Noah Sebastian X Reader - Tumblr Posts - Page 2

omgg I'm so glad I found you on here!! I was reading the masterpiece that is The Devil's Advocate on AO3 and I would just like to tell you that you're sooo talented and the story is amazing

Omg thank you so much!!! I'm glad you like it and hope you continue to read!

The Devil's Advocate - Chapter 3

Noah Sebastian X Reader

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

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Masterlist

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Wheeeeeeee!

________

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

“Amen,” the rest of you repeated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or was it more complicated than that?

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

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

“Hey, can I talk to you a minute?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll think about it,” you said.

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

“Uh-huh.”

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

______

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gender is a construct,” he cut in.

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

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

You sighed. "Use your judgement."

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

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

“That sounds like a lot.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Got it,” he said.

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

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

“I was looking at your tattoos.”

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

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

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

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

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

“What are you doing?” you asked.

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

You rolled your eyes. “Fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Still gross,” he agreed.

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

“Thanks,” you said.

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

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

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

You maintained your cool expression.

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

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

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

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

You laughed. “Kind of.”

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s just…,” you began.

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

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

“Can I bring a friend?” you asked.

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

“Okay. Where should I go?”

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

“Sounds good.”

“Oh, and wear a costume.”

_______

“No way! Really?!” Ava half-shouted.

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

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

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

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

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

Only time would tell.

_________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry. The results were fair.”

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

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

“Oh? Where are you going?”

“We were invited to watch a local band.”

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

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

Isaac’s eyes narrowed. “Which friend?”

You shifted, not knowing how to answer him. 

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

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

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

“Yeah,” said Isaac. “A secular band.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What a crybaby,” you said.

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

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

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

“You might be right.”

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

“Whoa!” you exclaimed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s early for once.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wore red lipstick,” you defended.

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

“I’m good,” you said.

Nick shrugged. “Suit yourself. Come on.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What do they have?” she asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Virgin Mary!” Jolly exclaimed in recognition.

Your face fell and you looked up at Noah sourly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Got it,” said Noah. “I won’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dead on the inside!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dethrone!” someone shouted from the audience.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…when I was killed and born again.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, however, had other plans.

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

“I’m fine,” you choked out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is this okay?” he asked.

You nodded into your arms. 

“Are you okay?” he asked.

You nodded again.

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

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

“Because of the song?” he said.

You nodded again.

“Shit,” he said for the third time.

“And I got elbowed in the face.”

“Shit.” A fourth. “Can I see?”

You shook your head no.

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

Reluctantly, you lifted your head to show him.

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

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

“Does it hurt?”

You sniffled and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Shit.”

“Is that your favorite word or something?”

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

“It’s fine,” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

Noah hesitated, fingers drawing patterns over your pants.

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

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

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

You shook your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure,” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” you asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wanted to see you.”

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

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

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

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

“Not yet,” he said.

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

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

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

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

“Did you do what we talked about?”

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

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

You nodded.

“How was it?”

“It…was.”

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

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

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

“I ran into some…difficulties.”

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

“I think mental.”

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

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

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

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

“Good. Who did you picture?”

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

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

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

You didn’t.

“What difficulties did you have?”

You hesitated. He dug his thumbnail into your thigh.

“I had to imagine myself being forced.”

“Forced?” His hands stilled.

“Like tied up.”

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

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

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

“You don’t think it’s messed up?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Promise ring,” you answered.

“Like an engagement ring?” he asked.

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

Noah pinched the ring between his two fingers.

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?” you asked.

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

“Light.”

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

“When did you make that promise?”

“When I was thirteen.”

“Before you even knew what sexuality was?”

You nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“God gave me this body,” you countered.

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

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

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

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

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

Your gut clenched.

Not yet. 

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

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

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

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

You rushed inside to find Ava.

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The Devil's Advocate - Chapter 4

Noah Sebastian X Reader

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

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Warnings: Blow job, drug use, swearing, angst, noah getting humbled

Masterlist

Banner by @flowerynerds

________

“Fuck,” Noah whispered. “Just like that.”

Noah couldn’t remember who was sucking his dick. He could barely remember how he got upstairs. He thought her name might begin with an S? Maybe? But her mouth was so warm and inviting. And wet. And when she hummed, it vibrated.

His head lolled to the side. Had the couch always been this soft?

She pulled off him with a “pop” and stroked his shaft a few times.

“Mmmm,” he hummed, letting out a soft giggle and allowing his lids to close.

He’d have to ask Jolly what that pill was. He wanted to feel like this all the time.

“You like that?” the girl asked. What the fuck was her name? Sarah? No… Savannah? Something like that. She looked up at him and he didn’t think he’d ever seen a face more vibrant or beautiful than hers.

Except for maybe yours. But he didn’t want to think about that, because it was bringing down his vibe, and he had someone right in front of him who was so, so beautiful, and whose mouth was the warmest mouth he’d ever felt in his life.

“Yeah,” he said, marveling at the tingling sensation in his fingertips as he rubbed them together, paying special attention to the calluses on his fingers. She squeezed his dick again and his focus was brought back to her. “Do it again please?”

She enveloped the head of his dick in her mouth once more. He didn’t think she could get a tighter seal around him. His eyes rolled back. Noah was certain if she kept up at this rate, she’d rid him of whatever negative energy dwelled in his body, and he’d walk away an enlightened man.

“You’re so fuckin’ warm,” he muttered, noticing for the first time that his own voice carried many layers to it. He hummed out a note, feeling his vocal folds vibrate with such a pleasant intensity that he forgot all about the woman whose mouth he was currently in and began practicing his vocal warmups. He could hear his voice getting better in real time.

“They’re right,” he giggled between warmups.. “I should do my vocal exercises more. These are great.”

The woman said something that Noah didn’t catch, but his awareness was once again brought to his dick, and this time, his focus was locked in. All the sudden, he was on a sensation train that was approaching its crescendo. When it did, Noah’s body blasted into a liminal space, where he was met with a wave of warm, glowing light.

Was he crying? He thought he might have been crying, but he didn’t know what about. Surely it was nothing sad, because no sadness could exist here. He was wrapped in pure love and light.

“It’s like heaven,” he slurred.

And then his body slipped away and he was nothing more than divine consciousness, floating in the ether.

_____________

“Noah!”

Someone was shooting off fireworks in the hallway.

No, that wouldn’t make sense.

Someone was knocking on the door. His eyelids were too heavy for him to lift.

“Noah, wake up, man.”

He vaguely registered the sound of the door opening. “Aw, gross! Get your pasty ass off Jolly’s couch.”

Noah groaned, feeling for the waistband of his boxers, realizing they were still pulled down around his ankles.

“What happened?” he rasped out. His throat was beyond dry. His head pounded with every pulse.

“You tell me. Last thing I remember is you disappearing with that Tiffany chick.”

Noah’s eyes flew open. “Tiffany?” He scrubbed a palm over his face. That girl had been after him for months. Showed up to every party and clung to him like a barnacle on the side of a boat. Always interjected herself into conversations and has cockblocked him on more than one occasion. Despite actively ignoring her when she’s around, she never took the hint to leave him alone.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Why did you let me go upstairs with her?” he asked, finally looking up to see Ruffilo standing above him with his hands on his hips, looking very much like a disappointed mother.

“It’s not my job to babysit you, dude. Plus, you insisted it was fine.”

Noah rolled over and clenched his throat to stop himself from hurling.

“How much did I drink?” he rasped out.

“I don’t know. But whatever you took clearly didn’t mix well with it.”

“No shit,” he said, rolling off the couch. His knees smacked against the hardwood floor, the impact ricocheting up to his head, forcing him into a wince.

“Can you please put some pants on?” his friend said, rolling his eyes as he turned his back toward Noah.

With great effort, Noah hoisted himself off the floor and into a semi-standing position so he could pull his boxers and jeans back up.

“My eyes are killing me,” he croaked.

“Yeah, no shit dude. You still have those weird-ass things in.”

Noah stumbled across the hall to the bathroom, the acrid feeling of bile crawled its way up his chest, intensifying the closer he got. He threw the toilet lid and seat back, knees hitting tile as he curled over the lip of the bowl to vomit the remainder of last night’s drinks. 

His head pounded, every heave forcing blood up into his face, the vessels in his eyes straining under the pressure.

“Help me get these out,” he sputtered between heaving breaths, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. He rolled over to lean his back against the vanity unit, hands falling into his lap as he worked to catch his breath.

“Let me see,” Ruffilo sighed cupping his chin with one hand to tilt it back into the light. He took care to wash his hands before he made any attempt to touch the massive black contacts that spanned the entirety of his friend’s eyes.

“Ow, fuck!” Noah shouted, causing his head to ache with his own volume. “Don’t use your nail, asshole!”

“Sorry dude,” his friend said, not an ounce of sympathy in his tone. “This shit’s hard to do. Hold still.”

With careful precision, Nick maneuvered the large disc around until he found purchase on it.  Pinching it between his thumb and forefinger,  he gently peeled  it out to reveal Noah’s bloodshot eyes.. After doing the same with the second, he tossed both in the trash, then stood to wash his hands once more. “Damn,” said Noah. “I liked those. I wanted to use them for more shows.”

“We’ll get you new ones,” said Nick. He grabbed an empty Solo cup on the sink counter, rinsing it out before filling it with cool tap water. He handed it to Noah before lowering himself to the ground, sighing as he leaned against the opposite wall. “Sip slowly, or you’ll throw up again.” Gingerly, Noah raised the cup to his lips.

Ruffilo was not easily affected by the actions of others. In fact, he had a calming disposition that set many at ease. But at that moment, Noah could feel his friend’s gaze burning a hole into him. He stared at the rim of his cup, the acrid feeling returning as he did everything to avoid looking at Nick.

“You okay, man?” The pity in his friend’s tone sat like a brick in Noah’s gut.“I’ve never seen you get that fucked up before. What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You can’t be doing that shit,” Nick said, crossing his arms over his chest and clicking his tongue against his teeth.. “Do you even know what you took?”

Noah paused for a moment. Scenes from the previous night flashed through his memory: the red lump on your cheekbone, the slight gasp that left your lungs when he parted your legs, the absence of your warmth after you left.

“No,” Noah rasped out, leaning his head back against the counter and closing his eyes.

“That’s not like you, man.”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Come on,” he sighed, grabbing Noah under the arm to lift him off the floor. “Let’s get you home and in bed.”

“Thanks,” said Noah. He brought his hand up to comb his fingers through his hair and found the demon horns still on his head. A bitter taste coated his tongue and he ripped them off, chucking them in the trash.

It took a monumental effort for Noah to stagger the six blocks to his house. The sun was far too bright and the traffic was much too loud. Even with Ruffilo helping him, he struggled to keep his balance and had to pause halfway through to vomit into a set of bushes lining the street.

He didn't know when he fell asleep. One moment, he was collapsing onto his bed, and the next, he woke to the sound of something hitting his nightstand. On a tray sat a mug of coffee, scrambled eggs and toast, with two painkillers on a napkin. Ruffilo was already on his way out the door when Noah spoke.

“Thanks man,” He managed to mutter. “I owe you one.”

“This is done on the condition that we talk about it when you’re ready.”

Noah sighed, jaw clenching. “I know. Just not today.”

________

Halfway through Noah’s day-long hangover nap, he was woken up by another knocking. This time, when he opened his eyes, he found none other than the drummer of his band looking like the cat that caught the canary.

Nick sidled past him, inviting himself into Noah’s room, tossing a wad of cash down onto Noah’s bed before turning to face him.

“Here you go, killer. You earned it.”

“What are you talking about?” Noah muttered, consciousness slowly growing clearer as he struggled to wake up. His head felt like it was in a vise.

“I saw you and the virgin Mary go into your studio last night. When she came back out, she looked absolutely wrecked,” he said, snickering to himself. He shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t know how you did it, but damn. I never thought that chick would put out. Her friend was a pretty good consolation prize though, I have to say.”

Noah grabbed the wad of cash and threw it violently back at his friend.

“Whoa,” Nick said, head pulling back defensively. “What was that for?”

“Man, fuck off. I told you I wasn’t part of that.”

“You still won,” said Nick with a shrug. “I’m a man of my word. Should have tried a little harder with her last night, but her friend was practically beggin’ for it the whole time.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Noah was aware that he should exit this conversation. But in the moment, his stomach rolled with a heavy mixture of shame and anger that he couldn’t digest, so he spat it at Nick.

“You’re a fucking bottom feeder, man.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Nick bit back, unflinching as if he’d been waiting. “Don’t sit there on your high fuckin’ horse, acting like you’re better than everyone when you did the same thing to Tiffany, knowing how down bad she is for you. Grow a spine and reject the girl so she can move on.” 

Noah squeezed his eyes together and rubbed his temples.

He knew he’d run out of defenses, and hated that Nick was right, but his brain had only just started thawing out from the onslaught of chemicals he’d fed it, and the last thing he needed was a lecture.

“Man, just get out. I’m not in the mood, okay?”

“Clearly, since you’re fucking being a little bitch today.” His eyebrows and jaw were hard set, but when Noah finally locked on to his stare, Nick must have seen the defeat in his eyes, because he began to soften.

“Get some sleep, man. We’ll talk about it later.”

“Thanks.”

__________________

Normally, Noah didn’t mind his job at the factory too much. It was repetitive, which was boring, but also regulating. It allowed him to move on autopilot while he wrote music in his head.

Today though, as the remnants of his headache clung to his periphery - he was Sisyphus, and the lathe was his boulder.

Worse though, whatever he had taken at the party had dumped all the serotonin and dopamine from his system, and there was nothing left to get him through the day.

“This,” he muttered to himself, barely audible over the whirring of the machines surrounding him, “this is why I don’t do drugs.”

He’d known this would happen even before he took them, but at the time he didn’t care. He was focused on escaping from the reality of his situation. It worked for the night, until that reality came back with a vengeance.

His confidence was shaken. He’d been so sure that you wanted him in that moment. He’d have bet all the cash Nick had tried to throw at him that you wanted him. But when you were an inch away, just barely in his grasp, you shot him down and left. And here he was, tearing his hair out because he could not, for the life of him, figure out why.

Maybe you just couldn't accept his feelings about religion. Your beliefs were so important to you, and he wouldn’t be surprised if it was something you just couldn’t get past. Like you’d mentioned earlier that night, the whole evening was out of your comfort zone, you were overwhelmed by it all. Perhaps you just weren’t ready.

But maybe he was overthinking everything. Maybe inviting you into his world was a bad decision.

No God. No religion. 

Just bad, bad decisions. 

He scrawled the words into the margins of  the notebook used to write down measurements for whatever the fuck parts he had to check for inaccuracies. For the rest of the day, the words ran through his head over and over again like a mantra, following the rhythmic clunk of the factory machines. He fished the silver ring out of his pocket and fidgeted with it for the hundredth time since you left the studio. It barely fit past the first knuckle on his pinky finger, but every time he touched it, it felt a little easier to breathe.

______________

“So, I feel like I owe you an apology,” he said, taking a sip from his coffee. “Several apologies, actually.”

“Okay,” Tiffany said, sitting across from him at the small bistro table in the corner of the local coffee shop Noah frequented.

His stomach clenched. He’d been nervous for the last few days leading up to this conversation, but it was time for him to stop being a coward and settle the matter.

Tiffany was not an unattractive woman. She had long blonde hair that she wore in loose waves. She was on the thicker side, which Noah liked. He could see himself being attracted to her if their personalities meshed.

Tiffany’s fatal flaw was that she tried too hard. Noah preferred to do the chasing. And he probably wouldn’t have ended up chasing after her regardless, and so he understood that she felt the need to chase after him if she liked him, but he had no inkling of feelings for her.

“First, I wanted to apologize for last Saturday. I wasn’t in the best state of mind, and I shouldn’t have invited you upstairs.”

“Yeah,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her. “That became clear when you started doing vocal warmups mid-blowjob.”

Noah snorted into his coffee. He forgot about that.

“I’m sorry,” he said, unable to bite back his grin.

Her tough façade cracked into a smile. “No worries. In hindsight, it’s pretty funny.”

“Okay, so question then,” He shifted in his seat, leaning forward to place his elbows on the table. “If you knew I wasn’t sober, why did you continue?”

“I didn’t,” she said. “As soon as I realized you weren’t right, I stopped.”

Noah looked at her, taken aback. “You left?”

She nodded.

“You mean I didn’t…I could have swore…,” he trailed off.

“Don’t get me wrong. I was excited about the idea of hooking up with you, but not like that.”

Noah looked at Tiffany with a newfound respect. Perhaps he had misjudged her.

“Secondly,” he continued, “I wanted to apologize for never making my intentions clear. I feel like I led you on and allowed you to have hope because I was afraid of confrontation. That wasn’t cool of me. I should have told you from the beginning that I wasn’t interested.”

“Ouch,” she said, wincing slightly, “but thanks.”

He shook his head. “Why are you thanking me?”

“I don’t know,” she said, drumming her fingers on the table.. “You probably don’t deserve it, but honestly I’d rather you be straightforward with me so I can actually move on. It takes a lot of energy to walk away from something you want if you still think there might be a little hope. I probably would have wasted a lot of time.”

His stomach began to feel the weight of his actions. Tiffany’s only crime was not deciphering the vague signals he’d given her, and yet he’d treated her like a pariah, going so far as to badmouth her to his bandmates. And for what? Because she refused to give up hope until she received a solid answer?

He’d been an even bigger asshole than he’d realized.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.”

Tiffany looked at Noah with a face that hinted at pity. Perhaps she saw the inner battle he was having with himself.

“Why did you take me upstairs?” she asked.

Noah felt like he owed her the truth. He didn’t have romantic feelings for Tiffany, but he did like her. And there was something about her that made him want to trust her. Perhaps it was how she’d prioritized his consent, despite her feelings for him. Or maybe the way she’d responded to him when he told her he wasn’t interested took the edge off his nervous system. He didn’t realize how much he enjoyed that feeling.

Noah launched into the story, telling Tiffany about how you’d met, your differences in beliefs, how you’d wound up at that party, what happened during the set, and how it had played out in the studio afterwards.

Once he finished his retelling, Tiffany narrowed her eyes at him.

“Do you always react so poorly when you get rejected?”

“What do you mean?” asked Noah.

“Like, after a girl rejects you, do you binge drink and take unknown drugs and hook up with other people? Is that how you handle it every time?”

Noah shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Wait. Is this your first time being rejected?” she asked in disbelief.

He took another sip of his coffee, ran his tongue along the top row of his teeth, and then gave the tiniest of nods.

Without hesitation, Tiffany burst out laughing.

“I’m so sorry,” she rushed to clarify, holding her hands in front of her as if to pause the conversation. “This is so inappropriate and I shouldn’t be laughing. Forgive me.”

She didn’t stop laughing despite her apology.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll wait,” Noah said, snark creeping into his voice.

“This feels really great to hear, honestly. I know it sucks for you, but I’m absolutely loving it.”

“Can you not rub it in my face, please?” he asked.

Tiffany did her best to calm her laughter and then smiled genuinely across the table at him.

“Noah, being rejected is not the worst thing that can happen. Trust me. I’ve been rejected many times. It builds character and toughens you up. Plus, I think your ego could use it. You’re totally full of yourself.”

“How so?” he said.

“Oh, I don’t know. Didn’t you say you were going to fight god a few weekends ago during your set?”

Noah chewed on his lip. “That was performative.”

“It comes from somewhere.”

“Not necessarily true.”

“Noah, come on,” she said, fixing him with an imploring stare. “Be for real right now. You got rejected one time and you completely lost your shit. Total self-sabotage. Do you know how many girls you’ve rejected? A lot. And we pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and keep fighting the good fight, because shit happens.”

Noah, mid-humbling, stayed quiet and let her continue. As uncomfortable as it was to acknowledge his shortcomings, it was also refreshing to hear. He’d never experienced a lecture from a loving mother, but he imagined this was what it felt like.

“Plus,” Tiffany continued, “it sounds like she didn’t even reject you. She just wasn’t ready to fuck you in that moment. And why would she? Considering how you’d treated her.”

“How did I treat her?” he asked. He thought he’d been kind. Certainly more attentive than he’d been to other women in his life.

“I mean, do you even like her?”

“Of course!”

“Really? Because it doesn’t sound like it. You sent her into a mosh pit totally unprepared and let her get hit in the face.”

Noah winced. He did do that. It hadn’t even crossed his mind to mention it to you.

“You didn’t warn her about the content of your music and allowed yourself to get peer-pressured into playing a song that deliberately shits on everything important to her,” she continued. “And what? You’re surprised she doesn’t want to give up her virginity after a month of knowing you?”

Noah had to sit back after what felt like a massive blow to the center of his chest.

“I put more effort in with her than I have with anyone else,” he said, feebly trying to defend himself, though he knew he had no defense to stand on.

“Are you honestly telling me that was the best you could do?”

Noah didn’t answer, reluctant to say the words out loud, and Tiffany sighed. 

“Look. If you really like the girl, go earn her.”

Noah fidgeted with the sleeve on the paper to-go cup. The concept of earning someone’s affection was new to him. He’d always been on the receiving end.

“How do I do that?”

Tiffany blinked back at him. “I mean, it’s not really my job to figure that out for you. I’m already giving you more emotional labor than I owe. But if you’re asking me, I’d start by figuring out why her faith is so important to her, rather than focusing on how you can get her to abandon it so you can sleep with her.”

“Ouch. I mean you’re right, but do you have to be so mean about it?”

“Trust me Noah, I’m doing you a kindness.”

He exhaled heavily through his nostrils, realizing that the magic pill to fix his problems was indeed, the toughest to swallow.

“Thank you,” he said, meeting her eyes again. “I appreciate you saying this to me.”

Tiffany nodded. “You’re welcome.”

“Can we be friends?” he asked. He meant it. Tiffany was clearly a positive influence in his life, and even if he didn’t want to be with her romantically, he still wanted her around in some way.

“No,” she said flatly. Noah’s face fell. “At least… not right now. This conversation helped, but I still need to lick my wounds. It isn’t fun being rejected, after all.”

“You can say that again,” he said.

“We can be friendly, though. I’ll still come to your shows because despite all your shortcomings, I unfortunately like your music.”

He chuckled, finding Tiffany’s candor refreshing. “You’re really enjoying the opportunity to insult me, aren’t you?”

“I really am,” she said, grinning from ear to ear. He saw a glimpse of the beauty he’d been so focused on in his drug-induced state. She truly was prettier than he’d given her credit for.

“I hope you find someone better than me,” he said. “I want you to be happy. You deserve a good guy.”

“Thank you,” she said, softer than before and he could tell she believed him.

Noah paid for both their coffees. It was the least he could do. They parted with a warm handshake that Noah had the urge to turn into a hug, but he could tell from her body language she wouldn’t want it.

