#sorry Noah Sebastian | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

doomhands-jr · 6 months ago

Text

The Devil's Advocate - Chapter 3

Noah Sebastian X Reader

Noah is a delinquent with a lot of anger at the church. You're a pastor's daughter plagued by moral perfectionism, charged with overseeing the community service he's been sentenced to complete. You've never encountered true temptation before. How will you fare up against Noah, who not only isn't bound by the same rules of purity as you, but actively scoffs at them?

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Masterlist

Banner by @flowerynerds

Wheeeeeeee!

________

“Heavenly father,” Isaac began. “We ask that you bless this practice session. Allow us to spread your love and light through our music and give us the opportunity to reach the souls that need to hear it. Amen.”

“Amen,” the rest of you repeated.

“Alright, friends. What songs do we want to play this week?”

“I’ve been leaning towards How He Loves Us,” said Darian.

“Okay. I’ll need to refresh myself on the chords,” said Isaac. “Everyone on board?”

You nodded along with the others, but as they talked over the song list, you found yourself losing focus. Your eyes drifted over to the front of the stage, where you and Noah had sat on Saturday.

You were always so sure that if presented with temptation, you would be able to resist. It had never once entered your mind that there would be a situation in which your resolve would be tested.

But there on those steps, with Noah looking down over you, you knew you would have let your body take over and do whatever it wanted. For the first time in your life, you weren’t sure you could trust yourself with someone—and yet, you weren’t convinced it was a bad thing.

Okay, were you ready to lose your virginity to him? No. That was a big step to take, considering you’d only ever had one kiss in your life, but you couldn’t deny that you were eager to explore your sexuality more, and that had never been something you were willing to do outside of marriage.

Noah’s logic had you questioning the rules that had been instilled in you. He seemed to think that the rules, particularly those surrounding sex, were not worth following. He had such a confidence about it that you were dying to question where he got it from and what his reasoning behind it was.

Something tugged in the back of your mind, though. Isaac had cautioned you about spending time with him, and how he could lead you down a bad path. You felt yourself straying from what you had always believed, but were they right? Were you being led into a life of sin?

Or was it more complicated than that?

“Okay, everyone clear on the set list for this week?”

You nodded, even though you weren’t clear, but you’d pick it up easily enough. You could always ask Ava if you needed help.

“Hey, can I talk to you a minute?”

It was Isaac. He was closer than you remembered him being. “Sure, what’s up?”

“I was wondering if I could get your help with something?”

“Okay?” you said, waiting for him to continue.

“So I want to put together a Christmas concert. I could use your voice. And your help with setting it up if you’re down for it.”

“Halloween isn’t even over,” you said.

“These things take time to arrange. It’s better if we get a head start.” He flashed a smile at you and rocked back on his heels, visibly eager for you to agree.

“What all would I need to do?” you asked.

“Really, I just need you to sing the soprano harmonies. And to spread the word about it. Maybe hang some fliers or something. See if any of the women in your dorm want to come. I’m thinking this could be a great outreach project if we maybe add an alter call or something at the end.”

You didn’t want to. You knew you didn’t want to, but you needed something to focus on that wasn’t Noah and the way he had you questioning everything about yourself.

“I’ll think about it,” you said.

“Yess,” he hissed, already taking it as a begrudging agreement, instead of a consideration. “Promise you won’t regret it.”

“Uh-huh.”

The rest of the session was spent practicing the songs for the upcoming service. You wished you had the ability to stay focused, but all you could think about was the softness behind Noah’s eyes when he looked at you, and how eager you were for Saturday to arrive.

______

“Noah can’t come,” Nick said, walking up the concrete pathway that led to the church ground. “He got roped into working overtime at the factory. Won’t be off until 3.”

“Oh,” you said, trying not to let your disappointment show. “Sucks for him.”

“Not really. At least he’s getting paid,” he said. “Otherwise he’d have to be here, doing work for free.”

“Right,” you agreed. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“So what’s on the menu for today?” he asked, sounding much more chipper than last week.

“Sorting donations. Our church is holding a drive to help families in need. We’re sorting clothes by size and gender—,”

“Gender is a construct,” he cut in.

“Okay, so by size and masculine vs. feminine then.”

"And what if it's gender-neutral?" he asked.

You sighed. "Use your judgement."

“Got it,” he said and punctuated it with a nod.

“And then if we get done with that, we’ll sort toys by age, and then food by type and expiration date.”

“That sounds like a lot.”

“You shrugged. We’ll just do as much as we have time for.”

You led him down into the basement of the worship center, where all the donation boxes were stored.

“Start with that box. We’ll start sorting it based on gen—er, feminine verses masculine first. Then we’ll do children’s versus adults, and after that, go by size. Feminine clothes go there, masculine over there, you said, pointing to piles on two different tables.

“Sounds good,” he said, picking up a box and getting to work. You got back to work sifting through the box you’d been working on before he had arrived, picking up the clothes, judging which pile they belonged in and whether they were in good enough condition to rehome.

“Make sure you check for things like stains and tears. We don’t want to be sending people damaged things.”

“Got it,” he said.

Nick paused to remove his black hoodie, and you allowed yourself to sneak a glance over at him while he worked. He wore a black shirt with the sleeves cut off, exposing tattoos on his arms, though not nearly as many as Noah. He was more muscular than you realized, biceps flexing and relaxing as he folded the clothes.

“I see you staring,” he said and you looked up at him to find him smirking at you.

“I was looking at your tattoos.”

“Sure you were,” he said. “Go ahead and stare. I don’t mind.”

“I wasn’t staring,” you said, looking away from him and back down to the pile of clothes you were sorting.

“And here I was thinking I’d finally caught the Virgin Mary in an act of lust.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

He slid out from behind the table he was working at and stood next to you, picking up a shirt from the pile in front of you and checking the tag.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Just thought you looked like you could use some help over here.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine.”

