’s help to take care of yourself, thank you very much. It’s not like you forget time passes when you're drawing and end up with only breakfast in your belly all day. it happened, sure. Still.

“You know what, you’re being a real pain right now,” you say and stand intending to leave the café and head to the park or something.

Of course, your action is too abrupt and you end up bumping into someone who was making their way to a table near yours. And catastrophe happens.

When you turn, you realize the person you knocked into is the man you’ve been drawing these last days. Even worse, his eyes are locked onto your open sketchbook right on the spread littered with portraits and drawings of him.

Fuck.

Here comes the part where he thinks you're a weirdo and leaves the café with the intention of never coming back.

“Oh, hello!” Noah says and wiggles his fingers at the man with an overly cheery expression. “My friend here was just about to come and talk to you about these,” he says, gathering your drawings and shoving them into your arms, “he’s a little shy, so he needed a little push,” he adds, then shoves you towards the other man.

You stumble but recover quickly, and when you turn to glare at your friend he simply sends you a wink and mouths ‘don’t be a loser and ask him out’.

“He’s not even being subtle at it.” You don’t expect the man to talk to you at all, or to stay after that to begin with. There’s amusement in his voice and when you meet his gaze, you find a soft look in his eyes.

“Yeah,” you say, breathless. From this close up, his eye color catches your attention and you have to refrain yourself from leaning closer and finding out how it is that it seems to change from hazel-brown to blue and back. “Yeah,” you say again and drop your attention back to your things to stop yourself from staring, “he’s an idiot. But he's a good friend despite it all. He pretty much keeps me alive by shoving food into my face.”

-

Talking to Simon is not as awkward as you'd told yourself it'd be. He doesn’t judge you for all the drawings you did of him and instead compliments you on your skill. He does tease you, though.

“If I knew I was being stared at for so long I would have posed.”

“Shut up.”

“Need a model? I could do naked as well if you want.”

“Ugh.”

His laugh is contagious and you're helpless, so the teasing doesn’t stop.

-

Friendship with him is not the same as with Noah.

The waiter is a beaming ball of life, open and bold and buzzing with energy. You love him but, sometimes, spending time with him is quite exhausting. 

Simon on the other hand, he knows silence. 

He sits at your table, book in one hand and tea in the other, enjoying the simple company that is your presence despite not having said a word since the simple greeting you shared this morning.

Noah gives you a thumbs up from over Simon's shoulder.

-

“Why don't you just use a normal pencil for sketching?”

You peer up at him, hunched over the page. He's not even looking st you, but you know he's waiting for answer, curious and with real interest.

The first time he asked you a question, you've fumbled with your words unsure if he cared at all and if you'd scared him of with your chatter. Words aren't for you, but the longer you talk about the same thing on and on, you figure he doesn't mind and didn't ask just to have some awkward small talk. And so you blabber on about how it makes it easier to distinguish the first quick sketch with a color and the details you've added later with another.

He's eyes are pinned on you now, and you find you don't really mind being stared at like you thought you would.

-

“Ask him out.”

You haven’t even reached the counter and Noah is already at it. “Can you not?”

“Precious, I can see the love struck dreamy smile you give him from a mile away,” he says, adding a second steaming cup to your tray. “Introvert doesn’t mean allergic to people. You’re not the complete failure at socializing you imagine yourself being.” He pushes the tray towards you and leans against the counter. “youst case scenario, if he says 'no' I’ll go with you.”

You grimace. And then wide the look off your face when you register your reaction. “I mean— it's not that I don’t like you, it’s just that—”

“Wow, man. Wow,” he scoffs, “this is worse than when you left the sketch of my face half done.”

Oh, fuck. You forgot about that one?

“Whatever, man,” he says with a roll of his eyes, his lips twitch at the corners. “If he does say 'no', I'll buy you that kit you’ve been swooning over for the past month. Best quality color and all that.” He waves at you to move along, only to pull your tray closer to himself again and popping a tiny little pastry right in the middle. Then sends you off to your doom.

-

“I've been thinking,” you blurt out in response to his ‘mornin’’.

Simon pauses right about to take a seat, raises an eyebrow and finally settles down. “Have you, now?”

“Yeah,” you say and tap the end of your pencil against the table. “Yeah. Do you like the park? No, wait. Do you like going to the park with me— would you…” You take in a breath and raise your gaze to the ceiling, “really, now?”

After a long moment, you shift your attention back to him ready to try again. His eyes are shining, little wrinkles decorating the corner of his eyes.

The mask covers it, but you know for a fact that he's smiling.

You feel your cheeks going warmer and you have to fight the urge to backtrack and hide behind your sketchbook. “Do you wanna,” you say, “go to the park with me?”