For the first time since the party, he felt a little lighter in his chest. He fished around in his pocket for the silver ring, hooking it onto his pinky finger and rubbing his thumb along the “true love waits” inscription he’d memorized earlier. __________

Waking up on Sunday was an ordeal. You hadn’t even been drinking, but it still felt as if you’d had a stimulation hangover. Your ears rang from all the noise, and there was a deep pressure behind your eyes from all the crying you’d done.

You wiped away the crust from your eyelids and were immediately met with tenderness at your temple.

Oh, yeah. You’d been elbowed in the face last night.

Crawling down from your bed, you made your way over to the mirror above your desk to see just how bad it was. An ugly, angry red lump with purpled edges glared back at you.

The rest of your face hadn’t fared much better. Your makeup was smudged all around your eyes and your lipstick smeared down your chin.

You’d slept in your clothes, having been too exhausted to change into anything else when you got back around at around two in the morning.

The alarm on your phone rang, signaling it was time to get ready for church.

You sank down into your desk chair, having no motivation for anything.

You never skipped church unless you were sick. One of the things you prided yourself most on was your regular attendance. Plus, church was where you did all your socializing. All of your friends went. It wasn’t just church you liked, it was going out to lunch afterwards with everyone. It was treating yourself to a luxurious coffee drink beforehand. It was dressing up in your favorite outfits and performing on stage. And it was the satisfaction of knowing God was pleased with you.

Was God still pleased with you?

You stared at the lump on your head.

You’d resisted temptation. That didn’t count for nothing. You’d also allowed the situation to go much further than you should have, but you still listened to your gut when it told you to get out of there. That was enough of a success in your book.

Your thoughts drifted to Noah.

He’d been so forward last night, truly put himself out there, and had looked so dejected when you’d pulled away. But then again, hadn’t he said a few weeks ago that it was important to risk rejection? He seemed aware of what the stakes were.

You didn’t know exactly why you pulled away at that moment. Something told you it wasn’t the right time, but part of you worried that you wouldn’t get another opportunity like the one you’d had, and that perhaps you ruined your chances with him.

Maybe you did? Was that the worst thing?

Perhaps this was God’s way of telling you that Noah was not the right person for you. And if that was the case, you would need to get over the idea of him so you could continue to interact with him at community service without getting hurt.

You kicked your foot up on the desk in front of you and leaned your chair back, staring up at the ceiling and trying to find the central point of balance.

It was 10:30. If you were going to make it to church, you’d have to get up now and start getting ready. You’d have to leave no later than 10:45 to make it to the 11:00 service on time.

You continued to balance on the back legs of your chair, seeing if you could get it to balance on its own for five seconds.

10:45 came and went, and you did not leave your chair. You couldn’t make it to five seconds without it tipping, but you made it to four and a half before you gave up and went back to bed.

__________

You were awoken by a rapt knocking at your door. It definitely wasn’t your roommate, Stevie. She went home every weekend and didn’t come back until late in the evening.

You rolled out of bed and looked at the clock - 1:00 PM. Yawning off the remaining sleep, you opened the door. The first thing your eyes landed on was the white, deep v-neck that gave a peek to a tanned chest.

“Isaac? What are you doing here?” you asked. Isaac had walked you to your dorm before on nights when practice ended late and he insisted it was inappropriate to allow you to walk home alone, but he had never visited you before.

“I wanted to check on you. Can I come in?” he asked.

“Sure,” you said, hesitantly moving aside to let him through. Once inside, he leaned against your desk, crossing his arms as he observed you.

“So…,” you trailed off, sitting on your bed cross-legged.

“You weren’t in church today.” It was not an observation, but an accusation, and it immediately set your nerves on guard.

“Yeah,” you said, keeping your tone even. “I didn’t feel great.”

“Are you hungover?”

“No. I didn’t drink.”

He fixed you with a stare that let you know he didn’t believe you. You met his eyes, unwilling to back down.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He shrugged, likely figuring he wouldn’t get more out of you.

“Do you know where Ava is?” he asked. “She didn’t come either.”

“She didn’t?” This was news to you. You’d looked for her briefly after you’d left but had been unsuccessful in finding her and assumed she’d gone home.

“What happened last night? You look like you’ve been through it.” He stepped closer, eyes scanning up and down your face.

Instinctively, your hand went up to touch the bruise and Isaac’s eyes narrowed.

“It was just a mosh pit,” you said.

“Yeah?” he asked, tone laced with suspicion. “Is that why your purity ring is gone?”

You checked your hand to see it was, indeed, gone. Left in Noah’s back pocket. You sighed and tipped over sideways onto the bed.

“I lost it. But not like that,” you said.

“Sure,” he said, absolutely not believing you. You’d never been seen without the ring, and it was unlikely that it slipped off.

“I didn’t do anything,” you said.

“What is ‘anything’ to you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Okay, look. I don’t owe you this information and it is in no way your job to make sure I’m pure, but I didn’t even kiss anyone last night. I seriously just lost the ring.”

Isaac’s eyebrow lifted up and he pursed his lips, staring you down to see if he could detect any signs of falsehood and when he found none, he deflated.

“Alright,” he said. “But in the future, could you not stay out so late? It was hard to carry the praise and worship service without you and Ava.”

“Sorry,” you said. “I’ll be there next week.”

“Promise?” he asked.

“Promise.”

“So how was the party?” he asked.

“Honestly?” you asked. He nodded. “Not great. Definitely not my scene. I got full-on elbowed in the face. Plus, everyone there was drunk and I couldn’t relate to anyone.”

You could tell Isaac was enjoying hearing your confession, the look in his eye now sporting a condescending glint. But, to his credit, he refrained from giving you any sort of ‘I told you so’ kind of lecture. After a beat of silence though, he started to chuckle at your misfortune.

“Does this feel good to hear?” you asked. He smiled in return and it was genuine.

Isaac wasn’t terrible. He seemed to truly care about you, and though he could be intrusive and overbearing at times, his heart was in the right place.

“Alright. I think I’m gonna let you get some more sleep,” he said after several minutes of catching up, tapping a knuckle on your desk to punctuate his visit. “I’d like to meet sometime this week to go over this Christmas showcase. Thursday night good for you?”

You nodded. “Thanks Isaac.”

You puffed out a mouthful of air as soon as you heard the door close, feeling like you’d just been the subject of an interrogation. It was clear now that your actions were being watched. Anything out-of-character could easily be reported back to your father, and while Isaac let you off the hook easily this time, you couldn’t be so sure he would continue if your behavior turned into a pattern.

You’d have to tread much more carefully if you wanted to fly under the radar.

_______________

The week passed quickly. Ava hadn’t returned any of your texts and you grew worried, but figured she would talk to you whenever she was ready. You wondered if something had happened at the party. Was she upset with you? Was she avoiding you?

Thursday’s meeting went well enough. Isaac had a lot of good ideas about the songs he wanted to perform and how to get the word out about it. The two of you worked closely together and you were starting to wonder if perhaps you’d judged Isaac too harshly for his actions the other week.

It was possible that Noah was just a distraction after all. Someone that helped you shake some of your delusions about Isaac so you could see him as an actual person instead of putting him on such a pedestal—because now that you interacted with each other as equals, he wasn’t all that bad. He was actually easy to get along with.

He didn’t give you that warm pooling sensation in your lower abdomen that Noah gave you, but connecting with him was enjoyable. You could see yourself working well as partners together.

“So you’re going to have to take the solo for Mary Did You Know, as well as O Holy Night,” he said. “You’re our top soprano.”

“Got it,” you said with a curt nod. “Are you going to do O Come O Come Emmanuel?”

“You know it,” he said, grinning proudly. His voice had a great timbre for that one and he knew it.

“Is Ava going to be participating?” you asked.

Isaac sighed. “I haven’t been able to get ahold of her.”

“Me either. I’m starting to get concerned.”

“If she doesn’t show up at church again on Sunday, maybe we should visit her,” he suggested.

“I think that would make me feel better,” you agreed.

As it turned out, however, you didn’t have to wait for Sunday. Ava was waiting outside your dorm when you got back from your meeting with Isaac.

“Hey,” she said, sitting with her knees curled up in front of her. She wore baggy sweatpants and an oversize hoodie.

“Hey,” you said. “Stevie’s home. If you want to talk privately, we should probably go for a walk or something.”

Nodding, she stood up.

You had walked out your dorm hall and halfway down the block before she got the nerve to speak.

“Sorry for being MIA,” she said, hands pushed deep in the pockets of her hoodie.

“Everything okay?” you asked.

“I think,” she replied. “I just needed some time to sort my feelings out.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked. She nodded.

“What happened on Saturday? I couldn’t find you anywhere.” You tried to keep any judgment out of your tone.

“I had more to drink than I meant to,” she began. “I didn’t know my tolerance.”

“That’s an easy mistake to make, especially for your first time drinking,” you said.

“Yeah, but that’s not all that happened.”

The two of you had reached the edge of campus. A left turn would lead you past the party house. A right turn would lead you to the church grounds.

You let Ava take the lead, patiently waiting while she weighed her options.

She turned left. You nodded and continued walking with her.

“I want you to know that I don’t regret any of my decisions,” she prefaced. “I just had some complicated feelings about it.”

“Of course,” you said.

“Nick and I hooked up on Saturday night.”

Your footsteps faltered, but you recovered quickly. “How far did you go?”

“We had sex.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you stopped walking. “What?!” Your voice came out as a shout. 

Ava inhaled slowly through her nostrils, nervously looking around. “I need you to make less of a deal about it than you’re making right now.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, tone hushed as you leaned closer to her. “But that’s a whole consent issue. If you’d been drinking…,” you trailed off.

“I was drunk when we were making out,” she said, “but I had sobered up by the time we went back to his place.” 

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yes.” She confirmed, with an earnest look in her eye.

“Okay,” you said, calming down a bit. You’d been about to find Nick and strangle him. “So you really don’t regret it?”

“I don’t,” she said. “But… I feel awful about not regretting it. I feel like I should, like it makes me a bad person for not. Like, we were always told that if we made a mistake like this, we’d feel terrible about it. And I don’t feel terrible. I liked it, even. And I want to do it again, if I can.”

“Oh,” you said, not sure what else to say. Growing up, you and Ava had always been on the same page about sex, frequently discussing what it might be like on your wedding night. Ava had always been a bit on the wild side, but you had no idea her opinions had changed quite this much.

“But I feel like I’m not allowed to feel this way and continue being involved in the church.”

You understood where she was coming from. Even after you and Noah barely touched each other, you felt weird about going to church the next morning. It was actually quite refreshing to hear that you weren’t alone in questioning the validity of your chastity pledge. You thought you were alone in that.

“Honestly, I don’t blame you,” you confessed. “It feels like there’s an expectation there that if you attend, you have to feel the way they think you should feel. Like if you have sex or something like that, and don’t immediately regret it afterwards, you’re not good enough.”

“Right? Yes!” she said, more lively than you’d seen her all evening. “And I just feel so disconnected with that message.”

“You’re not wrong for feeling the way you feel,” you reassured. “Honestly, I’m also learning that faith is a lot more complicated than they’d have you believe. Noah might be a good person to talk to about it.”

“You mean Nick’s friend?”

“Yeah. He’s helped me see a lot of blind spots that I’d had before regarding religion and sexuality.”

“Did you guys…?”

You shook your head. “No. But we’ve been talking a lot about some of the problems in the church, especially around sexuality. How did you feel immediately afterwards?”

“Well, I went to the bathroom and cried about it, because I initially was hit with a lot of guilt. But after I processed that, I felt kind of happy? Like I was finally living the life I wanted to live for once.”

“I’m glad you got that experience,” you admitted. “I’m sorry that you felt so guilty.”

“To be honest, I thought you would handle this information way worse.”

You laughed, rubbing the back of your neck. “Yeah, I’ve been pretty closed-minded.”

“I think we all started that way.”

“I’m glad you told me,” you said. “I was really worried about you.”

“I’m sorry it took so long,” she admitted. “I was afraid of what you’d think. You’re one of the most important people in my life. I didn’t want you to hate me. And I didn’t want to have to pretend to feel guilty about it to you, or lie about the fact that it even happened.”

You paused the walk to look at her. “I know I haven’t always been the most accepting person. I’m working on that. But I could never hate you. Ever.”

Ava looked back, eyes glassy. The two of you embraced in a lingering hug, of which the significance was not lost on either of you.

When you pulled back, you realized you weren’t too far away from the party house. It was Ava that continued walking towards it.

As the two of you approached, you heard music blasting from the house. You were one or two houses away when you heard Noah’s singing voice.

“I think they’re having band practice,” you said, and sure enough, when you got to the front of the house, you could see inside the basement windows. The light was on and the band members faced away from you. All of them played with intensity—though less intensity than they had done the previous Saturday, when they had the crowd’s energy to feed on.

Noah wore a cutoff black shirt and you could see that his tattoos extended across his back—what looked like flowers on each shoulder and vines connecting them. You couldn’t see anything else, but it piqued your curiosity.

At some point, someone in the band made a mistake and they stopped the song halfway through. Noah turned around to face the drummer and you only had just enough time to dash out of sight before you caught his eyes flick up to the window, squint, and then redirect to the guitarist.

“So how was it?” you asked Ava, resuming your walk.

“Honestly?” she began. “It was incredible. Like, definitely awkward, but also one of the coolest experiences of my life.”

“What happened?”

Ava launched into a (very detailed) retelling of how Nick made sure she was coherent and could give enthusiastic consent, and then how he didn’t judge her for how new she was. He walked her through it every step of the way, made sure she had a great time, and even allowed her to crash at his place afterwards, going as far as to cook her breakfast the next morning.

“He wasn’t the best cook, mind you,” she said. “But the gesture was very sweet.”

“Huh,” you said. “I might like Nick a little more now.”

“That’s their house, by the way,” she said, pointing across the street to a tan single-story home with an unkempt front porch and an overgrown lawn. Beer bottles littered the side of the porch. You could see the blinds were broken in some areas. And yet, you couldn’t help the warmth and affection from growing in the pit of your stomach imagining all the good times that had been shared between the men that lived here.

It was evident from the way they interacted with each other at the party that all of the band members were close with one another. For a moment, you had felt welcomed into that world. At least until you had a panic attack.

“Want to turn around?” you asked.

“Sure,” she agreed.

“So what do you think of their music?”

Ava laughed out loud. “I appreciate Nick’s passion, but I don’t think I ever want to be in a crowd like that again.”

“Same,” you agreed, linking your arm with Ava’s.

This time, when you passed the party house, the lights were off. For a brief second, you wondered what Noah was doing, but then brushed the thought away easily, because it didn’t really matter. You were more than happy simply spending quality time with Ava. Taglist: @reyadawn @sundamariis @noahsebastions @cyber-tiny @livingdeceasedgirl @just-randomm-stuff @xxkittenkissesxx @treacheryinblue @flowerynerds @1toreyouapart @badomensls

Click here to be added to the taglist! As always, I would love to hear your feedback! I eat it up, so pls feed me.

The Devil's Advocate - Chapter 5

Delinquent!Noah Sebastian X Pastor's Daughter!Reader

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

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Rough sex, NoahxOFC, slight degradation, religious trauma Masterlist

Banner by @flowerynerds

______

Early November was among your least favorite times of the year. It wasn’t yet cold enough to snow, but the rain was frigid. Halloween excitement had worn off and there wasn’t much to look forward to until Christmas (Thanksgiving was fine, you supposed, but you were staying on campus while your parents were on a missions trip to Africa).

Your socks had gotten wet on the walk to the worship center. You loathed wet socks, even partially wet socks. They stuck to your toes in the most uncomfortable way, freezing them while the rest of your foot stayed dry. Any time your socks got wet, you’d hyper-focus on the sensation until they either dried out or you changed them, and since you were obligated to spend the morning overseeing community service, they were about to be all you could think about for the next four hours.

All you could think about, that is, until you happened to glance up and spy Noah slouched on a bench near the church entrance. You stopped short, double-checking the time on your phone. 7:46. It was unlike him to be early, let alone fourteen minutes early. 

He hadn’t noticed you approach, too busy staring at his lap. He fidgeted with an object in his hands—something you couldn’t see. You took a deep breath, squared your shoulders, and continued walking.

The day after Halloween, you made a pact with yourself: you would get over Noah Davis. It wasn’t because he was a bad guy or anything. You actually quite liked him and found him to be an overall positive influence.

The problem was that he was too much of an influence. You found yourself second-guessing your morals, wanting to agree with him before you’d fully thought everything through. You wanted to believe everything he said, regardless of whether or not it was true. And you knew it was partly because you wanted so badly to give into his temptation.

Not that giving into temptation was necessarily bad. But you’d grown up listening to and believing everything the men in your life had told you, simply because they were in positions of authority. That hadn’t exactly worked out in your best interests.

Were you going to let another man influence your beliefs just because it would justify chasing the things your body craved? And oh, did it crave.

That wasn’t to say Noah didn’t make a lot of very good points - you were inclined to agree with them, but you had to sort that out slowly and on your own. Without the influence of him or his body pulling you in any one direction.

On top of that, it was inappropriate of you to entertain feelings for him—you were in a supervisor role.

The full truth was that letting go of the idea of him? It hurt. Giving up something you really wanted for something you thought would be better for you in the long run was never easy. But you were determined to do it. God had something better in store for you, you were certain of it. And Noah’s body was simply a distraction—a pitfall for you to avoid. 

And who knew? Perhaps you were doing Noah a favor as well, not giving into him so easily.

The moment Noah noticed you, he stood up, straightening the legs of his jeans. You kept him in your periphery but didn’t look directly at him. Looking at him was too hard. You didn’t want him to know that though, so you did your best to be friendly. “Hey,” you said, greeting him with a friendly wave and glance, noticing your voice came out meeker than you intended.

“Hey,” he replied, and his voice carried a soft, hollow timbre that already had your heart squeezing. This was going to be more difficult than you thought.

You kept your eyes on the ground, allowing him to fall into step beside you, and headed straight for the church doors. Pulling out the key and unlocking them gave you something to focus on that wasn’t him, and for that you were grateful.

“How was your week?” he asked.

“Good. Boring,” you said, eyes scanning along the light blue carpet in front of you as you walked through the foyer. “Yours?”

“Enlightening.”

Enlightening. How were you supposed to ignore that?

“Oh?” you asked, curiosity getting the better of you. You still held firm in not looking at him, one glance at his soft smile and your resolve would crumble. You knew it.

And then, in an attempt to seem normal, you glanced. Not directly at him, but in his direction. Enough to catch the soft smile on his face and knowing kindness in his dark eyes. The way his long hair spilled out from underneath his hood.

You dug your nails into your fists as punishment and looked back down at the floor, where your feet guided you to the supply closet at the end of the hall.

“I think I owe you an apology for how I behaved on Saturday,” he said. He stopped in front of the closet and turned to face you head-on. It was getting harder to avoid direct eye contact.

He remained silent, providing you an opportunity to respond, but you couldn’t will your mouth to open and instead settled on offering a quick nod.

“I should have warned you about the crowds. And about the content for some of the music we play... And for agreeing to play that last song.”

“Noah, the whole crowd wanted it,” you reasoned, fiddling with the latch on the supply closet. “I’m just one person.”

“Just,” he interjected, holding a hand up, “let me at least apologize for the way it affected you.”

The tension in your shoulders slackened infinitesimally and you allowed your eyes to travel to his inked hands. His fingers were so long. It ached, how much you wanted to gravitate toward them, feel them caress your face, envelop his thumb in your mouth and have him drag it down your chin…

Catching yourself mid-thought, you looked away again. “I suppose I can allow that.”

He puffed out a short breath, relieved at your acceptance. “It wasn’t cool of me to let you go into that unprepared,” he continued, voice filled with genuine regret. “I wish I would have handled it better.”

You chewed on the outer corner of your lip. The sentiment felt too heavy for the moment, and you needed to end the conversation quickly. “Thank you for saying that.”

“I also want to apologize for what happened after.”      

Your stomach dropped. You’d really rather not talk about that. It wasn’t exactly your proudest moment. You’d fully embarrassed yourself with your overreaction to what happened at the party. But more than that, you’d experienced genuine temptation for the first time in your life, and had only barely made it out of there without completely walking back on all your scruples. Even talking about it meant risking being pulled back down the rabbit hole he was about to apologize for. Either way, you couldn’t help it when, in a moment of weakness, you glanced at his mouth. His smile faded and something more earnest took over his face. His lips parted a millimeter as he sucked a breath in through his teeth and you found yourself mimicking the movement without trying.

“If your beliefs surrounding…” he took another deep breath as he searched for the right word, “…physical intimacy are important to you, I want to do a better job of respecting that. From now on, I’ll be hands-off.” He raised his palms in surrender.

His words wrapped around your body like a rope, compressing, crushing your ribs, and holding you together.

Last summer, when Isaac had ended your kiss, it didn’t surprise you. In fact, it was something you had almost expected him to do. He performed Christianity like it was a Broadway show and he was the principal actor. It was almost a game to him, it seemed. How many points could he earn with God during his time on Earth? How big of a mansion would he be rewarded with in Heaven? How many virgin brides?

You smelled a hint of Isaac’s performance in Noah. But there was something else there underneath. An eagerness to respect you in the way that actually mattered. He wanted to get it right.

“Noah,” you sighed, feeling like he was perhaps taking this apology thing further than he needed to.

“I also want to give you this back,” he said, fishing out your silver ring from his back pocket and holding it out to you. “I’m sorry for removing it in the first place.”

You stared at the silver ring. The symbol of the promise you’d made when you were thirteen and had no idea how anything worked.

Now, for you, it symbolized a lie that had been spoon-fed to you. It symbolized blind obedience to the men in your life and a life you had no control over.

You deflated.

“Keep it.”

Noah’s eyebrows lifted, lips parting in surprise and confusion. “Why?”

You looked anywhere but the ring in front of you, settling on a speck of lint that dusted the shoulder of Noah’s zip-up.

“I just don’t want it anymore. It feels too constricting.”   

Huffing, he stepped forward and grabbed your left wrist, bringing it to his hand. His touch sent warmth cascading down your arm and into the rest of your body.

Slowly, delicately, he slid the ring back onto your finger. The cold metal contrasted starkly with the warmth of his palm. His hand lingered there for a moment, thumb swiping the length of your finger.

It felt oddly reminiscent of a proposal, but in reverse. With this ring, he promised to leave you alone.

Something harsh and sour coated the back of your throat and you swallowed bitterly.

“I want you to have it back anyway,” he said, voice gentle and kind as he let go of your wrist. “If you want to remove it again, that should be your choice.”

You rolled your eyes, twisting the ring back off your finger and holding it out to him in your palm. “I don’t want the responsibility of keeping this. Can you please take it?”

He stepped back from you, clasping his hands behind his back.

“Ugh,” you scoffed and tossed it in the empty mop bucket in the corner of the supply closet, willing it to disappear. You turned back to face him with your hands on your hips. “You know you’re being a little dramatic about this, right?”

Your eyes flicked back up to his face. He looked from you, to the bucket, and back, but stayed silent.

“I allowed you to take it off because I wanted you to, not because I was under some sort of spell. Plus, I should be apologizing for how I left.”