The pair of you worked together in tense silence. You had to admit, the work did go much faster when he was helping. Nick worked hard and rhythmically, settling into a pace that easily bested yours. Every so often, his arm would brush up against yours, and you couldn’t figure out if it was on purpose.

“My god, who donated this?!” he exclaimed after a while. You looked over and he was holding a pair of bright yellow children’s pants with a brown stain across the back, his face scandalized.

You snorted loudly. Nick caught it and his face lit up with his own laughter, and the two of you devolved into a fit of giggles.

“We should probably toss that one,” you said after regaining your composure and pointed to the trash can in the corner. He agreed, balling the garment up and tossing it into the trash, easily sinking it into the basket even though it was across the room.

“Do you think the rest are contaminated?” he asked.

You shook your head. “The organizers washed all of these in big industrial washers. It’s just a stain. Still gross though.”

“Still gross,” he agreed.

“Alright, since we’re almost done with this box, I’m gonna grab the next one,” you said, but before you could even try to lift it, Nick had stepped in front of you, hoisting it easily up onto the table with no effort. Impressive, considering you’d been struggling to even lift the boxes of clothing yourself.

“Thanks,” you said.

“No problem. Hey, so you know how I always say you could use more fun.”

You paused folding the shirt in your hands and raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t give me that look. You know it’s true.”

You maintained your cool expression.

“Well, we’re doing a Halloween gig tonight at Jolly’s. You should come.”

You considered it. If the band was playing, that meant Noah would be there, and you’d get to see what he’s like outside of community service. It sounded tempting, but—

“I already committed to handing out candy to trick-or-treaters with the worship team.”

Nick let out a sound of annoyance. “Are you always doing church stuff?”

You laughed. “Kind of.”

“Well, what time does it go until?” he asked.

“I think trick-or-treat ends at 8:30.”

“Perfect,” he said. “The party doesn’t even start until after 9:00.”

You considered for a moment, not sure if it would be a good idea.

“I can practically hear you talking yourself out of it.”

“It’s just…,” you began.

“You’re worried you’ll get pulled into a life of sin?” he finished. “Come on. It’s one party. You don’t even have to drink.”

You thought about it. It could be interesting to see the band perform. Get an idea of the kind of music Noah’s into.

“Can I bring a friend?” you asked.

He chuckled, “sure, if it’ll get you to come.”

“Okay. Where should I go?”

Nick smiled. “Where’s your dorm? I can pick you and your friend up there at 9:00 and we’ll head over together.”

“Sounds good.”

“Oh, and wear a costume.”

_______

“No way! Really?!” Ava half-shouted.

“Don’t go crazy. I’m bringing you to be my accountability partner,” you said. “Make sure I don’t make any bad decisions while I’m there.”

“What bad decisions would you even make?” she said, “You’re the most responsible out of all of us.”

“I don’t know,” you said. “I’ve never been to this kind of party before, so I don’t know what to expect.”

“We’ll be fine,” she said. “Don’t be such a worrier.”

She had a point. You doubted you were going to do anything. But then again, you had experienced your first real temptation only a week ago, and had Nick not walked in, you weren’t one hundred percent positive you would have resisted.

Only time would tell.

_________

Trick-or-treating went smoothly. You and the rest of the worship band got dressed up in your costumes and handed out candy from the steps leading up to the church. Other organizers in your congregation had set up a mini obstacle course for the children, and a table full of apple cider and glazed donuts stood beside it, with many members of the church gathered around it.

These were the kinds of events you loved helping out at. There was such a sense of community that made you feel like you were part of something greater than yourself. Seeing the joy on everyone’s faces made putting up with the more annoying tasks well worth it.

Ava dressed as a medieval princess in a flowing white and pink gown. Isaac went as a pirate. Darian and Josh wore matching “Thing 1” and “Thing 2” costumes. You were dressed as your favorite historical president, but with a twist. The kids loved your costumes, but their own costumes were just as creative.

Part of the event that the church put on involved a costume contest, where the winner would receive a gift certificate for free pizza, soda, and dessert at the local pizza restaurant. It wasn’t much, but the kids had gone all out for it.

You and the worship band were in charge of judging the costumes, and after much deliberation between the robot (your choice) and the wolverine (Isaac’s choice), the robot eventually won out.

“It had blinking LEDs and functioning buttons with sound effects!” you said, when Isaac was salty about the outcome.

“The kid had home-made retractable claws! Do you know how much engineering that takes?”

“Sorry. The results were fair.”

“Whatever. What are you guys doing after this? Want to go bowling?”

“Actually, we already have plans,” Ava said.

“Oh? Where are you going?”

“We were invited to watch a local band.”

“Oh nice. Where is it? I might want to stop by.”

“Oh, uh. I actually don’t know. Our friend is going to pick us up,” you said, growing nervous.

Isaac’s eyes narrowed. “Which friend?”

You shifted, not knowing how to answer him.

“It’s the delinquents,” said Ava, unconcerned with the tension that had grown. “Calm down, we’ll be fine.”

Isaac looked at you as if you had told him you were going to a strip club. “That sounds like a really bad idea,” he said. “Are you sure about this? Do you want me to escort you?”

“Yes I’m sure. And no, we don’t need a chaperone. It’s just listening to a band.”

“Yeah,” said Isaac. “A secular band.”

“Isaac chill. She asked me to be her accountability partner. She’s covered. Now if you’ll excuse me, we have to get going.”

Ava grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you away. Isaac looked like he wanted to follow, but thought better of it and turned away.

“You’re welcome for that, by the way,” she said when the two of you were out of earshot.

“Thanks. I owe you,” you said. “What’s his problem?”

“He doesn’t like them. He’s been talking to me about it. He believes they’re bad news, but I think he’s just jealous, to be honest. You’re no longer paying attention to him the way you used to and he knows it.”

