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thelightsandtheroses · 4 months

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everywhere, everything | jm x female reader [au]

Summary: In recent months, the bar your family has owned for generations has changed. Now it can't keep a bouncer beyond one shift, attracts the 'wrong' crowd, and is an albatross around you and your cousin's neck. Your cousin's latest hire, Joel Miller, seems like he might just survive the shift and as time passes, you can't help but want to know him more. AKA the Bouncer!Joel fic Word Count: 8.2k Warnings: 18+ MDNI, mentions of canon typical violence, RoadHouseBouncer!Joel AU, no outbreak, no specified age but reader has a cousin and inferred (not detailed) family deaths in the past, flirting, smut (p in v), Joel Miller is his chaotic self, mentions of death of a child (canon), many scenes set in a bar and mentions of alcohol or drinking, your standard lolabee flangst and introspection, reader mentions music, singing and playing guitar. Notes: So much appreciation for encouraging me to write this fic goes to @trulybetty for listening toand supporting my ideas and @rhoorl. Watching the new Road House movie at the same time as starting TLOU games led to this idea I couldn't let go of. Fic title isfrom the Noah Kahan song of the same name.

It’s starting to weigh on you.

You see it in your cousin more though; the weariness in her eyes as the local gangs come in and inevitably cause trouble. Both of you know where it comes from, the reasons behind it, why it’s so much worse for your roadhouse than anywhere else in the town.

Most days, you want to leave and sell up. Sometimes a fight is too much, it isn’t worth the cost, there’s too high a loss, too tiresome a battle. Everything your cousin possesses is tied up in the bar though. It’s not that simple for her and you won’t walk away from your family. You can’t.

The two of you cannot be the ones who let decades of your family’s legacy just wash away to nothing.

That was why your cousin had started with the bouncers in the first place. The two of you can only afford one, but it’s a small building, a small town.

“This one will be different,” your cousin says with a firm nod and smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “I just know he will. He’s new in town, he starts tonight and he - when you meet him, you’ll see what I mean.”

You don’t say that she said the same thing about the last bouncer - what was his name? Dave, or Frankie, or something like that. You’ve stopped learning their names now - it’s pointless when they never last longer than a few days.

The bar is still quiet; tinny music coming through the speakers as you finish unloading the clean glasses from the dishwasher.

“Are you playin’ tonight?” she asks.

“Might do. If the crowd let me,” you say, smiling at your cousin gently. It’s a joke now; the bar hasn’t been safe enough in months for that.

It used to be your favourite thing about this place; the music, the ability to perform songs and transport yourself to what could have been, what could be. It might not be Nashville, or the Sofi stadium, but it’s the closest you think you’ll ever get to feeling like a real musician. And now you don’t even have that.

“Good, they will. It’s going to be a good one tonight, you’ll see.”

The new bouncer is called Joel but your cousin calls him by his surname: Miller.

He’s quiet, not like the other one. Instead of stalking around and flexing, Miller sits in the corner of the bar, perched on a stool and staring into a cup of coffee as though it would answer all his queries about the universe.

You feel bad about the coffee; you should have warned him that it’s truly awful, pointed him in the direction of the small diner ten minutes away that serves some of the best coffee in the whole state. You think your own coffee isn’t too bad either; perfected and tweaked over years to figure out the perfect combination of beans and grind to bring the best out of your worn moka pot.

“Next time, I’d go for water,” you say lightly as you approach his side of the bar. It’s still quiet for this time of the evening but the trouble doesn’t usually start until after ten anyway.

“Oh, yeah?”

“I’m not sure we can even legally call this coffee. I think there’s more caffeine in the Kahlua.”

“You have Kahlua?” Miller asks.

“It’s a very old bottle, I really wouldn’t risk it.” You try and remember the last time someone ordered a drink with it here but it’s hazy. The Bar doesn’t exactly attract people for its cocktail list anymore.

“Pity.”

“I can get you a water if you’d prefer. Or something else?”

“It’s fine.” You notice Miller has pushed the cup slightly away from him though. He eyes it with mild disgust and you feel suddenly even more worried for him. If he can’t handle the coffee, he surely won’t be able to handle the patrons.

“You’re Joe, right?”

“Joel,” he corrects instantly.

“Joel, right. Sorry.”

“Are there that many of us passin’ through, that you don’t learn the names properly now? Is that why your boss calling me Miller?” He doesn’t know who you are, that’s clear. He doesn’t know it’s your family’s legacy here too and you’re not just a bartender. This place matters to you.

“It’s only your first shift.”

Joel sighs and meets your gaze. His eyes are deep brown and you take in the slight salt and pepper to his stubble, the surprisingly comfortable looking plaid flannel he’s wearing. At the same time, you notice the stoniness in his posture, the wariness in his eyes.

He isn’t spoiling for a fight because he lives for them, not like the other bouncers your cousin has hired.

You’ve already realised that Joel Miller fights in an entirely differently way to his predecessors. You can tell his biggest battles aren’t the ones in a bar like this. Without projecting too much, you think they’re probably inside his mind. No one has haunted eyes like that without a story. You’re a bartender, you can just tell.

“What have you have been told about this gig? Do you know what you’re getting into?”

“I know this place has some troubles,” he says carefully.

“I’ll say.”

You remember when things were different in the town, in the bar. It wasn’t like this back then. It used to be for families. Your aunt once joked that your dad’s cooking could bring the entire town together. It’s been a long time since the place was known for a family meal though.

You grew up with laughter and joy inside these walls. Now, it feels like it must have happened somewhere else entirely. This bar is still where you ran in after being asked on your first date ever, where you opened your SAT results, studied while the bar was closed, had every family significant gathering or event you can remember.

This isn’t just a job for you.

“How long have you been here? No offence, but you don’t seem the type -”

“It’s my family’s bar. Your boss you mentioned, she’s my cousin. The two of us run it these days, well I mean, I only help out. It’s her bar now more than mine but it’s been our family’s place for generations. We’re what’s left.” All that’s left.

“I didn’t know. I wasn’t - I didn’t mean anything by that.”

“Of course, Miller.” His words weren’t meant with offence but he had still managed to pick at your vulnerability that you don’t truly belong and cut at your soul.

Your family never thought you’d keep up with the bar, your cousin was the clear front runner to inherit it and you supported that. You wanted to leave your hometown, that had never been a secret and your childhood bedroom had been covered in posters and postcards for exciting and different places.

Once, you dreamt of Nashville, of music venues and guitar calloused hands playing idle melodies as a tour bus drove you to your next city across a starlit sky.

Life had different plans for you thought.

“This town didn’t used to be like this,” you add, “We’ve had a lot of bad luck and - the whole town is suffering. You wouldn’t have recognised this place if you passed through even just a few years ago.”

”I’m -“

The door to the bar crashes open before Joel can finish his sentence. You notice the first of the regular troublemakers walking in and warily look around the bar. You can tell by their posture, the look on their face exactly what type of night it’s going to be.

“Looks like your work will be getting started soon, Miller. I’d drink up.”

He might just survive his first shift. That’s annoying - you have five bucks counting on him either walking out or be stretchered out like any of the bouncers by the end of the night.

You try and pay attention to your surroundings. It’s sensible in your line of work. For so many people that line between a good night and becoming the worst version of themselves is wafer thin and you’re often the first line of defence, you’re the one who has to say when someone’s not being served anymore.

Your cousin is in the back office, trying to sort out the multitude of paperwork that comes with owning a bar or business that nobody ever thinks about.

He’s calm, polite even for the most part.

He doesn’t escalate the situation, not like some of the bouncers who have spent a shift here recently. Mostly he sits and observes. His calmness is almost disconcerting and contrasts sharply with the danger in his posture, the readiness to move he’s concealing.

There hasn’t been too much trouble so far tonight; a mild fight which was easily taken outside but you can feel the tension in the air.

“Can I get ‘nother whiskey?” Robert slurs. He’s a regular to the bar now and has a particular penchant for not being able to handle his alcohol, being very resentful at being cut off, and worse of all never has enough money to cover his bill or damages.

“I think you’re done for tonight,” you say lightly.

“Nah, I say when I’m done.”

“Not according to the liquor licence,” you snark back.

“Look, just pour me -”

“You’re done.”

“You’re such a fucking bitch.” Robert slams his fist down on the bar.

“I think it’s time to go,” Joel says politely, suddenly standing next to Robert in the bar. You’re not sure if he’ll last as a bouncer here but you’ll give him points for stealthiness. You hadn’t even heard him approaching.

“I think -“ Robert starts before pulling a sloppy punch. Joel easily dodges it, raising his eyebrow incredulously at Robert.

“C’mon, now, it’s time to go.”

He places a hand on Robert’s shoulder and guides him out. You’re struck that he didn’t escalate the situation - that was the last bouncer’s mistake. What he hadn’t counted on was what Robert is a mean drunk and often gets a second wind of energy.

Joel walks back up to you at the bar. “The way people talk about this place. That wasn’t so -“

“That, Miller, that was nothing.”

You watch as another troublemaker, Owen, walks in, all biker vest and swagger. It’s never a good night when he’s here. Usually his presence signals a full moon style night of fights, shouting and misery. He hasn’t been in for weeks to your joy; you’d heard a rumour he was in jail. Not any more though.

“Miller you see now the trouble’s really going to start. That wasn’t even your warmup.”

Sunlight streams through the window as you finish wiping over the table. It’s your favourite time of day in the bar. Your cousin is catching up on admin, sleep and supplier deliveries, the bar is empty and it’s just you, the stereo and sunlight.

You can’t help but lose yourself in the music just for a moment. You love this song, the beat, the lyrics, the way it ebbs and flows in all the right places. Music is magic.

You’re not in a rundown bar, not weighed down by obligation and memories and self-doubt. You’re not here, you’re somewhere else. In a city, in a crowd, on a stage or even just dancing around somewhere else. You’re lighter and freer and desperate for the song to continue just a little more as you spin around, humming along with the lyrics.

You hear the door open and turn around quickly. You heard about the diner getting robbed a couple of weeks ago. You should have locked the door.

Miller’s there, some light discolouration to his jaw from the one punch he didn’t dodge, but otherwise intact.

“You seem surprised to see me,” he says.

“You’ve cost me five bucks,” you reply simply.

He raises an eyebrow, “Didn’t think I could hack it*?*”

“The odds are the odds.”

“Well, I’m sorry about your money.”

“Yep, that five bucks was my ticket out of this town,” you joke.

“Not sure that would even cover a bus ticket,” he replies dryly.

“Maybe the coffee for on the bus?”

“Maybe.”

“So, day two,” you say awkwardly, swinging your arms around you and then immediately wondering why on earth you did that. You busy yourself by turning down the speakers.

“Yep,” Miller says casually, sitting on a bar stool.

“Have - are you hungry?” you ask, suddenly conscious that it’s lunchtime and Joel not doubt has another difficult day ahead.

“I could eat.”

”It’s nothing fancy, because the kitchen’s not open, but it is homemade - well, it was. I froze it but it’s defrosted and it’s really good. Also, frozen food still retains its nutrients well, and in the case of cake, freezing it makes it even better.”

“I see.” Miller pauses, “It’s not cake, is it? I don’t think I can eat frozen cake before a shift. ”

“No,” you argue, “it’s Tuesday, that’s what we’d do on a Wednesday! Today it’s lasagne.”

Miller smiles then. It’s a good smile. Slightly crooked and his eyes crease a little, the way you always associate someone smiling when they mean it. His deep eyes are momentarily lighter, there’s a change in him.

You want to tease more smiles out of this man, want to identify each and every changed in his face or the way his hands tap against the old bar. You want to keep him like this, bask in the glow that you’ve bought that expression to his face.

“Lasagne sounds great,” he says after a moment.

“Sure, okay, Miller. Coming right up.”

“Call me Joel. Please.”

“Okay, Joel.”

You like how his name sounds against your teeth, the way he smiles once more when you say his name.

It becomes a habit. Joel survives shift after shift and inevitably turns up to the bar early the following day when you’re there.

He’s lasted longer than fourteen bouncers now. He might just make it. He’s quiet, yes, but you’ve seen the violence in his movements when needed, the way he tries to be polite and then it’s over, then it’s a line. There’s something that compels and terrifies you about the violence he holds, its contradiction because he speaks to you so softly and how can a man be capable of both?

“You need a second bouncer,” he says one morning as you’re trying and failing to sort the back door out.

The employee room in the bar is a barely functioning space. Cliche after cliche with the cheap red IKEA futon, mismatching furniture and chairs and elderly microwave and kettle. The air conditioning has never worked in the room and now the back door is jammed too.

The place is falling apart.

“Can’t afford it,” you reply nonchalantly. “We’re doing our best.”

“I know. But then someone could try and watch at the door, stop some of these people coming in.”

“I know. But no one’s coming in because they’re there so we can’t afford a bouncer. It’s uh, a catch 22. Can’t even afford to replace the damn -” You shove your weight against the door to no avail.

“I can fix that,” Joel says softly as you kick the door one more time.

“The gangs? That’s ambitious.”

“The door.”

“Oh, it’s just the weather and it always gets stuck now. Replacing it would cost-”

“I can fix it. I uh, used to be a contractor.”

“A contractor?” Joel hasn’t talked about his past much before. You know he has a brother, he’s the oldest and that he’s from Texas. Joel carries that

“Did you have to say that with the air of a cowboy in an old movie?”

“I wasn’t aware I did,” he replies, cocking his eyebrow in a way.

“What sort of contractor were you?”

“Building, just the general type.”

“Oh, okay. So you could actually fix the door?”

“I said so, didn’t I?”

“How do you get from contractor to bouncer?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’d expect so.”

Joel squirms awkwardly. You’ve watched him easily apprehend aggressive gang members shouting the vilest things to Joel and move them outside. You’ve seen him barely blink over ill drunks spilling their souls on his shoes. You’ve seen him so strong and resolute.

He looks at his watch which, for the first time, you notice is broken and then at the ground.

“It’s fine, Joel,” you say, “you don’t need to tell me anymore.”

He keeps coming back, night after night and things start to change. It’s small, a fixed door and then a window catch replaced, the fact the gangs start coming around less. It’s change but the quiet type of change you only discover through previously entrenched routines.

You’ve spent time cataloguing his details, each scar or line, the way he takes his coffee (black, but a two to one ratio of sugar that makes you wince a little). Joel Miller has a sweet tooth.

You’re used to Joel now, you like talking to him in quiet moments in the bar, before or after shifts as he hangs around just a little longer. You tell him about the town, about how it was growing up, he lets it slip he’s from Texas, mentions a brother, Tommy, and you want to unpeel his secrets more and more.

You proudly place the slab of cake in front of him. Rain hammers against the windows and roof, creating great echoes as it sounds like the bar will come down around you. It’s unseasonal, the rain, an omen of quiet days. Today you don’t mind.