Noah closed his eyes and shook his head firmly. “No way, don’t ever feel bad for setting boundaries. I’m actually glad you left when you felt uncomfortable instead of letting me pressure you into something you didn’t want.”

You shifted your weight from foot to foot. This much respect was new for you—not just from Noah, but from any man in your life.

“I still feel bad,” you confessed, twisting your hands together in front of you.

“Please don’t,” he said, arm reaching out a few inches as if he intended to touch you, but then he thought better of it and pulled back. Your eyes chased his hand as it fell back to his side, wishing he would have followed through. “I was in the wrong, not you.”

“Why are you doing this?” you asked.

A smile played on the corner of his lips. “I suppose you could say I’m turning over a new leaf.”

Inside, you smiled at the throwback to the conversation last month. Outwardly you pouted, rocking on your heels. “I liked the old leaf.”

“Tough,” he said, grinning defiantly. “Get used to this one.”

You crossed your arms and nodded over to the supply closet. “Well, can the new leaf go grab the broom and dustpan so he can get to work?”

“At your service, Angel,” he said, sidestepping you to get into to the closet.

“Angel?” you asked. “What happened to Mary?”

“Mary’s too boring,” he called over his shoulder, digging around the various mops and cleaners. “I like Angel better.”

“Can’t you just use my real name?” you asked.

“No,” he said reemerging from the closet with two brooms and two dustpans in tow. He smiled his full Cheshire-cat grin, lips stretching wide over his too-big teeth in a way that let you know he already won whatever debate you were about to start.

You decided not to press the matter. You also preferred Angel to Mary. At least it didn’t have the virgin connotation.

You waved him off. “Whatever. Just get to work.”

Noah winked and did just that, keeping his head down and minding his business until Nick showed up, six minutes late.

“What are we doing today, boss?” he asked. You pointed over to where Noah was sweeping.

“Aye, aye!” he said with a salute and started toward Noah.

“Actually can you hang back a second?” you said in a low voice. He paused mid-step, turning on his heel and leaning in with his full attention. “I wanted to talk to you.”

He sighed, eyes dropping to the floor. “Look. I know it wasn’t cool of me to sleep with your friend, but you should know—,”

“—I was actually going to thank you,” you cut him off. Nick’s brows pulled together.

“What?” he asked, mouth parting stupidly.

You nodded, fidgeting with the sleeve of your sweater. “She told me about how nervous she was,      about how patient you were with her and how you walked her through the process, and that you insisted on making sure she was sober enough to give consent. Not all guys would do that for a girl they just met. Let alone someone whose first time it was.”

Nick blinked, then released the tension he’d been holding in his jaw, allowing his face to relax into a smile. “Of course. I’m not an asshole. Or, well at least not a complete asshole.”

You chuckled, signaling with your hand for him to join you while you meandered over to the other end of the foyer where Noah was working. “Ava can be pretty reckless at times,” you said, lowering your voice now that Noah was within earshot. “She gets in over her head. I appreciate that she had someone like you who prioritized her comfort and safety.”

“She’s not bad. You have good taste in friends.”

“Thanks,” you said, smiling fondly at the moment of shared appreciation for your friend.

“Now get to work,” you said, when the air got too thick. The last thing you needed was to allow Nick to burrow his way into your heart alongside his friend. 

The workday passed by relatively easy. There were no major philosophical conversations to be had, and no interruptions from unwelcome strangers. The two men worked diligently for the whole session, and when it was time to go, they put their own supplies away.

“Hey,” said Noah while you all made your way out. “I was thinking about something.” He slowed his steps and allowed Nick to pass the two of you.

“Yeah?” you said, matching his pace.

“You’ve seen me in my element. I thought it was only fair if I returned the favor.”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“I want to hear you sing.” He said it softly, lisp coming out on the last word and oh. You paused mid-stride to turn to him.

 “Why?”

Noah looked at you as if you’d offended his bloodline, head rearing back in a scoff. “Because I’m curious? And I want to support you the way you supported me?”

“That’s not necessary,” you rushed to assure. The last thing you wanted was to have to perform in front of him. That was a level of vulnerability you weren’t interested in. Especially since he had such an extensive background in music and could easily judge you if you weren’t up to his standards.

“Will you let me do something nice, please?” he said, holding his arms out to the side before letting them drop back to his hips with a slap. “Isn’t the point of this entire community service thing to help me be a better person?”

He’d seen the corner he could back you into before you did. You couldn’t, in good faith, protest something like that without letting your cards show.

“I have a showcase coming up in December,” you said. “Here. At the church.”

Noah tucked his lips between his teeth and smiled in triumph.

“Are you sure you won’t burst into flames the second you step foot in a worship service?” you asked.

“Guess we’ll see,” He said, with a quick shrug of his shoulders. You continued walking down the path leading back into town.

“Isaac’s going to be there,” you said, reluctantly. “I don’t want any trouble.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” he assured you, making the sign of the cross over his chest and clapping his hands together in prayer. 

You sighed and shook your head. “Good. See that you are.” Without anything better to say, you followed up with “now get out of here.”

Noah huffed out a laugh at your attempt at standoffishness and jogged to catch up with Nick. Your gut twisted at the thought of him coming to watch you sing. Even more so at the idea of the regular churchgoers seeing and potentially interacting with him, but you chose to trust that this would be a good thing. That Noah would keep his word.

Noah in a church. Standing in the middle of a church-going audience. You shook your head, unable to realistically picture it, but that didn’t stop a grin from sneaking up on you whenever you thought about it. 

_______

November came and went in the same way a cloud would—slowly, and easily unnoticed unless you paid special attention.

You and Isaac continued to work together on his project. He brought up passing a collection plate around during the event so the two of you could raise money for charity, which you thought was a great idea.

“That way, we can give back a little,” he said, pinching the cross charm he wore around his neck between two of his fingers and sliding back and forth along its chain. 

“I’d love that,” you said, feeling more energized about the showcase.

You and Isaac sat across from each other at a table in a room off to the side of the main worship area, often used for small group meetings, Bible studies, and Sunday School. Song books and sheets of music littered the table, musty from years of use. You sat doodling swirls in the margins of the notebook in front of you.

“How have we been marketing the event?” he asked, flipping through pages of a hymn book. 

“I made an event page on Facebook,” you said, “and have been posting about it to the campus Facebook page. A few other local groups, too.”

“Good,” he said, nodding, but not looking up from the book in front of him.

“I’ve also been passing out flyers and posting them around campus to drum up some excitement.”

“Excellent,” said Isaac, smiling.

Surprisingly enough, working with Isaac hadn’t been as painful as you’d expected. He remained focused on planning out the logistics of the showcase, appropriately delegating tasks to you as needed, but taking on the bulk of the work himself. 

You liked this Isaac. He was at his best when he had a goal and worked diligently to achieve it. When you’d first developed an interest in him, it was when he was pursuing a leadership role on the worship team. Before then, he’d always been a scrawny, nerdy kid that existed only in the fringes of your memory. You’d seen him in church and at school but hadn’t paid much attention to him.

It wasn’t until your teen years, when he’d grown his hair out and started learning how to play guitar that you’d truly noticed. One day, he’d asked to perform a song in front of the congregation. You couldn’t even remember the song, but you remembered being transfixed by his singing.

That was the beginning of the crush you’d been nursing for over four years. It had largely dissipated, but it still peeked out every once in a while, in moments like this.

He closed the book in his hands, setting it down on the table and straightening out some of the papers in front of him. “How’s the community service going?” he asked without looking at you.

Your warm feelings for him slipped away just as quickly and easily as they had arrived.

Tension flared in your neck, pulling your shoulders up to a defensive position. Aside from that telltale sign, however, you chose to play it cool.

“It’s fine,” you said, joining him in arranging the stack of music sheets in front of you so you had something to focus on aside from him.

“You better get a move on,” he said, setting his stack of papers aside and resting his elbows on the table. He spoke directly to you. “You only have a month left before you never see them again. Not a lot of time to bring people to Christ.”

Truthfully, you’d forgotten all about that. He was right—the job had been handed to you with the specific instructions towitness to these men, but you were starting to think you no longer agreed with that cause.

“Did you talk about Hell?” he continued. “That sometimes works for me.”

You shook your head. “I don’t want to do that.”

“Why not?” he asked, brows furrowing with confusion. “You have to do something. Their souls are on the line.”

“I really don’t want to talk about this,” you snapped, shifting your chair back from the table and standing. You had some homework you should be getting to, anyway. “Can we drop it?”

“No!” he barked, standing up to be on your level. He splayed his palms on the table, leaning his weight on them and eyes boring a hole into you. Even from across the table, his height was menacing. Not as tall as Noah, but definitely tall. “That’s the whole point of you being there. You have to make sure they know what’s at stake if they keep going down the path they’re on.”

“It’s not that simple,” you said, voice raising in volume.

All this talk of eternal damnation set you on edge. You still hadn’t even figured out where you stood on the issue. How were you supposed to preach to someone who had made up their mind long ago? And who was Isaac to tell you how to talk to them when he’d only briefly encountered them once and made a fool out of himself in the process?

“What’s complicated about it? They repent or they go to Hell,” he stated with a huff, blowing his fringe bangs out of his eyes.

The pressure he was putting on you was familiar—much like the pressure your father had always put on you to “go out and make disciples” but things weren’t as black-and-white as they were when you were a child.

How were you supposed to preach something you weren’t even sure you understood or believed in? Blindly giving into the pressure to convert as many people as you could to a faith you only half-trusted felt more and more like a betrayal of yourself.

Not only that, but in your experience, people simply did not want to hear the gospel preached at them. You’d tried once—when you’d joined a local theater production of Fiddler on the Roof as a stagehand. There was one girl there who you’d made fast friends with—Stephanie.

You spent all summer trying to share the Good News with her. At the end of three long months, she agreed to accept Christ into her heart, allowing you to lead her in The Prayer. It was the defining moment of your adolescence. You’d managed to validate your existence by saving at least one soul.

It wasn’t until the wrap party later that week that you overheard her making fun of you to some of the other cast members, all huddled together in a corner of the theater, that you realized she’d gone through with it as a joke.

There was no explaining that to Isaac, however. He was so caught up in everything he’d been taught that it would take much longer than you had time to explain everything, and that was if he even listened, which he didn’t seem interested in…

…much like the people you were supposed to evangelize to.      

“I have to go,” you said, turning on your heel and walking out of the warmth of the worship center, into the frigid rain. Isaac called after you, but you broke into a jog, heading—well, somewhere.

You didn’t know where you were heading, actually. Your rain boots clunked haphazardly on the sidewalk, splashing through puddles as you ran. You contemplated going back to your dorm, but knew Stevie was home. It didn’t seem like the place to be.

You weren’t interested in any of the usual places on campus, either. The wind and rain bit at your skin, chilling you through the oversized Sherpa-lined hoodie you’d worn.

Your feet guided you to the crossroads that would lead you back to campus, and you turned in the opposite direction, running headlong toward town.

Your breaths grew uneven, whether it was due to the energy you were expending, or the crushing weight of your religious obligations.

You were supposed to lead these men to God, lest their souls be cast into Hell for eternity.

Except, did you believe in Hell anymore?

You weren’t sure. You supposed it could exist, but was it really that easy to wind up serving a permanent sentence for an impermanent crime? For simply getting the theology wrong?

That didn’t seem like something a loving god would do. And if it was, did you really want to devote your life to serving someone like that? Someone who could be so utterly cruel to his creations for making simple mistakes?

You were angry. For the first time, you felt a glimpse of the anger Noah had expressed that night. He was right to feel angry. There were so many contradictions—so much about the church that just felt backwards to you. And whenever you raised legitimate questions, you were always met with the same answer:

God works in mysterious ways. 

It was a mantra the church elders repeated, but it felt more like a cop-out. A common method of spiritual bypassing.

You wiped the rain that had been pelting your face with your sleeve, unsure of how far you’d ran when a familiar voice interrupted your thoughts.

“Whoa!”

___________

At no point in his evening did Noah anticipate running into you—figuratively, and certainly not literally. But when he spotted you bounding toward him with a panicked expression, that’s what nearly happened.

Upon further reflection, you were probably aiming to run past him, but in the moment, it looked like you were on track to collide directly into his chest.

“Whoa!” he called out. Your attention snapped from the sidewalk in front of you to his face, and in the process, your left foot miscalculated its landing. It slid out from under you, giving you a half a second to react and catch yourself on a steel signpost. It was a good thing you had quick reflexes, otherwise you’d have planted ass-first into the muddy puddles lining the street.

“Easy,” said Noah, catching you by the elbows and helping you regain your balance. He observed your soaked hoodie, the way your breaths came out staggered, and the rapid rise and fall of your chest as you caught your breath. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you exhaled, struggling to catch your breath.

Noah blinked at you, eyes narrowing in on your expression. Something was off about the way you looked around you nervously.

“You sure?” he asked again.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” You looked up at him, fake smile plastered on your face to better sell the lie, but eyes blown wide as if you’d been trying to outrun a predator. Noah wasn’t buying it.

“You tell me,” he said, observing your footwear.

You looked down at your rain boots and back up to him. “I wanted to go for a run?” you said. It was framed as a question. Half-acknowledging that you’d been caught, but hoping he would drop it anyway.

 “Right.” He humored you for now. He’d get to the bottom of it eventually.

“What are you doing here?” you deflected. Your breathing had begun to slow. You tucked your wet, matted hair behind your ear and looked up at him with curiosity in your eyes. The tension in his chest began to fade the more you relaxed. As if his nervous system was inextricably tied to yours.

“I was about to grab some tea,” he said, nodding towards the small hole-in-the-wall café across the street. Your eyes followed, then dropped to where he still held your elbows, and he released them. “Care to join?”

“Sure,” you said. He nodded and gestured for you to follow him before stuffing his hands in his pockets.

The two of you crossed the street, Noah taking the opportunity to glance backwards to see if he could gather any context clues and opened the door for you when he found none.

He gestured toward the counter, indicating for you to order first, and sidled up behind you, standing protectively close, just in case there was indeed a threat.

“Want to take this to go?” he asked.

“Sure,” you said, placing an order for a decaf cinnamon latte. Gross. Too sweet for his taste. “To go, please.”

Noah placed his own order for a green tea before the barista could give you your total. You looked up at him with a question on your face, and he handed his card over to pay for both orders without pause. Perhaps he could buy some of your time.

The two of you stepped to the side while you waited for your drinks to be made. Noah leaned casually against the counter, putting his height on display and moving just enough into your personal space that you’d have to take notice.

“Why were you running in the rain?” he asked. 

You looked him over, taking note of his new proximity. “Long story.”

“Do you always deflect this much?” he asked.

You smiled sheepishly. “I’ll tell you, just not right here.”

That was enough to put Noah fully at ease. Perhaps it truly was nothing and he’d just read into your body language too much.

Noah caught you glancing over his body out of the corner of his eye. He smiled to himself. He knew he was attractive. At this point, using his attractiveness to his advantage was almost second nature to him. He drummed his fingers against the counter, feeling a slight surge of energy when he saw you studying the tattoos on his hands and trying not to be obvious about it.

Noah knew he could be cocky at times. His own attractiveness became clear to him in high school, when he hit a growth spurt and got his first tattoo. He received much more attention from girls than his friends did, and it increased exponentially the older he got and the more his once-lanky body filled out. By the time he dropped out of high school, well before his sixteenth birthday, he’d lost his virginity and then some. He couldn’t remember what his body count was up to, but he’d guess it was approaching triple digits.

He tried to stay humble about it, knowing that too much attention wasn’t healthy for his ego, but he did, at times, like to indulge.

Like right now. He was aware you were looking at him. He knew he could invite you back to his studio, that you’d probably say yes, and that you were very conflicted about your attraction to him, because this might be the first time you’d wrestled with sexual attraction to someone who wasn’t bound by the same laws of purity as you.

He’d give you time to figure out what you wanted. He wouldn’t outright pressure you the way he had last time. But he also wasn’t going to stop himself from craving you, or from responding the way his body told him to when in pursuit of something he wanted.

He slid his hands across the counter, allowing his weight to drop to his elbows, and leaned towards you. He was tall enough that his face still hovered slightly over yours when he looked you in the eye. 

Many times, people were intimidated by the weight of his full attention on them. They’d step back or break eye contact to diffuse it. You, however, just looked up at him with a question on your face.

Oh, he liked that. He liked you not being intimidated by him.

“So,” he said. A segue into nothing. A great move on his part since he had nothing to say. 

“So,” you mimicked, knowing smile teasing the corner of your mouth upward. A warm, sensation rippled through Noah’s diaphragm. He didn’t smile though. He wasn’t going to break his façade so early. 

“What…,” he began. He looked out the window as if he’d find a cue card with the prompt he’d need. He didn’t. “…do you like to do? For fun?”

A clumsy introduction to a conversation. Possibly the clumsiest he’s ever made.

You licked your lips and nodded to yourself, amused by his attempt. Without his permission, his eyes darted to your lips. He chided himself and looked away, hoping you hadn’t noticed the rookie mistake.

“Angel,” yelled the barista, shaking him from his thoughts. Noah had given them his nickname for you as the name of the order. It went over the way he expected, with you rolling your eyes and begrudgingly offering him a smile. Glee spread into his cheeks and he shot a grin at you before turning to the hand-off plane. 

You grabbed your drinks, handing Noah’s to him and led the way back outside into the rain. Your lead didn’t last long—Noah’s long legs easily overtook you and he had to make a concerted effort to slow his pace so you could keep up.

“I like movies,” you said eventually.

“What?” he asked.

“For fun,” you said. “I like to watch movies.”

Oh. Right. He’d forgotten about that.

“What’s your favorite?” he asked, this question coming out much smoother than the last, and Noah felt like he was back on track. 

“Three-way tie for all of the Lord of the Rings movies.”

Noah stopped short. “Are you serious?” he asked. You nodded.

Without thinking about it, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and gave you an overly dramatic kiss on the top of the head, not worrying for a second about how you’d react. This time, you did get shy, shrinking into yourself and making a noise of protest before he let you go.

The power was back in Noah’s possession for the time being.

“What was that for?” you asked, smoothing out your hair. In the dark street, Noah couldn’t see the flush on your cheeks, but he knew it was there.

“I love Lord of the Rings,” he said. It was true. He’d been an avid fan of the films since grade school, back when he and his friends used to pretend to be the fellowship. Tall and slender with long hair, he’d been cast as the elf of the friend group, though he’d secretly always resonated more with Aragorn.

“Which one is your favorite?” you asked, falling back into step alongside him. Even with his slower pace, you had to take long strides to keep up.

“Return of the King,” said Noah without missing a beat. “I get chills every time the beacons are lit.”

“Did you know that in The Two Towers, when Viggo kicks—,”

“—he breaks his toe,” Noah cut you off. He immediately knew where you were going with it. Everyone with even the most basic appreciation for Lord of the Rings knew. It had become a calling card among fans to know that bit of trivia, but he still took pride in finishing your sentence.

The pride within him swelled tenfold when you smiled as if you’d never been more impressed or pleased with him in your life. He couldn’t help but fall a little bit in love with you.

Which was not good, considering how much harder it would be to restrain himself around you. God, he wanted nothing more than to seduce the religion out of you. He wanted to turn his pockets inside out, use every trick in the book to get you into bed, but he would probably end up embarrassing himself if he did, because his charm didn’t seem to faze you.

He knew it wasn’t a matter of attraction. You showed all the signs of being attracted to him, yet you still had the self-control not to act on it, and that drove him wild.

Had he been wrong about you? He thought the reason you were still a virgin was because your resolve had never been tested, but he’d definitely tested it on Halloween, and you’d resisted.

Which Noah had not expected.

And though he had reacted poorly at the time (which he now found extremely embarrassing), he’s started to like that you shut him down. He’s always appreciated a bit of a chase—a smidge of hard-to-get. It made the game all the more exciting for him. 

But this was different. You weren’t playing a game. You simply existed as yourself, with no agenda he could detect. And maybe the part of him that needed someone to help tame his ego would like you to continue shutting him down, as much as it killed him.

“I play video games,” he said, breaking out of his thoughts when he noticed he’d been silent for too long. “For fun.”

“What games?” you asked, not missing a beat.

“I’ve been playing a lot of Fallout recently.”

If you told him you played Fallout, he would propose to you on the spot.

“I never got into video games,” you said, and Noah breathed a sigh of relief, because he didn’t need to be any more whipped for you. “Where are we going, by the way?”    

“Oh,” he said, halting his steps. “Um, I was thinking of going back to the studio, if you were okay with that.” Nerves in his sides and in his throat tingled uncomfortably. You hesitated, and Noah wondered if the memory of what happened last time dwelled in the back of your mind, like it did his.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” you said after a beat, and picked up your pace once again. Noah exhaled softly, nerves soothed for the time being, and followed. 

That was another thing: whenever he was with you, his nervous system oscillated wildly between feeling completely relaxed and supremely on-edge. The constant spikes in his adrenaline translated into excess energy that built up beneath his skin and all he wanted to do was sigh it into your mouth.

The three-block walk back to the studio was over all too soon. When the two of you arrived, Noah unlocked it like he had last time, and like last time, you sat in the same position on the couch.

Noah decided sit on the other end of the couch, rather than his usual desk chair. He faced you, legs crossed underneath him. 

You turned to mirror his pose.

“So,” he said, this time knowing what he wanted to ask. “Nice night for a jog, huh?”

“Yeah,” you said, clearing your throat and retreating further into your hoodie. 

“Not the best shoes for running, I have to say.” He nodded over to the rainboots that rested by the door in a small puddle.

You chuckled nervously, then worried at your lip. “I needed some air,” you said.

“Why?”

You bounced your knee up and down, collecting your thoughts. There was obviously something eating at you, and it concerned Noah that you were struggling so much to talk about it.

He relaxed his gaze, trying his best to train his face into a neutral, open expression.

“Okay,” you prefaced, exhaling a deep breath and twisting the cuff of your oversized sleeve in your hands. You looked anywhere but him. “So I have been questioning a lot about my faith recently. You know this.”

Noah nodded, stomach rolling with pride and with something slightly sicker and more selfish, knowing he’d been a catalyst of sorts for your questioning. He fought it back down, not allowing his feelings to distract him from listening to you.

“Yeah,” you nodded back at him, pulling your sleeves over your hands and bunching the ends up in your fists. Noah liked you this way. Cozy. Vulnerable. “And some people in the church are starting to notice.”

“Ah,” he said, understanding dawning on him. It was hard to ignore the changes in your behavior and demeanor. You’d become more confident over the last few weeks, less eager to please and more willing to stand up for yourself. He wasn’t surprised the church had caught onto it. The same thing had happened to him when he started deconstructing his beliefs—they saw it as a threat.

“When did you stop believing in Hell?” you asked, shifting the subject slightly.

“Oh,” he said again, feeling rather like a broken record.

You looked up at him, eyes growing wet with tears that threatened to spill over, and Noah began to see just how important this conversation was for you.