“What a crybaby,” you said.

“I mean, can you blame him? You spent the last several years at his beck and call, and now suddenly you dip.”

“That’s not exactly fair,” you said. “You were the same way with him.”

“Yeah, well, maybe both of us are to blame.”

“You might be right.”

You and Ava reached your dorm, where Ava stripped off the overskirt of her dress, revealing a much shorter version of her costume, complete with knee socks and heels.

“Whoa!” you exclaimed.

“I told you I wanted to experience life on the other side,” she said. “This is my chance. Don’t judge me.”

“Honestly, I’m more impressed than anything. But I don’t know. Maybe it’s a little much for your first party? Like, should you scope it out first before taking a risk like that?”

Ava shrugged. “I’m tired of the same boring things every day. I could use a little risk-taking.”

You bit back your comments, knowing that you weren’t going to change her mind. She was headstrong, which you loved about her, but it also worried you at times.

“Just don’t get too carried away, okay?” you said.

“I’m going to have at least one drink while I’m there.”

“You’re supposed to be my accountability partner!”

“I can still hold you accountable. It’s just one drink.”

You sighed and rubbed your forehead, acknowledging to yourself that it may have been a mistake to bring her.

“Please just don’t make me babysit you the whole time. I want to enjoy myself.”

“I promise. I’ll keep my wits about me. I’ll have one drink. We’ll listen to the music, maybe do a little dancing. Maybe I’ll have my first kiss, and then we’ll be home by midnight.”

You groaned. “Drinking and kissing? That’s a lot to pack into one night.”

“It’ll be fine,” she insisted. “Don’t worry about me. You just focus on enjoying yourself, okay? This is your first real party. You should be excited for you! Not worried for me.”

As if on cue, there was a knock on your door. You looked at the clock on your phone and it read 8:57.

“He’s early for once.”

You opened the door to reveal Nick’s bare chest with the image of an eagle holding a fish inked onto it. A tiny purple vest barely covered his shoulders. “Aladdin?” you asked.

“At your service,” he said, lifting the fez he wore up in salute.

“Nice,” you commented. “Nick, this is Ava.”

“Princess Ava,” he said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. “I like your costume.”

Ava burst into a fit of giggles at the flattery. “Yours too.”

“Don’t get any ideas,” you said to Nick, already knowing what he was thinking. You saw his eyes scan up and down Ava’s legs.

“What are you supposed to be?” he asked. “A sexy founding father?”

“Baberaham Lincoln,” you clarified, fiddling with the fake beard to ensure its placement.

He scanned you up and down. “I guess I see it,” he said slowly. “But to truly pass as a babe-ified version of Lincoln, I think you need to be a little sexier.”

“I wore red lipstick,” you defended.

“You could stand to undo a few buttons on your shirt. Or tie it up to make a crop top,” Ava suggested.

“I’m good,” you said.

Nick shrugged. “Suit yourself. Come on.”

You and Ava followed him out the door and began your walk towards town. Jolly’s house was supposedly a mile or so away from campus. The wind carried a chill, but Ava and Nick seemed to not notice, too enraptured in conversation. They were obviously flirting, and you’d have to remember to warn Ava about him. And threaten Nick.

The walk was quicker than you expected, and you vaguely recognized the part of town Jolly lived in. The house was light blue with black shutters. It spanned two floors, but wasn’t in great shape. Partygoers spilled out onto the front porch and lawn, all dressed in a variety of costumes. You noticed most were homemade, and you appreciated that, but they also showed much more skin than you were used to seeing and you felt overdressed. You unbuttoned one button at the top of your blouse.

“So ladies,” Nick said, gesturing to the crowd. “This is a party. Can I get either of you something to drink?”

“I’m fine,” you said. “I’ll take a drink,” said Ava.

Nick grinned. “Excellent. What would you like?”

“What do they have?” she asked.

“Follow me to the kitchen and I’ll show you.” Nick and Ava made their way into the crowd, while you hung back a few paces, wanting to get your bearings before immersing yourself into the sea of people. You scanned the strangers, looking for Noah, but came up empty.

So this was a party. It looked like people were having fun. They all seemed to be enjoying themselves, but it was very crowded and noisy. You wondered if alcohol was the key to enjoying this. Or perhaps knowing more people. Maybe you just didn’t know anyone so it was hard for you to keep from feeling out of place.

You walked up the steps and across the porch, weaving in and out among partygoers and noticing the various costumes. Superheroes, characters from popular movies and comic book series. A lot of people dressed as celebrities, and then more generic costumes like firefighter and nurse. Several girls walked around in black bodysuits with cat ears and whiskers painted on their faces. You wondered if they all knew each other.

Stepping into the house, you were met with a big cloud of cigarette smoke. It wafted into the air and permeated throughout the entire house. There was another smell too that you didn’t recognize, but you guessed was marijuana.

The tile floor was sticky, you noticed. Your shoes peeled away from the ground with each step and you could almost feel the film they were collecting. It was also hot and humid inside the house, with all the bodies that were crammed in.

Electric neon lights flashed all around in the living room, where several people gathered. It looked like that was where people went to dance. In the kitchen, Ava and Nick leaned up against the counter while Nick poured some red liquid from a large Hawaiian Punch container labeled “jungle juice.” He handed it to Ava and she smiled up at him. His hand went to rest around her waist and she blushed. You’d have to intervene eventually, but for now, you wanted to let Ava have her fun.

You took a swig of water out of the bottle you’d tucked into the inside pocket of your blazer, which was quickly growing too warm. You couldn’t abandon it though, or else nobody would know what you were dressed as—not that it mattered much. Everyone was focused on their own thing, and nobody was paying attention to you.