“What’s the occasion?” Joel asks, looking at the cake curiously.

“It’s a Wednesday.” You take a bite of your own slice, savouring the flavours, the delicate balance of sponge and icing. If you can say so, it’s a pretty great cake. You really have improved over recent months and while this was experimental, you’re happy with the result.

“Ah. Say no more.”

“Also, congrats, you’ve officially been here for eight and half weeks.”

“I pass probation then?” Joel looks around dubiously, clearly concerned your cousin or others will suddenly pop out in some surprise party or sense of occasion.

“Pretty much passed that by coming back on day two, but that’s my cousin’s domain. I just pour drinks.”

“And provide frozen food to the bouncers.”

“Only the ones who come back. Besides, it’s defrosted. I can take that cake back you know.”

“No, don’t you dare.” Joel takes a large forkful of the cake. “So why the cake though, sweetheart?”

“You, Joel Miller, are officially our longest standing bouncer.” You clap lightly in mock celebration as he cocks an eyebrow in response.

“What an honour,” he replies sardonically.

”You’re welcome.”

“Do I need to make a speech?”

“I think it was the speech that bought the previous record holder down.” Clint had lasted forty-five minutes after that speech. It was a bad night - a particularly nasty gang fight.

“Hubris,” Joel says lightly.

“Exactly.”

“Not bad for a contractor turned bouncer though.”

Joel laughs. “You going to tell me that story one day?” you ask, hoping your teasing expression hides how genuine your question is.

“Maybe,” he says. “You’ve not hit my records yet.”

“That a challenge?”

He shrugs and walks towards the door to ready the bar for opening.

You hand Joel the frozen peas wrapped in an old cloth. After the commotion, your cousin’s closed the bar early. It’s hard to recover the night from a scene like that and you’re pretty sure the broken table and glass amount to some sort of safety violation at the least.

“Thanks,” Joel says gruffly.

“You could have a concussion.”

“I'm fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”

Joel looks at his cracked knuckles and raises a finger to the cut on his head, lightly touching it and observing the blood that comes away on his hand. “’m fine.”

“You hit the bar.”

“Standard night on the job.”

“You hit it with your head.”

Joel shrugs, nonchalance and mischief at once.

“How’s the idiot?” Owen had come in with the intention of causing trouble; something about the rival gang, or his girlfriend, or something that would never justify his trail of destruction. Joel had maintained his usual rules; polite, carefully moving Owen outside the bar, even as he tried to fight back. You’re not sure how it went so wrong, how instead of getting Owen outside suddenly there were more of the gang, broken tables and chaos.

It’s been weeks since a night like that. It makes it feel brand new, the hurt starker somehow.

“He needs to go to hospital,” you say, wrapping your jacket around you after you lock the bar door, keys heavy in your hand.

“Oh.”

“He’ll be fine. His friends are taking him. You probably need the hospital too, I’ll drive you.”

“’m fine.”

“You’re not. Get in the damn car, Joel.”

“I’m -”

“The car, Joel. Don’t make me start calling you Miller again.”

Joel holds his hands up and shakes his head. “Fine, I’ll go.”

“Excellent,” you say with a sweet smile.

You drive in near silence but once you’re both in the hospital waiting room, he talks. He talks more than he ever usually does.

“I didn't need to come here,” he grumbles.

“Are you on the lam?”

“What?” He asks incredulously.

“You seem reluctant to be in a hospital that takes down personal information. It’s a reasonable question.”

He sighs, pinches between his eyebrows. “No, I’m not on the damn lam. I just - I just don’t like hospitals.”

“I don’t think a lot of people do. I guess it’s an occupational habit with your work.”

“I patch myself up usually. Last time I was in one of these places, it was … I was …”

“Joel, it’s okay, you don’t have to say anything.” You reach for his bloody hand and squeeze, unsure if the blood on it is from his own split knuckles or the fight. The violence of his body contrasts so much with the man you talk to, the friend you’ve made.

“When I told you it was a long story, how I went from a contractor to this … it’s, I don’t know.”

You shift so you can face Joel and try and model your best supportive expression. Joel and you talk about everything now, but he’s guarded and this is the first time he’s volunteered this story to you.

“We can talk about it later.”

“I had a daughter,” he says so quietly that you can barely hear him. “And then I had a chance, a second chance to - but it’s been a mess. I’ve been a mess. I’ve got a lot wrong.”

So much of Joel Miller makes sense to you know and you can understand the sadness that crosses his eyes sometimes, the reluctance to talk about his past.

“Haven’t we all?” You pause. “I’m really sorry about your daughter, Joel.“

“I don’t know how to make it right now though.”

“I think,” you say gently, “all you can do is try. For what it’s worth, you’re making a difference here, you’re making a difference with me.”

“Really?” He glances up at you, suddenly years younger and as you nod a slight smile light up his face briefly.

“Why don’t you tell me about her? If you want to.”

He smiles. “I do, but not tonight, but I will.”

“Joel Miller,” a doctor calls.

“C’mon, you’re up.” You squeeze Joel’s arm before standing up.

The balance has shifted and something’s changed.

The bar changes gradually like the way spring teases itself for weeks. It’s all subtle shifts, blossoms of hope and shoots of a future you didn’t dare think of too much. The bar might survive, your cousin is smiling again.

And then there’s you and Joel. Joel, who still pops in to talk to you even on his days off. Joel, who you sit out with after the bar closes and drink beer and play guitar to the stars.

“You should play here,” he says, taking a sip of his beer, “you’re good.” “You’re better. I can’t play guitar like you.” “Nah. Just had more practice at best. Your voice is pretty, so pretty.” “Oh, I’m not so good at playing. I’m better at singing,” you say. “Four basic chords are about my limit on the guitar.” “Don’t do yourself down.” “Trust me, I’m not.” You pause. ”Joel, you could - you could play with me. If I ever played here. it’s probably stupid.” There’s something unreadable in his eyes, a soft smile on his lips. “No, I’d like that.”

You’re accustomed to his presence, his low but grounding voice, his calm demeanour throughout all chaos.

He’s told you more about his past now. About Sarah and how her loss tore him apart for years, and also about the foster daughter he took in, Ellie. He won’t tell you much about Ellie though, except they stopped talking around about the time he became a bouncer. He once asked you if you would do anything to save the life of someone you love and you said yes. He nodded and moved on. You think it’s connected, you’re not sure.

You’ve worked at a bar long enough to know when it’ll be a bad night. There’s an electricity in the air, a tension that is so tight anything could snap it. You look over at Joel to see if he’s picked up on the same energy.

He’s sitting on the stool, observing quietly, but you notice the slight furrow in his brows. He looks at you and his mouth twitches into the smallest of smiles, but there’s anxiety in his eyes.

“I heard that Owen’s gang declared war on the Rattlers,” you say in a low voice. You don’t like Owen, or his friends, but the Rattlers are worst. Owen’s gang is the typical cliched grouping of a small town that’s become lost. They drink too much, throw punches without thinking and cause trouble. They’re not evil though.

The Rattlers are.

“Didn’t hear the Rattlers came through here,” Joel says in a low voice. “I heard of their reputation at a previous gig.”

“Their uh, second in command, is that the term? Anyway, he’s had a thing with someone in town for years. On and off. Guess it’s on again.”

“They cause trouble when they’re here?”

You scoff. “This was starting to feel like -”

“It still is, it still will. Let me do my job,” Joel says firmly.

You want to trust him; you do trust him. It’s the Rattlers that worry you, the feeling in your gut that this hard sought over peace is threatened, the deep and terrifying fear that this bar can never change. Not now. Not even with Joel.

Joel smiles at you, the picture of reassurance. “Owen might not come in here. This is hardly a welcome environment for his group anymore.”

“Joel,” you say nervously, “I just … I have a feeling.”

Joel doesn’t laugh or dismiss you; he straightens up and nods.

You’re not sure how things fall apart so quickly. One moment the bar was quiet, then Owen was there and before Joel could get him to leave, the Rattlers were here too. Maybe it was planned, maybe it was what they all wanted.

“Evening, unfortunately I need to ask you all to leave tonight,” Joel says politely, standing from his barstool. “I’m afraid the business is at capacity and we have a private function on.”

“Well,” Owen begins.

“Leave.”

“Look, Miller, it’s not -”

“I’m not asking, Owen.” Joel’s voice is low, deadly, the tone he uses when polite words fall flat, when it’s time to not be nice. “That goes to all of you.”

Owen falters slightly at the sound of that, you wonder if he remembers how things went the last time Joel used that voice.

“Y’all got a function on?” one of the Rattlers asks you. He’s covered in tattoos and is wearing a leather vest with numerous patches with no other top underneath. You wonder if he based his outfit on the existing tropes, if he’s intentionally as cliched as possible or if it truly is just an unspoken truth now. His hair is slicked back into a ponytail that highlights his receding hairline and a puckered scar that runs from his brow to his nose.

“I’m afraid so, gentlemen. While we, uh appreciate the desire to visit, I’m afraid Mr Miller is correct.”

“Really?”

“Uh huh. It doesn’t look so-”

“Please,” you say quietly.

For a moment you wonder if it will work, you’re on bated breath as the Rattler steps back and moves to say something to his gang. However, that’s the very moment Owen smashes a chair on his back and hell breaks loose.

“Oh, thank you so fucking much for that,” Joel says in an irritated voice, immediately pulled into action to try and get the situation outside, away from the patrons, from you.

You step backwards, hoping the protection of the bar will be enough.

People are running out of the bar as the chaos unfolds. It’s a flood of sound,

Someone pushes Owen onto the bar, pummelling him as you try and back away. “Please stop,” you say.

Then a flash and searing heat.

That’s when you hear Joel swear, you notice his eyes have darkened, his entire demeanour has changed.

Your vision is blurred by something and you can feel a sharp pain on your face along with something sticky and hot when you touch it.

You shut your eyes, willing the events away and allowing yourself to crouch under the bar and wait for the noises to stop.

It’s fine. It’s fine.

You’re fine.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay,” a soothing voice says. “Ladies and gentlemen, I apologise but we do have to close early today.”

There’s a pause, noise around you and then something cool on your face. “I need to see the damage, okay? It’s me, it’s Joel, you’re going to be okay. I’ve got you.”

You open your eyes to see Joel crouched in front of you. He’s holding a damp cloth that is already soaked in red.

“You’ll need stitches, I’ll drive you.” Joel moves your head gently and nods. “Your eye looks okay; can you see normally?”

“Yeah. What happened?”

”Fucking - it was Owen, he grabbed a glass from the bar and instead of hitting the rattler - ”

“Got me.”

“Yeah. It’s deep but um ‘”

“I’ll live. I’m okay. Don’t need hospital.”

“Huh, you trying to prove a point here? How annoyin’ it is when someone who needs hospital won’t go?”

”It’s fine, Joel.”

“You’re hurt,” he says and he looks disappointed.

You feel a burst of shame, you should have defended yourself better.

“I’m going to call your cousin and tell her what happened and then I’m driving you to hospital. No arguments, okay?”

You try and smile weakly in acquiescence which seems to only make Joel frown more.

His hand lingers on your shoulder slightly as he hands you the seatbelt after bundling you into his truck. He moved quickly, closing the bar, making a hushed call in the corner to your cousin and then immediately guiding you out, a clean cloth placed in your hands to hold against your cut.

There’s a nodding dog ornament on the dash, something that doesn’t seem like Joel at all.

“Ellie,” he says quietly as he notices you looking at it. “Keep the pressure on that wound, okay?”

He turns out of the bar.

“Didn’t seem your sort of ornament,” you reply placidly.

“She called it Ernie, I - that kid.” Joel sighs heavily.

“You could call her,” you say, braver in the wake of your injury.

“I would. But she doesn’t want to hear from me, trust me.” He mumbles something else you can’t make out.

“You’re a good person, Joel. She -”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” you say, “trust me, I know bad men, but you aren’t one of them. Owen? The Rattlers?”

“The bar’s pretty damn low there.”

“You know the town I live in.”

Joel chuckles mirthlessly.

“I was going to play tonight,” you say quietly, “I thought it was time. That’ll teach me.”

“You could still play, maybe tomorrow though.”

“It would be harder with the blood right now.”

“Just a tad.”

“Thanks for driving me.”

“Of course.”

You wonder if he’s trying to return a favour, whether he’s the sort of person who just can’t feel indebted to someone else. Now you’ve bled on his car too, now you’re even?

He looked worried though. You think about the way he sounded too, the forced calmness when he checked on you.

You’re friends.

That’s normal, right?

“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly. “You shouldn’t have got hurt.”

“Joel, it’s … you can’t be everywhere at once. It’s not on you.”

“I should have -”

“Miller,” you say sharply, “it’s not on you. Not one bit. Do you think I can bar Owen for good now?”

Joel chuckles. “Yeah, I reckon so.

“Good, well that’s something, isn’t it? Almost makes it worth it. Do you think it will scar?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart.”

You pause. It’s vanity, you know, but the idea of this leaving a permanent scar on your face hurts worse than the injury itself.

“That’s not ideal. I-it’s stupid.” It feels so foolish to be worried about a scar when things could be so much worse, for your own vanity to say ‘well, now, you’ll never make it as a musician or star’ or to focus on your looks. It’s normal, it’s human, but it makes you feel guilty.

Joel looks at you carefully and he places a warm, solid hand on your hand that is not holding a compress to your face. “You’re so beautiful, you know that, right?” he says in a low voice. “This won’t change that. It couldn’t, okay?”

No-one calls you beautiful. There’s been half-hearted claims of your ‘hotness’ with exes, of your friends’ encouragement when you make a particular effort in your appearance, but nothing like this. Nothing that feels this sincere either.

He takes his hand away as the doctor joins you. You can feel the heat lingering like butterflies as the doctor attends to your wound.

Joel stays with you the whole time.

You hear the guitar before you can see him. Soft, melodic chords that reach a crescendo as you walk closer to the small cabin style house he’s renting. You’re not sure if it’s a complete betrayal of the trust from when you dropped him off after his hospital trip weeks ago, but you need to see him outside of the bar.

“Hey,” he says in surprise when he sees you. He places the guitar carefully down before standing up to greet you.

“I’m sorry to just turn up, I hope it’s okay.” You awkwardly clasp your hands and wring them together. “I was passing through and I thought - I thought I’d say hi.”

This is a complete lie; you are not passing through at all.

You’re wearing your favourite outfit and you sprayed an extra two spritzes of your best perfume on this morning. In fact, you have made considerable effort when you think about all of this.

“No, it’s great. I’m happy you stopped by.”

“You’re good. The guitar, it was … really good. I’ve not heard you play that before.”

“Oh, it’s just something I’ve been working on.”

“It’s really good.”

“Nah, not really.”

You frown, hands on your hips and he raises his own hands in defence.