-

It's an oddity to find him already seated, no tea in sight either. From the look Noah gives you, after a month of simon coming in every day, this is a novelty for him as well.

You bring your tray to the table and sit beside him without a comment, only a simple greeting and a gentle smile. You set a cup of tea before him, alongside one of the sweets Noah refused to take back when you told him it was probably too much food. He actually looked offended by the comment.

“It’s double the stuff he usually gives me, Simon,” you say when he tries to have you keep it, “just eat it. Or better, help me finish it all, I beg you.”

He stares at the food for a long moment, then visibly gives up on convincing you. He doesn't touch it though.

The tea goes ignored as well.

You purse your lips. Well, that won’t do.

“Say,” you start and tilt your head to catch his gaze, “do you wanna go out for a walk? There’s a place I wanted to show you.”

He watches your face, then shifts his attention around the café, on Noah and finally on the food he left untouched.

“I'll have Noah put everything in a bag. I know he won't mind.”

He hesitates, but nods.

You smile at him and beam when the gesture seems to lessen the tension on his shoulders.

You bring him to a local bookstore. Like with the café, this is a little business famous mostly in the neighborhood. It’s never overly crowded but there’s always a kid or two binging their current read.

You leave him to scan the shelves and move to do the same not far.

Hah! They’ve finally restocked the stationary corner. Hooray! You definitely don’t need another journal, but no one can stop you from staring at them with gut wrenching despair.

Would Simon like it if I bought him one?

At the thought you turn to search for him and find him already making his way to you with a new book in hand.

You've got the membership card here so you manage to convince him to let you pay. Both for his book and the journal you're holding.

-

You don’t know many places to visit, but those you are familiar with are the best for those who don’t care for ‘crowded’.

The seafront isn’t one of them but you hope the view will make up for it.

It’s a risky move, but you think you’ve grown close to him enough to know he's quite comfortable with being by himself, but sometimes silence isn't what he wants or needs.

Noah told you you’re a pretty good observant and that analyzing the world around you is what makes you an artist. So you hope he wasn’t making that up.

There's a little corner towards the end. Here the view is partially covered but when you check his face, you're glad to discover he doesn't seem to mind at all. He hasn't said a word at all since you met this morning, but his attention has been pinned on you all day even after the nonsense rant you've gone on about AI art. 

You pull out a thermos from the café’s cute, little bag and hand it to him like an hesitant offering. His tea has been kept safe and warm inside all morning, but you don't know if he'll accept it after earlier. 

His eyes soften and he takes the thermos with the same care you've handled it with, and holds it in both hands like he wants to keep it safe.

A spark of hope warms your insides, so you take out two pastries and hand one to him. "He's going to make me eat more tomorrow," you say and take a bite, as if to show him Noah does know how to bake — oh, yep, he really does. God. "And you haven't had breakfast yet. Please?"

It takes a moment, but eventually, he turns away from any unwanted gaze, moves his face mask out of the way, and brings the food to his mouth to take a bite.

It slow, delibeate and so very careful, but he's eating, and now you finally understand. How Noah cares so much about keeping you fed. 

~ ~ ~ a/n: I'm not entirely sure if I got it right. Here's what I was thinking: noah is there to keep the reader from neglecting himself; ghost is a new face at the café and with a little push they become friends; reader starts taking care of ghost end consequently takes care of himself. comment, reblog and/or follow. yadda, yadda, yadda, this blog feeds off feedback or it'll go boom! don't just like please...

[virgoilluminati]

World Class

Chapter 8

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y/nmorrison

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y/nmorrison bringing home what he started 🫶🏻

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rowanmorrison big love from the whole family.

judebellingham so proud regardless

leahwilliamson he's shining on down on you right now 🪽

leahwilliamson

Liked by ellatoone, y/nmorrison and 750,000 others

leahwilliamson pov: your the trophy and your coming home with me 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿

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y/nmorrison this is so smooth Leah 🔥

ellatoone come on girls, we've got this 👏👏👏

maryearps alexa play its coming home 🎶

To say the final started fragile would be a big understatement. Despite spending the evening making up with Leah, being reassured by Jude, and also knowing that the dream wasn't just for Noah, you still found yourself restless and anxious about the next day.

You woke up with a start, the sheets tangled around you from a restless night's sleep. The weight of the upcoming final weighed heavily on your mind, making it nearly impossible to find peace even in sleep. As you pushed yourself out of bed, your legs felt weak, barely supporting your weight as you made your way to the bathroom.

Your reflection in the mirror revealed dark circles under your eyes, evidence of the sleepless nights leading up to the final. You splashed cold water on your face, hoping the shock would snap you out of your anxious state. The water trickled down your face, carrying away some of the tension but leaving the underlying nervousness untouched.