You waited patiently while he gathered his thoughts. His thumb traced along a seam in the leg of his jeans, grounding him while he tried to recall long-repressed memories.

“I don’t think there was any one significant moment.” He finally spoke, pausing to sip at his tea, savoring its bitterness. “It was more like I slowly came to understand that it was bullshit.”

“What made you realize?” you asked. Now it was Noah’s turn to carry the weight of your full attention. You hung on his every word, eyes trained on him as if you were looking into his soul and it made it difficult to focus. The collar of his shirt was suddenly too constricting. The room had grown warm. The knot of hair at the nape of his neck was tied too tight.

“My grandparents,” he began, clearing his throat. “They overused the threat of it. So did the church leaders. It started to feel empty after a while.”

You nodded, eager for him to continue speaking. “How long did it take to stop believing once you noticed?”

“Longer than it should have,” he confessed, heaving out a breath. “But in my defense, the stakes were pretty high. Had to figure out if I was willing to wager an eternity of torture on it.” 

You hummed in thought, attention finally lifting off him and drifting to the space between the two of you.

“Noah, I think I’m…,” you began, but didn’t finish the rest of your sentence. He caught the hitch in your breath. The slight shudder in your shoulders.

He was pulled to you, as if there were a thread tugging at him. He needed reach out and touch you, so he did, placing his hand on your knee and rubbing his thumb back and forth. Something in his bones told him to stay quiet and let you figure this out. 

You took a deep breath to steady yourself.

“I’ve never struggled with my faith before,” you began, and Noah nodded to show he was listening. “But now, it’s like I don’t know what to believe. I used to feel so sure. And some things I still feel sure about, but everything around it is like…crumbling.”

Noah watched you deliberately, hoping you felt you had his full attention, save for his right hand, which twirled a frayed thread from a rip in the knee of your jeans. To his surprise and delight, you inched closer to him. He made sure not to let it show. He needed his body language to match your tone—to be open and receptive. To be what you need. 

“I feel like I was lied to,” you continued, voice breaking. “For my whole life, I was told that I had to act a certain way and believe in certain things. Things that I’ve struggled with for a long time. But I still did because I was afraid of ending up in Hell.”

You paused to sniffle. “And now I’m starting to think that it might not all be true, but I’m scared to think that, because what if it is true? And I do go to Hell? I just feel like…like the ground is being washed out from under me.”

Noah’s tongue prodded the inside of his cheek as your voice became watery. You were so close to a breakthrough. He didn’t want to say or do anything that would interrupt it, but he also wanted to cheer you on. 

“I don’t want to become angry and bitter,” you confessed. “But I am angry. And I don’t know at who or what.”

“Are you afraid of being angry?” he asked, hoping it was the right question. This was toeing the edge of his jurisdiction.

“Kind of,” you said. “But it’s more than that. I’m afraid to start questioning, because I’m afraid I’ll abandon my faith altogether. Noah, I don’t know who I am without my faith.”

“Do you want to figure that out?”

You looked up at him, eyes glassy, threatening to spill over.

“Yeah,” you whispered.

Noah could kiss you. He wanted to kiss you, wanted to hold you by your jaw, make you breathe all your worries into his mouth so he could digest them and free you from the confines of your crushing guilt. Whatever suffocating remains you couldn’t exhale, he would swallow whole.

He yearned to crush his body against yours, to card his fingers through your hair and tug at the root, to hear your soft whimpers as he licked along the soft spots of your neck. He wanted the pressure of your thighs wrapped around his hips as he slid home over and over again.

Noah wanted you to take your anger out on him. Wanted you to sink your teeth into his throat, claw your nails down his back, to spit out your unfiltered rage. He wanted you to slap him hard across the face for having the audacity to dream of doing such lewd things to you. 

He didn’t do any of those things, but he did take both your hands in his.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you still believe in God?”

You sniffed and nodded. “I think so.”

“Okay. What do you think he would say if he saw you like this right now? If he loves you like he says he does. Do you think he’d be disappointed?”

You sniffed again, blinking back your tears and shook your head.

“How would he feel?”

“I think,” you began. Noah could practically see the cogs turning in your yead. He willed—almost prayed for—you to come to the right conclusion: one that didn’t end in self-hatred or shame.

“I think…he’d be proud of me,” you said.

Noah squeezed your hands in encouragement, manifesting a breakthrough for you. “Why would he be proud?”

“For having the courage to ask these questions.”

Noah’s dick was known to twitch at odd times. But this, by far, was the weirdest.

“To me,” he said, trying his best to ignore the feeling in his dick and focus on the task at hand, “it seems like you’re notabandoning your faith. You’re realizing that it’s so important that you’re willing to risk going to Hell to make sure you get it right.”

A strangled sob escaped from you and you dove into him, wrapping your arms around his middle and burying your head into his chest.

Noah couldn’t breathe, and not because you held him in a vise grip. He draped his arms across your back, placing a gentle kiss on the top of your head and praying to God for the first time since he was fifteen that he wouldn’t get a boner.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered into his chest. “I feel like I’m always crying these days.”

“It’s fine,” he said. You smelled like rain and vanilla and something floral he couldn’t place. He tried his hardest to touch you as lightly as possible because if he gave into even the most innocent of his desires, his hands would be wrapped around your throat and he’d be burying himself in you.

You adjusted, crying into his shoulder now, and he could feel your hot breath steaming across his neck. Yes, he knew you were crying and that wasn’t exactly the sexiest thing in the world (at least in this context), but it took every ounce of self-control he had to not put you through the couch. You were half in his lap. Despite his prayers, he was semi-hard, and if you shifted your weight even an inch, you’d be able to feel.

When your sobs finally slowed and your breathing went back to normal, Noah continued to stroke your back with his palm.

Having you in his arms was like flirting with the devil. A serpent, offering him a bite of fruit he knew was forbidden, lest he be cast out of Eden, but the sight and scent and touch of which proving to be far too sweet to resist.

All too soon though, you were self-aware again, recognizing what you were doing and where you were. You pulled back to look at the tear-stained mess you left and had the loss of your touch not been excruciating, Noah would have been grateful because his self-control was just about spent. 

“Gross,” he said, pulling the fabric of his shirt out and away from his skin. You had snotted on it. 

“Sorry,” you said, laughing and getting up to find a tissue, and Noah was looking at your ass. No other thought ran through his head besides the stern acknowledgement that he was looking at your ass and nothing on this earth would stop him from looking at your ass until you turned back around.

“Feel better?” he asked, eyes flicking up to meet yours. 

You nodded, face all red and splotchy.

“I should go,” you said, and his heart twisted and wrenched away from his ribs, but he agreed because he needed to put his cock in somethingimmediately or he was literally going to die.

“Call me if you need anything,” he said.

“I don’t have your number.”

Noah reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone, opening a new contact page and handing it to you. Your fingers brushed over his when you took it and he wondered if it was on purpose.

You tapped the screen a few times and handed it back to him. He opened a new text, typed his name, and pressed send. A few seconds later, your phone pinged.

His heart untwisted a millimeter. He had a tether to you now.

“Thanks,” you said. “For everything.” You stumbled back into your rain boots and walked over to where he was still sat on the couch (he couldn’t stand up without giving himself away by that point), and touched your lips briefly to his cheek bone. His skin burned under the touch and he didn’t even have a chance to respond before you were across the room and out the door.

Noah tipped sideways off the couch and rolled onto the floor, sprawled across the narrow passage between couch and desk.

He took a deep breath, feeling like his heart was about to beat out of his chest, then rolled onto his stomach and did twenty push-ups in a row.

His dick was burning a hole through his jeans and if he didn’t do something immediately, he was going to bash his head into the floor.

He pulled out his phone, with one number in mind.

Noah 9:37 PM: ?

Madison 9:37 PM: ;)

Noah 9:38 PM: 5?

Madison 9:38 PM: ✔️ _________

Noah just about ran the few blocks to Madison’s apartment. He walked in unceremoniously, ignoring her roommates, and took the stairs two at a time all the way up to her room.

She was there, sitting on her bed with a hungry smile twisting on her lips. She wore a sports bra and the shortest shorts Noah’s ever seen, but he barely looked at them.

He kneeled in front of her, grasping her shoulders in his hands.

“What’s your safe word?”

“Candyland.”

Noah nodded.

“That’s the only word you’re allowed to say,” he commanded. Giggling, she fell back on the bed, opening her legs wide for Noah to wedge himself between.

Noah closed his eyes, focusing on breathing in and out through his nose and his hands found the flimsy fabric of Madison’s sports bra. She gave a yelp when he just about ripped it off her, flinging it across the room. He turned his focus to her shorts to do the same.

Once she was rid of her clothes, he ran a finger between her hairless folds to find she was already wet. Madison was always reliably wet.

Even so, he stuck two of his fingers in his mouth, collecting saliva before he plunged them into her, moving them up and down, scissoring them the way he knew she liked. It wasn’t long before she expanded enough to accommodate him.

Fumbling while removing his own clothes, he wasted no time taking his heavy cock out and stroking it. He reached into the familiar top drawer of her nightstand, producing a condom and rolling it onto himself. He cradled his throbbing cock and lined it up with her entrance, glancing up at her to check in, and she nodded.

Noah didn’t go slow. He pushed into her all the way as deep as he could go with a snap of his hips, and once he was fully sheathed, he finally he felt like he could breathe.

He groaned low as he began to thrust inside her. She moaned loudly, draping her arms around him, and the second he registered her touch, he grabbed her arms and pinned them above her head. With one hand, he held them there, while the other crushed her jaw between his fingers.

“I need you to listen to me,” he growled, looking her directly in the eye. “Do not move. Do not make a fucking sound. Any other night you can do what you want but tonight, if we do this, you are a fuck doll. Got it?”

She bit her swollen lower lip and nodded eagerly.

“Open,” he said.

She opened her mouth for him and he spat into it.

“Swallow,” he hissed. 

She closed her mouth around his saliva and swallowed it obediently.

“Good. Now hold still.”

She preened, eyes rolling back into her head and lips dropping open.

Noah relaxed, finally feeling in control for the first time that evening since running into you. He folded Madison’s legs up over her, found purchase on the backs of her thighs, and began his descent into his lowest and most carnal self.

Madison, to her credit, didn’t make a sound. She didn’t move. She braced herself against her headboard and held her position like a dutiful fuck doll.

Noah didn’t make a habit of treating women like objects, and he didn’t like that he was doing it right then. In many ways, he was disgusted with himself, but tried his best to get over it, telling himself the ends justified the means.

He threw his head back and breathed deep, the heavy musty smell of sex permeating through the air, but Noah didn’t care much about that. He pistoned his hips into her, squeezing his eyes shut tight, wishing he was anywhere and anyone else but the depraved man he knew himself to be.

Wanting to feel at least a little better about what he was doing, he took a thumb and rubbed quick circles into Madison’s clit to reward her for letting him use her body like this.

She whimpered. He didn’t care enough to tell her to shut up again. Any sounds from her were just white noise.

God, Noah hated himself. Hated how absolutely weak he was, submitting to his body without even trying to put up a fight.

He never stood a chance, though. How did you do it?

He sighed and picked up his pace, reveling in the tight warmth of cunt.

Had your roles been reversed the other week? Had it been you on your knees in front of him, practically begging him to give himself over to you, he would have done it without question. Had you given him any hint of desire—had you given him even an inch, he would have taken the whole fucking mile and he would have doubled back just to do it again. What made you so much more capable of resisting? 

Madison pulsed around him, and when something splashed against his abdomen with each thrust, he realized Madison had released onto him. She did that sometimes. Whatever. He was used to it. He kept going.

He thought of you masturbating. He thought of you thinking of him while you touched yourself, your fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your white panties, whining his name while you made a mess of your bedsheets. He thought of you thinking of him tying you down and forcing you, and he could almost cry, he was so hard.

He tried not to think about the fact that he was fucking someone. He wasn’t really. He was using a body to masturbate because he knew it would give him a bigger release than he could get with just his hand.

And fuck, did he need release. He needed control. He needed to defile something beautiful and make it as ugly as he was inside.

Recognizing he wasn’t going to get what he needed in this position, he pulled out, flipped the girl over easily, and pushed back into her with a hard smack to the soft flesh of her ass.

She yelped, but made no other sound, and that was enough for him.

He thought of you coming undone beneath him. Of you weeping with the release of years of pent-up sexual energy. Of your makeup smearing down your face as you cried his name out to the heavens like a prayer for salvation.

He fucked Madison at a punishing pace. She arched her back and whipped her hair around to look over her shoulder at him, and as soon as he noticed, he stared at a random spot about two-thirds of the way up her wall.

Madison gave a choked, strangled sort of sob before everything grew more wet and her pussy began to flutter around him.

Noah would have to finish soon. Madison always got overstimulated if she was forced to keep going.

He gave a low, guttural growl and picked up his pace, needing to get as much energy out of himself as fast as he possibly could. The headboard slammed into the wall over and over, the bed creaked beneath him. Madison was a sobbing, sputtering mess as she tried desperately to keep still and silent for him.

“Just a little more,” he muttered angrily under his breath, picturing you on the brink of orgasm, body tensed up as you began to tip over the edge. “Come on.”

He dug his hands into Madison’s hips, slamming his body into hers and using his full strength to get as deep into her as he possibly could.

His lower abdomen tightened and his balls pulled up with the tell-tale sign of impending climax. He wrenched himself away from her, ripped off the condom, and gave himself a few quick strokes before he spilled himself onto her trembling body. Then he collapsed onto the bed, half on top of her, and curled himself around one of her pillows.

“I’m sorry,” he said, emotions washing over him like a tidal wave. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Madison said, cradling his trembling body into hers. “Noah, that was amazing. Don’t be sorry.”

Noah shook his head, throat closing in as he struggled to breathe. “I have to go.”

“What? Noah, don’t be ridiculous. It’s late. Just stay.” She said—his cum dripping down her shoulder and back as she sat up to look at him.

But Noah was already up, scrambling to pull up his jeans and find the shirt he’d thrown somewhere in his lust.

He all but ran out of the room, down the stairs, and out the front door. He ran the several blocks it took to get to his house. He slowed down momentarily as he entered through the front door and past the main living space, but it was only to fend off questions from his roommates.

Once in the safety of his room, he collapsed to the floor, crawled to his bed, and knelt.

“I…,” he began, whispering into his clasped palms. And then he blanked. Because he didn’t know who he was praying to, or what for. All he knew was that he was praying.

“I’m sorry,” he eventually settled on. And that’s all he could find to say for the moment. It wasn’t enough. Taglist: @reyadawn @sundamariis @noahsebastions @cyber-tiny @livingdeceasedgirl @just-randomm-stuff @xxkittenkissesxx @treacheryinblue @flowerynerds @1toreyouapart @badomensls @rain-down-on-me @poisongirl616 Let me know if I missed anyone!

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The Devil's Advocate - Chapter 6

Pairing: Delinquent!Noah Sebastian X Pastor's Daughter!Reader

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

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Smut/angst

Masterlist

Banner by @flowerynerds

___________________________

“Okay,” said Ruffilo, spinning a chair backwards at the foot of Noah’s bed and straddling it. He crossed his arms over the back of it and stared straight into Noah’s soul. “So talk to me.” 

Noah didn’t feel like talking. In fact, it was the last thing he wanted to do, but keeping everything bottled up hadn’t fared too well for him. After what happened the other night (he grimaced, not wanting to think about it), he felt like he owed it to himself to talk about it. Not doing so would likely end up in him engaging in even more self-destructive behavior. 

Noah leaned back  on his bed, head hitting the  wall with a soft thunk, arms draped over his bent knees, and closed his eyes. 

“I may have done something stupid,” he sighed. 

Nick chuckled softly. “I’ve seen you do a lot of stupid things, Noah. I’m not here to judge.” 

Nick’s voice held a practiced, precise balance between tenderness and concern. Noah had heard it many times over the years—Nick’s had always been the voice of reason, pulling him back down to earth when his head got stuck in the clouds (which happened a lot in Noah’s case). It was both comforting and, at times, intimidating—especially when it contained sharp truths that Noah wasn’t ready to hear. He suspected he was in store for some of those. 

“I may have…,” he trailed off, searching his brain for a combination of words he could accept. “…become attached…to someone.” 

He opened his eyes to note Nick’s reaction, but there was none. His face was neutral. Stoic. Kind, even. 

“Do you want to tell me who?” 

Noah shook his head. Nick tucked his teeth between his lips—a gentle sign that let Noah know he disagreed with the choice, but wasn’t going to press the matter. 

“Okay... So why is this an issue?” Nick shrugged.

Noah bit his lip, eyes flicking out his window when Nick’s sincerity became too much for him. He swallowed thickly. 

“I don’t think I’m good for her.” 

Nick’s eyebrows pinched together and Noah couldn’t handle the sympathy. It felt too much like pity. He chewed the inside of his cheek to distract himself. 

“Why would you think that?” 

Noah’s heart pounded inside his chest as he fought the urge to bail from the conversation. Three minutes in, and it was already bringing up repressed emotions Noah had no desire to feel. 

He breathed deep through his nose to steady himself, digging the heels of his palms into his thighs. How was he supposed to describe the situation? He wasn’t even sure why he felt the way he did, he just had a gut instinct. 

“So she’s like, religious or whatever,” he began. 

“Hold on,” Nick held up a hand to pause, his demeanor still unbothered. “Is this the pastor’s daughter Folio was talking about?” he asked, and Noah’s heart jumped into his throat. “Not a judgment, just a question,” he followed up. 

Noah hadn’t realized just how tense he’d become and forced his shoulders to relax. Though Nick was the least judgmental person he knew, he still couldn’t help but feel like he was on trial. 

Noah nodded reluctantly. “How much did he tell you?” 

“Not much,” Nick said with a shrug. “Just that you guys had a bet going.” 

Noah scowled. “I never agreed to be part of that.” 

Nick, calm as ever, simply blinked back. “I didn’t think you would.” His eyes scanned over Noah’s frame, likely noticing how on-edge his friend was. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. 

Noah puffed out a breath, wrapping his arms around his knees to quell the tension in his diaphragm. He didn’t know why he was so nervous to talk about this—Ruffilo clearly cared about him and had never, ever judged him. Perhaps Noah judged himself so harshly that he couldn’t imagine anyone else not. 

“No,” he said, words finally flowing from him like a pressure release valve had been flipped. 

“I’m not okay. I don’t know what to do. I can’t stop thinking about this girl, but I feel like I’m so fucked up and I just know I’m gonna end up hurting her somehow. And I think she likes me too, which makes it that much harder to stay away.” 

He pressed his palms into his eyes to equalize the pressure that had built up behind them. 

“I’m a fucking mess,” he continued fidgeting with a rip in his jeans. “I don’t have my shit together at all , and eventually she’s going to see how pathetic I am and leave me for someone better.” 

“Whoa,” said Nick, face remaining neutral, but voice taking a more assertive tone. “Hold on. You’re making a lot of wild assumptions here.” 

“Am I though? She’s a virgin and I can’t go a week without sticking my dick in someone.” 

Nick brought his finger up to his chin, eyes glazing over as he thought. “That does seem like an obstacle. Does she know this about you?” 

Noah paused his fidgeting. “I don’t know,” he confessed. “I think she sort-of knows? But I don’t think she realizes how bad it is.”

“Is bad the right word?” Nick asked. Noah leaned his head back, tapping the crown of it against the wall several times over. 

“You’re missing the point.” 

“I don’t think I am,” said Nick, folding his arms in front of him. “I think you’re catastrophizing because you’re scared.” 

“Dude!” said Noah, throwing his hands in the air. “Can you not?!” 

Nick snickered into his hand, knowing he had finally gotten to the bottom of what had been eating at Noah. 

“Sorry, yes,” said Nick, struggling to keep his face straight. “You are alone in your problems. Nobody has ever dealt with anything like this before and you suffer uniquely .” 

Noah huffed, dropping his arms.. “Thank you. Finally someone gets it.” 

Nick smiled at his friend, then gave him a look that brought the conversation back to a serious note. “Do you really think you’re incapable of change?”

Noah sucked on his teeth. “I think that’s what I’m scared of.” 

Nick rocked forward on his chair, balancing it on its two hind legs. “Are you willing to try?” 

Noah rubbed his hand up and down his calf, “I don’t know.” 

The chair Nick was on slammed back down on all four legs, creating a thud that echoed through the room. “I don’t know what to tell you man,” Nick said, standing up and stretching. “You either want the girl or you don’t.” 

“Thanks,” Noah said flatly. “That really helps.” 

Nick sat down beside Noah on the bed, pressing his shoulder into Noah’s.

“You’ll figure it out,” he said. “You have a lot of great qualities. There’s a reason she’s drawn to you. Personally, I’m really happy to call you my friend. And if it worries you that much, you can always try being honest with her about your concerns.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Noah said, trying to diffuse the sincerity with humor. He’d always had a difficult time accepting genuine affection, and Nick had a habit of giving it when it was most needed. 

“You might find,” he continued, “that she, like the rest of us, accepts you for who you are. Warts and all.” 

“It’s a lot of warts,” Noah said. 

Nick nodded in agreement. “It is a lot of warts.” 

For the first time since the beginning of their conversation, Noah cracked a smile. The pressure of Nick’s arm against his was comforting and he wanted to lean into it more, but he didn’t. He wasn’t ready to admit just how needy he was for affection. 

There was a time in Noah’s childhood where he’d expressed his needs. The need for reassurance. The need for affection. The need for love and kindness. Somewhere along the way though, he’d learned that his needs were a burden to his caregivers. Any time he asked, he was met with irritability and annoyance, and it wasn’t long before Noah received the message that his parents would only accept him if he didn’t ask for anything. 

He cut off the part of him that needed. The part that yearned. That part of him only brought about pain and rejection, so he treated it with disgust until it learned to never show its ugly face. Noah prided himself in his ability to be self-sufficient. And no, he never did end up earning the love he had wanted from his parents, but at least he didn’t get rejected by them as much. 

Now that he was older, he was starting to realize that being self-sufficient wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. He knew he had to soften, and he would…one day. It was just that right then, he had so much he was already struggling with. Adding another task on top of the pile was overwhelming. 

So he settled for begrudgingly allowing his needs to be met whenever his friends insisted. 

“Thanks, man,” he muttered, not enjoying the way it felt coming out, but knowing it needed to be said. 

“Anytime,” his friend said, nudging his elbow deeper into Noah. “I’m here if you need to talk.” 

Nick waited a beat before continuing. 

“For what it’s worth, I think you should go for it. It sounds like she’s good for you.” 

Noah didn’t respond, but knew Nick would never say anything he didn’t mean. Perhaps he couldn’t trust himself just yet, but he could trust Nick, and that was a start. 

_______

“Can I ask your opinion on something?” Noah whispered in your ear. He’d snuck up behind you and you just about jumped out of your skin.  “Don’t scare me like that,” you said, turning.. His face hovered just over yours, close enough you could almost count his eyelashes,  and you had to take a deep breath to keep from flushing. Noah hissed a laugh through his teeth, backing away to a more respectable distance. 