“Can I - do you want a drink?” Joel indicates inside the cabin and you nod enthusiastically.

“That would be great, thanks Joel.”

There are three cabins in the area that a local businessman rents out. Joel’s cabin is the closest to the woods, the one that’s slightly hidden away. Inside it looks like a typical rental; the slightly shabby furniture and neutral demeanour that feels void of any character, the aged kitchen stove and units, an abundance of wood furniture.

There are touches of Joel too though. There’s a vinyl player and box of records on the coffee table, a plaid blanket over the sofa and a couple of photos on the fireplace mantle. You think they might be Sarah, maybe Ellie, but you don’t want to pry.

This changes things. It’s not the bar, neither of you are at work, or hanging out outside after a shift. This feels more personal, more intimate. This is Joel Miller, the real Joel, the one you can’t hide your feelings for now.

You do have feelings for Joel.

It’s funny, when he started you wanted to keep him at a distance because you expected him to leave like everyone else, you thought the bar was beyond help. You wondered if you were beyond your dreams. He’s helping bring you back though.

It’s his calm demeanour, the wry expressions and dry humour, his plaid shirts and the way when he smiles, which is rare but you’ve seen it, his whole face softens and lightens up. It’s electric.

You think about him all the time; reading articles you try and remember to bring up at the bar, when you hear a song he’d like. Joel’s found his way into your life and you don’t want to let him go.

He’ll leave though. The bouncers inevitably do, most people in your life do. You just don’t want that with him. You want him to stay.

“Are you okay?” Joel asks.

“Why?”

“You have that serious thought face on.”

“I have a serious thought face?”

Joel scoffs. “So, what’s up?”

“I just - I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come here.”

Joel frowns then. “Why not?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay, c’mon I said I’d get you a drink, right?” Joel indicates the sturdy wooden table and you sit obligingly. “So I’ve got a choice of tea, well It says it’s tea anyway. Uh, some whiskey, beer, water …. I’m out of coffee.”

“That should be illegal.”

“Shouldn’t it?”

“I might just leave now.”

“Wouldn’t blame ya.”

He’s close to you now and you feel emboldened by the fact you’re here, you’re with him and he’s not pushing you away or looking like he wants to leave. Maybe, just maybe this is a great idea.

“Now I think about it though, I’m not sure that I’m thirsty after all,” you say boldly.

“Oh no?” He leans in closer, hands hovering just over your waist. “Look, you don’t want -”

“I do. I do want.”

Joel swallows. “Really?” He’s looking at you as though you’re something mythical, something intangible he could lose at any second. There’s reverence in his eyes and it’s overwhelming and beautiful at once.

You nod. “I’m not the only one here who - I’m not though, right?” There’s a hint of nervousness in your voice now, a sense that perhaps this isn’t the great idea you thought it was just seconds ago. It’s like whiplash. This is why you should just focus on music instead.

“No,” Joel says softly, “you’re not.”

His hands, hands you’ve seen both acts of violence and hold your injured face so gently, skim your body. Joel’s hands, like him, are contradictions. He steps minutely closer, a little more into your space and oh so welcome.

He smells like soap and coffee, with the faint hints of autumn you noticed around the cabin and there’s something magic in this Joel Miller. Something in every sense of him, the way he touches you, the sound of his voice, the feel of his skin and sound of his voice that instantly draws you closer, that makes heat pool in your stomach.

He kisses you and you reach for his hands, entwines them together. He stops, concern mounting over his face. “You’re injured, I should have -”

“Doesn’t hurt,” you say softly, drawing him close again.

You’re a mess of hands and lips, a clash of sensations and finally, finally this is happening you think as h guides you further into the cabin. Towards his bedroom.

He guides you past the kitchenette, down the narrow corridor to his room.

You want to drink him in, absorb every detail of his body and commit it to memory.

There’s a ragged scar on his abdomen, a light scattering of stories across his body from other bars, other jobs, other Joels.

There are other details you want to remember though, especially the look in his eyes right now, heavy with desire.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says. You’ve heard the words before in similar settings but it’s been clear to you it’s the lust, it’s the ‘right’ thing to say. You know when isn’t meant, the lack sincerity signalling a paint by the numbers dalliance at best.

Joel’s voice is fervent though. Honest. He means this.

The majority of your clothes are soon discarded, both yours and his in a combined mess on the floor.

Your hands are running through his hair as he guides you onto the bed, as his fingers hover over the edge of your underwear.

He pauses, just for a moment. You wonder if it’s recognition of the line you’re both about to cross, if it’s to give you the space to confirm that yes, you still want him, to offer an out just in case.

You reach for his face, run your hand down his stubbly cheek. You’re trying to sum up your thoughts, to bring everything you want to say together into a neat sentence.

You smile and gently say, “I want you, want this. I thought you knew.”

“I didn’t, I didn’t think you’d want me. Been driving myself crazy thinkin’ about you lately.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t you show me what you thought about?” you ask.

He smiles as his fingers finally reach beneath your underwear, carefully pulling them down and then gently gliding his finger.

You’re wet, almost embarrassingly so, you think, for just making out.

“This all for me?” He asks with a devilishly teasing tone.

You don’t immediately answer, just smirk as he teases up to your clit and traces circles around it, smiling as you finally make a groan of contentment.

He slides a finger inside you, lazily moving it within you, finding that spot that makes you moan, adding another finger.

You feel close already, but he withdraws his fingers and then, looking at you, brings them to his mouth one at a time in a move that makes your cheeks heat up.

He moves to his bedside drawer, fumbling for a box of condoms you suppose. You’re still lost in catching your breath, in replaying the last few moments, in anticipating what’s about to happen.

He kisses you before positioning himself and you ready yourself for him.

You’re entwined, adjusting yourself for the feel of him, the weight of him. Hands interlocked with his as he finally moves, as he meets your kiss once again.

He adapts quickly, noticing micro=movements or sounds and changing his rhythm to draw every one of them out, to bring you to the edge once more.

You’re both a mess of rushed breaths, a chorus of names and gasps, ebbing and flowing to tease each other apart.

He’s everything and nothing like you expected. Hoped for even.

The feeling builds in your stomach, the rush of pleasure building almost unbearably.

Finally, finally you get your release. The ripples of pleasure ride through your body as the two of you lie together, boneless, catching your breath.

You usually feel a need to say something, to fill a silence, but it’s comfortable. You roll over, daringly placing an arm over Joel’s chest and leaning close. He pulls you towards you, kissing your brow lazily

You can feel his heartbeat, the warmth of his skin.

You feel like you could stay here forever.

Instead though, you’re practical. You excuse yourself to his bathroom to clean up.

You take in your reflection; the telltale signs of your exploits feel so visible to you as you freshen up.

He’s not in bed when you return. You pull your clothes on and head back into the main room of the cabin.

Joel’s wearing his jeans and not much else, humming as he concentrates on something by the stove.

“I promised tea, didn’t I?”

“We did get sidetracked.”

“Well, that was welcome,” Joel says. His voice is so much softer than you’ve heard it in the bar. There’s a vulnerability leaking through with each moment you stay here. It’s two sided, you can feel your own edges softening, a desire to open yourself even more to the man in front of you.

“I agree.”

The kettle boils and you watch Joel making the tea, try and not lose yourself in the broadness of his shoulders.

“So …” you break off, swinging your arms nervously and then wrapping them around yourself.

Joel hands you a steaming mug. “So,” he says. His voice is calm though, relaxed and somehow that helps.

“That wasn’t exactly what I thought was - I didn’t turn up for this specifically, you know? It wasn’t intentional.” Not that intentional.

“Would you have been wearing a trench coat if it was? Seduce me properly?” There’s mischief in his eyes as you meet his gaze.

“That a fantasy or something, Joel?”

He laughs. “Maybe, maybe it is.”

“Okay then. Logging that for another day.”

“Oh really?” Joel’s smile warms his entire face, it softens each feature and it’s something you never want to stop seeing.

It feels like you’ve known him so much longer. You feel comfortable in his house, you feel comfortable around him.

“So we’re opening back up at the weekend,” you say, “Got any plans for this time off?”

“Nope. You?”

You shake your head. “How about that?”

“Hmm, that’s not right. We should do something about that. Let me take you to dinner?”

“Dinner?“

“People still do that, right?”

“Yes, but - I’d love to.”

“Great. I’ll uh, defer to your recommendation, seeing as you know this area more.” It hits you then. Joel doesn’t have roots here and the bar, except for the Rattlers, has improved. What does this town, what do you have to offer?

“Are you going to leave?” you ask suddenly, the anxious thought you’ve tried to suppress bubbling to the surface.

“Leave?”

“When the bar’s open, when there’s no trouble.”

“There’s always some trouble.”

“Don’t. You know what I mean.”

Joel sighs and takes a sip of his drink. “Usually, I would.”

“But this isn’t usual?”

He points his hand at you and adds, “I don’t make a habit of this. I don’t …. Usually, yes I go in and out of places and I don’t stay long.”

Your heart sinks. “I understand,” you lie.

“I think, I think maybe there are some reasons to stick around here though?” It’s a question, not a confirmation. It strikes you then that maybe Joel feels just as exposed as you do.

“I think there could be,” you say.

“Good. I’m glad.“

The bar looks like the Rattlers never came through here. Everything is neat, clean and in its place. There are no broken chairs or tables. It seems almost impossible for how short a time ago it was.

Joel helped, you realise, he helped your cousin bring this place back.

“Are you okay?” she asks, “I can cover the bar if you need -”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re sure.”

You pause and run your hand over the smooth, clean bar surface. You think of Joel, of the conversations over so many nights about music, about what makes you happy. “Can you still cover the bar for a bit?”

“Sure.” Your cousin pauses and hesitantly puts down the crate of soda bottles. “Is everything -”

“I want to play tonight.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, I’ve got to stop waiting right for the right moment, right? Just do it,” you say.

“And this has nothing to do with a certain bouncer?”

“No,” you say, thinking of the scar on your face, the battles you’ve won and will win in the future. “It’s for me.”

You can feel his eyes on you. It doesn’t make you feel nervous or under a spotlight though as you carefully sit on the stool.

It’s almost as though it’s just the two of you. Another night after work under the stars and messing around with a guitar. Or outside his cabin, thick flannel wrapped around you as you both play.

The bar feels safer somehow. It’s funny considering the recent Rattlers attack. Maybe that’s why - they came in and they tried to wreck the place, you were caught in that crossfire, but you survived. The bar survived. And the locals are back, the locals you wanted back. If you shut your eyes, it almost feels like before when your family ran the place.

It’s different though, because it’s your cousins. Because even though it might not be on paper, it’s yours too. Your legacy. You don’t want to fight it anymore. You don’t want to feel cynical about this town.

You look at Joel and smile and then you start playing.

Everything Pedro tag-list: @harriedandharassed@pedrostories@hiroikegawa @pedrosaidsheispunk @pastelnap

#joel miller x reader #no outbreak!joel miller #no outbreak au #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #the last of us #tlou fic #the last of us fic #the last of us smut #joel miller smut #joel tlou #joel the last of us

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sorrowsofsilence · 10 months

Text

Naruto run mosh 🤝 Noah Sebastian

#please I pray he plays guitar on stage one day I would melt #he’s such a lil goof #bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens band #bad omens cult #noah sebastian davis #metalcore #noah sebastian fluff

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concreteemo · 7 months

Text

I could just sit for hours watching Noah play guitar.

so hot

#bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens cult #bad omens band

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silentglassbreak · 1 month

Note

if you’re still taking and writing delulu fantasies could i please request one where you meet noah (say you know people working in the scene so you meet them backstage after a show when your friends invite you to spend time with them?).

you’re used to meeting band dudes so it’s nothing but noah tries to appear chill in his pursuit of you. you think he’s cute so you go with it but the most awkward flirtation and cringy smut ensues. (my kink’s an embarrassed noah 😌) thank you so much! <3

Cringey, embarrassed smut? That’s a first for me, and I’m kind of excited LOL. Hopefully this is what you’re looking for!

After Writing Notes: Yaknow, every time I start one of these things, I tell myself I'm going to make it shorter...Anyway, here's 9000 words. Hope you enjoy! Also, huge shoutout to @notyourmomsromancenovel for helping me come up with ideas for cringey smut.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: injury, fainting, smut (in the goofiest way ever)

Beautiful Mistakes

When you pictured Noah Sebastian - front man and lead vocalist in the viral metal-core band Bad Omens - you pictured something way different.

You had been following the band’s work for a while and, like everyone else, had noticed the immediate shift in their persona and presence. You had been a softcore fan of theirs since 2018, and spent many nights on Twitch, playing Elden Ring and listening to his streams as background noise. Sometimes you had been one of the only people in the chat, listening to him produce his beats or record rough vocals. Other times, you sat and chatted with him while he idly played guitar.

Once the pandemic hit full force, there were plenty of nights you sat and talked to Noah, watching the hilarity that ensued. Cat-eared headset on and music playing, Noah would stare at his screen, munching on the Body of Christ and making ridiculous noises.

“Where are my regulars? I need someone to talk to!”

/CrossContaminate/: I’m right here, calm down.

“Hey! Cross is here! I haven’t seen you in a while.”

/CrossContaminate/: I have a job, Noah. You wouldn’t know about that. 😝

“Woooooow…” He pressed a hand to his chest and stared straight into the camera. “That one stung, girl.”

/CrossContaminate/: How do you know I’m a girl? I could be a 50 year old dude, yaknow.

He raised his eyebrows at that. “You’ve got a point. Maybe you should come on video chat with all of us so we can be sure.” He lowered his glasses down on his nose and looked dead into the camera. “For my own safety, of course.”

You cackled loudly at this, typing out your response.

/CrossContaminate/: Nah, I don’t vid chat. You’ll just have to take my word for it.

He rolled his eyes, and smirked. “Same old Cross, I see.”

Noah tried to get you to join video chat regularly often over the years. He had DM'ed you a few times when he saw you were online, wanting to voice call or join a Discord with him, to which you always declined.

You didn’t have a hard and fast rule against chatting online with people via voice or video, you just didn’t do it. Your life was busy and hectic. You didn’t have a ton of time to yourself, so the nights where you got to sit and just not exist in the real world, and only online, it was nice to just remain anonymous.

You had stumbled across Noah’s Twitch by accident once, when looking for something different. His face captured you, however, and once you clicked into it, you were hooked. It wasn’t so much because he was good looking - he was definitely a cutie - but he looked ridiculous.

His hair was long and haphazard. He was wearing an oversized hoodie, drinking cheap wine straight from the bottle, and he was wearing huge bottle cap sunglasses. It was, by far, the goofiest thing you had seen in a long time. He was playing Dead Space, and would jump at the smallest noises, nearly screaming anytime a monster popped into the frame.

But, as all things, time moved on, and he changed. Once the pandemic was waning down, he had began preparing for the release of his next album. The streams became less frequent, and he put his account on a permanent hiatus.