Memories of past nerve-wracking moments flooded your mind as you tried to calm your racing heart. This feeling wasn't new; it was the same intense nervousness you'd experienced before crucial games, like the one that determined your spot on Arsenal. The pressure, the expectations, they all culminated in moments like these, testing your resilience and determination.

Taking several deep breaths, you tried to center yourself, focusing on the rhythmic pattern of your breathing to anchor your swirling thoughts. It was just nerves, you reassured yourself, something you'd overcome before. You remembered the countless hours of training, the sweat and tears poured into honing your skills for moments like this.

As you stood there, trying to gather your thoughts and calm your nerves, you felt a tinge of pain beginning to flare up in your stomach. It caught you off guard, making you wince as you tried to pinpoint the source of the discomfort.

Uncertain about the feeling, you began to stretch, hoping that maybe you had just slept in an awkward position. As you reached up to stretch your arms overhead, you felt the tension in your muscles start to ease, but the pain in your stomach persisted, a nagging reminder of the stress and anxiety you were feeling.

To make matters worse, as everyone else began to grab something to eat, filling their plates with breakfast items to fuel their bodies for the final, you found yourself unable to join them. The lingering pain in your stomach and the overwhelming nervousness made the thought of eating almost impossible.

You watched as your teammates chatted and laughed, the tension from earlier slowly dissipating as they focused on the meal before them. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries filled the air, but to you, it was all a blur, your stomach churning at the mere thought of food.

Feeling a pang of disappointment, you tried to push aside the discomfort, reminding yourself that you needed to stay focused and not let the nerves get the best of you. You took a few sips of water, hoping to settle your stomach and provide some relief from the persistent pain.

Despite the physical and emotional challenges you were facing, you knew that you had to stay strong for yourself and your team. As everyone settled down at the table, exchanging encouraging words and rallying each other for the final, you felt a renewed sense of determination wash over you.

Leah and Sarina, sensing the need to rally the team, stepped forward to address the players. "Remember the game against Spain," Leah began, her voice steady and inspiring. "We faced challenges, but we overcame them together. That same resilience and unity will carry us through today."

Sarina nodded in agreement, adding her own words of encouragement. "Each one of you has worked tirelessly to be here. Trust in yourselves and trust in each other. Together, we're unstoppable."

Drawing strength from their words and the collective spirit of the team, you felt a surge of confidence build within you. You knew that you were ready to face whatever challenges the final had in store, armed with resilience, determination, and the unwavering support of those who believed in you."

As the day of the final began to pass on the horizon, the anticipation and excitement were palpable. The team buzzed with energy, fans already cheering and flags wavin, a sea of colors painting a vivid tapestry of support and enthusiasm.

Amidst the throng of supporters, you spotted familiar faces making their way towards you. Your heart swelled with emotion as you saw your dad, mum, brothers Rowan and Elliot, sister Eden, and Jude—your boyfriend—approaching, their smiles bright and infectious.

"Y/N!" Eden exclaimed, wrapping you in a tight embrace. "We're so proud of you!"

Your eyes welled up with tears of joy as you hugged each family member in turn, feeling their love and support enveloping you like a warm blanket.

"Dad, Mum, I'm so glad you're here," you whispered, feeling a lump in your throat.

"We wouldn't miss it for the world," your dad replied, his eyes glistening with pride. "You've worked so hard for this moment, and we're behind you all the way."

"You've been watching" you ask. Elliot looks at you before engulfing you in a hug.

"Oh little sister, you're a bloody star you are-"

"I am?"

"I think we always worried that football killed Noah. But now, seeing you out there- we couldn't have been further from the truth." Rowan admitted, holding your niece in her arms.

Jude comes up behind you handing over a glass of water. You frown slightly before taking it. "You look pale-"

"Yeah, i feel slightly sick i think its the nerves." You admit.

"Noah used to do this too y'know. Before every game. "Rowan reminisces looking over to your dad.

"He did?"

"Mhmm. Couldn't eat anything the night before or day off a match. It was so bad that i remember forcing him to eat mushed banana at the side of the pitch, not letting the referee start before he'd eaten something-" Your mum laughs slightly, before looking down in her own bag. "Now you Mrs, eat up."

She hands you a banana, and you gratefully accept it despite the nausea still very much in your gut.

Your dad smirks before pulling you in for another hug. "I'm so proud of you my little chuck. Who'd of thought, a Morrison at a world cup final!"

Jude admired your family interaction from afar noticing how much effort your brothers especially had put into noticing your talent. It felt like a full circle moment.

Once you pulled away from your dads grasp, Jude stepped forward, taking your hands in his. In a moment filled with love and tenderness, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. Opening it, he revealed a delicate silver necklace with a pendant shaped like a soccer ball.