It was Saturday morning once again. The first snow had just fallen, and the three of you were freezing your asses off outside. The two men had finished shoveling the walkways, and were now pouring salt along the sidewalks. Nick was about six meters away, scooping salt out of the massive bucket resting on the steps leading up to the church.

“My bad,” said Noah, fighting back his laughter. 

“What did you want to ask?” 

“What’s your take on lust?” he said, looking over to make sure Nick couldn’t hear. 

You blinked up at him. Noah wasn’t bringing this topic up just for the fun of it. He had an agenda, you suspected. The angel on your shoulder screamed to walk away, but the devil on the other whispered for you to take the bait. 

You swallowed hard and chose the secret third option—stall. 

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” you said, breath coming out in a cloud of steam. Your nose had started to run. 

“Like, do you think it’s a sin?” he asked, leaning his weight on the handle of the shovel he still hadn’t put away. 

“Well, yeah,” you said. “You’re objectifying someone.” 

“How much of the sidewalk do they want us to do?” Nick called. He was almost to the end of the main walkway, but still had yet to touch the sidewalks in front of the church. 

“I think the whole thing,” you said, pointing to the sidewalks on either side. 

Nick scoffed. “So we’re supposed to spend the entire morning out here? I’m fucking freezing !” he said, wrapping his arms around himself for effect. 

“Do you need to borrow a jacket?” you asked. “We have some in the donation bins.” 

Nick’s face twisted into something sour. “No thanks.” 

You chuckled. “Then I can’t help you. Get back to work.” 

He groaned, throwing his head back and stomping off like a petulant child to spread his salt bucket farther down the sidewalk. 

“Absolute baby,” you muttered under your breath. It was the truth, but you had a soft spot in your heart for Nick’s antics. It made the day go by faster. 

“Even if they don’t know?” Noah asked, once Nick was out of earshot. 

“Know what?” you said, turning to face him. You noticed his ears poking out from under his hat. It was stupidly charming, especially now that the red of his earlobes matched the end of his nose, the membranes chilled by the cold. 

“That they’re being objectified?” His lisp was more prominent on the last word. He was making it difficult for you to ignore the crush you’d been unsuccessful in getting over—whether or not he knew. 

“I don’t know,” you said, placing your hands on your hips impatiently. “I’m not an expert. Shouldn’t you be working?” Up until that point, the conversation had played out like a game of tug-of-war, with both of you having an even grasp over its control, but you could feel your feet slipping. 

“My bad,” said Noah, leaning his shovel against the building and taking out a large scoop of salt. He sprinkled it over the sidewalk for the next ten yards and then immediately circled back to you. 

“So do you ever catch yourself lusting?” 

“Noah,” you scolded, rolling your eyes. “Why are you asking all these questions?” 

“Sorry, it’s just,” he said, sliding his foot back and forth in a large arc. His shoe glided over the salt on the sidewalk in front of him, producing a crunching, scraping sound. He sighed before sheepishly looking at you. “Full disclosure? I find myself lusting a lot.” 

“What a surprise,” you said flatly. He tilted his head and sucked on his teeth, unamused with your interjection. 

“And,” he continued, stressing the word the way a teacher would when interrupted. “I always thought it was harmless because the person I was lusting after wouldn’t find out, so victimless crime, right?” 

You raised an eyebrow. 

“I had a feeling you would say that,” he said, and you laughed. 

“Okay, well, if I may…who are you lusting after?” you asked. As soon as the question left your mouth, your chest tightened, not wanting to know the answer. If he said any other woman’s name, you’d lose it. 

“Not important,” he said. He suppressed a smile and you immediately knew he’d seen right through you. It wasn’t the affirmation from him you hoped you’d hear, but that was a long shot anyway. At least he hadn’t said someone else. 

You didn’t like the idea of him potentially talking to you about his troubles with women. You held out hope he could be hinting about his thoughts of you, given his actions on Halloween. The idea of him wanting you in that way was intoxicating. But you also knew he had a track record of being promiscuous, so really, it was anyone’s guess. 

“I think it’s probably not a good idea to be objectifying people like that,” you answered. “It could lead to treating them disrespectfully.” 

You said it, but you weren’t sure you meant it. A selfish part of you didn’t want to discourage him from thinking of you like that. 

“What if I could find a way to do both?” he asked. “Objectify and respect?” You found yourself struggling to look directly at him. 

You shrugged. “I’m not an expert. We both know I have a complicated relationship with sexuality, so I don’t even know if my opinion counts.”

“I think it counts,” he said. This time, you did chance a look over at him. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, shoulders raised to his ears as he looked at you. 

You wrinkled your nose, touched by his candor, but still unsure how you should respond. 

“If you feel like you can do both and it doesn’t feel wrong, then I’m not going to try to stop you,” you said. 

Noah pursed his lips. “That’s a very diplomatic answer.” 

“Can we go inside, please?” Nick whined, walking back up to the two of you. He’d salted about half the sidewalk. He bounced on his heels in a display of impatience. 

“Fine,” you sighed. “But find something productive to do. I think the displays need dusting.” 

Nick all but bounded up the walkway in glee, stopping to deliver a cold kiss on your cheek before he rushed inside. You stepped back startled at the sudden intrusion into your personal space. 

“Dude!” Noah scolded while you processed what had just happened. 

“Suck it, Noah!” Nick called back without looking, and you burst out laughing. You liked being able to witness little glimpses into their friendship dynamic. Nick was such an antagonist, but Noah always had a sharp tongue with a witty retort on the end of it. 

“Sorry about him,” said Noah. 

“Don’t be. I liked it,” you teased, twisting your body back and forth like a schoolgirl with a crush. 

Noah reared his head back, looking you up and down with a furrowed brow. “Whore,” he spat, and stalked off dramatically to grab more salt. 

Your laughter grew in intensity, now becoming a full-body affair. You shook your head at his sass, deciding to head into the church to make sure Nick was actually working. 

Noah didn’t talk to you for the rest of the session.  _________

Pausing his game, Noah looked at the clock. It was nearing ten. 

On any given Saturday night, he was usually either at a party at Jolly’s or at a bar. Rarely did he spend his Saturdays alone, but that night was different. The knowledge that he could be getting laid at the moment wasn’t lost on him. It gnawed at him incessantly, refusing to let him forget. 

He wished he could. There were much better things he could be doing with his time, like trying to figure out what he wanted to do with his life, for one. Or working on his music. Or self-improvement of any kind, but his body had needs, and they demanded his focus. 

Perhaps his dick anticipated being inside someone. Perhaps he’d Pavloved his body into expecting pussy at least once per week, always around the same time. He sighed, awareness being dragged down to his lap.

For the hundredth time, his thoughts drifted to you. You’d probably just gotten back from worship band practice and were getting ready to turn in early so you could be up for church tomorrow. 

He rolled his eyes at the thought of it, once again struck by just how different your lives were. God, could he even imagine himself being with you? Would you expect him to go to church as well? 

His nose wrinkled on his own accord, eyes landing on the silver ring he’d fished it out of the bucket in the supply closet the other week when you weren’t looking. It now sat next to his keyboard, taunting him. 

A purity ring. God , the concept was horrific. Why anyone would promise such nonsense was beyond him. Not to mention the fact that they basically forced it on you at such a young age. It made him sick. 

He was proud of you for not wanting to wear it anymore. It warmed his heart to see you freeing yourself from that burden. 

His stomach churned with guilt. He knew it was wrong for him to have it without you knowing, but in his defense, you’d asked him to take it before tossing it away. Had he known you were that serious about ridding yourself of it, he probably would have taken it when you offered. 

He had to admit, there was also something kind of hot about him having your purity ring. He felt like he’d taken a small piece of that precious virgin identity.  

His eyes drifted over to the phone sitting beside the ring. Your number was in there. He hadn’t used it yet, but he could if he wanted. 

Taking his phone in his hand, he unlocked it, pulling up your contact and opening a new message. You were right there on the other end of it. 

He shouldn’t. Talking to you right now was a bad idea, and he knew it. His whole goal was to be better for you. Not to further corrupt you. And there was no way he had the strength to behave himself if he spoke to you at this hour. Not when his body tingled with want and anticipation. 

No, staying away from you was the much better option. If he really wanted to talk to you, it could wait until morning. He’d rub one out and go to bed and wake up feeling like a better man. One who had actually resisted the temptations of the flesh, for once in his life. 

He sighed and locked his phone again.

He thought back to the conversation he’d had with you that morning. He knew it was a dangerous topic to bring up. He’d had ulterior motives from the get-go. But you’d answered all his questions with grace—not once giving into him the way so many would have. They way he knew he would have given in had it been reversed. 

If you’d been the one to bring up the topic of lust, he’d have found a way to bring the topic to the two of you fucking within minutes. He’d have slithered the idea of sex into that conversation immediately and found some way or another to get you thinking about it. 

If he did message you this late, you’d probably just turn him down anyway. Hell, you were probably already asleep. And if you did answer, you’d probably just have a casual, civil conversation with him. Or you’d want to talk religion again, which he was actually starting to like. 

Still, it was a bad idea. He was too needy. Maybe he should just watch some porn or something. He hadn’t done that in a while. 

Sighing, he opened his browser and typed the URLof his go-to site. Immediately, he was met with lewd stills. He tried to look, but it was all so gratuitous and intentionally overstimulating. There was no build up. Nothing left to imagination. Just explicit images of women bent over while men fucked them raw. And none of it sounded like anything he was remotely interested in. At least not at the moment. 

Swallowing back the acid that had crept into the back of his mouth, he closed the window, staring down at his boxers with pity. 

“I’m sorry, dude,” he muttered to his lap. “Looks like it’s just you and me tonight.” 

__________

Your heart squeezed, knowing what was about to happen. Inosuke held Daki’s head in triumph, having just beheaded the demon when something squelched, and Gyutaro’s curved blade pierced through the middle of his chest. Blood spurted out of the boar’s mask on his head, and Tanjiro cried out in anguish for his friend. 

You’d watched this episode a half-dozen times, and it still never ceased to tug at you. 

An ache was beginning to form in your lower back from sitting in the same position on your bed for too long. Grabbing a pillow, you flopped onto your belly and propped your elbows over it. 

You looked over at Stevie’s clock she’d hung above her bed. It was just after ten. You knew you’d have to get to bed soon or else you’d be exhausted for church tomorrow. But perhaps you could fit in one more episode before then…

Your phone pinged. Picking it up, your screen displayed a text from the last person you expected. 

Noah 10:08 PM : Okay, so I have more thoughts. 

You smiled to yourself. Noah was indeed persistent when he wanted answers. You quickly typed out a reply. 

You 10:08 PM : Go on…

Noah 10:09 PM : I agree that objectifying someone without their permission is bad. 

You 10:10 PM : Correct. 

Noah 10:10 PM : What if I had their permission? 

You snorted, diving into the pillow. The man just wouldn’t quit. 

You 10:12 PM : Are you alluding to porn? Because I don’t think that’s something God would be cool with. 

Noah 10:12 PM : No, not porn. I’m talking about getting someone’s permission. 

Noah: 10:12 PM : It would have to be above-board in that case, wouldn’t it? 

You 10:13 PM : I suppose…

If he was about to tell you he was going to ask for some other girl’s permission, you would chuck your phone at the wall. He didn’t, however. 

Noah 10:14 PM : What are you up to? 

You 10:15 PM : Watching Demon Slayer. You? 

Noah 10:15 PM : Fallout. Where are you? 

You 10:16 PM : In my dorm. Why? 

Noah 10:17 PM : What are you wearing? 

You laughed, finally seeing through his scheme. And honestly, you found it both sweet and endearing. So much so that you were tempted to give it to him. 

You snapped a picture of the oversized, threadbare racecar shirt you were wearing. You’d had it since you were a kid. You couldn’t remember how you got it, but it’s been in your possession since you could remember. By that point, it had collected an impressive set of stains and rips, but the years of wear and tear had softened it into the most comfortable shirt you owned. 

You hit send. 

You 10:21 PM : Sexy, right? 

Noah 10:21 PM : Nice shirt. 

Noah 10:22 PM : Almost as good as mine. 

The next message contained an image of him in a black shirt with the Lord of the Rings logo on it. He wore big, round glasses and his hair hung down messily over his shoulders. The photo was purposefully unflattering, with him looking down at the camera and distorting the shape of his lower face.  

You laughed again, the sound coming out loudly through your nose and you were glad your roommate was still visiting her parents and couldn’t hear you. 

You 10:23 PM: Hot. 

Noah 10:24 PM : Ikr? 

You 10:24 PM : Never been more turned on in my life. 

Sending that last text felt edgy. Exciting, even. Like you let slip a little bit of truth wrapped in the sarcasm, and you wondered if he could pick up on it. 

Noah 10:24 PM : Is that so? 

Got him. You swallowed thickly, wanting to lean into the flirtation without making your feelings too obvious. 

You 10:25 PM : What can I say? I have a thing for men with multiple chins. 

You watched as three dots appeared, then disappeared, and then reappeared several times before he finally replied. 

Noah 10:27 PM : Video chat? 

Your heart leapt into your throat, stomach buzzing with nerves. This wasn’t just taking things a step forward, but a whole leap—one with any number of potential outcomes and the unknown both scared and enticed you. 

Was this dangerous? Perhaps. But perhaps there was part of you that was ready for some danger, having played it far too safe for the last two decades…

You 10:28 PM : Sure. 

You steadied your breath while you waited for him to call you, drumming your fingers on your nightstand. What would you say? Would it be awkward? What if he tried to get you to do something you were uncomfortable with? Would he…

Your thoughts were cut off by the buzzing on your phone. You sat up, straightening your hair in the reflection of your phone screen before answering. 

It was a few seconds before Noah appeared on the screen. He sat at a desk, a blank wall behind him. On the left, you could see the head of his bed with a neon backlight. A candle flickered on a nightstand next to it. He wore his long hair pulled back in a bun—a few strands falling pleasingly in front of his face. 

“Hey,” he said, his too-big front teeth on display in charming smile and you immediately relaxed into the conversation, feeling a smile creeping onto your own face. 

“Hey.” 

“Sorry for interrupting your anime,” he said, voice coming out low, gravelly, and slightly muffled. “I was getting sick of gaming.” His lisp was even more prominent through the speakers on your phone, which served to further disarm you.

“No, it’s fine,” you said, shaking your head. “I’ve already seen all the episodes.” 

“Is Demon Slayer any good?” His voice echoed in his empty room. 

“One of my favorites,” you said. 

“Nice. I’ll have to check it out.” 

There was a lull in conversation you weren’t sure how to fill, and suddenly you felt self-conscious, fiddling with the hem of your shirt to give your hands something to do. Noah continued to stare at you, rocking side-to-side in his desk chair. 

“Is your roommate home?” he asked. 

“No, she goes home on the weekends.” 

“Nice,” he said. “Do you guys get along?” 

You nodded. “For the most part. She’s double-majoring though, so she’s usually in class or at the library. I don’t actually see her much.” 

“Does that get lonely?” 

“Not really,” you said, playing absentmindedly with a strand of your hair. “I kind of like all the alone time.” 

It was true. As much as you enjoyed Stevie as a person, you rarely saw her. She was even more focused on school than you, and that was saying something. 

Without thinking, you brought the strand of hair to your mouth, sucking on the ends. 

“I get that,” he said, smile growing softer. “I like my alone time.” 

“Do you get much of it, living with two other guys?” 

“If I go to the studio,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Nobody bothers me there. Though they usually don’t bother me if I’m in my room, either.” 

“What’s it like living with Nick?” you asked. 

Noah rolled his eyes. “Loud,” he said. “The man can turn anything into a drum set.” 

“Have I met your other roommate?” 

“Yeah, actually,” he said, fiddling with something on his desk. You met him at the party for like a minute. Ruffilo. He has long hair.” 

“ Everybody had long hair,” you said. He let out a soft laugh. 

“True. He’s the one that plays bass. Green eyes.” 

“Oh yeah,” you said, vague memory coming back slowly. “It’s a Saturday night. Why aren’t you out?” 

Noah shrugged. “I’m getting bored with the party scene to be honest. What about you? Don’t you have some sort of youth group function to attend?” 

“Actually, there was an event tonight,” you said. “I didn’t feel like going.” 

“You heathen ,” he said, the corner of his lip quirking up into a devious smirk. He said it as a compliment, and your stomach buzzed pleasantly at the praise. 

You curled your toes into your sheets while Noah took an opportunity to observe you. 

“That hair taste good?” he asked, nodding toward the screen.. 

“What? Oh!” you said, laughing softly to yourself. You’d been chewing on your hair the whole time without realizing. You dropped the strand; sure you’d probably given yourself some split ends. 

“I like you like this,” he said. It was the most genuine compliment he’d paid you, and your insides melted into pools of liquid organs. 

“Like what?” 

“Cozy. Natural. I like your bedhead.” 

You blushed, avoiding eye contact and choosing to stare at your bedspread until you processed the compliment. “Thanks.” 

Noah let out a low humming sound meant to fill silence, which you found extremely attractive. 

“So what do you got going on tonight?” you asked. You propped your phone up against a water bottle on your night stand and shifted so you were sitting cross-legged in front of the camera. Noah’s eyes ran over your legs before drifting back up to meet yours. 

“You’re looking at it,” he said, stretching his arms up over his head and exposing a sliver of stomach. You allowed yourself to stare, taking notice of the ink that decorated it, much like the rest of his body.  

“You have tattoos on your stomach too,” you observed. 

He dropped his arms and sighed into a bashful smile. “Yeah.” 

“Is there anywhere you don’t have tattoos?” you asked. 

“Yeah,” he said. 

“Where?” 

He looked down at his lap and then back up to you, smile devolving into a smirk. He topped it off with a wink. 

“Oh!” you said, head jerking back and hand coming up to cover your mouth when you finally pieced together what he meant. “I didn’t mean—Oh,” you said when you noticed his teasing smile.  “Just kidding,” he said, and you huffed at his idea of a joke. “I have tattoos on my dick too.” 

“What?!” 

He hissed out laugh. “You walked into that one.” 

“You’re such a jerk,” you said, looking away from the screen and biting your tongue until the blush seeped out of your cheeks. Kidding or not, he was deliberately bringing up his genitals and you were half-scandalized and half-aroused. 

“Come on, it was just a joke.” He said, rolling his eyes. Not that you noticed because you were still avoiding eye contact. “I don’t have tattoos on my dick.” 

“Well that’s a relief,” you said, finally looking back at him and letting your hand drop back into your lap. “It’d be excessive if you did.” 

Noah was certainly in a teasing mood. You liked it, but in the back of your mind, a nagging thought tugged at you and whispered of danger . 

“It is pierced though.” 

“Noah!” You sat there, mouth agape while Noah’s held his composure. You blinked at him a few times, before shaking your head. “You know what? I don’t even want to know.” 

“You sure?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “It’s quite impressive.” 

You held up a hand in refusal. “I’m good, thanks.” 

Noah grinned, clearly enjoying how flustered he was making you. 

“Wanna see it?” he asked. 

“What? No!” you said, feeling your neck grow warm. You half-hid your face in your hands, as if at any moment, it would show itself. You weren’t ready to see that much of him. You liked that he was talking about it, and you liked the flirtation, but that was too much too soon. 

“Liar,” he said. 

“It sounds like you want me to want to see it,” you said, calling his persistence to attention. He needed to be batted away, you could tell. 

He paused, not knowing what to say and then grinned, resuming his swaying. 

“In my defense,” he said. “Any guy would want that.” 

“Not any guy,” you replied. “Not all guys like women.” 

He rolled his eyes. “You know what I meant.” 

The conversation dissolved into the two of you grinning at each other, both enjoying each other’s company without needing to fill it with words. 

“You don’t actually have it pierced, do you?” you asked, finally, curiosity getting the better of you. 

“No,” he said, looking down sheepishly. “I used to, but it got infected and I had to take it out.” 

“Are you serious?” You asked in disbelief. He nodded. “How did it get infected?” 

“Because I was a disgusting teenager who didn’t clean his shit,” he said with a laugh.  

You frowned. “Gross.” 

“You’re telling me!” his hand came up to scrub over his face, and you were struck by just how long and beautiful his fingers were. 

The thought of them inside you flashed in your mind before you could catch it and your breathing picked up. You tried to squash the thought from taking over but ended up failing and the image morphed to him wrapping his long fingers around your wrists and pinning them above your head. 

You shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the picture. It wouldn’t be productive to think of him that way. Plus, you’d just talked about how objectification wasn’t morally right. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asked. 

“Nothing,” you said, a little too quickly and defensively. He smiled out of the corner of his mouth. 

“It was my dick, wasn’t it?” He said it flatly, as if he’d already caught you in the act. 

“Was not,” you said, though he was on the right track. 

“That’s so rude, lusting after me without my permission,” he teased. Sure, he was feigning offense, but his voice was just a bit lower now. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t you know that’s a sin?” 

“Okay, I’m hanging up,” you threatened, reaching for your phone.

“Wait!” he rushed. “Don’t go.” 

You lingered, waiting to see what he would come up with to convince you to stay. 

“I was just kidding,” he said. “Besides, you already have my permission.” 

“I don’t…,” you began, about to deny having pictured him like that, but thought better of it. Noah would have seen right through you. “When did you give me permission?” you asked. You thought you would have remembered a conversation like that. 

He rolled his head down to look at you from under his eyebrows, unamused. “It was implied.” 

“At what point was it implied?” you asked, brows crinkling together.

Noah rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically to emphasize his exasperation. “You know, you’re really going to have to learn how to pick up on subtle hints one of these days and stop making everyone spell it out for you.” 

“Or you could just be direct with what you mean.” You’d meant it as an off-hand remark, but when you looked at Noah, you realized it’d hit home with him. 

He opened his mouth, starting to say something but then shut it again, pursing his lips and humming. 

“Nobody’s ever asked me to do that.” 

“To be direct?” you said, leaning forward to rest your elbows on your knees. You found it hard to believe. 

“Yeah,” he said. You searched his face to see if there was any hint as to what he was thinking. You found none. 

“So does everyone else just? What?” you said. “Try to read your mind?” 

“Honestly? Yeah, kind of. More or less,” he said with a shrug, and you had to scoot back on your bed to process. Did people truly pay that much attention to him? Hyperfocusing on his body language and trying to infer what he was thinking and feeling? 

“Doesn’t that get confusing?” you asked. “I feel like it could lead to a lot of mixed signals.” 

He tilted his head from side to side, stretching his neck and you heard the crackling sound emanating from the joints. The deep crunch sent shivers down your spine. 

“Yeah,” he said, lifting his shoulders and dropping them a couple times to shake out any tension. Finally, he stilled and looked back at the camera, placing an elbow on his desk and resting his chin in his palm. “But it’s scary to be direct with what you want, don’t you think?” 