It was a bummer, so you couldn’t help but try keeping track of him on socials. He was decently active on Twitter and Instagram, but even that began to slow down. He had enough followers that your personal account went unnoticed by him.

Aside from his online presence, his appearance also changed pretty dramatically in a very short time. He cut all of his hair off, which, to be entirely honest, broke your heart some. You had always loved the innocence he seemed to maintain by having the long hair. It hurt your feelings to see it go, but you had to admit, the short hair was something else entirely.

Before, Noah typically stuck to regular t-shirts and jeans, simple and timeless rock and roll fashion. Once they started touring for TDOPOM album, you noticed the dramatic change in their stage presence. Ski masks, all black clothing, track pants, and heavy coats. Noah usually ended the set in a black wife-beater top, and you noticed the other change.

He was fucking stacked, now. Noah had always been skinny and long - like a toothpick. Not anymore. His shoulders had broadened, his neck was thicker, and his arms were defined and muscular. That was a change you didn’t mind at all.

What happened? Was second puberty a thing? Because you swore that could be the only explanation for such a drastic difference in Noah in such a short time period.

Although you watched the band from afar, you never had made any time to go see them live, always working anymore. That sucked, because even if you had, it’s not like you’d be able to see him. He was too big of a celebrity now, and you were far from. He likely wouldn’t even remember you, so you never bothered.

As silly as it sounded, it almost hurt your feelings the same as watching an old friend change and grow apart from you over time, even though that wasn’t exactly the case here.

Although, you rationalized that you and him did speak nearly every day for almost two whole years - so it wasn’t that silly, was it?

So you were absolutely floored when your best friend called you, random Friday evening, and asked you for a favor.

“I booked a gig for tomorrow, and I know it’s last minute, but the guy who was supposed to be helping ate some bad sushi or something, and I could desperately use a hand.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes, trying not to be too loud in the Target checkout line.

“It’s my only day off, Iz.”

She huffed. “I know, I know, but I promise it pays really well!”

You growled into the receiver. “Dude, I just did a gig last night, and I have another to do tonight!”

“It’s only four hours! And it pays twelve hundred.”

You were ready to protest, but stopped. “Total?”

“A piece.”

“Fuck, dude. That’s more than double what a normal gig that long pays.”

“I know, that’s why I’m saying, worth the exhaustion.”

You finished scanning your items, pulling your card out to pay. “That kind of money, probably a big band. Who is it?”

“Bad Omens, have you heard of them?”

You stopped, eyes snapping up and fingers stalling at the card reader. “No shit, huh?”

“So, you have heard of them?”

You grabbed your bag, making your way outside. “Yeah, actually. Remember that guy on Twitch I used to talk to?”

“Noah?” It took her a second to put the pieces together, so you stayed silent while she did. “Oh, Noah! As in Noah Sebastian!”

“Bingo.”

“Well shit! Maybe he remembers you!”

You shook your head, taking a long gulp of your iced coffee. “Mm-mm,” You set the drink down. “he never saw my face or heard my voice. Didn’t even know my real name.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep. Only knew me by my tag. He called me ‘Cross’ for short.”

“Ah, okay, so he’ll have no idea who you are!” She laughed at this.

You switched the call to your Bluetooth and sighed. “I guess, since you asked so fucking nicely and I need to pay my rent, I will agree to do the gig with you.”

She squeaked in appreciation. “You’re saving my ass, dude.”

You shrugged. “Pick me up at least two hours before. We need time to prepare.”

“Noon, then?”

“I’ll be ready.”

You and Isobel were known, by the official term in the industry, as Venue Assistants. You were independent contractors who were recommended to acts by the venues, and hired by those bands for specific occasions to help ensure a smooth, easy show. This could mean anything from stocking the green room, switching out instruments, helping with outfit changes, grabbing anything the artists needed. It was an exhausting job, and you had been doing it for about five years now. As tiring as it was, it paid well, and it was a lot of fun. You had the opportunity to meet some of the best bands in the industry - and some of the worst. You had more stories to tell than anyone, and you wouldn’t change careers if you were paid to.

At the venue the following day, you had received word from the stage director that the band was running behind, and they needed you both to grab food and coffees for all of them. Typically, you’d roll your eyes at this, but you didn’t immediately, as you knew life happened, and it could’ve happened for a lot of reasons. You had gone and grabbed the guys their Chinese food while Iz picked up the Starbucks order, and arrived back at the theater just before the band did.

They came in, all looking rather tired and irritated. Noah was the last to enter, baseball hat on his head and wearing basketball shorts under his large hoodie.

“All I’m saying is, I don’t know how you had no idea the window would break.” The man who you recognized to be Jolly was still lecturing Noah as they came in, dropping their bags down.

You and Isobel were in the back of the room, speaking with the crew who were preparing to bring in the instruments and equipment. You planned to help unload it all, so you were listening to the stage director instruct them on where to place everything.

“It was a stress ball! Why would I think it would break the window?!”

“Because it was hard?” Folio piped up as he sat down, tearing into the food.

“Look, it’s not a huge deal. Safelite said they can have it fixed before tomorrow. It’ll be fine!”

You shook your head, sincerely wondering what the hell they were talking about. Your attention, however, was pulled back to Isobel. You followed her out to the truck where the loading ramp was being pulled down.

“You going to talk to him?” She asked as she began pulling a mic stand out. You grabbed one of the smaller amps, and followed her back to the delivery door.

“Probably not. We’ve got a lot to do.”

“I mean,” She set the stand down and looked over to where the band sat, apparently still arguing amongst themselves, and looked back at you. “you could go talk to him now? I can unload this with the guys.”

“I need to earn my paycheck too, Iz.”

“Why don’t you want to talk to him?”

You stopped walking away, turning to look at her. “I never said that.”

“So go talk to him? He’s just a guy.”

You sighed, narrowing your eyes at her. “Fine, I will.”

Stomping back toward the couches of the green room, you heard her laugh behind you. It wasn’t any big deal, you didn’t see why she was bugging you about this. You inhaled a big breath, and walked straight up to the group, noticing they were all now sat and eating.

“Hey guys.” You waved a hand at them. “I don’t mean to bug you while you’re eating. I just wanted to introduce myself. I’ll be one of your VA’s for the evening. If you need anything at all, or have any preferences I should be aware of, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

They all set their food down and stood, pushing their hands out for you to shake. You took each one gracefully, hearing them tell you their names, which you already knew.

The last to introduce himself was Noah, who, while leaning over the table to take your grasp, knocked a bottle of soy sauce down, causing you to jump back. It was too late, and your dark blue jeans had black splatter on them.

“Fuck! I’m so sorry!”

You grabbed a napkin and patted at the spots quickly, waving. “No, it’s okay. It shouldn’t stain.” Hopefully.

Nicholas grabbed a roll of paper towels from the back table and cleaned it up quickly, smiling sheepishly at you. “You’ll have to excuse Noah. He’s as clumsy as they come.”

Noah smacked a hand at his shoulder. “Not true, dick.” He looked back up at you apologetically. “Again, I’m so sorry.”

Moving around the table to approach him, you took his hand. “It’s really no problem.”

“I didn’t catch your name?” You gave it to him, and he smiled brightly at you. “That’s different?”

Smirking, you nodded. “It is. You can just call me Cross.”

For a second, you weren’t sure he was going to get it. His hand continued shaking yours for an unnecessarily long time while his brow furrowed, staring at you. After a moment, he cocked his head to the side.

“Cross…” He strung the word out on his tongue. “As in…” You could actually see the light bulb go off behind his eyes, and they popped open wide.

“Oh shit!” His hand let go of yours, and suddenly he was grabbing you by the forearms, startling you a bit. “No fucking way!”

He was smiling way bigger than you expected, but in that smile, you saw that same goofy guy that used to sit with you for hours, chatting online and dicking around.

“I wasn’t sure you’d remember.” You grinned back at him, trying to push down the little bit of butterflies that started trying to scoot their way into your chest.

You noticed how his face fell just slightly when you said it, likely remembering quite how long it had been. “Of course I remember.” His voice was even, but he still looked enthused.

“Well, it’s good to finally meet you.”

He looked up and down at you, taking a step back for effect. “Yeah, same here. I guess you aren’t a fifty year old dude after all.”

Your face flushed at that, and you shook your head. “Nope. Sorry to disappoint.”

“Care to introduce?” Jolly stood behind you, and you turned to see him stand with a raised eyebrow.

Noah took the initiative to push you slightly toward the rest of the band.

“You guys remember when I used to stream all the time? And I had that one chick who used to join every day and chat with me for hours? She was the one who used to tell people I was a Billie Eilish fan page.” He looked down at you with an eyebrow raised, and you broke out in hard laughter.

“Well, you practically were, Noah!”

He shook his head, turning to tower over you. “I was not! I just like her music!”

Folio stood up, smiling wide. “Oh, dude I remember that! Didn’t she hack into your account and change your profile photo and everything?”

Noah glared down at you, which caused a whole new fit of giggles to erupt.

“What?! It got you more subs!”

He rolled his eyes and pulled your arm, moving you to sit on the couch next to him.

“How have you been?” He shoved a mouthful of chow mein and spoke around his food. “I know it’s been a while, I’m sorry.”

You just shook your head. “No need to apologize. You’ve been busy.”

He beamed at that. “Have you heard the new album?”

“I have. It’s really great.”

“You think? I appreciate that.”

You sat back, watching how he inhaled the food in front of him. “Also, I’ve been good. Also keeping busy.”

Wiping his mouth on a napkin, he nodded. “This is what you do? Full time?”

“Yeah, been doing it a while. I like it.”

He leaned back also, arms falling into his lap. The other guys had began to disperse, heading to different parts of the building to begin their preparations.

"That's cool."

The conversation fell silent between you both, and you cleared your throat. "Well, it's really good to see you, Noah."

He affirmed with a nod, chewing on his lip. "I feel bad for not keeping in touch."

"Oh stop. You had no way to reach me other than Twitch."

"That's true. I don't have social media anymore, either." He shrugged his shoulders.

"Yeah, I saw that."

The quiet was strange and uncomfortable, and you decided not to stall your job any longer. "Well, I'd better get back to work."

He stood too, bumping into your shoulder as he did, nearly knocking you back into the couch. Instantly, his hand reached out to grab you.

"Shit!" He exclaimed, and in his attempt to hook your arm, his hand missed, and grabbed a full hand of your right breast.

A sharp gasp tumbled out of you, and he pulled his hand back with haste, causing you to lose your balance again, and fall backward, the back of your head smacking the arm of the couch.

"Damn it!" He crouched down to grab you, but your hand came up in front of you.

"Uhm," You squeezed your eyes closed, clearing the spots that formed in your vision. "I got it."

Sitting up, you rubbed at the back of your head. He sat down again, keeping about a foot of distance between you.

"I'm so fucking sorry."

Your eyes opened, seeing the look of absolute shame and guilt painted on his face. It was comical.

What a fucking doofus.

"Noah," You turned your head back and forth to assess if your neck was injured. It wasn't. "I think your clumsiness is spreading."

His face fell in his hands. "I'm so sorry." He apologized again, groaning loudly. "I don't know what's wrong with me today!"

"Everyone has off days." You assured, taking a moment before you stood back up.

"Not like today. I broke a window in the tour bus this morning, that's why we were late."

Your mouth fell open. "You broke the window?"

"I didn't mean to! I had one of those squishy stress-ball things? It was real firm, cause it was new. So I was trying to soften it up by squeezing it, and I thought, maybe if I bounced it a few times, it would get softer..."

Your eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "You didn't..."

"I just tossed it gently and the fucking thing broke a hole clean out of the window!"

Maybe it was the near-concussion or the obscenity of it all, but a guttural laughter came out of you, making you fall back onto the couch clutching your sides.

"It's not funny!" Noah tried to argue, but ended up laughing with you, his bravado deflating.

"Ah, Noah," You wiped the tears spilling from your eyes. "you really haven't changed."

After your unfortunate accident earlier, Noah had insisted on exchanging numbers with you, so he could check in and make sure you were okay throughout the night. This was after he failed to convince you to go get checked out at an ER, and swore him to not tell anyone what happened. The last thing you needed was an incident in the workplace.

Noah was half an hour from going onstage, and you were on the side stage, checking the battery level of all of the microphones. Your phone buzzed in your back pocket and you rolled your eyes. It had been nearly constant for the last three hours.

Noah: Checking in. How's the head?

You sighed, typing a quick response.

You: Same as it was twenty minutes ago - normal.

Noah: Any pain?

You: No.

That wasn't entirely true. You had a dull throbbing at the base of your skull, but you were doing a great job of ignoring it.

Noah: Okay. Where are you?

You: Stage left. I'm covering you and Folio tonight, so I'm checking the mics and making sure all your stuff is ready.

Noah: Cool. Need any help?

You: Shouldn't you be getting ready?

Noah: Yeah, probably.

You snickered, staring at your screen before sending the next message.

You: If I didn't know better, I'd think you concussed me just to ask me for my number.

It was stupid, but you couldn't help but fuck with him a little bit. His response came quickly.

Noah: Maybe I did. ;P

You scowled down at the phone. What the hell?

His type bubble appeared quickly, another message coming in.

Noah: Wait, that sounded creepy. I'm kidding, I swear.

You: Suuuuuuure

He read that message, but didn't respond. You had definitely caught him a little off-guard and it made you laugh. You stared down at the winking face emoji, and it dawned on you that he was flirting with you. You visibly shivered, somewhat stunned.

Noah Sebastian was tall, dark, and sexy in almost every video and interview you had watched of him since he went dark over a year ago...but inside, it appeared he was still just as dorky and uncoordinated as you always knew him to be. You didn't realize it was quite this bad, however.

And not only was he clumsy, he was bad at flirting too...

You shook off the feeling, trying your hardest not to smile at the thought. Despite the ickiness of it all, you were flattered. He may be kind of Scooby-Doo-ish, but he was handsome, and talented. He also had a soft, deep side of him that you had the pleasure of seeing on more than one occasion.

Maybe he was just nervous? Maybe you could just go with it and see how it turned out?

You resolved to push it to the back of your mind for the time being, placing yourself back into your professional work mindset as the show began.

Noah was entirely different on stage, completely in control and flowing effortlessly through the songs. He looked like an entirely different person out there. He would pop back to the sides here and there to get some water, switch out his mic, or wipe the sweat from his face. Each time, he'd give you a look of concern, and ask about your head again. You would just shush him and push him back out onto the stage.

You were also covering Folio, who was up on the riser, beating away at his drum set. The stairs you had to climb were tall, and after the third trip up here, you felt the room tilt like it was turning on it's side. You held the railing, catching Folio's eye as the darkened room began lighting up again.