"I wanted you to have this," Jude said softly, placing the necklace around your neck. "So that no matter where you are or what you're doing, you'll always have a piece of me with you."

Tears of gratitude welled up in your eyes as you touched the pendant, moved by Jude's thoughtful gesture. The weight of the upcoming final seemed a little lighter, knowing you carried with you a tangible reminder of his love and support.

"Thank you, Jude," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. "I love it, and I love you."

Jude's eyes sparkled as he smiled, pulling you into a tender embrace. "I love you too, Y/N. Go out there and shine. I'll be cheering you on every step of the way."

As you stood there, surrounded by your family and Jude, the noise and excitement of the crowd seemed to fade into the background, replaced by a comforting bubble of love and support. The weight of the upcoming final felt a little less daunting, knowing that you had such an incredible support system behind you.

With renewed confidence and determination, you turned to face your teammates, their faces reflecting the same mix of excitement and nerves that you felt. The energy was infectious, the air charged with anticipation for the final showdown.

“Alright, team,” Leah called out, rallying everyone together. “Let’s channel this energy and focus on the task at hand. We’ve got a final to win!”

Sarina nodded in agreement, her gaze sweeping across the team. “Remember what we’ve worked for, the sacrifices we’ve made, and the bond we’ve forged. This is our moment, and together, we will seize it.”

The team erupted into cheers, the collective spirit palpable as you all joined hands, forming a tight circle. The unity and camaraderie among you were undeniable, the shared goal of victory binding you together.

As you broke from the huddle, your eyes met Jude’s one last time, his encouraging smile giving you the final push you needed. You knew that you were ready, ready to give it your all, ready to leave everything on the field, ready to make your family, friends, and teammates proud.

With a final nod to your loved ones, you joined your teammates, the excitement and anticipation building as you prepared to step onto the field. The final awaited, and you were ready, armed with resilience, determination, and the unwavering support of those who believed in you.

The stage was set, the moment was here, and you were ready to shine.

As the match began, the energy on the field was electric, both teams eager to seize control and make their mark early on. Despite your initial confidence, believing the match might be easier than anticipated, it quickly became apparent that the Spanish team was a force to be reckoned with.

Time and time again, they launched relentless attacks, their skilled players weaving through your defense with precision and determination. Each near miss sent a jolt of anxiety through you, the ball narrowly missing the goal on multiple occasions, the crowd's gasps echoing in your ears.

The pressure was mounting, the Spanish team refusing to back down, their relentless pace and skill testing your defensive capabilities to the limit. You found yourself constantly on the move, chasing after the ball, making desperate tackles, and clearing dangerous crosses, doing everything in your power to keep them at bay.

With each defensive play, you felt the weight of the team's expectations on your shoulders, the collective hope of victory driving you to push through the exhaustion and frustration. The Spanish team's relentless onslaught was a stark reminder that this final would be anything but easy.

Despite the mounting pressure and the relentless attacks, you refused to let doubt creep in, drawing strength from your teammates' unwavering support and encouragement. You dug deep, tapping into your resilience and determination, determined to rise to the challenge and turn the tide in your team's favor.

As the halftime whistle blew, you and your teammates retreated to the sidelines, catching your breath and regrouping for the second half. The score remained level, a testament to your defensive efforts, but the battle was far from over.

Gathering around Leah and Sarina, their words of encouragement resonated with renewed meaning, their belief in the team's ability to overcome the challenges ahead unwavering.

"We knew this wouldn't be easy," Leah began, her voice steady and reassuring. "But we've faced adversity before, and we've come out stronger. Stay focused, trust in each other, and let's show them what we're made of."

Sarina nodded in agreement, her eyes scanning the determined faces of her players. "We've got this, but it's going to take everything we've got. Let's leave it all on the field and bring home that trophy."

With renewed determination and a clear game plan in mind, you and your teammates took to the field for the second half, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. The final awaited, and you were ready to give it your all, knowing that victory was within reach if you stayed united and fought together as one.

A sudden wave of nausea washed over you, and you suddenly found herself doubled over in the bathroom, desperately trying to hold herself together. Unbeknownst to her, Leah noticed the distress and, acting on instinct, rushed in after her.

"Y/N, what's happening? You don't look well," Leah observed, her voice laced with worry.

Y/N, trying to mask her discomfort, managed a weak smile. "Just a bit dizzy, Leah. It's nothing, really."

Leah wasn't convinced, studying Y/N closely. "This isn't 'nothing.' You're pushing yourself too hard. You need to tell Serena; she can make a substitution."

Panic flashed in Y/N's eyes as she whispered urgently, "No, Leah, please. I can do this. I've worked so hard to be here. I just need a moment."

Leah hesitated, torn between compassion and the responsibility she felt for her teammate's well-being. "Y/N, I get it. But you're risking your health. This isn't just about today; it's about the rest of your career."