“I suppose,” you said, thinking back to your interactions with Isaac and Noah. You hadn’t been direct with either of them, so you could understand where he was coming from. It was intimidating. 

But something told you that if you wanted to get anywhere, you had to start asking for what you wanted. And demanding the same of others. 

You asked him first. 

“What do you want, Noah?” 

His eyes flicked down to his desk, then back up to you. He held eye contact, brows narrowing, breathing deeply in and out and sucking on the inside of his cheek while he considered the question. Finally he sighed. 

“Are you sure you want the truth?” he asked, voice taking on a new, unfamiliar tone—one that rumbled in his chest and hinted at what was to come. 

“Go ahead.” 

He cocked his head to the side. “Right now, what I really want is to know if you’ve thought about me.” 

You inhaled a shuddering breath, core pulsing around nothing and skin flushing. 

You had asked the question, but you weren’t ready for him to be that direct. You’d expected him to do what he normally did and beat around the bush, hiding his true intentions behind humor and teasing. You didn’t think he’d actually put it out there in the open.  

“In what context?” you asked, just to be sure. And maybe also to bide some time.

His eyes, which had been resting lower on the screen, flicked up to the camera. “Don’t play coy. You know what context.” His voice was low and commanding, impatient with your feeble attempts to avoid answering. 

“Right,” you said, nodding. You swallowed thickly. Noah had laid down his armor, showing unexpected vulnerability like you had asked. It was your turn. 

“So do you?” he asked, brow raised. 

You waited a few moments, stomach twisting uncomfortably while you gathered the courage to answer. 

“Yes.” 

“How often?” he asked, eyes growing darker. 

You kept your breathing even as you answered. “A few times.” 

More than a few. You’d been imagining him in various scenarios since your conversation on the altar steps all those weeks ago. His hands holding you down by your wrists or wrapped around your throat. His long fingers in your mouth. In other places….

“Did you touch yourself?” he asked. 

You blinked, cheeks heating in both shame and desire. This was a big thing to ask you to admit, but deep down, a long-buried part of you wanted him to know. You were ready for him to know. 

“Yes.” 

“How?” he asked, never once breaking eye contact. His questions came at you rapidly, like he was trying to throw you off balance. 

You shook your head, recognizing you’d reached a limit. “That’s private,” you said, and he nodded, sucking air through his teeth while he figured out which angle to approach from next. 

“What do you want?” he asked. 

Good question. “I haven’t figured that out yet,” you said, unmoving. 

You were determined to continue the conversation, but it took all your focus to not shy away or lose your composure. Your heart beat rapidly, threatening to pound out of your chest. 

You knew you were ready to let go of some of this religious guilt that has been holding you back. You were ready to start exploring your sexuality, and you wanted it to be with Noah, but there was that tiny part in the back of your head that whispered what if. 

What if the church was right? What if I’m being led into temptation? What if I go to Hell? 

“Do you want me?” 

You shook your head, ridding yourself of the thoughts.  

“Yes.” You answered firmly, and you had a feeling Noah already knew. 

He tapped his fingers against his chin, pointer finger coming to rub at a dry flake of skin on his lower lip. Your eyes followed the movement, and he caught it. 

“You’re asking what I want?” he clarified. 

“Yes,” you said. 

He licked his lips, letting his teeth drag against the bottom one as he released it slowly. Squaring his shoulders, he exhaled heavily through his nostrils. 

“I want you to touch yourself.” 

Your heart hammered against your ribcage. 

“What? Like now?” you asked. The words came out choked, your throat dry. 

He nodded. “And I want you to think of me while you do it.” 

You paused, warmth pooling between your legs. You pressed your thighs together to relieve some of the pressure. His eyes flicked down to them, and you noticed just how exposed you suddenly felt. 

“One sec,” you said and heaved yourself off your bed and repositioned yourself at your desk, mirroring Noah’s posture. He frowned briefly when he realized he could no longer see all of you. 

“What do you think about” he asked again, “when you think about me?”

You were delving into new territory. You’d never confessed anything like this to anyone before, and the thought of opening up like this both thrilled and terrified you. But you couldn’t deny the affect his questions had on you.  

“Your fingers,” you said. 

The finger that had been rubbing at his lower lip paused. His eyes dropped down to it, and then back to the screen. His finger resumed, and you knew he was doing it on purpose. 

“Where?” he asked. His eyes were darker, voice gruffer. He held an intensity you’d only seen once back at his studio, right before he’d tried to kiss you. 

“In my mouth,” you said. Truthfully, you wanted his fingers in many places. In you. On you. Around you, but the sight of his index finger running across his lower lip captivated you and all you wanted was to wrap your lips around it. 

It might have been subconscious, the way his tongue briefly flicked over the pad of his finger. Then again, he may have been teasing you on purpose. He replaced his index finger with his thumb, dragging his lower lip down so you could see the bottom row of his teeth and you had to swallow the excess saliva that had pooled on your tongue. 

“If I was there, you’d have them wherever you wanted,” he said, and flames erupted between your thighs. An itch that demanded to be scratched. Tension that pleaded to be soothed. Without meaning to, your hand traveled below your desk to apply pressure to the throbbing area. 

“Are you doing it?” he asked, pulling at the skin of his lower lip. 

You didn’t have to ask what he was referring to. 

“Yeah.” 

The thumb that had been tugging at his lower lip released. His lip sprang back into place as his eyes widened. “Can I see?” 

You shook your head. “Not yet.” 

“Why not?” he asked. He stared at the screen, mouth slightly open and teeth pressing into the corner of his bottom lip. You desperately wanted to taste him. 

“It’s private,” you said, and he pouted, bobbing his head up and down in a sign of begrudging understanding. 

“I suppose I’ll allow that.” 

“Oh you’ll allow it?” you said, eyebrows lifting. You liked that he acted entitled to you. Something about it made it just a little bit harder for you to breathe, but he couldn’t know that. His ego would run away with the knowledge. 

“I’ll allow it,” he repeated low, devilish grin on his face, and oh you liked that. As much as you pretended to be annoyed, you needed him to possess you. 

You noticed his shoulder shifting on the screen. “Are you?”

He nodded. “For a while now,” he answered. 

“Since when?” 

“How long has this call been going on?” he asked. “About that long.” 

You barked out a laugh, amused but not surprised, considering how much he’d talked about his dick already. You watched his shoulder moving, imagining what was going on just below the end of your screen. 

“Have you ever thought of me while touching yourself?” you asked. 

“What do you think?” He said it as if the question itself had been an insult to his libido. 

Your insides rolled and swelled with pride. The hunger for him evolved into something more ravenous, and you pressed harder into yourself with your fingers, stroking yourself over the soft cotton of your shorts. A small whimper left you and you hoped he couldn’t hear it. 

“What do you think about?” you asked. 

“Hmmm,” he sighed, and you thought it was probably the most attractive sound you’d ever heard. You wanted to pull that sound out of him again. “Should I tell you? Would it be too much for your virgin ears?” 

You waited for him to be done teasing. When he realized you weren’t going to react, he relented. 

“Ever since you mentioned you thought about being tied up, I’ve been thinking about that.” 

“Yeah?” you asked, fingers picking up pace to match the shifting of his shoulder. You wanted him to tie you up. You wanted him to want to tie you up. 

“Yeah,” he breathed. His words came out differently. Not his normal voice, but something breathier and more needy. “I’d tie you down so you couldn’t move. Force your legs apart and bury my face in your pussy.” 

Shit. You gasped softly, cheeks burning under his gaze. The friction over the clothes wasn’t enough anymore and you had to dip your hands under your waistband, closing your eyes and melting into the sensation. 

“Are you picturing it,” he asked. 

“Yes,” you breathed. 

“Good. Imagine it’s me touching you.” 

You did exactly that, pulling your lip between your teeth and biting hard on it to give yourself something to fixate on. You could feel Noah’s eyes boring into you through the screen and you couldn’t look at him, too ashamed of your own desires. 

Noah didn’t allow that for long though. 

“Open your eyes,” he commanded. “Look at me while you fuck yourself.” 

Jesus. Your cheeks seared with the vulgarity of his commands, but you did your best to hold eye contact. His eyes were dark, irises blown wide with lust and jaw set hard in determination. 

His right shoulder tensed and shook with vigor and you’d have given anything to see what was happening under the desk.  

“What are you thinking about?” you asked, finally giving in and massaging your aching breasts with the hand that wasn’t currently inside you. 

This, you allowed Noah to witness. 

“Thinking about those tits in my mouth,” he said, voice low and gravelly. 

Your chest heated with the thought of it, breath coming out in pants. “Wish you could do that right now.” 

“There’s a lot I wish I could do right now.” The words were strained. Whiny. Needy, even and you needed to hear him make those sounds again. 

“Tell me,” you whimpered. “Please?” Your back arched off the chair and your eyes closed on their own accord. 

“Not unless you keep looking at me.” Your eyes snapped open. He stared at you intently, almost angrily in his efforts. “Keep those fucking eyes on me,” he ordered through gritted teeth. 

Hearing Noah speak to you like that was a new experience. He’d never taken that tone with you before and you couldn’t deny what it did to you. You grew wetter around your fingers, pace growing sloppy. 

“Need to see your tits.” 

You whined, wanting him to continue dictating his fantasies, but Noah wouldn’t budge. 

Slowly, you lifted your shirt high enough to uncover your breasts, tucking the hem between your teeth to keep it in place, but you kept your hand over your nipples to block his view. 

“Move the hand,” he commanded through gritted teeth. The veins in his neck began to pop. 

“Not until you tell me more,” you mumbled past the fabric.

Noah worked his jaw muscle while he stared down at your bare breasts, left shoulder tensed with how hard he was working himself. 

“Well right now, you’re cocky, so I wish I could wrap my hands around that throat until you drop the attitude.”

You flushed even more at his admission, but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he affected you. You bit harder into the hem of your shirt, smiling past the fabric. “Fat chance.” 

He inhaled deeply through his nose, a muscle in his temple throbbing. You liked this—making him angry. Testing his patience. You wanted to see how he’d react if you pushed him more. 

“Watch your mouth,” he said. 

“Or what?” 

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be?” he said, struggling to keep his voice even. “I had a feeling you were a brat.” You grinned, feeling seen. “Talk all you want, but you won’t be so cocky when I have you in person.” 

God , you wanted that. You wanted him there, in person. On top of you. Inside you. You wanted his mouth on yours, all tongue and teeth and desire. 

“You think so?” 

“Oh, I know so.” His voice came out more strained than ever. 

“Yeah? What would you do?” 

“Smack your ass, for one.” 

“Oh?” You taunted. “Daddy gonna give me a spanking?” 

Noah’s movements faltered and you worried you pushed him too far in your teasing. He looked at you, mouth opening and closing a few times, and you were about to apologize. Then he resumed his movements at nearly double his previous pace. 

“You can’t just say shit like that,” he said, breaking character into something much more genuinely Noah . The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed from beneath his desk. 

“What’d I do?” you asked, hand speeding up to match his movements.

“You know what you did.” 

Your mouth fell open. Your shirt fell, bunching over your collarbone. “Daddy? That’s what does it for you?” 

“That,” he said, “among other things. Uncover your nipples.”  

You did as you were told, allowing your breasts to fall naturally. You rocked your hips into your hands and Noah watched your tits bounce with the movement, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. 

“Are you serious?” you said. 

“Don’t kink shame me.” 

You curled your lip into a smirk, a deep need to test his patience again settling over you. 

“Why not… Daddy? Something wrong, Daddy? ” you teased, softening your voice and pitching it up to feign innocence. “Please tell me. I wanna be a good girl for you.” 

You could see a vein popping in Noah’s forehead. His face had grown an angry shade of red. “I know you’re trying to be a bitch right now,” he muttered through gritted teeth, “but this is actually working. Keep going.”

You pouted. “Well now I don’t wanna.” 

Another lie. You did want to, but you didn’t want to give in to him. 

Noah sighed and then chuckled. “I really fuckin’ hate you sometimes, do you know that?” 

You laughed, warmth spreading through your belly. Somehow his vitriol sent you further towards your end. “Good.” 

He made a gruff noise and grinned like the devil. 

You were about to respond, but your body chose that moment to betray you and instead offered up a whimper. 

“Noah, I think I’m close.” 

He groaned. “Can you hold out a little longer? I’m almost there.” 

“Hurry,” you whined, screwing your eyes shut tight. 

“Oh no,” he growled. “You look at me when you come.” 

Forcefully, you wrenched your eyes open, staring at him in want. He looked at you like a man starved, as if he could devour your entire body in one go. 

Your fingers squelched loudly inside you, and you were sure Noah could hear, but he continued to look at you, unblinking as he watched your face heat up with impending climax. 

“Fuck, I’m close,” he muttered. You keened, rubbing fast circles into your clit with one hand and pumping your others inside yourself, picturing him touching you. Thinking about just how deep inside you he could get with those long, beautiful fingers. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” he hissed, brows pinching together and jaw set tight. “Ready?” 

You nodded, feeling your body hurling towards its climax. 

“Come,” he commanded. 

Your entire body tensed, tightened, and then pulsed, releasing waves of vibrations radiating out from your center. You let out a pathetic whimper, fighting against every fiber in your being to not close your eyes. 

Noah’s mouth dropped open. His body spasmed, pitching forward against his desk, vein in his temple throbbing and nostrils flaring. He let out a breathy whine and gritted his teeth, sucking air in through them. 

“Fuck!” he spat, body tense and rigid. And then he collapsed backward into the chair.  

Noah laid there, panting on the other side of the screen, mouth open, staring at you. He finally broke eye contact to drop his head back and close his eyes while he waited to catch his breath. His lips pressed together and his adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed the excess saliva that had collected in his mouth. 

“Good job,” he muttered to the air above him. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, still coming down from your own high. And you meant it. That was the first time you’d reached orgasm without being overcome or interrupted by guilt. 

“Don’t mention it.” 

You felt no guilt now. Only gratitude. It fell from your lips in a stream of thankyous, and when you finally took your eyes off the camera, tears began to leak out. Not in the way they had done in the past, when you were overcome with anxiety and shame. 

These were tears of joy. You’d managed to show up for your body, and it was grateful to you.

After several moments of basking in afterglow, you looked back over to the screen. Noah was in a catatonic state. His chest rose and fell with his breaths, but his eyes remained closed and he kept silent. 

“How you doing over there?” you asked and he brought a finger up to his mouth to shush you. 

“Give me a second.” 

You smiled, pulling your shirt back down over your chest and shaking out the cramp in your hand. You took your phone back in your hands, unscrewing the cap to the water bottle it had been propped up against and drank deeply. 

“Should I leave you to it, then?” you asked. 

“Thank you for that,” he whispered. “I needed it.” 

“Same here,” you said, settling back down into the bed and stretching out. “I feel like I could fall asleep right now.” 

“Should I let you?” he asked, eyes still closed. 

“You could sing me to sleep,” you suggested. 

“That’s third date shit,” he said, swallowing thickly once again. 

“Suit yourself,” you said with a shrug. “That was nice. I’d like to do it again sometime.” 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Yeah.” 

Recognizing he was in no state to make conversation anymore, you made the executive decision to end the call. 

“I’m gonna hit the hay,” you said. “Talk to you later?” 

“Yeah,” he said for the third time in a row. “Sounds good. Sleep tight. And thanks for that.” 

You chuckled lowly, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest. The sharp angle of his nose as he breathed. The flutter of his eyelashes against his cheekbone. The furrow in his brow. You allowed yourself a few uninterrupted moments to indulge in the sheer beauty that was Noah in this state. 

“Goodnight,” you said. 

“Goodnight,” he whispered. 

You ended the call, the vision of his fucked-out face burned into your retinas. It was the only thing you thought of as you drifted off to sleep. Click to be added to the Taglist

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The Devil's Advocate - Chapter 7

Pairing: Delinquent!Noah Sebastian X Pastor's Daughter!Reader

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

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Angst, religious guilt, mentions of religious trauma, mentions of masturbation. Mentions of anti-choice propaganda.

Masterlist

Banner by @flowerynerds

Authors note: Maybe grab a cup of tea for this one.

_________

Noah Davis didn’t like to think of his actions in terms of morality. He understood that right and wrong were subjective. That life didn’t exist in binaries of good vs. evil, and that things like virtue and righteousness weren’t so easily defined. 

That didn’t mean there weren’t some steadfast rules he followed: 

Do his best to act in a way that aligns with his internal moral compass

Reduce harm much as possible

Do what’s best for the collective, while still keeping his best interests in mind

That line of thinking has served him well over the course of his lifetime. He’d freed himself from moral obligations and had done what he truly felt was best, and in doing so, he was able to walk through life with his head held high, standing by his actions. 

The idea that some of his behavior was sinful had not entered his mind since he formally left the church. 

But now, as he laid in bed, recovering from the tsunami of brain chemicals that just flooded his system, he felt like a sinner . 

The sin coursed through his body, sick and bittersweet. It flowed through his veins, infecting his cells and rotting his bones like a poison. Like a drug. 

He scrubbed a hand over his face, clammy palm meeting clammy forehead, cock still twitching with the aftershock. 

He’d expected you to put up more of a fight. He’d banked on you shutting him down, batting him away and telling him to behave himself, but you’d walked so willingly into his snare, so eager and needy, offering up yourself on a platter with almost no hesitation. 

It was a vile thing that you brought out of Noah. An ugly, profane creature that lurked in the shadows of his soul. He’d been aware of its existence in his periphery. It had been a sleeping beast. One he’d hoped he’d never have to contend with. 

But now? It had taken its first shuddering breath, and with it, thrown down its gauntlet. Its demand? You—not as a partner, but as a sacrifice. Sprawled out on an altar for it to consume and defile. To claim for the sake of hubris. 

Noah longed to find a way to cleanse himself—confess his sins and pray the rosary. Baptize himself in holy water. Take communion and walk forth a forgiven man. Would that be enough? 

War had been waged within Noah, and the odds were stacked against him. He was David, standing at the feet of Goliath. Jonah, staring down the gullet of the whale. 

He squeezed his eyes shut and the image of you at the apex of pleasure flashed across his vision. You’d made that offering to him. It was sacred. He’d cherish it for the rest of his life.  

_______

Noah had no holy water available to him to wash his sins away. He did have a hot shower, though, and at least that was a start. 

Turning on the water, he allowed the steam to gather in clouds around his bathroom. His skin had grown sticky with sweat, and his shoulders ached. As soon as he stepped under the spray, the tension began to dissipate. 

He pressed his forehead against the cool tile wall and allowed the stream to trickle down his back. 

He had a duty to himself—and to you. There was no denying his affection for you, but therein lied a glaring problem: you were ready for more. You deserved more. You deserved to push past these boundaries of purity and explore who you were outside of faith, and that made you vulnerable. Because whatever sickness lived inside Noah was itching to exploit that vulnerability. Not for your benefit, but for its own.

“Help me figure this out,” he whispered against the shower wall. It was a prayer in the most ironic sense. He wasn’t sure if he even believed in what he was praying to, but without any other ideas, it felt like the right thing to do. “I don’t want to hurt her, but I’m afraid.” 

He received nothing but silence in response. 

He scoffed at his own actions. What did he expect? Divine understanding? 

He grabbed the soap, lathering it up before scrubbing it over his disgusting, unclean body. Why did he even bother? He learned long ago that nobody was going to save him but himself. If he wanted his demons to die, he’d have to be the one to kill them. 

________

On a snowy Sunday morning, Noah didn’t have a church to attend, but he did have a pair of work boots, a heavy coat, and a trail through the woods that allowed him to commune with nature. 

He also had a pre-roll he stole from Nick, which he cupped against his jacket to light. It took a few tries. The wind wasn’t biting, but it was present, and it flickered the flame in his lighter. He eventually got it lit though, and he took a deep drag, holding the smoke in his lungs and waiting for it to take effect. 

Exhaling slowly through his nose, he closed his eyes to focus on the high setting in. His body began to lift, a warm, cloudy, hollow feeling expanding out from his chest to his limbs, and ten minutes later, the joint was spent and Noah was intricately connected to the forest around him.

He walked on the trail, delighting in the way the frozen leaves crunched under his boots. He forgot his gloves again, so he stuffed his hands in his pockets as he walked. 

You were probably in church right now. Might even be on stage leading the praise and worship music alongside Isaac, where you were safe. 

No, that wasn’t true. You deserved more than the life you’d find within the church. If you stayed put, you’d eventually find yourself on the arm of some 30-something with a trust fund and a perfect attendance record at Sunday school. You’d have to hide who you were from society, pretending to fit in where you didn’t belong. 

Noah dug his nails into the palms of his hands. He wanted you to have more than that, but he wasn’t the right person to give it to you. At least not in his current state. 

Giving up the idea of you was painful, yes. But it also gave him time to figure out how to contend with the ugly parts of himself. If he could let go of his desire for you, then he wouldn’t have to risk that part of him taking over. He could lock it back into the cage he’s kept it in for so many years and continue on in life as if nothing had ever happened. 

He’d never have to know that hunger again. 

He breathed in deep, allowing the frigid air to sting his lungs and throat. It wasn’t painful enough for him. He needed to toil and sweat and suffer to repent for his sins. He picked up his pace, letting his feet fall heavy onto the ground. Within a few minutes, his heart rate sped up, lungs stretching to accommodate his increased need for oxygen. All systems firing to pump fresh blood through his body. 

That helped. Maybe he could sweat the fever out. Force the toxicity to exit through carbon dioxide and leave it as an offering to the forest so it can convert it back to oxygen. 

He broke out into a run, thinking back to the time he caught you running in the rain and wondering if you’d been seeking the same energetic cleanse. 

You’d cried in his arms that night. 

He slowed his pace, down from a run to a jog. 

It was the first time he’d noticed something wrong—the first time he sensed that his control was slipping. 

A stray root caught his foot and he fell hard to the ground, catching himself with his palms and knees. He stayed there for a moment to assess his body and see if any damage had occurred, and when he found none, he rolled onto his back and laid in the snow and mud, stretching his arms and legs to the side and creating a snow angel. 

The snow fell lightly, catching on his eyelashes. He stuck out his tongue, allowing the tiny flakes to melt upon contact and tasting the nothingness of it all. 

He closed his eyes, and he was thirteen again. A nude magazine lay open on his floor. He’d just finished masturbating for the third time that day. Sobbing, he grabbed the leather belt hanging over his desk chair and whipped himself across the back with it. Harder this time than last. Perhaps with enough pain, he would learn his lesson. 

He bunched a shirt up and stuffed it into his mouth, biting down hard to muffle himself as he wept. God surely wouldn’t forgive him again after this. He would be sent to hell for being so unclean. 

For months, he’d tried to break this disgusting habit, but it was to no avail. He was sick and perverted, and lacked the self-control he needed to resist temptation.  

He didn’t want to go to confessional. He didn’t want to have to hear his priest’s disappointed voice telling him to say ten hail-marys. 

He took a deep, shuddering breath in, noticing how the icy air stabbed at his lungs. He didn’t want to dwell too long on that memory. He could already feel his throat constricting. 