He mouthed at you a quick 'You good?' and you just nodded, throwing him a thumbs up, and heading back down the stairs. Noah was stood, gulping his water, and staring at you.

"I saw that. What's wrong?"

You shook your head. "Nothing, go, the next song is starting."

He pressed a hand into your shoulder, now looking much more stern than worried. "I don't care. Are you okay?"

Still trying to brush it off, you grabbed hold of his arm, trying to push him away. It didn't occur to you that it was also instinctive, as your feet were starting to feel a little numb. "Noah, you don't have time for this."

He stood square in front of you, eyebrows raised and arms crossed over his chest.

"Are. You. Okay?" He enunciated each word, but he suddenly started to look so much taller than he did a second ago. And when did he become so fuzzy?

Your hand squeezed where it was hooked onto his bicep in an attempt to stop the inevitable, but, unfortunately, before he could manage to reach for you, the room went dark.

Your eyes cracked open, a harsh light shining in them, and you squinted against it.

"Hey, you with us?" A blonde man you didn't recognize stared down at you, a stethoscope around his neck and gloves on his hands.

A paramedic. Amazing.

When you looked around, you realized you were on a gurney, sitting in the back of an ambulance with the doors open, in the parking lot of the venue. It was the paramedic that was on call at the theater that night.

"Ugh, no fucking way." You tried to sit up, but a hand pressed onto your shoulder. You shifted your eyes to see Isobel sitting on the bench next to the stretcher. "Iz? What happened?"

The EMT spoke for her, putting his light back in his shirt pocket, and began moving his fingers back and forth in front of your face for you to follow.

"Well, you passed out, and cracked your head on the floor pretty good." You squeezed your eyes closed in frustration. "Big guy in there told us you hit your head earlier, too? That's probably what caused you to faint."

Yeah. Big, dumb, gargantuan guy.

"My head hurts." You winced as the medic turned your neck, checking your range of motion.

"I'm sure it does. You're all intact, it appears, but given that this was the second impact today, I strongly suggest going to the ER to get a scan."

You rolled your eyes, trying again to sit up. "I don't think-"

Isobel cut you off. "We're going."

The EMT nodded, and reached to begin shutting the doors. Admitting defeat, you carefully laid your head back down. The vehicle started moving and you let out a hard breath.

"We're so not getting paid for tonight."

Iz laughed, shaking her head. "I think it'll be fine. Noah was in a near panic attack when he moved you to the couch. Kept saying it was all his fault."

You snickered. "Kind of is."

"He wanted to cancel the rest of the show, but I told him you'd have a full stroke if he did that because of you."

Your eyes popped open, and you tried to sit up. "He didn't do that, did he?!"

The EMT pressed you back down. "Easy, easy."

Isobel patted your shoulder. "No, he didn't."

You melted back onto the bed. "Oh thank fuck for that."

The ride to the Emergency Room was short, and the nurses made quick work of getting you into a rollable bed and carting you off to get a CT scan of your head and neck. That was mundane, but they had given you something decent for the pain, so it wasn't so bad. You hummed to yourself as you were rolled back to your room, and Isobel was missing. You whipped your head around, looking to see if she was anywhere to be found, but a voice came from the opposite side.

"She went to get a snack."

Noah stood by the doorway, hands in the pockets of his cargo pants, white t-shirt on, and a beanie over his hair. He had cleaned up since the show, you could tell.

"The show is over already?"

He huffed out a laugh, stepping over to the end of your bed. "Yeah, for a little while now. You've been at the hospital for two hours."

You raised your eyebrows, but it didn't phase you too much. "Time flies when you're on morphine, I suppose."

His hands gripped the rails at the end of the bed. "How you doing?"

You nodded, sinking against the mattress. "I mean, I've been better, but I've been worse."

He lifted an eyebrow at you, and moved to perch himself on the very edge of the end of the bed. "Yeah? That's...better than nothing?"

You nodded, looking him up and down. He looked more like himself in this outfit, and you liked it. It felt more genuine.

"How did the rest of the show go?"

He shrugged his shoulders, hands still in his pockets. "Good, I guess. I was stressed, so I felt like I kind of rushed through it."

You brought your arms up behind your head, getting comfortable. "You shouldn't have. I'm good."

Noah deadpanned at you. "Obviously you weren't. You should've gone to the hospital earlier."

You scoffed. "Oh well. Doesn't matter now."

He was leaned over, his shoulder pulled in and he looked nervous.

"What's wrong?"

"What?" He looked bewildered.

"You look upset or something?"

He snickered, readjusting his feet on the floor. "Well, I gave you a concussion, couldn't convince you to get checked out and agreed not to tell anyone, which led to you getting an even worse concussion, and you're now potentially bleeding into your brain... That's probably got something to do with it."

You waved a hand at him. "Details. It's not a big deal."

He shook his head, looking at the wall adjacent from him and not at you. "This is not how I pictured us getting to meet."

This interested you, so you probed. "You pictured us meeting?"

He smirked. "We talked for a couple years, Cross. Of course I did."

"And how was that supposed to go?" High or not, you were curious.

He chuckled, still not looking at you. "Not like this."

You rolled your eyes. "Well, duh. But what did you expect?"

"I don't know. Something normal? Hanging at a movie or getting food? Like normal people?"

You cackled. "Well, you're not normal, Noah."

"Clearly." He said through grit teeth.

Leaning back again, you relaxed, and pursed your lips. "Were you trying to flirt with me earlier?"

You could tell this caught him by surprise, as he began looking nervous again. "What do you mean?"

"Well, either your were trying to flirt, or you actually gave me a concussion just to get my phone number."

He bit back a laugh, looking at you sheepishly. "Yeah, no that wasn't on purpose. Just a bad joke."

"Well, you could've just asked for my number, is all I'm saying."

He shook with soft laughter. "Noted." He stood then, turning toward the doorway where Isobel could be seen coming down the hallway. "Well, I mostly wanted to make sure you were okay. I should go."

Something about that didn't feel right to you, and you sat up a little quickly, your brain sloshing slightly in your skull, but you ignored it.

"You're leaving?" In your inebriated mind, you pictured yourself looking silly and desperate, but your logic knew that likely was just the drugs talking.

“Yeah, well, you don’t need a disaster magnet hanging around.” He said looking timid.

Isobel had joined you back in the bedroom, and was turning to look between the both of you.

“Everything okay?” She stared at Noah, and he reached a hand to palm the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I was just getting ready to head out.”

Your mouth moved before you could stop it. “No he wasn’t.”

Both of their heads snapped to look up at you, and he looked so puzzled. “No?”

You shook your head, soft smile adorning your face. “No, not unless you have somewhere to be.”

Isobel picked up on the tension in the room and made a show to look at her smart watch.

“Oh damn, look at that, I’m getting a call. Be right back.”

She slipped from the room and Noah focused his stare back on you.

“You want me to stay?”

You nodded, crossing your legs in front of you and sitting straight.

“That could be hazardous, you know?” He joked, but rounded back around by the bed, sitting a little closer to you on the edge.

“I don’t care.”

It took what felt like forever for the doctor to finally enter the room, interrupting yours and Noah’s game of hot hands you were playing while Iz sat in a chair on the side, chatting idly about the next gig she had booked for Motionless in White.

“Ah, I see your coordination is no issue.” The doctor spoke right as your hand came down to slap the back of Noah’s hard, forcing him to pull away hastily and hiss in pain.

You giggled, and turned to face the physician. “How’s my head?” He looked down at his paperwork, nodding in approval. Noah moved off the bed so the doctor could come around and shine a light at your eyes for the hundredth time.

“Looks good. No bleeds, no fractures. You shouldn’t have any lasting side effects aside from some headaches for a few days.” You smiled and glanced at Noah, seeing the physical relief he breathed out.

“You need to follow up with a neurologist in one week, and you need to stay in bed for at least five days.”

You grunted in disapproval. “That sucks.”

He sucked his teeth. “I know, but it’s just a precaution. Do you live with someone? Parents? Roommate? Boyfriend?”

If Noah were a dog, his ears would have been perking at that last word.

You shook your head. “Just me.”

He shrugged. “I don’t like the idea of you being alone. Can you stay with someone until you can go to the neurologist?”

I sunk down. “Not really? I have a cat that needs to be looked after.”

“I can come stay with you.” Isobel spoke up from her side of the bed, and I smiled at her appreciatively.

“Okay, good. I think I can get you out of here, then. No blood thinners for a few days, just Tylenol for pain. You experience any odd symptoms or pain that’s unbearable, you come straight back, yes?”

You nodded, and he smiled.

“Great, I’ll put in for the discharge.”

You turned to look at her, reaching out for her to take your hand. “You didn’t have to do that, Iz.”

She smirked. “Someone has to.”

You laughed. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Can we just stop by my place? I’ve got a couple things I need to do, it’ll take a couple hours, probably. Or I can drop you off and head back over?”

“She shouldn’t be alone, though, right?” Noah piped up from where he stood on the opposing side of the bed.

You sighed. “I’m so tired though. I want to go home and get in my sweats.”

He pursed his lips, mind working while looking at your face, before glancing back up to Isobel.

“Why don’t I take her home, and I can hang with her till you get there? That way you can do what you need to, but she can go home and get comfortable?”

Isobel eyed you, wanting to hear your thoughts on it before she answered. You just shrugged in response, and she slowly tore her eyes off of you to look back at Noah.

“Alright, but be careful driving her home.” She smiled in a patronizing fashion. “You can understand my hesitation after today.”

He clenched his jaw, knowing exactly what she meant, and looked back down at you. You felt your cheeks heat up under his gaze.

His eyes fell back to Iz, that sternness returning in his tone.

“I‘ll be careful.”

The drive back to your apartment was silent, the air hanging with uncertainty. The only sound above the whir of the motor was you giving directions to your place, and Noah humming his understanding.

It took until you were over halfway there for him to look at you, eyes looking sad.

“Feel like the morphine’s wearing off?”

You were rubbing at your temples, and you snorted. “How could you tell?”

He smirked. “I’m so sorry.”

You groaned. “Noah, if you apologize one more time, I’m going to slap you.”

He sucked his lips in and looked back out the windshield.

“It wasn’t your fault, it happens.”

His knuckles flexed on the steering wheel and he inhaled a long breath. "It's actually, technically, one hundred percent my fault." He admitted, gritting his teeth.

He pulled into the parking lot of your apartment complex, and his vehicle came to a stop just outside of your building.

"I don't suppose you live on the first floor?" He chanced, but you shook your head.

"Third." He looked like he was about to start stressing, but you smiled. "There's an elevator."

This made him relax back in his seat before he stepped out, moving quickly to your side and letting you out.

He carried your bag and sweater in his arms as you led up to the elevator, and down the hall to your small one-bedroom apartment. Once inside, your white, short-haired cat bound up to you both, meowing with fervor.

Noah looked down at her, and back up to you. You reached down and scooped up her small body with one hand, holding her to your chest.

"Noah, this is Narcissa."

He smiled, petting her head with one finger, which she accepted graciously.

"She's probably starving, I'd better feed her." Before you could move toward the kitchen, he put a hand on your arm.

"Let me. Where's her food?"

You pointed him in the right direction, taking the moment to head into your bedroom, kicking your shoes off and reaching for a t-shirt from the closet and a pair of shorts from the drawer of your long dresser. He appeared in the doorway right after you had slipped the shirt over your head, and he leaned against the frame.

"She's fed. Anything I can get you?"

You panned around the room, thinking for a moment. "I've got some chips and salsa in the kitchen. Chips in the pantry and salsa in the fridge. Want to grab it and meet me in the living room?"

He nodded, heading to complete his task. You padded over to the couch, dropping down onto the soft cushions, and pulled your sofa blanket over you. He joined you after a moment, setting the food on the coffee table, your phone next to it.

"Thought you'd want that."

He sat and watched the television as you flipped through Hulu, looking for something to watch. You could feel how uncomfortable he was, trying so hard to keep a wide distance from you, likely so as not to hurt you.

"Noah?"

He looked over, eyebrows raised. "Hmm?"

You made a show of relaxing back on the couch, and motioned for him to do the same. "Take a breath. I'm fine."

He tried, leaning back and exhaling loudly. "You okay with Evil Dead? It's one of my favorites."

"Sure. I've seen it a couple times."

You sat back, now munching on some chips, and offered him the bag. He grabbed some, crunching on them loudly.

The movie played, but you could feel how, as he finally did begin to relax, he was moving somewhat closer to you. It was fascinating. He wasn't doing it on purpose, it was almost as if he was a magnet, and you were the pole it attached to.

"Can I ask you a question?" He looked over at you, listening. "Why did you go dark?"

You could see he was baffled by the so off-topic ask, and he took a moment to gather his thoughts.

"Uh," He looked back at you. "A lot of reasons, really."

"Mm." You nodded, setting the chips back on the table. "Why did you go dark on me?"

This caught his complete attention, and his body turned to face you. "What?"

"You didn't even say bye or anything. You just...stopped coming online. And I had no way to reach out."

He furrowed his brow. "I'm a little surprised you wanted to, Cross."

"Why?"

He made a noise that sounded nearly annoyed. "Well, you never wanted to talk on a call. You never showed your face. You wouldn't even tell me your real name."

Guilt sunk in to your gut, reminding you that he was absolutely right.

"I just figured you weren't interested in maintaining the friendship beyond what it was, so I didn't think about it."

You nodded, understanding. There was nothing wrong with it, but it still sort of hurt your feelings.

"I get it. I was just curious."

"Why didn't you ever reach out?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but had to stop, because you realized...you didn't know. There wasn't a clear, concise reason why. Maybe you liked the idea of Noah being just an idea? A friend? Someone who didn't know you, and all that came with? Maybe it made it easier to feel safe talking to him?

He noticed you were uncomfortable with the conversation, and waved it off. "It doesn't matter now."

You had to agree with that. It wasn't going to change anything.

"Well, let's just watch the movie and you can rest."

You leaned back on the couch, and it wasn't lost on you that Noah was slowly scooting closer still, only now, you were pretty sure he was doing it on purpose. The room felt warm, and you adjusted under the blanket to kick a leg out, it being pressed against his. His eyes darted down to where you had touched him, and back up to your face. You kept your eyes straight ahead, smirking at the situation.

He leaned forward, pulling his beanie off and running his hand through his hair. "Is it warm in here?"

You smiled, just dropping your shoulders. He leaned back, and tried so desperately to smoothly slip an arm on the back of the couch, stretching at the same time.

He wasn't actually doing this, was he?

He was adorable, despite how absolutely ridiculous he was. He was nervous, and you knew that, but you worked overtime to hide your amusement, just shifting so you were pressed into his side.

His hand hesitated on the back of the couch, twitching as if he wanted to just wrap it around your shoulders, your head now resting on his chest.

You sighed loudly. "Noah, just put your arm around me."