You found yourself a corner of the living room to stand in and you leaned against the walls, watching the guests as they danced. Some were dancing on each other. Some were making out, while others danced with abandon, twirling their arms above their heads and jumping up and down. It reminded you of summer camp, when you’d do the same thing. Dance with reckless abandon to the worship music—although the context of this dancing was wildly different.

You missed being a kid and getting to participate in all the different activities in the church. Now that you were an adult, you’d taken on more of an organizer and leadership role, overseeing all of these activities. You liked the work, but had much more fun when you were a kid, before all the responsibility kicked in.

A tall figure coming down the stairs caught your eye and you recognized him immediately. He hadn’t seen you yet, and you were perfectly content to watch him from afar.

Noah was dressed in all black. He had switched out his hoodie for a tank top, which displayed the full scope of his tattoos. He wore his hair tied back, but on his head sat a pair of shiny, dark black horns. He held a glass beer bottle in one hand and sipped casually from it.

As he made his way through the crowd, it soon became clear he was one of the more popular guests. Several people went out of their way to greet him by offering high-fives, fist bumps, or by tapping their drinks to his. A couple women were more affectionate—they greeted him by throwing their arms around his neck and wrapping him in a hug, and it was hard to admit your own jealousy to yourself. Noah could have female friends, and it wasn’t a betrayal of whatever small connection the two of you had established. Even still, it was uncomfortable to watch.

You could see the moment he spotted Nick, as he immediately made his way over to them. You were relieved to see he greeted him with more enthusiasm than anyone else. Nick introduced Ava, who shook Noah’s hand. You could see on her face that while she was just as taken aback by the abundance of tattoos as you were originally, she was visibly interested in learning who this newcomer was.

Ava said something else to Noah, who smiled and laughed, and then Nick chimed in, but you couldn’t hear any specifics. In response, Noah perked up and turned to scan the room. Nick leaned toward his friend to mention something else, pointing in your direction, and when Noah finally spotted you, he nodded and started in your direction.

That was your cue to come out of your little secluded corner. Locking eyes with him, you noticed he wore a pair of contacts that completely blacked out his eyes and made him look like a demon, which you supposed was the intent. Despite that, you were warmed by his smile.

When he reached you, he greeted you with a gentle hand on your shoulder and you found yourself wishing you had worn something sleeveless so you could feel the full effect of his touch.

“Hey! What are you doing here?” Noah asked, curious but pleased. “And what are you supposed to be?”

“I’m Baberaham Lincoln!” you said. “I thought more people would get that.”

Noah paused, scanned you up and down, and then doubled over in laughter.

“Thank you,” he said, and surprised you by wrapping you up in a warm hug and pressing you into his chest. “You made my night.”

Noah was very sweaty, and you could smell the slight sourness of body odor on him beneath the patchouli scent, but that didn’t detract from how much you enjoyed the embrace.

“Are you dressed as a demon?” you asked when he finally pulled away.

“Something like that. I didn’t put much thought into it. Just wanted to look scary.”

“Well, it did the trick,” you said. “Your eyes are kind of freaking me out.”

He smiled down at you in response and despite the unsettling costume, you felt your affection for him grow.

“You don’t mind if I drink, do you?” he asked.

“I’m not here to stop you from having any fun. I’m on your turf now.” You had to lean towards him to be heard over the sound of the music and the crowd.

“I’m really surprised you came,” he confessed. “It doesn’t seem like your normal scene, but I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” you said. Shrouded in his presence, you began to understand the appeal of these parties.

“Fair warning though,” he said, leaning down next to your face so you could hear him. “You probably aren’t going to like our music. It’s not exactly your style.” You were met with the slight pressure of his palm on your lower back, and you wondered if the alcohol had lowered his inhibitions.

“Yeah, I know,” you said, reaching into your pockets and pulling out two foam pieces. “I brought earplugs just in case.”

He grinned, dark contacts not taking away from his genuine delight. “That’s my girl.” Something erupted in your stomach at the nickname. “Hey, come here. I want to introduce you to the band.” He led you by the hand through the party and back out onto the front porch.

“This is Ruffilo and Jolly,” he said, introducing you to two other heavily-tattooed and long-haired men. “You already met Folio, our drummer. Ruffilo plays bass and Jolly pays guitar. His real name is Joakim, but we all call him Jolly.”

“Nice to meet you,” you said, extending your hand to each of them to shake.

“This is that girl I was talking about who oversees the community service.”

“Virgin Mary!” Jolly exclaimed in recognition.

Your face fell and you looked up at Noah sourly.

“Shit,” he said. “That probably wasn’t cool, was it?” he asked.

“No, not really,” you said, stepping away from him.

“Sorry, okay guys. Just Mary. Not Virgin Mary.”

“Man, come on,” you whined, and Noah giggled to himself at his own joke. You realized you were stuck with the nickname, probably for as long as you and Noah would know each other.

“So people keep requesting we play Dethrone,” said Jolly. “I think we should.”

Noah’s eyes glanced over at you and his demeanor turned to hesitant. “No Dethrone,” he said. “I’m not feeling it tonight.”

“Okay, but you don’t get to make decisions for the whole band,” reasoned Ruffilo.

“I don’t know if my voice is up to it,” Noah said. “It’s a hard one to perform.”

Ruffilo sighed. “They’re not going to be happy about it.”

“Maybe next time,” said Noah. “When I remember to bring the Throat Coat.”

Jolly fixed Noah with a look of displeasure, but sighed and relented. “Fine, but don’t neglect your vocal exercises in the future. It’s our biggest crowd-pleaser.”

“Got it,” said Noah. “I won’t.”

Ruffilo pulled out what looked like a hand-wrapped cigarette which you recognized as a joint and lit it up. He took a deep inhale before passing it to Noah, who accepted and sucked back a long drag.