It wasn’t until he befriended Ruffilo that he realized he wasn’t uniquely perverted. Ruffilo hadn’t been raised in a church. He talked about porn as if it was something exciting, rather than shameful. He’d been the first one to bring up the subject of masturbation, making casual comments and jokes about how often he got himself off. 

Ruffilo’s world—a world without shame—had been a foreign concept to Noah. After being exposed to it, he realized that faith and freedom were mutually exclusive. There was no way to balance the two, so he chose freedom and never looked back. 

Noah’s fingers found a frozen leaf. He caressed the edges, feeling how smooth they were and remembered brushing bits of leaves off your coat that time you’d jumped in the leaf pile. He remembered how you gasped when his frigid hands ghosted over the nape of your neck. He could have cut the tension with a knife. 

He couldn’t go back to the church. There was too much pain there to revisit. He cut off that part of him a long time ago, back when believing in God meant engaging in his own self-destruction. 

Being with you meant dipping his toes back in the water of religion. You and faith were a package deal. He knew that. You weren’t going to give it up any time soon, and certainly not for him. 

He closed his eyes again and felt the sting of saltwater. He wasn’t going to cry. He’d done enough of that in his adolescence. But the feelings were there, and they weren’t going to let him off the hook without being felt. 

It was you or self-preservation.

He inhaled deeply and forced himself back up, turning to start the long trek back to town. A conversation needed to be had. 

________

There was no priest to whom he could confess his sins, but there was Folio, and late on a Sunday afternoon, he could be found stoned in his room. 

“I fucked up,” he announced, standing in the doorway.

Nick was on his bed, controller in his hands and headset on. From where Noah stood, he couldn’t see the screen, but he guessed his friend was mowing down enemies in Call of Duty. 

“In the middle of something,” he said. “Give me a few.” 

Noah invited himself into the room and sat in Nick’s desk chair, observing the décor. Nick decorated his walls with posters of women in various states of undress. Some of them were holding fish. Others were posed on top of cars. 

His fishing rod and tackle box rested in the corner next to his desk. An electric drum kit lined the far wall. Clothes were strewn about the room, along with drumsticks, food wrappers, and half-empty water bottles. A few cans of beer spilled out of the overfull trash can. On the nightstand sat an ashtray with the spent ends of several blunts stuffed in the center. 

Quite the confessional booth. 

“What’s up?” he said, taking his headset off and turning his attention to Noah. 

“I fucked up,” Noah repeated. 

Nick blinked twice, but made no other movement. “Okay,” he said. “In what way?” 

“You already know.” 

“The pastor’s daughter?” Nick guessed, tilting his head lower to stare at Noah through furrowed brows. “Did you fuck her?” His tone was accusatory, and deservedly so. 

Noah shook his head. “Not exactly.” 

Nick turned on his bed to face Noah head-on. “What did you do?” 

Noah deliberated over exactly how much to tell his friend. What happened between the two of you last night was private and he didn’t want to share your business with someone else unless you said it was okay, but he needed to get some things off his chest. 

“So,” he began, taking a deep breath and shaking his head. “I think I need to stay away from her for a while. I’ve got some stuff to sort out and until I do, I might hurt her.” 

Nick gave himself time to fully process what Noah had just said. He inhaled deeply through his nose, letting his eyes drift away from Noah and relaxing his focus as he mulled it over. 

“You really care about her?” he asked. 

Noah nodded. 

“Want me to stay away from her, too?” It was an honest question, and Noah was suddenly struck with how much his friends cared about him. 

Noah squeezed and relaxed his hands a few times to increase circulation in his fingers. They were still cold from his walk. 

“No, actually. If anything, I think you’d be a really good influence for her. She could use someone like you.” 

Nick’s eyebrows pulled up in the center. He tilted his head to the side. “Why do you say that?” 

“She needs to have more fun,” he said. “She’s been repressed for a really long time and I think she’s ready to break out of that and live life.” 

Nick’s eyes went wide and he  pointed to his chest. “And you want me to be the one to help with that?” 

Noah didn’t want Nick to do that. The last thing he wanted was to see you enjoying yourself without him, but if it was between that and you staying miserable under the church’s influence, he at least wanted you to be happy. 

“I think you’d be good for her,” he said, working hard to make sure he didn’t sound bitter at all. 

“What if I fuck her?” he asked, his momentary sincerity seemingly over. 

Noah’s face dropped. “Don’t fuck her.” 

“But what if I do?” 

Noah clenched his jaw, grinding his molars together as he steadied himself. He knew Nick didn’t mean anything by it. He was just being himself and trying to rile Noah up, but Noah wasn’t about to give in. 

“Then make sure you’re on the same page with her about what it means. Don’t lead her on.” 

Nick chewed on his tongue. “Where is all this coming from?” He asked. “Why do you think you’ll hurt her?” 

“I guess,” Noah said, picking at a bit of dead skin on his lip, “It’s sort of just a gut feeling? I don’t know how to describe it, but there’s something in there that tells me I gotta sort myself out before I get involved with anyone.” 

Nick blinked up at his friend, softening. “I didn’t realize you were so serious about her.” 

“I don’t know what I feel,” said Noah. “I just need some time to figure that out.” 

“You okay?” he asked, hand coming up to scratch an itch at the back of his neck. 

Noah nodded. “I will be,” he said. It was true, he would be okay eventually. He was sure of that. He’d survived worse than this. He just needed to figure out what the best course of action would be. 

Nick’s eyes flicked back to the paused game on the screen. “So you’re saying it’s cool if I fuck her then?” he said. 

Nick could be a real asshole at times. He was abrasive by nature. Many found his personality overwhelming, but the ones who stuck around knew that he was an antagonist, not to be mean, but to challenge people—coax them out of their comfort zones and force them to confront their triggers. He wasn’t always right, and he often stuck his own foot in his mouth, but when he was right, he was so right, it made up for all the other times. 

This time, however, he used his skill to diffuse the tension. 

“Man, fuck you,” said Noah, slapping the ash tray off the end table. It tipped over sideways and spilled its contents onto Nick’s bed, coating his sheets with ash and spent roaches. 

“Bro!” Nick shouted, but Noah was already out of the room, hissing to himself with laughter, and Nick was too couch locked to chase him. 

________

“Noah said to tell you he’s sorry. He got called in for overtime again,” Nick said as he walked into the community center seven minutes late. 

Your heart sank. Not just because you wouldn’t get to see Noah, but because he could have easily texted this information to you himself. 

It was as you’d suspected. Noah was avoiding you.

Over the course of the week, you’d grown more and more stressed. Sunday was fine. You’d woken up feeling well rested, having dreamt of Noah throughout the night. At church, you couldn’t focus on any of the sermon because you were too consumed reliving the previous night. 

Monday came and went with no word from Noah. You thought for sure he would have texted you to say hi or check up on you. Some sort of acknowledgement that the dynamic between the two of you had shifted. But you’d also heard it was customary to wait three days. 

So you waited. 

By Wednesday, your patience had grown thin. You’d given him the benefit of the doubt, wondering if maybe he was nervous and waiting for you to reach out, so you had, sending him a casual hey . 

He never responded. You’d been checking your phone religiously over the course of the week, but it had been radio silence on his end. 

“Okay. Thanks for letting me know.” You kept a straight face and a steady voice while you spoke, but it took effort. “We’re supposed to be shoveling snow today but since there’s only us, I’m going to veto that.” 

Nick sighed in relief. “Thank god . I wasn’t built for the cold.” 

“Get inside,” you nodded towards the doors. “We’ll start with windows.” 

He offered up a salute and bounded through the doors, eager to escape the cold. 

As Nick got to work, you processed this information. 

Noah’s silence was deafening. 

Was this your punishment? Was God unhappy with your behavior and was this his way of letting you know? 

An element to this was fitting. This was the cost, you realized. This was the price you paid for giving into temptation. 

A bitter laugh escaped under your breath. 

Was the church right about everything? Was there a reason you shouldn’t fall into temptation? 

Maybe Hell did exist—and it wasn’t a lake of fire, but the absence of Heaven after you’d already tasted it.  

Even after everything, you probably would still have done it all over again if you had the opportunity. He’d introduced you to a part of yourself that had been dormant for a long time and for that, you were grateful. 

But the price was steep. 

Your biggest regret was that you hadn’t even gotten to touch him before it was all over. You felt so stupid. Why couldn’t you have held out a little longer? Resisted temptation until you had him fully within your grasp? 

But then again, perhaps the loss of him would be even more painful, wouldn’t it? 

You sighed and stretched your arms up, resting your forearms on your head as you observed Nick spraying down the windows with cleaner. 

You could get through this. It would be hard, but it was within your grasp. People have survived much worse. In the grand scheme of things, this heartache was minor. It would hurt for a while, but eventually you’d recover and life would go on. 

It was just a matter of getting to the other side. 

You wanted to remember this pain. Savor the full impact and hopefully this would be the only time you needed to learn this lesson. You’d grow, heal, and move on a better and stronger version of yourself. 

Eventually. 

Right now, you needed to focus on the task at hand: overseeing community service without getting yourself into any more trouble. And that’s what you were going to do.  ________

That did prove to be a tougher job than you anticipated. Nick was charismatic as ever and kept trying to get your attention. 

You’d throw him a bone every once in a while, if only because it genuinely did lift your spirits to be around him. He was a much safer presence. 

“How many weeks do I have left?” 

You were strewn across the back pew, doing your best not to wallow, but failing pretty spectacularly, when Nick’s voice broke you out of your ruminations. 

“I’m not sure,” you said, sitting up and looking at him. He leaned casually against the back of the pew, rag thrown over his shoulder. His fingers tapped a rhythm on the wood. “I have it written down somewhere. I’d have to look.” 

“Can you let me know next week?” he asked, bouncing on his heels. You could see what attracted Ava to him so much. 

“Yeah.” 

“Or actually, maybe this Friday. Isn’t that when your Christmas thing is?” 

You blinked stupidly up at him. You’d forgotten all about the upcoming showcase. 

“Oh, yeah. It is. I didn’t realize you knew about it.” 

“Yeah,” he said, and then shifted on his feet as if he was trying to figure out a way to avoid saying that Noah told him about it. Which would mean that Nick was also aware of the awkwardness between the two of you. 

“Were you thinking of going?” you asked. “You don’t have to.” 

“I thought it might be fun to see you sing,” he said, voice soft and lips smiling.  

You were momentarily taken aback. You didn’t think Nick cared about anything you were doing. The thought that he might be interested in your life outside of community service was one that hadn’t crossed your mind. 

“Really?” you asked. 

He looked side to side and nodded, as if it should have been obvious to you. 

“Nick, that would mean so much. I would love for you to come.” 

“Good,” he said, a self-satisfied smile back on his face. “But try not to suck or I won’t be donating anything.” 

You snorted loudly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” 

“Anytime.” 

The conversation died down, and you could feel the elephant in the room rearing its head. 

You could ask how Noah was doing. It wouldn’t be too out-of-character. But you’d give yourself away easily if you did. 

Besides, nothing good would come of it. If Noah wanted to contact you, he would. If he didn’t, then he was just someone you needed to get over. 

Nick lingered, just as hesitant to leave the conversation. 

“You doin’ okay?” he asked. 

You sighed, leaning into the back of the pew. “Yeah,” you said. “I’m fine.” 

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked. 

You rolled your head across the pew to look over at him. His face held a neutral expression, but there was softness in his eyes. 

“Maybe some other time,” you said. “Thank you, though.” 

“No problem,” he said. “I’m here if you need me.” He punctuated it with a squeeze to your shoulder and your hand came up to clasp over his on its own accord. He was warm, and truth be told, you really needed the gesture. 

Perhaps you’d be okay. 

_______

“And there were no signs prior to this?” 

“No,” you said, collapsing on Ava’s bed while she worked on her Contemporary Art project from her desk. It looked like a big lump of Styrofoam. She held a strip of sandpaper, rubbing it back and forth over a corner and causing little pieces to flake off and litter the desk and floor beneath her. 

“And neither of you talked beforehand about what it would mean?” 

“No,” you grumbled, recognizing your first mistake. You absolutely should have talked about what it meant for the both of you before doing anything, and you can’t understand why you’d been so foolish to skip over that. “It just sort of…happened?” 

Ava fixed you with an imploring stare. 

“Babe, I’m really sorry that you got hurt, but. I don’t know,” she began. “Aren’t you always the one preaching about that kind of thing? It seems like you could have used a little bit of your own advice, don’t you think?” 

You turned over and let out a loud groan into Ava’s pillow. 

“Not helping.” 

“I know, I know. That was probably insensitive. I just,” she trailed off, turning back to her project. “Maybe this was a lesson you needed to learn? Not to look down on others for the things they struggle with. And maybe also to recognize that we’re all human. We’re all sinners. Even you?” 

You pouted. “You really think I needed to learn that?” 

“You’ve been known to judge in the past.” 

“I’ve been better about that!” you said, throwing your hands up in the air. 

“I know,” she said. “I know you have.” She pouted back at you. “Maybe I’m not the best person for this kind of talk.” 

You sighed, crossing your arms over your stomach. “No, you’re fine. I think I’m just feeling sorry for myself is all.” 

Ava got up from her desk, brushing as many Styrofoam flakes from her clothes as she could, and crawled into her bed with you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders. You melded into her touch. “You’re allowed to feel hurt. He did send you mixed signals.” 

“What about you and Nick?” you asked. She chewed on her lip for a moment. 

“Nick and I…we talked about it beforehand. We knew it was just for that night going into it.” She rested her chin on your shoulder. 

“You didn’t want to pursue anything more?” 

Ava shrugged beside you. “Neither of us is looking for anything.” 

You leaned your head on her shoulder. It would have been nice had you had the same disposition going into the encounter with Noah. You could have just enjoyed it for what it was and then went your separate ways without any complicated feelings. You admired Ava’s ability to do that. 

“You’re right,” you said. “We should have talked about it beforehand. Made sure we were on the same page.” 

You turned to bury your face in her shoulder, squeezing your eyes shut to keep any tears from escaping. 

“It doesn’t always work out that way,” she said. “Don’t judge yourself for your mistakes.” 

She stroked your back as you failed to prevent your eyes from leaking. “Is it okay if I cry on you?” you asked, voice muffled by her shirt, a stray piece of Styrofoam finding its way into your mouth. 

“Babe, of course. I’m here for you.” 

You nodded into her shoulder, allowing the first of many sobs to fall. She continued to stroke your back, soothing you as you wept. 

It hurt. You’d trusted Noah to care for you. You never would have believed him to be the type to get what he wants and then not call. 

Plus, he still had five weeks of community service (you’d checked), and there wasn’t any way he could get out of that. 

“How am I supposed to face him on Saturday?” you whined. 

“Hmmm,” she said. “Is Folio talking to you?” 

“Yeah,” you sniffed. “He’s actually been really nice.” 

“What if you just talk to him? Use him as a distraction so you don’t have to talk to Noah. Who knows? Maybe having fun with him would help you move on.” 

You pulled away to look at her. 

“You mean like…?” you trailed off. 

She laughed. “I’m not saying have sex with the guy,” she said. “I doubt he’d do that since Noah’s like, his best friend. But he’s a good guy and he’s fun to be around. And you could use that kind of energy in your life.” 

You sniffled again and let your head drop back down to rest on her, spitting out another fleck of Styrofoam. It truly was everywhere. 

You doubted that hanging out with Nick would help you get over Noah. If anything, it would just remind you of him. But you did need more friends in your life, and he was someone you could see yourself getting along with. 

Perhaps focusing on your friendships would help. You squeezed Ava’s middle. 

“I love you,” you said. “Please be my friend forever.” 

She breathed softly, squeezing you back. “If you play your cards right.” 

______

Friday’s showcase had a much larger turnout than expected. People lined the pews and even stood in the back after all the available seats had been filled. You peeked through one of the side doors that entered onto the stage and saw Nick sitting in a middle row. Ava sat a few rows in front of him. She caught your eye and gave you a big thumbs-up for good luck. 

Your eyes scanned over the crowd, searching for a tall, tattooed figure and coming up short. 

He said he was going to come. He was the one who had pressed you for the information in the first place. 

You looked down at your phone screen. 6:53. He still had seven minutes to make it. 

You exhaled a deep breath and shook your hands out, trying to calm your nerves. 

“Want to pray?” came Isaac’s deep voice to your right. You looked over to find him standing quite close to you. His usual v-neck and beanie had been swapped out for a white button-down and black tie, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair was tied neatly in a bun atop his head. 

“Sure,” you breathed, figuring you could use some prayer. 

He grasped your hands in his. His were warm. Steady. They helped to soothe your nerves. 

“God,” he began, “please watch over us and guide us as we work to spread the good news of Jesus’s birth. Let us not falter. Allow our voices to ring true and fall on ears willing to hear. In your name. Amen.” 

“Amen,” you repeated, working hard not to roll your eyes. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate the prayer. It was just that Isaac talked as if he were living a hundred years ago, trying his best to sound profound, and you weren’t entirely convinced it was solely for God’s listening pleasure. He was a performer, after all. 

He squeezed your hands, smiling. “Almost time. Are you nervous?” he asked. 

“A little bit,” you said, noticing the discomfort in your gut. 

“Don’t be. You’ve got this. It’s just the one solo and then you’re in the choir for the rest of it.” His thumbs rubbed over the backs of your hands, and you were about to pull your hands away from him, but it actually was quite soothing. He seemed like he genuinely cared about you. And he smelled nice. Some sort of expensive-smelling cologne that was the complete opposite of whatever spiced oil Noah wore, but in a really good, clean way. 

“You look great, by the way,” he added, taking a step back and giving you a once-over. “I like the dress.” 

The dress in question was a high-necked A-line in a bright shade of red to match the holiday theme (Christmas theme, your father would correct you, because apparently no other holidays existed to him). 

You wore a dark green cardigan overtop, along with a gold necklace and black heels. Your lips were painted to match the dress. It was the most dressed-up you’d been since last Christmas. When you chose the outfit, you were still under the impression that a certain tattooed someone would see it. 

“Thanks,” you said. 

You could tell by the way Isaac lingered that he wanted to continue the conversation, but you didn’t feel much like talking. Needing an exit, you excused yourself to go get a drink of water. 

Weaving through other soloists and members of the church choir, you made your way down one of the two hallways that flanked either side of the main sanctuary. You rounded the corner, where one of the members of your church’s worship band—Darian—was passing out programs for the event. 

“Hey! You ready for your solo?” he asked when he saw you. 

You smiled, breathing out a nervous laugh. “Yeah,” you said, scanning the stragglers still arriving for any sign of Noah. 

“I’d be nervous if I was on first,” he said. You took your eyes off the latecomers and looked to find him smiling encouragingly at you. 

“Yeah,” you said, shifting your weight awkwardly. “Isaac insisted for some reason that I open.” 

Your stomach sank even more. You couldn’t see Noah anywhere. 

“He mentioned it was because your song would set the tone for the evening,” said Darian, but you were only half-listening. “Do you want one of these?” 

You looked back at him. “What?”

He held out a program for you to take. “In case you wanted to keep it. For posterity, or scrapbooking or whatever.” 

“Yeah, sure,” you said, grabbing it without really thinking. 

Your emotional bandwidth had been all but used up, chest tight and head foggy. You felt bad that you weren’t really engaging in conversation, or even paying attention to it for that matter, but hoped Darian would forgive you. 

Sensing that you weren’t in the headspace to talk, Darian wished you luck and went back to handing out programs. You thanked him and continued walking across the foyer and down the opposite hallway with no real destination in mind. You were to go on in less than a minute. 

You shook your head, trying to get out of it and into your body. You needed to connect with your voice in order to perform, but you couldn’t seem to steady your breathing. 

The sanctuary was laid out in a rectangle, with the foyer lining the back, hallways with classrooms running the length of either side, and then a room behind the main stage, so from where you stood at the end of the hall, you could see through the windows of the doors to the stage that the lights had dimmed. 

Isaac walked out to the center of the stage from the hallway opposite you. A spotlight appeared on him, and with an abundance of charismatic charm, he thanked the audience that had gathered, before leading them in yet another prayer to bless the evening’s performance and to let God’s will be done. 

Throughout the entirety of his introduction, you’d zoned in and out. Your nerves ate at you, consuming your focus and leaving you feeling detached from your surroundings. 

You’d performed this song a dozen times at least, and in front of much of the same audience, too. You performed every week in front of the congregation on Sundays. Perhaps you’d struggled with stage fright at one point in your life, a decade ago when you were still fairly new to performing, but these days you were at-home in front of a microphone. 

And yet. 

Your knees shook. A cold sweat had broken out on the back of your neck, and your stomach clenched and released several times in quick succession. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, please enjoy O Holy Night, performed by my dear personal friend, and co-leader of our praise and worship team,” Isaac began. 

You heard your name being called, snapping you out of the haze. 

The audience applauded. Isaac gestured to the doorway opposite you, where he assumed you would be entering from. 

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door and walked to the center of the stage. Isaac turned when he heard the doors open, looking caught off-guard for a moment, but he recovered quickly, gesturing to you and clapping to signal to the audience that they should keep their applause going. 

He slowly backed away and gave you a double thumbs-up before exiting the stage. 

Recognizing you were still holding the program Darian had handed you, you clasped your hands behind your back and stepped up to the microphone. 

The soft piano intro played out over the loud speakers. You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply. 

O holy night,  

The stars are brightly shining,  

It is the night of our dear savior’s birth.  

The first note came out shaky. You’d pushed too hard with your diaphragm, allowing more air than was needed to pass through your vocal folds. You closed your eyes and focused on breath control, feeling the spotlight heat your skin. 

Long lay the world 

In sin and error pining  

‘till He appeared and the soul felt its worth.  

Back in the late 1843, a church in the south of France had its organ renovated. After the renovations were complete, the church reached out to a French poet by the name of Placide Cappeau, asking him to write a poem that could be used as a hymn. In response, Cappeau penned the first iteration of O Holy Night.  

Placide Cappeau was a known atheist.  

A thrill of hope. The weary world rejoices  

When the Catholic Church got wind of an atheist creating a Christmas carol, they did their best to bury the song. They claimed it lacked musical flavor. At the time, the idea of all men and women owning souls was highly radical. 

For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.  

O Holy Night has since become one of the most popular Christmas carols known to western society, thanks in part to John Sullivan Dwight translating it to English in 1855. 

You knew this, because you’d written a history of the carol for an end-of-semester project back when you went to high school at Calvary Baptist. 

Fall on your knees. O hear the angel voices,  

At the time, you’d wondered how an atheist—someone who, in your mind, stood against everything you stood for, could write such a beautiful song that touched the hearts of you and so many others. 

O night, divine. O night, when Christ was born.  

How could someone with no connection to God write something that so clearly captures the essence of the Holy Spirit?

You chanced a look out at the crowd, once more searching for the familiar face you so wanted to see. The atheist who understood more about Christ’s love than so many in the church ever would, and found no sign of him. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, preparing for the high note that signaled the climax of the song. 