"Yup." He gripped you, and adjusted to curl into him closer, leg falling over his. You giggled at him, and he pressed his face into the top of your head, embarrassed. "Clearly, I'm not good at this."

The movie played on, and at the scarier parts, you gripped his shirt tightly. You weren't very spooked, but it was what you did when snuggling on the couch with a cute boy, so you just went with it.

"Cross?" His voice was small, and you pressed in closer to hear him better.

"Hmm?"

"I really want to kiss you, but I'm kind of," He cleared his throat. "afraid?"

You scrunched up your nose and lifted your face to look at him. "Afraid?" His eyes were so big and doe-like, it pulled at something in your chest.

"Yeah, after all that's happened today? What if I miss and...I don't know...break your nose, or something?"

It took a second, but your face broke out in a large grin and you started laughing like a hyena. It was so absurd.

"What?!"

You had to take a breath, the ache in your head beginning to throb a little harder with your labored breathing. "I'm sorry!" You squeaked out, trying to contain yourself.

"Is it that hard to believe?"

You shook your head. "It's not." You could barely hold the giggles in. "That's why it's so funny."

He narrowed his eyes, pulling his arm from where it was wrapped around your back, but you pushed in closer, finally halting your laughing and looked at him.

"Noah," You lifted one hand to press your palm against his cheek. "if you want to kiss me, just do it."

His eyes flipped between both of yours, considering, before he leaned in and you closed your eyes.

Problem is, so did he...

His top teeth collided into yours making a harsh clacking sound, and causing you both to pull away hastily.

"God damn it!" His hand pressed into his gums, and he stared at you. "Are you okay?" You were laughing again, and he growled. "Maybe we should just not even try."

The tears in your eyes glistened, making him look glittery in your vision, and you just smiled brightly at him.

"Fucking hell, Noah."

You lifted yourself up, grabbing his face, and pressing your mouth to his, this time without incident. Your lips molded to his, and you felt him let out a breath he had been holding. His hands cautiously grabbed you, gently moving you to position so you straddled him, lips not disconnecting as he did.

Your hands gripped his hair, pulling his head back and exposing his neck. Your lips went to work laying featherlike kisses on the soft skin when you heard his voice.

"Uhm, Cross?" He was out of breath, and his chest was heaving. "We probably shouldn't do anything too crazy, on account of the concussion." His voice sounded unconvinced, but still, you pulled back, raising an eyebrow at him.

"My brain is fine. Now, let me have some fun, for fucking once."

His fingers dug into your sides, and your tongue was tracing his tattoos on the side of his throat.

"B-But, I really don't know if we should. The doctor said-"

You pulled back again, this time becoming annoyed. "The doctor said I needed to stay in bed. This counts."

"Okay, but, what if it makes it worse?"

You deflated a bit, hands falling down onto your lap. "Do you not want to do this?" Your voice had cracked just slightly, and you silently cursed yourself for it.

His eyes bulged, and he grabbed you harder. "No, I do! I really, really do. I just don't want to hurt you."

Even with the concern and empathy in his voice, you couldn't help but grind down onto his hips, noticing his pants were significantly tighter, and pull a moan straight out of his chest.

"You won't Noah. At least, not in a bad way." You wiggled your brows at him and gripped the sides of his neck.

He looked confused. "Is there a good way?" Incredulously, you dropped your forehead on his chest, his mind catching up a second later. "Oh! Oh right! Sorry, I don't know where my mind is right now."

You just kissed him again, tired of talking - or whatever that was - about it. Noah lifted his hips to push into you, which was the first thing he had done right all evening. You felt his erection beneath the layers of fabric between you, the friction delicious against your crotch. This time, he began placing soft kisses on your neck, barely touching the skin and teasing you.

His fingers loosened around your hips and wandered up to your shirt, slipping underneath and goosebumps rose on your skin where he touched. His hands found your breasts and took them in handfuls.

You couldn't help but giggle at the memory that flashed through your head, which caused him to look up at you.

"What?"

You smiled down at him. "Nothing, it's just that you grabbed my chest earlier when you tried to catch me. I was just thinking, I like this better."

He sighed, his head falling back. "I was hoping you hadn't noticed that."

You kissed him again, pressing back down on him, and regaining his attention.

"Noah?" His eyes looked at yours, his body now rhythmically pressing into you. "Fuck me? Please?"

You didn't mean to sound quite so needy, but it just came out that way. You were aching so bad for it, and you felt as if he didn't slip inside you soon, you may explode.

His eyes darkened, and he smiled back at you, his arms flexing around your waist and lifting you gently to lay you down on the couch. Hands making quick work of your shorts, pulling them off and staring at you. You may have forgotten to put panties on when you changed earlier, so he was marveling at the sight in front of him.

His tongue darted out to lick his lips before he pulled his own pants and boxers down, exposing his cock. You were impressed. Where Noah lacked grace and technique, he made up elsewhere. He slipped his hand into his pocket, fishing his wallet out. He located the condom quickly and applied it, giving himself a few long strokes as his free hand slid down your stomach, fingertips running through your folds for a second.

"You're sure it won't hurt you?" His mouth was hung open, and you rolled your eyes in response.

You reached your arms up, grabbing at him and pulling him down toward you. He fell forward with you, and his hand came down hard on the edge of the coffee table by mistake. He pulled it back, yelping.

"Fuck!" He shook out his hand, and you grabbed his face, forcing him to look at you.

"It's okay. Just look at me." Doing as he was told, his dick pressed against your entrance, nudging for approval.

You rocked your hips up, assisting him as he slipped partially inside of you. The stretch burned incredibly, your eyes rolling back with it.

"Oh, wow." Your words were just breaths, arms wrapping around his neck. "T-That's...wow."

Noah's hips pulled back before snapping forward, driving into you with force. Your body shook with the feeling, clenching down around him. His lips were pressing kisses into the skin on your jaw and collarbone, adding to the lovely sensation.

"Holy fuck, Noah." You lifted your legs to lock around his waist, pushing your hips up. "Harder."

He rammed your body into the cushions, the back of the couch smacking the wall loudly.

"J-Jesus. So good." His words were so quiet, you almost didn't hear. His face was buried in your neck, sweat forming in his hair. "You're so tight."

His whispers were pushing you off the edge. "Ugh, keep talking to me." Your hands gripped his hair, pulling at the roots.

"Fucking can't take it, it's so good. So perfect. So wet." He was railing you so hard, you felt as though you may cry from the sensation. "Just want to stay buried inside you all night, baby."

His words came out so softly, so soothingly that you let your body relax and let go, orgasm ready to tip.

That is, until...

"Ow..." It was almost silent. "Oww..." That was louder. "Ow! Ouch! Fuck!" He sat up suddenly, falling back on the couch.

You sat up, your head still spinning. "What's wrong?!" Your hands wandered over him, but he lifted his leg up on the couch, gripping his calf.

"Fucking leg cramp." His fingers pressed into the visibly tight muscle, and you fell backward, orgasm officially lost.

"I'm sorry!" He tried to reach for you, but you lifted your head, shooting him a warning glance. He pulled back, face turning a deep shade of red.

His cock, however, was stood at full attention still.

Rolling your tongue around in your mouth, you swung your legs off the couch and stood. You pointed to the cushions, and demanded him. "Lay down."

Without hesitation, he did as he was told, laying flat on his back, and stared at you longingly.

Wasting no time, you sat down, sliding onto him with ease now that you'd had a chance to adjust. The angle made you feel so full, so satiated. You let out a long, comfortable moan.

His hands grabbed you, and you began to rock back and forth, begging to chase that lost climax. He peered up at you through half-masked lids, fingers gripping your thighs now.

"Is that better, baby?" You nodded, fingernails scratching down his chest. "Going to come this way? Make a mess all over me?"

Just like Noah was on stage, when he was fucking, he liked to be in control. He was good at it, too.

You nodded, pressing your clit into the skin of his pubic bone. The friction combined with the pressure he was putting on that spot inside you had your thrusts more erratic.

"Can't last like this, honey. You're going to make me come if you keep riding me so fucking good."

His hips were rocking up into you, finding the wave you were riding and helping it wash over you.

"Noah..." You whimpered, hands digging into the skin of his sides. "I'm going to come."

"Yeah, baby, come for me."

His voice, so deep, raspy, sultry, shoved you over that edge, your body slowing down and spasming around him. His hips only had to buck up two more times before he was groaning, leaving fingerprint bruises in your thighs.

You both stayed still, breathing heavily, staring at each other. A grin creeped up onto your face slowly, a matching expression on his.

Both lost in your own universe, neither of you had heard the front door unlocking...

"Hey! I got finished quicker than I expected, so I-"

Both of your heads whipped to the front door, where Isobel had stepped in, duffel bag on her arm and food bags in the other.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" She turn around, covering her eyes with her hand. "What the fuck!"

You and Noah promptly jumped together, scrambling to right yourselves. He pulled at his pants that were still wrapped around his ankles, and you grabbed the blanket from the couch. He sat upright on the sofa, and you pressed against him, pulling the blanket over yourself.

Mortified, you both waited for her to turn around, which she did, eventually.

"Sorry about that, Iz." You said as you interlaced your fingers with Noah's, who was using his other hand to fully cover his face in humiliation.

"Not what I was expecting to see today!" She squealed, walking past the couch toward the kitchen. "I have food, you fucking pervs."

Once she had left the living room, you and Noah looked up at each other, both blushing furiously at having been caught in the act.

Even with the added mishap, you both broke out into large, shining smiles, laughing at the situation.

What a fucking doofus.

#bad omens #noah sebastian #fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #bad omens cult

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thatchickwiththecamera · 4 months

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NOAH SHOULD PLAY GUITAR MORE

Source: Twitter

@thefallennightmare @lma1986 @burning-outx @cncohshit @arkiliastuff @madomens

#noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens cult #badomens #badomenscult

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silent-stories · 2 months

Text

𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐍𝐎𝐀𝐇

(noah sebastian x gn!reader) headcanons. fluff.

-Noah never wants to get out of bed in the morning and tries in every way to grab you and hold you tight to his body so you can't leave. (you both know that one arm around your waist is enough to pin you to the mattress)

-When you finally manage to get out of bed he huffs and sinks his head into the pillow like a child mad at you. After some moments, you usually leave a kiss on his bare tattooed shoulder as an apology and go to make breakfast for both of you.

-When he smells food, he decides to finally get out of bed.

-You realize he is not in bed anymore when you feel his arms around your waist, wrapping you in his arms from behind as he leaves a kiss in your hair.

-You and Noah often try to bake a cake or cook something and always end up turning the kitchen into a mess.

-You usually always insist on deciding what music to play in the background while you try not to burn down the house. Get usually lets you decide. He can never say no to you.

-He often tries to teach you how to play some video game he's into at the moment but you always end up getting killed in the first three minutes of the game. So you both agree that he'll be the one playing, but with his arms around you and your back pressed against his chest, holding you while he fights some monster on the screen.

-You always pretend to be annoyed when the whole band arrives unexpectedly but in reality you love feeling part of their weird family. Of course, you're less fond of having to clean up the mess that three other men can cause in your house, but hearing the laughs that echoes through the rooms is worth it.

-You always shower together to "save water" but you know Noah wants you to wash his hair. It always helps him relax. Sometimes you think he's about to fall asleep in the shower.

-Sometimes he teaches you to play the guitar, his hands on yours gently guiding you over the strings.

-You love seeing him write the lyrics to his next songs in his notebook and hearing him mumble his ideas under his breath. You never disturb him in those moments and you try not to make any noise but sometimes, when he has so many ideas, he spends too much time writing and forgets to eat or that taking a break is good for him.

-So you sit next to him (he barely notices you how focused he is) and place your hand on his back, gently sliding it up and down, telling him it's time for dinner. You never take "I'll eat later" for an answer.

-You usually fall asleep watching a movie, gently playing with noah's tattooed hand on your lap or tracing the drawings on his arms with your fingers, your head resting on his shoulder.

-When this happens, Noah picks you up and carries you to bed, being careful not to wake you.

-Other times he's the first to fall asleep, his head on your lap while you let your fingers run through his hair, gently scratching his scalp.

-Then you turn off the TV and the light, placing the blanket around him and curling up next to him. During the night, his arm will wrap around your waist to push you against him anyway.

#noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian #bad omens #noah sebastian fluff

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thefallennightmare · 10 months

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Just Pretend-sixteen

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: Please listen to Eyelids by PVRIS during this chapter. Thank you very much.

Collaborating With: @thescarlettvvitch(better give her all the love as well)

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @ozwriterchick @waake-meee-up @notingridslurkaccount @niicoleleigh @sammyjoeee @xxrainstorm @dominuslunae @notmaddihealy @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @iknownothingpeople @writethrough @thebadchic @blackveilomens Claudia on Tumblr @tobe-written @blacksoul-27 @loeytuan98 @loverofagoodbeard @comfortcharactercraze @lma1986 @plutonikchaos1 @spicywhenspeaking @lyschko666 @somewhere-diamond @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here @koskeepsake @bngurngheart @shilohrosechicken @emzandthevoid

READER

With the notebook in my lap, as I sat cross-legged on my bed with Salem curled up next to me, purring away, I watched intently my laptop screen. My heart pounded so hard in my chest it made it hard to breathe. Noah and Jolly were currently performing a live stream on Veeps and from the moment I clicked on the video, I couldn’t stop staring; with his long hair cascading down his face in perfect waves. His face stone with concentration but yet soft with the features I loved.

“Do you think he’ll mess up like the last stream he did?” I asked Salem while scratching his belly.

Noah’s voice was something extremely distinctive, not just anyone could hold a tune or lit a candle to how he sounded. The way he effortlessly went through every emotion in his body. I looked at Noah as he was pretty still, with thick hair and soft eyes, and he swayed so gracefully that it almost seemed as though he was gliding. I’ve seen beautiful men before; men who caught my eye, but to my mind, they usually lacked the traits I found most desirable. Traits like intelligence, confidence, strength of spirit, passion, traits that inspired others to greatness, traits I aspired to myself, all the traits he had.

I hung off the cliff for Noah for a long time until recently, when I fell to the depths below.

It sparked something in me as I watched Jolly and Noah’s performance. I wanted to do something like this too; to showcase my real voice. I was better without Trey; the band was better. Trey wasn’t the end-all, and I wanted to prove it further. I understood the fans; I knew their positions; I understood their inner turmoil and their panic. Change is actually horrific under some circumstances, not all, but surely a few. This one was big.

Hollow Souls was never supposed to be a 3 piece. Hell, we didn’t even have a guitar player and our tech had to fill in when we recorded My House. Which is why I was learning how to play guitar so I could take Trey’s place. A lot of change within a few months and while it was scary, it was also exciting. But that didn’t stop me from questioning once again if we needed another person. What if I wasn’t strong enough to do this alone? Just the three of us?

What the hell were you worried about, angel?