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as she pleaded, "Leah, please. Don't tell anyone. I promise I can get that goal. It's all I've ever dreamed of."

Leah sighed, realizing the depth of Y/N's desperation. "Okay, but you have to promise me that if it gets worse, you'll let someone know. We can't risk your health for a goal."

Y/N nodded gratefully, and the two of them set to work, cleaning up and disguising the toll the match had taken.

Returning to the pitch for extra time, your steps were steadier, though the lingering effects of your physical strain were undeniable. The silent understanding between you and Leah had forged a bond that transcended the confines of the game, a connection that fortified your resolve.

The atmosphere on the field was electric, the Spanish team intensifying their attacks with wave after wave of attempts on goal. Positioned in a defensive role, you fought relentlessly to keep them at bay, intercepting passes and positioning yourself with unwavering focus.

Amidst the relentless Spanish attacks, your resilience shone through. You blocked shots and made crucial tackles, showcasing extraordinary determination to thwart their relentless onslaught. As the pressure mounted, the nausea returned, a testament to the physical toll you were enduring.

When the crucial moment arrived, and the ball found its way to you, Leah's words echoed in your mind – a reminder of the strength that comes from leaning on your teammates. Your legs burned with exhaustion, but the goal beckoned like a distant dream.

With a burst of determination, you kicked the ball towards the goal, the weight of the team's hopes and dreams propelling it forward. The goalkeeper dove in a desperate attempt to make the save, but it was too late.

Jude's eyes widened as he watched you score the crucial equalizing goal, a surge of pride and joy filling his heart. "That's my girl," he whispered, a proud smile stretching across his face.

However, as the euphoria of the equalizing goal engulfed you, your legs gave way beneath you, the weight of exhaustion and adrenaline taking its toll. Lucy and Leah, sensing the urgency, rushed over, their faces etched with concern as they reached out to support you, preventing you from collapsing onto the pitch.

"Are you okay?" Lucy asked, her voice filled with worry.

Leah added, "Stay with us. You've got this."

The stadium, once alive with jubilation, transformed into an arena of shared apprehension. The cheers faded into a hushed silence, replaced by the collective gasp of fans witnessing the abrupt turn of events. The energy in the air shifted from celebration to concern, a palpable tension that spread like wildfire.

With Lucy and Leah's unwavering support, you managed to rise, their arms wrapped around you as they steadied your shaky steps. Their eyes met yours, conveying silent words of encouragement and reassurance.

"You've got this," Leah whispered, her voice steady and reassuring.

Lucy nodded in agreement, "We're in this together, always."

Taking a moment, you closed your eyes, taking a deep, steadying breath, drawing strength from within to push through the pain. Triggering a nostalgic feeling, you decided to acknowledge the fans, a gesture that had become your signature celebration. You bowed deeply, a symbol of gratitude for their unwavering support, and then waved, your gesture echoing the spirited celebrations of your brother, a tribute to his legacy and the strength and resilience that ran in your family.

The crowd responded with thunderous applause and cheers, their support a comforting blanket enveloping you in warmth.

"Y/N Morrison! Y/N Morrison!" a fan shouted from the stands, the chant echoing throughout the stadium, a testament to the impact you had on the hearts of the supporters.

The moment was filled with raw emotion, a blend of triumph, relief, and gratitude. Your teammates, watching from a distance, felt a surge of pride and admiration, their hearts swelling with respect for your determination and resilience.

As you stood, supported by Lucy and Leah, the weight of the moment was felt by all. It was a powerful reminder of the physical and emotional toll of the game, the sacrifices made, and the indomitable spirit that drove you to push beyond your limits.

The memories created in those fleeting moments would forever be etched in your heart, a poignant reminder of the highs and lows of the beautiful game and the unbreakable bonds forged on and off the pitch.

As the match transitioned into extra time, the intensity on the pitch only grew. Sarina, the coach, approached you, her eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. "Y/N, are you okay to continue?" she asked, concern evident in her voice.

You nodded, determination shining in your eyes. "I'm good, Sarina. I've got this."

Both teams displayed remarkable resilience during extra time, each side fighting tooth and nail for that coveted advantage. The pace was relentless, with neither team willing to back down.

You found yourself in promising positions, nearly getting a couple of shots on goal, each attempt narrowly missing its mark. The frustration was palpable, but you remained undeterred, your focus unwavering.

On the defensive end, you were called upon to defend with everything you had, throwing yourself into tackles, intercepting passes, and putting your body on the line to keep the opposition at bay. The stakes were high, and every moment was crucial.

Lucy and Leah continued to offer their unwavering support, rallying around you, their presence a constant source of strength and encouragement. Together, you fought valiantly, each player giving their all for the team and the shared dream that had brought you this far.