“You don’t mind if I do this, do you?” he intoned, keeping the air trapped in his lungs as he spoke before exhaling a few moments later.

“Not at all,” you said, though something was telling you it was time to take some space.

“Hey, I’m gonna go find Ava,” you said. “You guys have fun.”

“You good?” asked Noah, looking at you with sincerity.

You nodded. “Promise. I just want to check on her.”

“Okay,” he said, taking another drag. “We go on in a few minutes, but I’ll meet up with you after our set. Wait for me?”

“Of course,” you said, softening despite your discomfort.

You didn’t want to leave his side, but if you stayed, you knew you’d be uncomfortable with the situation and you’d already exposed yourself to enough unfamiliarity that night.

You made your way back into the kitchen, noting that Nick and Ava had moved. You scanned around the house and finally spotted them on the dance floor. He had his arm wrapped around her waist and they were pressed up close to each other. He whispered something into her ear and she threw her head back in laughter.

It was innocent enough, but you’d step in if you felt like you had to.

Wandering through the house, you searched for a quiet spot and a breath of fresh air. You spotted a back door down a short hallway and made a beeline for it, opening to find it a small back yard with a firepit and only a few people standing around it.

You made your way through the yard, past the fire pit and to the back edge where an old shed sat. You leaned against it, closing your eyes and breathing deep. The cool night air filled your lungs, along with the scent of burning wood from the fire.

You were reminded of nights like these spent at church camp during Vespers. Gathering around the campfire and signing along with whoever played the acoustic guitar. Some of the most transformative times of your life happened around those fires. You felt so connected to God. The Holy Spirit permeated through the air, vibrating with intensity and everyone there could feel it. In that moment, you knew that everyone around that fire, no matter where they came from, felt the exact same way you did.

Now, you felt disconnected from your surroundings in an all-consuming way. It was as if everyone else was riding an energetic frequency you couldn’t seem to find and didn’t know if you wanted to. Even Ava, your best friend, assimilated seamlessly into the party atmosphere.

You breathed deeply in and out through your nose and ran your fingertips along the paint that was flaking off the siding of the shed, which served to ground you in the way you needed. You knew you’d have to rejoin the party soon, but you were grateful for this private moment of solace.

As if on cue, the sound of guitars blasted through the back door, demanding your presence. You took out the ear plugs and stuffed them into your ears, the foam muffling the sound and softening the world around you, which had grown abrasive in the last hour or so. _____

The basement floor was damp and even stickier than the kitchen. It was also much more crowded than the upper floor had been now that the entire party was gathered into a single space.

The crowd looked on eagerly as the band set up and did their sound checks. The excitement was tangible and you had no idea Noah’s band had such a following.

“Check. Check,” Noah shouted into the microphone. “I need more in my monitor.” You looked to the back of the room where a small table was set up and someone was running sound.

The sound check took several minutes, but once all the levels were steady, Noah opened his mouth and let out one of the loudest and most demonic sounds you’d ever heard come from a person. You jumped out of your skin, feeling your arm hair stand on end.

Four clicks from Nick’s drumsticks and the entire band joined in, producing a volume even your ear plugs couldn’t compete with.

“Alright you motherfuckers,” Noah shouted. “We’re Bad Omens and we’ve come to steal your souls on this beautiful Hallow-fucking-ween.”

The crowd cheered. Many began jumping up and down in time with the music. The lights flashed from bright green to a deep red, and Noah began to sing.

“Dead on the inside!”

You never knew live music could be this loud or a crowd this energetic. You’d gone to a few Christian rock concerts, but they were nothing compared to what was happening in front of you.

As the band played through the first few verses of the opening song, the energy of the crowd steadily grew. By the time they hit the crescendo, it looked like a fight had broken out in the audience.

You were immediately put on guard, not sure why nobody else was reacting to it, including the band, when you overserved a few minutes longer and realized that the audience seemed to be…enjoying themselves. It wasn’t a fist fight, you noted. It looked like a bunch of people pushing each other around and flailing their bodies into each other.

Moshing. They were moshing. You remember hearing about it from Isaac, who was into more of the heavier music like The Devil Wears Prada. He said they headlined a Christian music festival he went to over the summer and mentioned that he’d been in a mosh pit, describing what it had been like in vivid detail.

Looking at the audience now, you couldn’t ever imagine someone like Isaac holding their own in a crowd like this.

The next several songs went on like that. The energy of the crowd never died down, and Noah alternated between screaming and singing. You had no idea how his throat could even handle making those noises without bleeding halfway through the first song. You’d have to ask him about that later.

All-in-all, he was right. It definitely wasn’t your preferred style of music, but you could appreciate the passion behind it. Noah’s singing voice was actually beautiful. He hit high notes you’d never heard a man hit before, and he did it with ease. You wished he would stick to that type of singing, but you supposed there had to be an appeal to the screaming, or else the crowd wouldn’t be so lively.

Despite it not being your style, you had fun watching the band perform. Noah’s passion was obvious. He threw his entire body into his performance, letting the music reverberate from deep inside him, and you were content to watch him in his natural habitat.

The juxtaposition was wild. He was normally so closed off and reserved. Here, he was uninhibited. It was like he belonged on a stage and in front of a microphone, and you found yourself feeling happy that he found this outlet for himself.

When the band played their final note, Noah thanked the crowd for coming out and told them all where they could purchase merch and download music.

“Dethrone!” someone shouted from the audience.

“Not tonight, guys. That one’s hard on my throat,” he said.

“Dethrone!” more people shouted. The crowd began to chant over and over again.

“I mean, it’s Halloween. We kind of have to play it,” the man you’d met earlier—Ruffilo—said into the mic.

“Dethrone! Dethrone! Dethrone!” the crowd chanted, and you wondered what kind of song it must be to cause the crowd to react so strongly.