I was thinking so heavily about what Noah texted me. He was proud of me. Of me! And my friends. That woke me up, he always could. I wanted to grab my phone to call him, and ask him for more reassurance. Our 2:30 conversations were slim and in between and I was struggling with that. I didn’t want to push my luck; he had Bailey.

Bailey.

I rolled my eyes, at the memories of the party. Ridiculous. I was tiptoeing around Noah; I knew if I called him I’d so desperately try to stay on the line. But what if she showed? It was killing me.

Therefore, I was hesitant to perform Eyelids; I was worried Noah’s reaction would warrant further frustration, considering he was in the arms of someone else. I couldn’t handle it because it fucking hurt seeing him with her. I wanted Noah to myself, as selfish as that sounded. I could only hope that in the discovery of my lyrics, he’ll at least know I meant everything we did and said that whole tour, meeting him changed my life for the better; before I hurt him.

I miss him and I only wished I was in his arms.

As the livestream ended, I smiled warmly as Noah and Jolly waved goodbye at the camera and then tried to focus my attention on the paper in my lap.

Amongst the idea of our own live stream, I couldn’t help but want more out of me. It was small; it was something just dying to purge out. However, the more I looked at the lyrics on paper, the more it didn’t fit; it wasn’t me. It was as if these lyrics were meant for someone else.

Letting out a deep breath, I sang a harmony I thought would fit with the lyrics. “Evened the scores, then I let it all go fall apart. And every step forward put a little more sword in your heart, yeah. Looking sideways when I say I’m okay with the past but I’m afraid of what I might say if you ask.”

The more I read it, over and over. It was good; I’ll say that. But, surely it didn’t belong to me. I could feel that. But I didn’t give up yet. I wrote another verse, hoping this one would speak more of me.

“I did it to myself, tried to be someone else. I let it tear me down, and I'll never be the same. I did it to myself and tried to be someone else. And you didn't notice 'til I finally got, finally got away.”

Fuck, even singing these lyrics didn’t feel right. My heart knew that this didn’t belong to me, it was meant for someone else.

Making a rash decision, I pulled out my phone and clicked on the name I needed help from.

“Hello?”

I perked up at the accent immediately. “Jolly! Hey, it's me. Y/N.”

A light chuckle echoed in my ear. “I know who it is, doll, I have caller ID.”

“Ok don’t be smart,” I teased.

“Sorry,” he laughs, “What do I owe the pleasure?”

I bit my lip, wondering how he would take my idea. It sounded rash in my head but if anyone were to listen to my idea; it was Jolly.

“I have something to run by you. Well, actually a few things.”

NOAH

My knee bounced as I sat in my chair, phone gripped tightly in my hand, as I glanced at the clock on my computer.

2:28.

It has been almost a week now since our last 2:30 call and the last one was short as she was running around Japan with her dad. Things were awkward to say the least at the party the other night and I wanted to make sure that things between us were still good.

Good? What’s considered good anymore? You’re dating someone else, dumbass.

Ignoring the voice in my mind, I let out a deep breath before clicking on Y/N’s name; the ringing echoing loudly in my quiet room. It rang and rang and rang. It went on like this for a few more times until, eventually; I hung up the call with a groan. But I wasn’t ready to give up yet and I typed out a quick message to Malcolm.

ME: Is Y/N around? I tried calling her.

Malcolm: Yeah, she’s been in the shower. Has been in there for a while- too long, maybe shaving or some shit. I’ll have her call you.

An audible, deep groan, fell from my lips as I leaned my head back against the headrest of my chair when the thought of Y/N in the shower.

Naked, water, and soap ran down every inch of her unholy skin.

“Shit,” I cursed when my dick twitched in my sweats.

“Noah.”

Y/N’s voice rang in my ear as my eyes fluttered shut, hands in fists on my thighs. My vision was so vivid as if I was in the shower with her, our wet skin ablaze as I wrapped my arms around her from behind to bury my face into the crook of her neck.

“Angel,” I breathed while my palm pressed against my hard cock in my sweats.

My hips raised from the chair as a moan crawled out of my throat, my hand now all but ripping out my dripping cock from my pants. It was red and thick with the mere thought of Y/N in the shower. Gripping it between my fingers, I slowly pumped up and down, thumb grazing over the pre-cum that leaked out from the slit and circled it around the head of my cock.

“Noah, I need you.”

Her name fell from my lips as a prayer while I leaned farther back into my chair as my hand worked faster, the grip around myself tightened as the orgasm buzzed in my lower stomach. The burn felt so good but it wasn’t enough; I needed something else to help me over the edge.

I pulled the extra skin down tight, cock standing straight up in my hand, as I let out a strangled breath. My orgasm was right there, but I wanted to edge myself longer; I didn’t want this vision to end.

Y/N rubbed the soap over every inch of her skin, her fingers teasing over her nipples as he head fell back, water spraying into her mouth.

But after that vision, another one came to mind which made my hand work in faster strokes. Y/N on top of me with her hands gripping my braids as her mouth fell slack with ecstasy. I consistently became a time traveler of that night, the night she rode me into oblivion. A night I’ll surely never forget. Even in these moments, my mind goes there.

“Fuck. Shit.” I cursed as a shock shot from the base of my spine to the top when my body went stiff, orgasm so close to destroying me.

I jerked when my phone buzzed against the computer desk so I stopped my actions but kept my grip tight on my aching cock to realize Bailey was calling me.

Ignore.

With my phone still in my hand, I quickly went to my photos and clicked on one of my favorite pictures of Y/N; from the day we spent on the beach. She was staring straight out into the water, a small smile playing on her sweet, plump lips.

Fuck, I wished those lips were strangled around my cock.

Once the phone was set up directly in front of me, I leaned back into my chair again and worked my hand in fast short strokes, the orgasm once again burning low in my belly.

“Noah.” Y/N’s voice echoed in my mind again.

“Shit, angel. I’m gonna-fuck,” I groaned low, the noise barely audible as it crawled out of my throat when my release finally washed over me.

Cum shot all over my hand and onto my pants but none of that mattered; my dark eyes were stuck on the picture on the screen. Until a different picture appeared which had me cursing and wiping my cum covered hand on my pants before tucking myself back into my pants. Just a simple phone call from her had my dick aching again.

With a few steady breaths, I ran my clean hand through my hair before answering the FaceTime call; Y/N’s bright smile warming my heart.

“Hi Mochi! I didn’t mean to miss your call. I was in the shower.”

She was sitting on her bed, water still dripping from her wet hair, and internally I groaned when the same thoughts as earlier came creeping back into my mind.

“Oh yeah? You-uh-feeling clean?” I flushed while shifting in my chair.

“Well, yeah,” she chuckled. “That’s what a shower is. Water, soap.”

Naked, I know the drill.

I cleared my throat. “Right. Anyway, can you talk or is this a bad time?”

“Actually, I was going to send this in the group chat but since I have you on the phone, I figured now would be the best time.”

I raised a brow as my heart pounded widely in my chest, wondering what she was going to say.

“Veeps offered Hollow Souls to do a stream as well! So I wanted to make sure you were free to watch it, maybe? Totally fine if you can’t, I know you might be busy with-.”

“I’ll watch it,” I rushed out, not missing a beat. “What time?”

“Oh, in about 2 hours?” She bit her lip, hopeful I’d say yes.

My dick throbbed as memories of moments before her phone call replayed in my mind. “I’ll have the tv on standby downstairs, angel. We wouldn’t miss that shit for anything.”

Y/N smiled brightly as she brought Salem into view of her phone, his green eyes staring directly into my soul. “Salem thanks you for the support.”

“I miss him, we really bonded while you were gone,” I smiled a bit.

“Well, you can come by anytime to hang out with him; or me,” Y/N added the last bit slyly.

“Count me in, angel.”

READER

Once dressed, almost ready for the live stream, I was rummaging through my sock drawer to find a pair of socks when my fingers brushed against something soft. My brow raised as I pulled out two small velvet boxes, my mind immediately going back to my birthday.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I opened the box, and a gasp left my lips as the silver necklace and matching bracelet shined under the light of the room. It wasn't anything over the top and there were no diamonds but that didn't matter to me. I wasn't one for over-the-top jewelry, this simple chain and bracelet were enough.

With wet eyes, I gazed up at Noah, who had a nervous look on his face as he fiddled with his wooden rosary. "Do you like it?"

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him into my embrace, burying my face into his neck. "I love it, Noah. Thank you so much."

With the haste of break up, the end of the tour, the move, and everything that happened between Noah and me, I almost forgot about the jewelry. I've stared at this bracelet and this fucking necklace for a while now. To think I had almost forgotten it, I shook my head at the thought. I couldn’t, things that were meant for us to find their way back. Well; at least that’s what I told myself. I yearned for him, his comfort, his gaze. I didn’t plan on falling in love with him. But once we met, it was clear that neither of us could control what was happening to us. I gasped when I realized what that burning feeling in my heart took over my entire existence each time I thought of him or saw him.

I love Noah.

I nearly stumbled on my feet as a breath fell from my lips again. “It’s too late now.”

With shaky hands, I opened the box, my heart skipping a beat. It still took my breath away as I opened the box, clasping on the necklace first then the bracelet.

“I have to admit, Salem” I turned towards the mirror in my room so I could stare at my reflection while the cat sat on my vanity. “Noah did pretty well.”

There was a knock on my open door, and I gave a small smile towards Jolly. “Hey.”

“Almost ready?” He asked.

“Yep.”

He then taped a finger to his neckline twice. “That’s a nice necklace. Who gave you that?”

“It was a birthday gift,” I shrugged nonchalantly.

The corner of Jolly’s mouth turned up in a grin. “That’s not what I asked.”

Ignoring his comment, I slid into my slippers and led him out of my room down to the dining room where we set up earlier.

Jolly first arrived a few hours ago for our daily lessons before helping me set up the stream. After I watched theirs almost a week ago, I asked Jolly if he could come over to help me with my stream. I couldn’t play guitar but we could practice the two songs I wanted to perform.

Chase and Malcolm asked if I needed them for this but I could tell they already had plans. Even though this was a Hollow Souls set, it was more of an acoustic version so Chase on drums and Malcolm on bass wasn’t needed; hence why I asked Jolly to help. First off, who else was better to teach me how to play guitar than him? I knew the basics, but he was helping me hone in on my skills. Second, I needed to talk to him about something important.

As I finished making things were in order, Jolly sat on his chair to strum the first few notes of If I’m There on his guitar.

“Feel comfortable enough?” He wondered.

I nodded while looking at the laptop to make sure the stream was ready; all I had to do was hit the live button.

“Yep. We’ve been practicing every day. It helps I have a great teacher,” I beamed at him. “Thanks for this, Jolly. I didn’t know who else to ask and I know you’re Noah’s friend first.”

Jolly shrugged. “You’re my friend as well, doll. I help my friends and that’s something Noah knows and understands.”

Silence fell between us for a long moment until he hesitated.

“How did you feel about our new single, honestly?”

My shoulders went rigid for a second before I shrugged. “I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Y/N don’t take this the wrong way, but you can’t be that dense. You know it was about you, right?” Jolly asked.

“I-,” The words died in my throat.

Jolly raised a brow. “Yeah, so tell me. How do you feel about it?”

“Are you my shrink now?” I crossed my arms over my chest, one last ditch effort at shielding myself from admitting the truth.

“No, a friend,” he sighed while setting down the guitar.

Defeated, I fell into the chair with a groan. “I-I feel sad. Noah must fucking hate me.”

“I assure you, he doesn’t,” Jolly said.

“How can you be so sure, Jolly? He went and found someone else. He’s clearly writing how he feels too. I hate feeling like this.” I sat with my hands folded in my lap as I chipped away at the nail polish.

“So talk to him, because I can tell you right now, Noah’s not head over heels for this girl. I think you know deep down what he’s trying to do.”

I refused to meet his gaze as I shook my head. “I don’t know what you mean. I can’t-he seems happy.”

“Y/N,” Jolly sighed. “He’s not happy unless he’s with you.”

“Then he needs to tell me that,” my eyes snapped up towards him. “I was going to express some things I’ve discovered but-.”

Jolly raised his brows. “Discovered what?”

For a split second, I thought about telling him but decided against it. “It doesn’t matter, I can’t mess anything up for him. I need Noah to need me. It works both ways, Jolly.”

“Y/N you’re not understanding you’ve got it all wrong-.”

“Can we move on, please? It hurts enough to think about him with someone else the last fucking thing I want to do is talk about them,” I let out a shaky breath as my bottom lip wobbled.

Jolly gave me a weak smile. “Sure thing, doll. Did you want to go live?”

“Actually,” I bit my lip before reaching over to the table to grab a piece of paper. “There’s something I want to run by you.”

When he nodded, I handed Jolly the paper. “I wrote it about Trey but the thought of recording it scares me. It’s deeper than what I typically write and it's not me. I thought about selling it but that didn’t feel right.”

I watched intently as Jolly read the lyrics, his eyes taking in every inch of the page, the smile on his lips growing with each pass.

“Doll, this is,” he shook his head. “Amazing. Are you sure?”

Our eyes locked as I nodded. “It’s not a Hollow Souls song. But Bad Omens on the other hand, I know you guys can give it the justice it deserves.”

NOAH

“SHUT UP!” I bellowed while tossing a pillow towards Jesse, who was talking extensively to Orie about some shit that didn’t matter. “The live stream is about to start.”

Jesse caught the pillow mid-throw and smirked. “Excited, are we?”

Flipping him off, I sat on the couch with a beer in one hand and my phone in the other, sending another text to Jolly. He’d been M.I. A all day, and we were wondering if he was going to join.

“Has anyone heard from Jolly?” I asked.

Orie shrugged. “I thought he was in his room.”

“We went to lunch earlier,” Michael said while walking into the living room, bowl full of random snacks in his hands before he set them on the coffee table. “But he said he had some things to take care of afterward.”

Just then the stream began and Y/N’s soft voice echoed through the speakers.

“Shit, are we live? Wait, I probably shouldn’t swear on this.”

We all shared a laugh until we saw who was sitting next to her.

“Hi everyone! It’s Y/N from Hollow Souls. You might have noticed that I have a friend here with me today,” Y/N adjusted the headphones before she motioned to Jolly who sat on her left. “Jolly from Bad Omens.”

Jolly waved to the camera. “Hi.”

“I guess that’s what his errand was,” Jesse said while throwing some popcorn in his mouth.

Ignoring him, I wondered why Jolly was with Y/N right now. I wasn’t jealous he was with her. I was jealous that I wasn’t there instead. She looked breathtaking with her long hair pulled back in a tight bun to showcase the sharp features of her face, her plump lips glistening with the lip gloss she must have applied before the stream started. Her bright eyes shined with the excitement of what she was about to perform which in turn made me sit up straighter in my spot on the couch, a proud smile on my face.