The clock ticked down, and the tension reached a fever pitch. Every play, every pass, and every shot carried the weight of the match's outcome. The stadium echoed with the roars of the crowd, each cheer a testament to the passion and dedication of the fans who stood by you through every twist and turn.

As the final whistle blew, signaling the end of extra time, both teams were left standing, exhausted but proud. The scoreboard showed a draw, setting the stage for a nerve-wracking penalty shootout to decide the winner.

Both sides huddled together, rallying one another for the impending showdown. The air was thick with anticipation, each player steeling themselves for the crucial kicks that lay ahead.

The memories of the match would forever be etched in your heart, a testament to the resilience, determination, and unbreakable bonds forged in the heat of competition. Now, with the match hanging in the balance, it was time to dig deep, summoning every ounce of strength and courage for the final chapter of this unforgettable journey.

As the shootout progressed, the tension reached new heights, every eye fixed on the pitch, every heart pounding with anticipation. The Spanish players matched your team's efforts, their shots equally accurate and powerful. The pressure was immense, but both teams rose to the occasion, showcasing nerves of steel, the scoreboard reflecting a deadlock with every successful conversion.

**Commentary:** "Spain answering back with authority! This is a shootout for the ages!"

With each successful penalty, the atmosphere grew thicker, the weight of each kick felt by every player, every coach, and every fan in the stadium. The tension was unbearable, the drama unfolding on the pitch captivating the entire world.

Then, a pivotal moment arrived. The Spanish player stepped up for their final penalty, the weight of her team's hopes evident in her eyes. With a deep breath, she struck the ball with power, aiming for the top corner. But Mary Earps, your goalkeeper, had other plans, diving acrobatically to her left to make a spectacular save.

**Commentary:** "Oh, what a save! Earps with the stop of her life! England still in this!"

The stadium erupted in a deafening roar, the momentum swinging decisively in your team's favor. The atmosphere was electric, the crowd on the edge of their seats, the air charged with excitement and anticipation.

But the realization quickly set in – the entire final result of this whole tournamentnow rested on your shoulders. The weight of the moment was immense, the pressure palpable, the silence deafening.

As you walked to the penalty spot, every step echoed with the weight of history, the enormity of the moment sinking in. The crowd fell silent, the only sound being the rhythmic beating of your heart. Lucy Bronze, Alessia Russo, and Leah Williamson offered words of encouragement as you passed them, their belief in you unwavering, their eyes filled with hope and confidence.

You took a deep breath, focusing your mind, channeling the countless hours of training and dedication that had brought you to this moment. The goalkeeper stood tall, the goal seemingly shrinking before your eyes, the net a tantalizing target beckoning you to seize the glory that lay beyond.

The ball rocketed into the net, the goalkeeper diving in vain, the stadium erupting in a cacophony of cheers and jubilation. You had done it, the weight of the moment lifted, the victory secured.

Commentary: “It all comes down to this historic moment! Morrison steps up for England! The weight of 58 years of waiting on her shoulders! Can she deliver the final blow to end England’s World Cup drought?”

The ball soared into the top corner, a rocket of precision and power, the net bulging with the force of a nation’s hopes and dreams finally realized.

Commentary: “She’s done it! Morrison delivers! England wins the World Cup for the first time since 1966! A moment that will be etched in history, a moment that will be celebrated for generations to come! The wait is over, England are champions!”

The stadium was a sea of red and white, flags waving, scarves twirling, voices raised in unison as the realization sank in. Tears of joy flowed freely, embraces shared between strangers, friends, and family alike. The atmosphere was electric, the energy palpable, a collective euphoria sweeping through the crowd like a tidal wave of emotion.

And then it was done. England had done it. They had won the world cup and it was your goal that secured it!

"Noah. We did it." You smiled to yourself before going over to celebrate with your teammates.

england & lionesses

liked by alessiarusso, y/nmorrison and 1,000,000 others

england - y/n morrison only had one thing to say in her post match interview. Despite scouring both the equaliser and going on to score the decisive penalty in extra time. "Follow your dreams, cause sometimes they truly do come true." ❣️

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englandfan01 I can't believe we won! 🙌

leahwilliamsonnfan13 leah and y/n were such a good duo

englandismycity y/n was my man of the match 🫶🏻

[nerdraging4point0]

Power Play // Chapter Seven // Hockeyplayer!Noah AU

Tropes and tags: RPF:AU hockey player romance, angsty romance, hidden relationship, forbidden relationship, smutty, MF, multiple POV. 

Content Warning: angsty romance, hockey player shenanigans, locker room talk, smutty, aggressive hockey players, PinV, MF relationship, possessive male, protective male.