Noah hesitated, looking very torn. He scanned the crowd for a few moments before locking eyes with you and his face held a look of what you could only describe as apology. He held eye contact with you for several minutes, and then he sighed and turned back to the crowd.

“Alright all you fucking cowards, this one’s called Dethrone, and I want to see you tear this fucking place to the ground.”

The guitar came in with a fast and heavy riff for a few bars before the bass and drum joined them. The lights flashed on and off and Noah let out a deep, guttural growl that lasted several bars.

The crowd went absolutely feral. The entire audience began thrashing around and pushing up against one another. Even at the back of the room, you got shoved left and right.

Throughout the noise of the crowd and the screaming you could only make out bits and pieces of the lyrics.

“…when I was killed and born again.”

“If he’s home I’ve got a message from below. Fuck you.”

“…Take me to the pearly gates, so I can look you in the eye when I spit in your face.”

The moment you realized what the song was about, you reached your breaking point. You had to get out of there. You did your best to navigate your way over to the stairs through the sea of thrashing people. You were almost to the steps when someone slammed an elbow hard into the side of your face.

“Ow!” you shouted, but nobody paid attention. You reached the railing and pulled yourself up from the crowd, rushing up the stairs as fast as you could and outside the back door of the house.

You could still hear the song from the outside, but it was muffled enough for you to take a few deep breaths. Your face stung where it had been hit, and you had to shake your hands vigorously to steady yourself.

It was too much. It was all too much. Not just the party and the drinking and the drug use, but the anger of it all. The violence. The deliberate threats made towards the God you’ve known and loved your entire life. The hatred towards Him. And it felt personal. It felt like an attack on everything you’ve built your life around.

You let out a choked sound, no longer able to hold the tears back. You covered your mouth with your hand, trying hard not to make noises in case anyone was around, and stumbled your way to the back of the shed, where hopefully nobody could witness your state.

Inside, you heard the song come to an end and the crowd give one final cheer for the band.

You knew the crowd would be dispersing soon and there was a chance someone would stumble upon you. The yard was completely fenced in and in order to get out, you’d have to go through the house.

You sank to your knees, clutching at the frigid blades of grass, which helped steady you a little. Tears still pouring down, you tried to steady your breathing as best as you can, when you heard your name being called.

It was Noah. You didn’t want to answer him. Didn’t want him to see you like this. In your head, you prayed a silent prayer he would go back into the house and let you compose yourself in peace.

God, however, had other plans.

“Shit,” Noah said as he turned the corner of the shed and found you. “I’m so sorry you had to see that.” He knelt down in front of you, trying to get a look at your face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you choked out.

“Shit,” he said again, noticing your tears. “Come on, let me walk you home.”

You shook your head. “I don’t want to go back through there.” You hid your face, feeling ashamed at your own reaction.

“Come on, let’s talk,” he said, grabbing your hand and trying to pull you to your feet.

“I said I’m fine,” you protested. This time it came out sharper. You didn’t want to take your feelings out on him, but you found it impossible to control your tone in the moment.

“Let’s at least get you into a quiet room. Come on, my studio is in this shed. Nobody will bother you. Promise.”

At the promise of a quiet space with nobody to see you, you relented and allowed him to lead you around the side of the shed. He unclipped a set of keys from a carabiner on his belt loop and used one of them to unlock the door, ushering you inside. He relocked it behind him and plugged in a set of string lights that cast the room in a warm, dim glow.

“Have a seat,” he said and gestured to the couch that lined the wall on one side. You obeyed, sitting on the couch and doubling over, arms crossed over your legs and head buried in them. You continued to work to steady yourself.

Noah set a box of tissues beside you, and then rolled his desk chair in front of where you were sitting. He sat facing you, long legs on either side of your knees. Then he placed his hands firmly on your shoulders.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

You nodded into your arms.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

You nodded again.

“What happened?” he asked, voice softer now.

“I had a panic attack.” Your voice came out muffled.

“Because of the song?” he said.

You nodded again.

“Shit,” he said for the third time.

“And I got elbowed in the face.”

“Shit.” A fourth. “Can I see?”

You shook your head no.

“Please? I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Reluctantly, you lifted your head to show him.

He let out a compressed breath. “Oof. Yeah, it looks like you’ve got yourself a bit of a shiner,” he said, cupping your face gently.

You refused to meet his eyes, instead opting for a tissue so you could blow your nose. An embarrassing amount of mucus shot into the tissue. Then you pulled a second one to wipe off any makeup that may have smeared.

“Does it hurt?”

You sniffled and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Shit.”

“Is that your favorite word or something?”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have warned you about the crowd. I’m so used to that stuff now. I forget what it’s like for someone who’s never been to a show like that before.”

“It’s fine,” you said.

“It’s not though. I’d been drinking. I didn’t have my wits about me, and because of that you got hurt.”

You sighed. “It wasn’t the elbow,” you said, finally meeting his eyes. His brows furrowed with concern and he let his hands slide down to rest on your knees, thumbs rubbing gentle circles over them. You could only handle eye contact for a second before you had to look away again. “Is that how you really feel?”

Noah puffed out a breath. “I didn’t want you to have to see that.”

“I knew you had a lot of anger. But not that much.”

He dropped his head, staring at where his hands rested on your knees. “It must have been pretty jarring.”

“Yeah,” you admitted. “I think it was just a lot for me. I was out of my comfort zone all night, and then that happened. I’ve never seen so many people with such…disdain for God.”

Noah dug his thumbnail into your thigh softly and bit his lip.

“I know.”

“Why though? Why all the anger? Why the hate? And why do you hang out with those people?”

“I’m one of them,” he said. “I know it might be hard to digest, especially since you’ve been protected from it for so long, but there are a lot of people out there who feel that way. It doesn’t necessarily make them bad people.”

“But that wasn’t just anger. That was hate.”