“So, the reason Malcolm and Chase aren’t here is because this set is more of an acoustic one. I recently saw some friends of mine do something like this and wanted to try it,” she smiled over to Jolly.

“I’m here for moral support,” Jolly said.

“He’s actually been teaching me guitar the last week because I wanted to do more for this band since we kicked Trey out,” Y/N revealed.

At the mention of his name, I felt my face twitch but kept it as stone as I could, not wanting to give anything away to the rest of the guys. They were the only three of the entire group that didn’t know the truth about Y/N’s relationship with Trey.

“Did you know Jolly was teaching her guitar?” Jesse asked me.

I shook my head while running a hand through my hair. “I had no idea she wanted to learn. I mean, I knew they had to figure out a guitarist moving forward but didn’t know she wanted to play.”

“She didn’t ask you?” Orie wondered.

I shrugged, wondering the same but did my best not to dwell on it as I went back to watching the feed.

“So, I’m going to sing two songs for you guys today. The first one is a cover, and the second is something new. It’s nowhere near ready for release but it’s been weighing heavy on my heart the last few weeks since I wrote it.”

Y/N adjusted her headphones before glancing over to her laptop. “Woah, the chat is going crazy you’re here, Jolly.”

He hummed in amusement while tuning the guitar. “What are they saying?”

“Where’s Noah? When is the collab with Bad Omens coming?”

Y/N snickered before looking back at the camera, giving a wink. “I don’t know. Noah has my number.”

Quickly pulling out my phone, I pulled up the stream to add something to the chat.

“Oh, look who joined the chat. Jolly, Noah is wondering if you could bring pizza home,” Y/N laughed as she read my comment.

I chuckled to myself as we saw Jolly roll his eyes. Then Y/N read my next comment, her cheeks flushing red; something others might not have noticed. But I did. I watched and analyzed everything she did with a careful eye.

The comment I sent in the chat was something simple; something only a few of us would understand.

We can talk about the collab during our next phone call.

She shifted in her chair, a hint of a smile on her face. “Well, my first song might sound familiar to a lot of you. It’s my first time performing it but unlike Noah did last week, I won’t mess up the words.”

Jolly broke out in laughter before playing the opening notes of the song; one I recognized immediately even though I knew which one she meant before Jolly played the first few notes of the song. There was only one song I messed up on a livestream recently. If I’m There.

Her beautiful voice stung deep into my veins as I fell back on the couch.

“Oh. Shit,” Orie spoke. “No offense, man, but Y/N kills your lyrics.”

I nodded, numbly as I agreed with him. It was as if my lyrics were made for her voice, the sultry tone of it sending chills all over my body. She gripped the microphone with a soft touch and my cock twitched as I remembered earlier up in my bedroom.

As she got to the verse I messed up on my own livestream, Y/N’s eyes opened to throw a quick wink and smirk toward the camera when she sang it perfectly; almost annoyingly perfect.

I felt a pair of eyes burning into the side of my head and briefly tearing my gaze away from the television; I shot Jesse a look.

“What?”

He pursed his lips while shaking his head. “You haven’t stopped smiling since she came on the screen. You look like a kid that was given free rein in a candy store.”

Rolling my eyes, I focused back to Y/N just in time as she sang the last two lines of the song.

“And if you're there to catch me when I fall then maybe Hell ain't so bad after all,” she breathed before pushing away the microphone from her a tad.

Shit.

This was different than Hollow Souls. The softness of the song was fucking made for Y/N and something she needed to do more of.

“Fuck yes,” she beamed but then smacked a hand over her face. “Sorry, didn’t mean to swear. I’ll add it to the jar Malcolm has on top of the fridge.”

“He doesn’t?” Michael chucked.

I nodded while taking a long drink of my beer. “He does. I saw it when I was there taking care of Salem. Thing is empty but fuck is in their everyday vocabulary so you know they’re not adding to that shit.”

Noticing she was reading the comments once again, I quickly typed out one.

Great job, Y/N! Feel free to cover any of our songs. I’d always watch it with a proud smile.

Even though she didn’t say she read it, I knew she did with the way the corner of her lip raised and the way her eyes crinkled at the sides.

“Alright, the last song is a new one. We do plan on having it on the next record but it will sound different from what you’ll hear right now. My friends, thank you for watching. This one is called Eyelids.”

This had me sitting on the edge of the couch, elbows on my knees, as excitement filled me.

“I'll face my fear of the evening once I get used to this feeling. I can't sleep. That's when you're torn away from me. While I'm dreaming I feel you leaving.”

My jaw fell slack, hearing the rawness in her voice with the pure emotion being poured out of her soul.

"I'll face my fear of the sunrise when I wake up with your hand inside mine. It's hard to say good morning when it's followed with goodbye. Just wanted to say good night.”

Something glinted on the screen, which immediately took my gaze away from her face down to her neck, my heart and breath catching in my throat. I remained silent as my body leaned closer to the television.

“What are you doing, man? Did you forget your glasses?” Michael joked.

His voice was a white noise as I moved from my spot on the couch to the coffee table, now sitting directly in front of the screen.

What the fuck?

Is that?

I inched closer and closer to that television, I couldn’t hear what was being said to me as I scrunched my face up and began squinting.

No, it can’t be.

“Our eyes fighting the light but I'm not ready to say good night, ooh. I try and hold on tight 'cause it's just not time to say good night. Say good night.”

It hung almost a little well above her cleavage, that beautiful silky neck- my eyes moved quickly to her wrists.

“Let me see,” I muttered under my breath.

I made an inaudible sound from my throat, mouth peering a little open.

She was wearing them; both of them. My heart raced even further, longer, more rapidly.

I was feeling a lot of things at once; I didn’t quite know how to place them. I needed a beer. I needed to talk to my shrink. That’s what I should do, because the panic was setting in, this ache was almost unbearable.

Why, why would she want to wear them after everything? Even now?

I’m hurting her right back, aren’t I?

Everything has become a puddle of mud, a mess of my volition now. I did this. All I could think while seeing the jewelry I gifted her, all I could hear while listening to her voice was “Maybe, just maybe I’ll come back to you.”

She was occupied by her own complicated thoughts - you could tell from the way she was squinting and moving her mouth.

Maybe I was imagining things. Maybe until-.

“I'll face my fear of the cold nights when you leave me behind. I felt your hands in my hair. I felt your breath on my neck. Yeah, I need to feel you again. Just wanted to say good night.”

My body went still, all the air taken from my lungs, as I watched her lips move. Her own personal conflict was clear in the way the muscles in her jaw tightened and her eyes screwed shut.

No, it couldn’t be.

She didn’t.

Did she?

Was this about us?

No, I’m overthinking this.

“Our eyes fighting the light but I'm not ready to say good night, ooh. I try and hold on tight 'cause it's just not time to say good night. Say good night.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Orie smack Jesse on the shoulder and motioned to the stillness of me; still unmoving.

“Our eyes fighting the light. But I'm not ready to say good night, ooh. I try and hold on tight 'cause it's just not time to say good night. Say good night.”

I could see Jolly vibing along to the lyrics next to Y/N but it didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered more than this moment right here as I watched her pour every feeling about that night into this one song. My heart fell deep into the pits of my stomach when I saw her grip the necklace, playing with it between two fingers.

These eyes are closed again for yet another night I wake up and I can feel you by my side. But I can't find you in the dark when you're so far. Yeah, that's the hardest part. Here comes the hardest part.

My eyes dropped slightly in tangent with my shoulders.

Our eyes fight the light. But I'm not ready to say good night oh. I try and hold on tight 'cause it's just not time to say good night. To say good night.

As the last lyric faded into the air, there was a hushed recording playing some words in the background; another small thing I picked up on.

“I mean in what world do I go to sleep after you and wake up before you? I don't even know how it happens. Well, I hope you're having sweet dreams. And you call me when you wake up.”

Fuck.

My bottom lip trembled when I recognized that voice. It was Y/N’s, and it wasn’t just any kind of recording. No, it was a voicemail she left me while she was in Japan. It was right after I missed one of our 2:30 calls. I was asleep but once I noticed she called me less than an hour later; I listened to the voicemail before quickly calling her back.

“Okay, that deserves a curse,” Jolly said. “You fucking killed that, Y/N.”

She was beaming with pride. “Holy shit, guys. You don’t understand how long I’ve had this festering inside of me. It feels so good to get out.”

Y/N clicked on the laptop to read through some of the comments, a small frown pulling at her lips.

“Oh my god. Are you and Trey getting back together?! You were so perfect. No, we’re not getting back together. I grew up since the breakup; I became a savage. But not everything is about fucking Trey. This is just a song about a really awesome guy. That’s it.”

I was still, like a statue, unmoving and unnerving as Joly and Y/N said their goodbyes before the stream ended; a black screen mirror back to me.

Jesse leaned forward in his chair. “Noah-.”

Hearing my name broke me out of the trance and without saying another word, I jumped up from my spot on the coffee table and took the stairs two at a time, my footsteps thundering throughout the house before I slammed myself into my bedroom.

Tears threatened to spill, burning at the corners of my eyes, but I held them in with a choked sob as I ran a shaky hand over my face.

I didn’t know what to make of anything anymore. Maybe just romantics would call this a twisted, toxic beginning to a love story while the cynics would call it a tragedy. In my mind, it’s a little bit of both, and no matter how you choose to view it in the end, it doesn’t change the fact that it involves a great deal of my life and the path I’ve chosen to follow and that I- I love her.

Ripping the drawer of my desk open, I rummaged through the useless crap, already knowing what I was looking for. I tossed the velvet boxes to the side and cradled the jewelry, my large hands encased them. I pressed them on my forehead and let the tears finally spill to the floor as I fell to my knees, resting my back up against my bed.

I cried; actually fucking cried.

The necklace and bracelet shook in my hands as the sobs wrecked through me. I haven’t cried like this in a long time mostly because I hated being this open and vulnerable. It made me sick, knowing that I wasn’t able to protect myself from these feelings right now. I spent my entire life protecting myself from these feelings only for Y/N to sink her claws into me in the best way possible.

“I love her,” I choked out through sobs, realizing what I felt earlier. “I fucking love her.”

NOAH

I wasn’t sure how long I kneeled on the floor, jewelry grasped deep in my palms as it dug into my skin. But it wasn’t until there was a soft knock on the door that pulled me from the despair. Red, puffy, bloodshot eyes glanced up at Jolly, whose shoulders fell as he took in my state; tears dried to my face and hair a mess from running my hands through it.

“Noah,” he muttered.

“Please leave me alone right now.” I whimpered lowly, refusing to meet his gaze again.

“No. Jesse said watching her perform Eyelids fucked you up. What’s going on?” Jolly kneeled in front of me.

“I can’t-,” I choked on a sob. “I don’t want to deal with this.”

Jolly rubbed his jaw. “Was it the song or the jewelry?”

My eyes snapped up to him. “How did you know about the jewelry?”

“You used the band card to charge it, goof. I see everything,” Jolly gave me a small smile.

“Fuck. Sorry,” I sighed.

“It’s okay man, it’s okay,” he reassured me with a strong grip on my shoulder.

“No, no, it’s not. I’m tired of feeling. I want to disappear, just disappear.”

Jolly now gripped both of my shoulders, forcing me to look at him. "No, you don’t. Don’t say that shit.”

“I just mean I wish it wasn’t this. Y/N’s been giving me mixed signals.” I mumbled.

“Have you thought you’re doing the same? You’re literally hanging out with another woman out of spite,” He raised a questioning brow.

I leaned my head against the side of my mattress. “She won’t tell me how she feels, I’m trying to show her. I’ve always tried to show her.”

“There’s a saying.” Jolly paused, trying to think of the right words to say. “We are defined by what we do, not just nice words. However, I think you’ve shown enough, Noah. It’s time you use your words.”

“I don’t know how,” I admitted with a shaky breath after a long beat of silence.

“If you’re not comfortable talking about it with us, Noah. Talk to your therapist about it- but this has to stop. It’s draining you.”

I saw the way Jolly’s mouth twitched, his own emotions close to slipping through his own mask, but he held it stronger than me.

“Once you’re in a better place, come to the studio. I have something to show you.”

I nodded. “Sure, yeah. Might be good for me to write something.”

Jolly gave one last squeeze to my shoulder. “Love you, man.”

“You too. Thank you.” I smiled.

NOAH

An hour and a long shower later, I walked down the hallway toward our studio with a new tune in my head. The lyrics were loud in my mind as I played with the new bracelet on my wrist, twisting it between two fingers.

“There’s not another way don’t let me go, don’t dig another grave today,” I sang under my breath as I walked through the door.

Jolly was sitting on the couch in the room, guitar on his lap and notebook on the floor at his feet. He looked up as I walked in and had a nervous smile on his face.

“Hey, you better?”

I gave a small nod. “Yeah. What’s this?”

As I sat on the couch next to him, I went to reach for the notepad before he placed a foot over it, blocking me from retrieving it.

“Y/N gave me something earlier. I really like it but wanted to run it by you, if you were comfortable,” Jolly said hesitantly.

I tensed, not knowing how to feel. I wasn’t comfortable with whatever Jolly needed to show me but knowing it was from Y/N eventually made me agree.

He removed his foot so I could grab the notebook, eyes immediately scanning over the lyrics on the page.

Evened the scores, then I let it all go fall apart. And every step forward put a little more sword in your heart, yeah. Looking sideways when I say I’m okay with the past but I’m afraid of what I might say if you ask. I did it to myself, tried to be someone else. I let it tear me down, and I'll never be the same. I did it to myself, tried to be someone else. And you didn't notice 'til I finally got, finally got away.

My heart stuttered in my chest as I licked my lips. “Wow, that’s impressive. When did you find the time to write this? Usually, that's my wheelhouse.”

“Noah cut the shit. You know this isn’t my work. I just told you, it’s Y/N’s,” Jolly sighed while pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’m just being a dick.” I snorted a laugh while bumping his shoulder with mine.

“Yeah, you are. Now what do you think? We can use this, no? As inspiration, maybe?”

Suddenly the lyrics I sang a moment before walking into the room played in my mind again; I hummed them under my breath, adding it to the lyrics Y/N wrote.

“One second,” I muttered while pulling out my phone.

ME: You sure you want us to have your lyrics?

Y/N’s response was immediate.

Angel 🪽: Nobody could do it better than you guys. You’ll give those lyrics the justice it deserve.

Leaving the message on read, Jolly and I worked tirelessly to rework the lyrics together and when I felt we were in a good position with them, I reached for my phone again. There was still a lingering feeling festering deep inside of me, that I wanted to make sure Y/N was fine with.

ME: I’m taking creative liberty for this, are you good with that?

Angel 🪽: What's mine is yours, Noah.

Yeah, not everything.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian reader insert #noah sebastian smut #enemies to lovers #right person wrong time #starcrossed lovers

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