This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

Taglist(click to be added): @ladyveronikawrites @poisongirl616 @shilohrosechicken @th0ughts-pr4yers @meliferafaerie @curse-bearing-hips @letmeadoreyoux @transparentwitchnightmare @darling-millicent-aubrey @moranastray @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @collective-heartbreak @littlefoxkota @somebodyels3 @thisbicc @jakeygvf21 @cind6547 @lma1986 @loeytuan98 @xxkittenkissesxx @darkmxgician @sammyjoeee @malerieee @embracethereaper42 @nerdywitch20 @graveatspeople @sacredthefran @dominuslunae @skulliecadaver-blog @anameunmusical @thatchickwiththecamera @missduffsblog @jessicafg03 @lilrubles @iknownothingpeople @talialovesmiw @deathofpeaceofmiiind @shaydayhere @wild-child-7747

Despite having no obligations or reasons to rise early, I find myself waking before dawn, a nagging sense of unfinished business rousing me from slumber. I rummage through the cluttered closet, pushing aside the detritus of my old life to unearth a relic from simpler times: my pristine white ice skates, barely used since training gave way to textbooks and 12-hour shifts. Running my fingers over the smooth leather, I marvel that they have waited so patiently while life pulled me away. I dress in fleece leggings and a sweater as I grab my purse and head to the car. 

The rink should be empty, the guys left around four this morning, as I pull into the parking lot it’s already six. I see some of the players' cars parked in the garage as I head to the elevator to enter the rink. The lights are on, but that’s to be expected, with the team gone, deep clean can commence. Yet as I walk through the quiet, empty halls of the arena, the familiar sounds of hockey emanate from the rink ahead. The rhythmic slapping of a composite stick striking a frozen puck echoes down the corridor. Scraping, swishing - the nostalgic melody of steel blades carving arcs across the freshly resurfaced ice. I push through the heavy wooden doors and gaze out at the rink. There before me a solitary figure glides smoothly about the ice, stickhandling a puck through an intricate array of cones.

Noah isn't in a uniform, just his athletic wear and skates, simple winter gloves on his hand as he skates around. The cold air nips at my cheeks as I observe him gliding effortlessly across the smooth, glassy ice. He looks so graceful and at ease, carving gentle curves with each push of his skates. I suddenly wonder if I should continue with my plan. It's been years since I've set foot on the ice. The last time I tried skating I clung desperately to the wall, my ankles wobbling with each tentative stride. I was that bumbling, awkward beginner all over again. What if I make a fool of myself out there? What if I slip and stumble repeatedly in front of Noah, struggling just to stay upright while he floats by with poised confidence? The thought makes me hesitate. I don't want to embarrass myself or look incompetent compared to Noah's natural skill.

"What are you doing here?" I call across the rink, seeing him turn and find me by the benches. He pushes the puck back and forth between his stick, the repetitive motion seeming to soothe his obvious frustration.

 "Medics benched me for two games, to make sure my shoulder isn't seriously injured," he responds, and I can hear the pain in his voice - not physical, but emotional. Being forced to sit out is agonizing for any athlete, but especially for someone as passionate and competitive as him. I can only imagine how difficult it must have been to watch his teammates head off without him this morning, their bus pulling away as he stood there, barred from joining them.

“Why are you here?” he ponders the question to me and I feel my cheeks go red as I stammer a response. 

“Came to um-um-skate. But I didn’t expect…it’s okay, I’ll go.” I turn to leave. But I hear the hard scrape of blades on ice as Noah skates to the wall close enough to me I can smell the scent of his body wash from his shower. 

“Where you going? Let’s see what you got, little fox.” I feel my heart race and my palms grow sweaty as Noah's intense gaze bores into me. His muscular frame towers over me, broad shoulders and chiseled torso accentuated by his tight black shirt. I'm frozen in place, mesmerized by his masculine beauty and commanding presence.

“Lace up. Get out here." he teases as he skates out to the rink, picking up the cones he'd laid out. I am not sure what propels me but I do as he says, slipping into the leather slippers and double knotting the laces. I stand on the blades feeling the unusual balance of them as I take long steps to the ice. The blades touch the ice and suddenly I'm wobbling on my knees as one hand grips the wall and the other wraps around myself trying desperately to hide the embarrassment. The empty ice rink echoes with each scrape of his skates as he circles me like a predator stalking prey.

I tentatively step onto the icy surface, the razor-sharp blades beneath my feet gliding smoothly at first. But as I push off, my ankles wobble precariously, threatening to tip me face-first onto the cold, unforgiving ice. I flail my arms, grasping for something, anything to steady myself. My hand finds the wall just in time, saving me from a humiliating fall. Meanwhile, he is gliding effortlessly around the perimeter, his strong strides propelling him forward with ease. I watch enviously as he picks up speed, the toes of his skates carving graceful arcs into the glossy surface. My own skates feel awkward and foreign beneath me, the thin blades clacking loudly with each uneasy step. I wrap my free arm around my middle, trying in vain to conceal my evident lack of skill. This was a mistake. I never should have let him goad me out here. 