“Yeah,” he said, cupping the backs of your thighs. He still wasn’t explaining anything and you were growing frustrated.

“What am I not getting?” you finally asked.

Noah hesitated, fingers drawing patterns over your pants.

“Not everyone has the best upbringing,” he explained, voice tender. “There are people born into shitty situations and they never receive the help or support they need. Life doesn’t provide opportunities to them the way it does for some others, and after a while, the injustice of it all gets to be too much.”

He gave you an opportunity to respond, but you stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

“My parents were addicts. I think I already mentioned it. And I was born in a town where half the people don’t make it to 18 without an addiction of some sort. Ruffilo and I were lucky to escape, but I’ve seen friends and families torn apart by drugs and crime. I’ve seen pregnant 14-year-old girls turn to prostitution to afford their drug habits. Do you know how hard that is to watch?”

You shook your head.

“If God exists, how can I not be angry with him for allowing shit like that to happen?”

You were at a loss for words, humbled even in your hurt.

“I don’t know what to say,” you whispered.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said, squeezing your thighs with his hands. “I don’t judge you for how you feel about God. But I do need you to accept that this part of me exists. And it’s not going anywhere. At least, not for a while.”

A couple more tears dripped from your lashes and landed on Noah’s hands. He didn’t flinch away. Instead, he brought a thumb up to your cheekbones and wiped off the remaining wetness that clung to your lashes.

“Look. I don’t know if I believe in God. But if he does exist, and he’s as loving as you say he is, I have to believe he’ll forgive me for how I act in my anger. I think he’ll understand why that anger is necessary for me to feel, and I don’t think he’d punish me for it. If anything, I think he’d allow me to move through it for as long as I need. Or want me to, even, so that I can process it and eventually move on.”

As Noah spoke, something washed over you like a wave. A tension that had been growing inside of you for as long as you could remember began to release, and with it came a brand new understanding.

“Noah,” you whispered. “Have you ever thought about being a pastor?”

Noah’s face broke into a smile and he huffed out a breath of air that fanned out over your face. He smelled like stale beer and smoke, but there was another layer underneath that smelled vaguely sweet.

“That is the weirdest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“No, I’m serious,” you said with a sniffle, and wiped away another tear. “You know more about God than any church leader I’ve met.”

“I think sometimes it’s hard to see the bigger picture when you’re too close,” he whispered, face now much closer to yours. “I have the benefit of having stepped away.”

You were silent for a moment, digesting the conversation. You didn’t want to talk about it anymore, but you weren’t ready to go back and rejoin the party.

“Can I show you something I’ve been working on?” asked Noah.

“Sure,” you said.

He kicked his feet into the floor and pushed back from where you were sitting, rolling across the floor and over to his desk. He fiddled with a few wires and switches before opening his laptop and pulling up a program.

“I’ve had this melody in my head for a while,” he said, messing with some of the controls before hitting play. “I don’t have any words yet, but I wanted to show you.”

A soft melody began playing through the speakers. Somber. Completely different from any of the songs you’d heard during their set.

“How long have you been working on this?” you asked as the music played.

“A couple of weeks,” he said, not offering much more explanation.

He wouldn’t meet your eye. Rather, he fidgeted with an auxiliary cable, twisting it around in his hands while simultaneously bouncing his legs up and down softly in time with the drums on the track.

The slow melody held out through the song, but the music grew in intensity, settling into a low-fi R&B vibe.

Seemingly growing restless, Noah spun back around in his chair to face you. He muttered something but you were unable to decipher it over the music.

“What?” you asked.

“I’ve been experimenting with different styles,” he said, a little louder. “Hoping to expand my skills.”

“I like this,” you said. “Definitely more to my tastes.”

He smiled out of the corner of his mouth. “Metal isn’t for everyone.”

“I see the appeal of it,” you said. “I’m sure it resonates with a lot of people, even if I’m not one of them. Your band has a lot of…uh…passionate fans.”

The smile reached both sides of his mouth and he inched closer to you.

“What made you decide to come tonight?” he asked, and you knew it was important for you to be honest in that moment.

“I wanted to see you.”

Like a magnet to metal, Noah gravitated toward you again. There were no false pretenses for why. He wanted to be near you.

Resuming his position from earlier, he sat across from you, legs stretched out on either side of yours. He leaned back in his fancy office chair, and you mirrored him, sinking deeper into the couch.

You watched him watching you, scanning his features for any signals as to what was going on inside his head at that moment. The music played out through the speakers and neither of you made any efforts to fill space or silence. When the song reached its conclusion, it stopped automatically, and it was a while before anyone spoke.

“Does it have a name?” you asked, breaking the silence.

“Not yet,” he said.

“It’s good. I don’t have much music knowledge to say exactly what it is that I like about it, but I can tell I like it. I’d be interested in seeing how it progresses.”

“Good,” he said, arms folded over his torso. He swiveled slightly from left to right, knees knocking into yours as he did.

You looked from your legs back up to his face and he met your gaze. Normally, you’d be the first one to break a silence like this, finding discomfort in the tension, but that night, you waited, wanting to see what Noah would do.

It took a long time for him to crack, but when he finally did, it was to ask you a question.

“Did you do what we talked about?”

You raised an eyebrow, challenging him to be more direct with his question.

“Masturbate?” The word held a slight choked sound, as if there’d been an obstacle in his throat trying to get it out.

You nodded.

“How was it?”

“It…was.”

And that was the truth. You’d made an attempt, but experienced a few difficulties. While you went into it with the intention of showing love to yourself without shame, getting rid of that shame was easier said than done.

For one, you couldn’t imagine yourself agreeing to have sex without feeling guilty, which forced you to jump through several mental hoops involving being restrained and forced in order to feel like you had any sort of plausible deniability you could use should God choose that moment to judge you.