Noah skates around me, effortlessly turning his feet outwards to slow himself before sliding to a smooth stop, sending ice shavings scattering across the glossy surface of the rink. He looks back at me with a playful smile, taking in my awkward, shaky form as I struggle to maintain my balance on the slippery ice. I clutch the wall, my legs stiff and tense, my movements rigid and unstable. Noah glides back over to me, the blades of his skates slicing rhythmic patterns into the ice, and holds out his gloved hands, wiggling his fingers invitingly. "Here," he says, his voice warm and reassuring.

I eye his outstretched hands warily, hesitating. A painful memory surfaces of myself as an awkward thirteen year old girl, when a boy in skating class had offered to help me up, only to let go and trip me instead. I had fallen hard on the unforgiving ice, the wind knocked out of me, my pride injured far more than my body. I had never forgotten that humiliating experience, and since then, I harshly refused any offer of help when trying to skate, not trusting anyone to not let me fall.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Noah grumbles, breaking me out of my bitter recollections. Not waiting for me to decide, he takes my hands firmly in his, enveloping my fingers in the soft wool of his gloves. Then he begins skating backwards, pulling me along with him, his strokes smooth and steady. My legs tremble violently, overtaken by the fear of falling and I cling to his hands for dear life, as if I'm moments from plunging to my death. My ankles wobble and feet slip on my first few strides, struggling to find my balance. But Noah's graceful momentum carries us, and slowly I feel my legs begin to glide in sync with his, my rigid muscles easing. My confidence builds as Noah patiently guides me around the rink, the ice smoothly passing beneath me.

“I figured the coach’s daughter would know how to skate.” he teased. I rolled my eyes at his assumption that just because my dad was the hockey coach, I would naturally be an expert skater myself. Sure, growing up as the coach's daughter, I had spent countless hours at the rink, watching practices and games from the stands. And yes, I had even taken some basic skating lessons as a kid. But that was years ago now, and so much had changed since then.

“It’s been a while,” I countered, “I had other things going on.”

“Let me guess,” he looked at the white leather of my skates and smiled, “Figure skating.” 

“Nope. Just lessons.” The truth was, once I hit high school, skating had faded into the background. I became absorbed in academics, friendships, and other activities that didn't involve blades on my feet and cold rinks. Sure, I had taken some recreational lessons here and there to appease my dad, but nothing stuck. “Dad really wasn’t a fan of figure skating, some unspoken rivalry with Hockey I think.” 

My hold on Noah’s hands relaxed as we glided hand-in-hand across the ice rink, my fingers barely holding onto his gloved hands anymore. As we swayed our hips in unison, Noah gently turned our wrists, overlaying our hands before interlacing our fingers together. His soft yet firm grip provided a sense of security and balance as he led us around the rink, periodically looking back over his shoulder to navigate and ensure we wouldn't crash.

“And mom?” 

“Mom wasn’t, the mom type.” I confessed with a sigh.  I felt a familiar pang of sadness in my chest at the thought, dropping my head a little in shame. Noah raised an eyebrow, prompting me to reluctantly explain further. “Divorce. Just before I was twelve. Mom moved down to Florida with her new boyfriend, got the occasional birthday card then silence.” 

“I get that,” Noah nodded in understanding, releasing our clasped hands so we could skate shoulder-to-shoulder, my legs now gliding on their own as we lazily circled the rink.

"Your mom too?" I asked gently. 

"Dad," he replied tersely. "Wasn't the dad type. Mom did her best, but I lost her." His words sank in, my own petty grievances seeming trivial in comparison. While my mother may have been absent, at least she was still living. Noah had no one left, both parents gone, leaving him truly alone in the world. A swell of empathy rose within me, along with a new appreciation for the family I still had, dysfunctional as we may be.

As we glide, our skates' soft swish and measured breathing form a quiet harmony. All too soon, our wordless waltz comes to an end. I make my way to the bench on rubbery legs, fumbling with the laces and easing my numb feet from the rigid boots. Noah gathers his stick and returns to his solitary target practice, slapping puck after puck into the empty net with a methodical rhythm. The sharp crack of composite meeting vulcanized rubber echoes through the cavernous arena. I watch him for a moment, marveling at his self-contained focus. Throwing my bag over my shoulder, I turn to leave, savoring the lingering chill on my cheeks. But then his voice stops me - that gentle tenor tone that never fails to make me shiver.

"Sarah," he says, my name emerging soft as a caress from his lips. "What are you doing tomorrow?"