However, in doing that, you felt extremely guilty for engaging in that fantasy, because any real victim of sexual assault would not be thinking about it that way, and should you really be romanticizing that kind of thing? You ended up heavily judging yourself before God even had a chance to judge you.

“I ran into some…difficulties.”

“Mentally or physically?” he asked, left thigh pressed up against your right.

“I think mental.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You sighed. “Yeah, kind of. But don’t judge me, okay?”

“If you pictured Isaac, I’m going to have to judge you.”

You shook your head. “I didn’t picture Isaac.”

“Good. Who did you picture?”

“Nobody,” you lied. “Just some nameless, faceless person.”

Up until that point, the conversation had flowed quickly like a game of table tennis, but the lie threw off the rhythm. Noah wasn’t satisfied. He allowed you to get away with it and didn’t press you on it, but now it was his turn for something.

He leaned forward, hands resuming their place on your knees, and looked at you as if he dared you to protest.

You didn’t.

“What difficulties did you have?”

You hesitated. He dug his thumbnail into your thigh.

“I had to imagine myself being forced.”

“Forced?” His hands stilled.

“Like tied up.”

His eyebrow quirked upward. His gaze dropped to where your hands rested in your lap. Sliding his hands up your legs, he encircled your wrists in his long fingers and turned them so they faced upwards, palms open to the sky as if in praise. He kept a tight hold while his eyes flicked briefly back up to meet yours.

Noah was playing a game of chicken. Seeing how far he could push you until you cracked.

“It’s a common fantasy,” he said, voice low and breathy. “Makes sense.”

“You don’t think it’s messed up?”

Noah rubbed his thumbs along the inside of your wrists, stopping every once in a while to apply pressure to different points. He stared at them while he spoke.

“I try not to judge myself for my fantasies. As long as there’s consent, there’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

“You don’t think that it’s disrespectful to people who have been forced in real life?”

He sucked on the inside of his cheek and released it with a clicking sound before taking a deep breath. “Many survivors actually find healing through engaging in that kink.”

“It’s hard to imagine myself consenting without the guilt creeping in.”

Noah nodded. “Understandable. You’ll give it when you’re ready.”

You closed your eyes and indulged in the pressure he put on your wrists. Your skin ignited under his touch, the same way it had when his fingers had brushed the back of your neck all those weeks ago. He trailed his fingers along your palms and your hands closed reflexively around them.

“Is that something you think you’d be into in real life?” he asked. You could hear the shuffling of movement, but didn’t open your eyes. Your fingers continued to dance together with his.

“Hard to say,” you said. “I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

“What’s this?” he asked, finding the silver ring on your left ring finger.

“Promise ring,” you answered.

“Like an engagement ring?” he asked.

“A symbol of a promise to God to stay pure until marriage.” His hands stilled. “We all got one in school.”

Noah pinched the ring between his two fingers.

“Is that something you’re still committed to?”

“I don’t know,” you said. “I don’t know what I believe anymore.”

You opened your eyes to look at Noah, who had vacated his chair and was now kneeling on the floor in front of you.

Holding eye contact, he began to slide the ring up your finger.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Just let me try something.” He removed the ring, sticking it in his back pocket for safe keeping. “How does that feel?”

“Light.”

The ring was soldi metal. It weighed heavy on your hand and the absence of it wasn’t unwelcome. This was the first time you’d taken it off since first receiving it. It was both taboo and invigorating.

“When did you make that promise?”

“When I was thirteen.”

“Before you even knew what sexuality was?”

You nodded.

“How cruel,” he said, dropping his hands back to your knees and prying them open so he could wedge his body between them. “Binding yourself to a promise you made before you even knew what you were promising.”

“That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?” you said, trying not to blush. Noah’s body between your legs was a brand new sensation that left you feeling like your entire lower half was engulfed flames.

His greedy hands migrated to the backs of your knees and he tugged you forward on the couch so your faces were mere inches apart. His breath ghosted across your neck.

Your composure began to crack, breath speeding up, and you hoped he couldn’t tell. Saliva pooled on your tongue. You found yourself unable to look anywhere but his bottom lip, wondering how it would taste. How it would feel between your teeth.

Noah had grown bolder with every move you let him get away with. Any moment, he’d move in for the kill.

“You don’t owe your body to anyone,” he said. “Not even to God.”

“God gave me this body,” you countered.

“Yeah. He did. It’s yours to take care of. Bodies have needs.”

“And you think you’re the one to meet those needs, Noah?”

His fingers clutched hungrily at your thighs. “I could be.”

His tongue poked out to wet his lips. He’d been building towards this conclusion the whole evening, and now it was time for him to make his move. Noah was going to kiss you.

Two things happened simultaneously. Noah tugged you closer, and in his movement, the shiny black horns on the top of his head caught the light and drew your eye to them.

Your gut clenched.

Not yet.

“I should—,” you began a second too late. Noah’s mouth collided with your jaw, and as soon as it registered in his mind, he jumped back as if he’d been burned. “I should, um,” you cleared your throat, “go check on Ava. She’s never drank before. Wouldn’t want her doing anything she’d regret.”

He sat back on his heels, hand coming up to wipe at something on the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he said. “Of course.” His dejection was evident in his voice and the way he wouldn’t meet your eyes.

“See you Saturday?” you asked, standing up.

“Sure,” he said, blinking up at the ceiling. The defeated slump of his shoulders was what fully broke you. With one last look of apology, you unlocked the door and slipped out. Halfway across the yard, you heard a banging sound from the shed, as if something had been kicked.

You rushed inside to find Ava.

_________________ Taglist: @sundamariis

Click here to be added to the taglist! Also please leave a comment if you've enjoyed this and want me to continue this story. I'd love to hear your feedback.

#noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fic #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfiction #Noah Sebastian #noah sebastian smut #sorry Noah Sebastian

156 notes · View notes