O night, O holy night. 

Your voice rang out, loud and with a pleasing vibrato you’d finally learned to control three years ago. You paused for effect. The music cut out, and you sang the last line. 

O night divine!  

It was over. You’d done it. The piano melody came back in for the closing notes, and you curtseyed elegantly as the crowd applauded. 

You exited through the same doors you entered, heading straight for the restroom so you could take a moment to yourself before you had to be back on stage in the choir for O Come All Ye Faithful.  

Placing your program on the sink counter, you ran your hands under cool water, intending to splash some on your face when a small blurb on the bottom of the pamphlet caught your eye. 

Collection plates will be passed around. Please help us save countless unborn lives by making a donation. 

Unborn lives. 

Isaac was donating the proceeds to a pro-life organization. 

You’d been unknowingly roped in to an anti-choice fundraiser. 

A wave of anger erupted from deep within you, washing over your entire body and pulsating through it. 

You snatched the program from the counter, storming out the bathroom, across the foyer, and to the adjacent hallway Isaac stood at the end of. 

“What the Hell, Isaac!?” you near-shouted, bounding toward him. 

Isaac’s eyes widened upon your approach. He took several steps back, running into two of the other choir members, but it wasn’t enough. You slammed the program into his sternum. 

“Whoa!” he said, grasping the program you’d thrust at him with one hand and holding the other out to keep you from coming any closer. “Where’s the fire?” 

“What is this?!” you said, stabbing the program on his chest with your finger where the blurb appeared. 

He looked at you bewildered, then down to where your index finger pushed into his chest, and then back to you like you were a mad woman. “We said we wanted to give the proceeds to charity.” 

“Yeah,” you said, ripping the program out of his hand and throwing it down at his feet. “Like a soup kitchen or a toy drive. Not to Life Alliance!” 

Isaac’s eyebrows pulled together in blatant confusion. “What’s better than saving innocent lives?” he said. 

“Oh my God,” you scoffed, not caring whether or not it counted as taking the Lord’s name in vain. 

 Suddenly all the air in the room felt like it had been vacuumed out and you found yourself struggling to breathe. 

Taking a step backwards, it dawned on you that this was your limit. The church had compressed you your entire life, and you’d finally reached your breaking point. “I can’t participate in this.” You said it not to Isaac, but to yourself. “I have to go.” 

“Hey! Hold on,” Isaac said. “You can’t leave. You’re our first soprano. We need you for the high G.” 

You shook your head, turning on your heel. You wouldn’t have been able to hit that note even if you wanted to with how your throat was constricting. 

“We can talk about this. Maybe we can do more than one charity,” he said, but you were already halfway down the hall, tears threatening to spill over. 

The heels you wore made it hard to run down the icy sidewalk, but run you did. Down the sidewalk, down the street. You didn’t stop running until you’d put several blocks between you and the church. 

You’d once thought of it as a sacred place—a home away from home. 

Now, the only time you felt at home in it was on Saturday mornings, sharing the space with two delinquents who didn’t even believe in God. 

Nowhere felt sacred anymore. 

Nowhere except the shed in the backyard of Jolly’s house. But you were cut off from that now, too. 

Where did you belong now?  __________ How are we all feeling after that? Also, if anyone has any artistic skills and would like to help me make a moldboard or a banner or something for this story, I would be forever grateful!

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haven't read chapter 9 yet but imma let you know I'm fuming with him as well based on his behavior on chapter 8 😡😤

(I do understand what prompted it tho)

gahhh! Forgive my rambling but I'm in love with this story. I almost don't feel like I'm writing it, but I'm just a fan with exclusive early access and the story is its own author and I'm DYING to talk to other people about it. ANYWAY RIGHT?! I love him. He's an absolute goddamn mess of a person but it's in an endearing way, but also I HATE HIM. GET THE FUCK UP AND WORK FOR THAT WOMAN, NOAH. Also, hats off to MC for not chasing after him when he ghosts her. She has more self-respect than I've had in the past. Bro Noah has a lot of work to do on himself. Right now he's in the first stage where he's admitting he has a problem and is putting a plan in place for how he's gonna solve it, but is still allowing himself to be held back by fear. I love him. I hate him. It's complicated. Anyways thank you so much for reading and for interacting. For all the energy I receive from readers, my goal is to amplify it and give it back in the form of good, healing content that y'all can take with you in your own journeys.

For anyone reading who doesn't get the context: Check out The Devil's Advocate

same anon as earlier - what makes it so endearing (and sad) is that he wants to be good for her, and now he doesn't think he can be that, or give her what she needs. Because he KNOWS she deserves someone good, and he needs to work on himself to be that (even if he goes about it in a crooked way). And I think that highlights even more just how down bad he is for this woman.

Their relationship is just so complex, even how now the guilt has shifted from the MC to Noah, who thought he had everything figured out, BUT GUESS WHAT?

This is one of the best stories I've read in a long time, thank you so much 🥰

THNAK YOU FOR PICKING UP ON THAT.

Yes, I love that that intention came through. Noah knows that he's not in a space where he can trust his actions with her. All he wants is to talk to her, but he KNOWS that if he risks even that, there's a part of him that will try to manipulate the conversation towards getting sex, because it's second nature to him. He has an immense prey drive BEGGING to exploit any weakness he can find, and until he gets it under control, the best way he can love her is to keep himself away from her. SIDE NOTE for any readers: DO NOT ASSUME THIS IS THE CASE FOR MEN WHO GHOST YOU. HE'S PROBABLY JUST AN ASSHOLE AND ITS NOT YOUR JOB TO FIX HIM. If he's worth your time he will fix himself.

<3333333 For anyone reading who doesn't get the context: Check out The Devil's Advocate

The Devil's Advocate - Chapter 8

Pairing: Delinquent!Noah Sebastian X Pastor's Daughter!Reader

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

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Angst, smut if you squint.

Masterlist

Authors note: Nothing too exciting, just wrapping up the events of last chapter and setting up for the events of this one. Dream sequence is loosely inspired by the sleep paralysis demon fic called Simply I Am, phenomenally written by @throughwoodsanddirt and @rottingfern

Banner by @flowerynerds

Noah couldn’t get  it up. Perhaps it was everything he’d had to drink that night. An attractive brunette—she introduced herself as Brittany—was on her knees in front of him, palming him over his jeans while his head spun. 

It might have been the beer. It may have also been the liquor. It probably wasn’t the weed—that usually increased his sexual response. 

It could have been that the girl in front of him wasn’t you. 

God, you were so perfect. And he was fully aware that perfection didn’t actually exist and that you most certainly had flaws, but there was something about you that screamed perfection , and he wasn’t about to fight with it. 

Your red dress in particular was sinful tonight, and not sinful in the way where you were showing too much skin or were in any way immodest, but sinful in the things he wanted to do to you while you wore it. 

He wanted to see you on your knees in it, eyeliner running down your cheeks, lipstick smeared down your mouth, sobbing up at him while he painted that fucking dress with his cum. 

What was wrong with him? 

He had no control over his thoughts when it came to you. And Noah was not in any way a pious man, but the lust he felt for you made him want to be one if only to escape from the fucking snare you unknowingly, unintentionally laid out for him. 

God! 

He leaned forward, lovingly caressing the chin of the woman in front of him. Saliva drooled down her parted lips as she stared innocently up, placing unearned trust in him. He guided her mouth to his, tilting her head back and forcing saliva into her dripping mouth and down her throat as if it were a gift to her. 

Why did he treat people like this? 

Well, he knew the short answer—because they wanted him to. 

She licked her lips, humming in satisfaction and smiled up at him. 

“Thank you, sir,” she said, and he had to force himself not to roll his eyes because what the fuck was that? 

You had roasted him for wanting to be called Daddy in bed. He huffed out a laugh. Brittany thought it was because he was pleased with her, and he wished that were the case, but it wasn’t. He was only half-present with her. 

Fuck, he loved it when you roasted him. He desperately needed to be humbled by you. He’d do anything to have you do it again. 

Anything except text you back. Or go to church. Or put any effort into forming a relationship with you because he was a fucking terrified little bitch who couldn’t get over himself to save his life. 

“Thank you, Brittany. You’re dismissed,” he muttered and oh , did she eat that right up. 

“Thank you, sir,” she said, fucking curtseying before exiting the room. 

Another satisfied customer and he didn’t even have to get his dick out. 

He had gone to see you that night, but he didn’t stay. He’d peeked through the doors, caught one look at you all dressed up on stage, and immediately panicked, hiding by himself on the edge of the foyer, back to the wall while you nearly brought him to goddamn tears with your hymn. 

He left halfway through the song, unable to stomach any more of it. 

Noah is a stoic person. He prefers it that way. Throughout his life, he’d offer people brief glimpses into his psyche through his music or his lyrics. Never too much though—he’d cover it up with layers upon layers of metaphor and allegory, sometimes going as far as making up entire false stories to throw people off his trail so they couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t. 

Which is to say he’s not exactly the best at letting people in. 

You would demand to be let in, and that terrified the shit out of him. 

It was unfortunately, not something he was ready for. And he hated that it hurt you—he really did. He hoped you’d understand and forgive him eventually. 

He’d try, though. For you, he would try. 

And that started with avoiding you while he got his shit together. 

________

Stepping under the shower was like a spiritual experience for you, except this time, you were washing off the filth of the church. 

You were done with it, you’d decided. For as long as you could be. Obviously, your parents would make you attend whenever you visited home over summers and holidays, but as far as you were concerned, you’d had enough. 

Isaac was really something. He knew your stance on reproductive rights. Or at least he should have, if he’d been paying any attention. 

You squirted a dollop of shampoo into your palms and rubbed them together, creating a lather for your hair. 

You hadn’t exactly been quiet about your feelings. 

Okay, yes. You hadn’t always been the staunch defender of reproductive rights that you were today. There was a time several years ago that you, Isaac, Ava, and many other members of your father’s congregation had loaded onto a bus and rode to Washington, D.C., where you participated in the annual March for Life. 

You’d had the same views on the issue as Isaac and many other church members—you felt that all innocent life should be protected, viewing abortion as murder. 

It wasn’t until Stevie had sat you down and patiently explained to you the harm that the pro-life movement has caused that your views started to shift. Since then, you’d been vocal about your concerns, but had always been shut down by church leaders. They never wanted to answer your questions or hear you out on the matter. 

With the shampoo lathered and rinsed, you turned to the conditioner—it was your favorite. It smelled like coconut and argan oil and left your hair feeling silky smooth. 

A banging sounded from the other end of the communal bathroom. You recognized it as someone coming through the door. Actually, it sounded like several people. 

“And he said he was busy?” one of them asked. 

“Yeah,” said another voice. “He had some event or something he had to go to tonight, but he might be free later.” 

“What about Jolly’s party?” 

Your ears twitched at the mention of Jolly and you stilled, pausing in the middle of reaching for your loofah. 

Someone scoffed. “I’d rather not. I’m getting tired of Noah.” 

You inhaled sharply. 

“That’s not what you said the other day Madison,” someone giggled. 

There was a brief pause in conversation. You leaned closer to the shower curtain to hear what was happening, old mildew that clung to it stinging the insides of your nose. 

“He texted me again tonight, but I told him I was busy.” 

“Shut up. You did not.” Whoever was speaking sounded positively scandalized. 

“He was hot at first, but he’s too needy these days.” 

“Girl, no way. Every other person alive would be dying at the chance to sleep with him. He’s so hot.” 

“You can have him then,” said the other girl—Madison. “I’m getting a little tired of the whole tortured musician act anyway.” 

So that’s where Noah was. Probably at a party, hooking up with some random girl since the one he was after had passed on the chance. 

You laughed softly and bitterly to yourself, hoping not to be overheard. Of course. 

A clearer picture started to form in your head. The pieces began to fall into place. Noah had never intended to come to your showcase. He’d probably only said that to get you to trust him. Then once he had his fun, he was done with you. 

He’d been so convincing. That night after his show when he’d comforted you? Or that day in the freezing rain? You could have sworn he truly cared, but maybe he was just way more convincing than you had realized. 

Why had he only stopped at phone sex? Why wouldn’t he have gone all the way? 

Maybe because he sensed it would take too much time and effort to convince you to lose your virginity. 

You sank down into a crouch, hugging your knees to your chest. 

Was it really all just pretend? 

_________

You allowed yourself one night to cry—you’d earned it, and you’d give that to yourself. Cry, you did–big, heaving sobs that had you clutching at your blankets and screaming into your pillows. Ugly, messy weeping. The kind you knew would result in your growth, which is why you welcomed it, wandering down the hall with your swollen, tear-stained face on display to steal toilet paper from the communal bathroom, since you’d used up all your tissues. 

It was humbling, and it was profound. 

Cathartic. You needed a good cry like this, because whether you liked it or not, Noah had changed you and for that you were grateful, but now he was gone. The lessons he gave you were real, but the motives behind those lessons had all been fake, and that felt like a massive loss. 

That wasn’t the only thing you cried about, however. You grieved your faith. It wasn’t gone—not completely at least, but it was slipping through your fingers. All the physical tethers you’d had to your faith—the church, the choir, your father. Isaac—they’d been severed. Tainted with trauma and cruelty. 

What were you if not a Christian? You still had a deep sense of spirituality and a connection to the divine, or so you thought. But you didn’t know what it meant anymore, or how to express it. Was the divinity you felt connected to the same God that you learned about in the Bible? Or was it something else entirely? The confusing thoughts swirled through your head, overwhelming you. 

Perhaps you didn’t have to answer all those questions tonight. You’d settle for grieving your losses. 

You cried until you fell asleep, and when you woke up, you cried again. 

It was Saturday morning, and you were meant to monitor community service again, but one look at your big, red, puffy eyes in the mirror and you knew you were in no state to be seen in public. 

You doubted that Noah would show his face, but you didn’t want to give him the opportunity. You sent a group text to both Noah and Nick telling them that community service was canceled that morning, and then, with nothing better to do, you went back to bed and allowed yourself to cry some more. 

________

Something moved between your legs. Something big and warm. You thrashed, trying to kick off the sheets that had become tangled around your thighs. “Shhhh, just relax,” soothed a deep, familiar voice. Long nails caressed your outer thighs. 

You finally managed to free yourself, throwing the sheets off you and were met with Noah’s face looking up at you from between your knees. He wore the same blackout contact lenses and demon horns from Halloween, but something about them looked more convincing. 

“Noah?” you asked. “What are you doing here?” 

“Shhhh,” he said again, delivering a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to your center, bathing it in warmth. You arched into his touch—it was so welcome. 

“Wh…whaat…,” you began but found yourself unable to speak as he lapped at you. 

“That’s it,” he murmured, punctuating his sentence by nipping at your outer thigh. His teeth were much sharper than you expected. “Give yourself over to it.” 

He hooked his arms under your thighs and dragged your body to him, digging his claws into the soft flesh. 

“Yes,” you breathed, panting as he sucked and licked and kissed. 

His arms found purchase on the mattress and he crawled up your body, licking up your torso as he went. 

“Isn’t this worth it?” he asked, devilish grin consuming his face. 

You blinked, and both your wrists were above your head, held down by one of his massive hands. Feebly, you struggled against his hold, no match for his strength. 

“This is what you wanted, Angel,” he said, one long, pointed nail stroking softly down your cheek while his face hovered above yours. His breath smelled deathly sweet, as if you could get drunk on it. 

Bending down, he licked at your mouth. You chased the kiss but he kept his lips just out of reach. 

“Want to taste?” he asked. Whimpering, you nodded. 

He dipped his tongue out of his mouth, not close enough for you to reach with your lips, but just close enough you could run your own tongue over the tip of his. It was just as over-sweet as his breath. You strained against his hold pathetically in an attempt to deepen the touch, but he was too strong. 

“Now, now,” he taunted. “Don’t get greedy,” he said, grinding himself into you and you whimpered. “You have to earn it.” 

“Tell me,” you begged, trying in vain to lift your hips up into him and achieve some much-needed friction against your dripping core. 

“I need you on your knees.” 

Without warning, Noah was no longer on top of you, but standing in front. You were not in a bed, but in a dark, barren room. Instead of Noah holding your arms above your head, each wrist was shackled to chains that hung from the ceiling. You were naked, knelt before him.  

He wore all black, matching his eyes, nails, and horns, and he stood over you menacingly. 

“That’s right,” he said, voice having switched from soft to booming. “Bow before your god.” 

_________

You awoke with a start, bolting up in your bed. It took you a few blinks to recognize that you were indeed in your room, not…wherever that was. Your breaths came out in rapid succession, tears welling up. Frantically, you swiped at your eyes, wiping the cascading droplets away as you tried to steady your breathing. 

You hung your head, pressing it against your knees and swallowing thickly. 

It was just a dream. But an awful one that left you feeling even more fragile and tender than you’d been last night. 

A loud knock sounded at the door. Swiping at your forehead, you found a clamminess that hadn’t been there before. You wiped your hand over your sleep shorts, trying to get your bearings. 

The knock sounded again. “Hold on,” you called. You slid out of bed and into a pair of fuzzy slippers, checking the small makeup mirror on your desk and noting the red splotches at the end of your nose and around your eyes. You didn’t want to be observed in this state, but it was probably Ava at the door, and you could really use her warmth and kindness. 

You padded over to the door, opening it slowly to find not Ava, but a different set of bright eyes paired with a wide smile, which fell as soon as he looked at you.

“Nick? What are you doing here?” you asked, taken aback by his presence. 

“Wanted to check on you,” said Nick, eyes scanning over your face. “You okay? Can I come in?”  

You peered around the doorframe to see if he was alone and then moved aside, gesturing for him to enter. 

When he did, he took a moment to observe your dorm. 

“You don’t have a lot of decorations,” he stated, looking back and forth from Stevie’s side of the room to yours. Stevie’s was hung with loads of artwork from her friends, photos from home, small figurines and a collection of pretty rocks she’s collected while on hikes. 

Yours was bland. Bare. Not a single photo or piece of art. 

You used to have decorations—Bible verses in pretty fonts and photos of you with various family and members of the church. Friends from Christian school. But you’d taken them all down and stuffed them under your bed the previous night in a fit of rage. Looking at them felt like a painful reminder of the oppressive nature of your religion. 

Nick turned around to face you, raising his eyebrows when too much time had gone by without a response from you. 

“Yeah, I, uh,” you started, swallowing hard. “I guess I’m in the middle of redecorating.” You twisted the tie on your cotton shorts nervously. 

Nick’s eyes ran down and back up the length of you. “Nice shirt.” 

You looked down. He was referring to the racecar shirt. The same one Noah had teased you about. Thinking about him brought another wave of emotion up, though, so you shoved those feelings back down as quickly as they arrived. 

“Thanks,” you said, shifting your weight from foot to foot, before ultimately deciding that you were too tired to be anxious, so you went back to your bed and crawled on top. 

“You can sit,” you said, gesturing to the chair at your desk. He didn’t hesitate in pulling it up to face you and planting himself on it. 

“So,” he began, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “What’s up?” 

You looked around the room, feeling warm under his imploring stare. “I was going to ask you the same thing.” 

“You canceled community service,” he said. It was a statement, not a question, and though his voice was soft, it held a sternness that had you feeling on edge, as if in asking the question, he’d chucked a ball into your court and now waited to see what you’d do with it. 

“I did,” you volleyed back to him. Zero serving Zero. 

He leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Why?” 

You shrugged. A non-answer. 

His tongue poked out between his lips and he tilted his head to look at you. You avoided his gaze, leaning back against the wall and crossing your arms. As tense as the situation was, it offered a welcome distraction from your feelings. 

“You left after your solo. The program said you’d be singing in the choir, but I didn’t see you.” 

You took a deep breath in through your nose, feeling your nostrils flare out upon the exhale. Noticing tightness in your jaw, you worked to relax the muscles. 

“Isaac and I had an…ethical disagreement,” you said. 

Growing bolder, Nick slipped his shoes off and kicked his feet up to rest on the edge of your bed, using the leverage to tilt himself back on two chair legs. 

Your eyes flicked down to his feet, wrinkling your nose at the sight of his stained socks and he wriggled his toes tauntingly. 

“Are you sure it’s not because someone didn’t show?” he asked, continuing to wriggle his toes. 

“Can you get your stinky feet off my bed?” you asked. It was a lie. You couldn’t smell his feet, you just didn’t want to answer the question. 

“Nope,” he said, emphasizing the last consonant with a pop . 

You leaned forward to push him off, but he was too quick, whipping his feet out of the way and slamming the chair back down on all fours with a loud giggle. You resumed your position against the wall and he did the same, crossing his heels as they rested on the edge of the mattress. 

Sighing, you allowed it. His taunting was doing a better job breaking you out of your sullen mood than you’d managed to do on your own. 

“It really was because of Isaac,” you said. “I didn’t like the charity he picked.” 

Nick nodded. “I was wondering about that. I didn’t donate anything, you’ll be glad to know.” 

The corner of your mouth curled up, despite yourself. “Good.” 

He looked at you more seriously. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. 

You curled your fingers around your comforter, tucking your lips in between your teeth while you waited for the right words to arrive. “I’m assuming you aren’t referring to the charity,” you said, feeling your mouth fall into something that resembled more of a pout. 

He nodded, waiting patiently for you to go on. 

You let your head fall back to thud against the wall. 

Nick was sweet. You hadn’t thought so at first, but after hearing how he had treated Ava, you realized he was a much kinder and more considerate guy than you’d initially judged him to be, and the fact that he came all the way over here on a Saturday morning just to check on you was definitely unexpected. 

When Isaac had done it after Halloween, you were certain it was to chastise you for your behavior. And sure, perhaps Isaac did care for you a little bit, but he was far more concerned with keeping you in line. 

Nick was here only to help, out of the kindness of his heart. You at least owed him a little bit of the truth. 

“He didn’t come,” you said, hoping that Nick could pick up on the disappointment in your tone so you wouldn’t have to tell him exactly how it made you feel. If you talked about it too much, you’d start crying again and that was the last thing you wanted. 

“I know,” he said softly. Soothingly. Sympathetically. “I’m sorry.” 

You pulled your knees up to your chest and hugged them. “I had a feeling he wouldn’t. But for some reason, I held out hope.” 

Nick said nothing, giving you space to continue. 

“Did he say why?” you asked. 

He chewed on his lip, picking a piece of lint off the leg of his pants before bringing his eyes back up to meet yours. “He’s,” he began, sighing as he spoke, “going through something at the moment. It’s probably best for you to keep your distance.” 

Your throat tightened. You’d suspected as much, but hearing him confirm it felt like ripping off the scab of a wound. Fresh blood leaked out. 

Not wanting to cry, you scoffed instead. “Yeah, I know. That something was in the building last night and,” you paused as your voice threatened to wobble. “…had a lot to say about it to her friends,” you finished once you’d regained control. 

Nick’s eyes grew wide and he let his feet fall back to the floor with a loud thunk. “What do you mean?” If he could tell you were on the verge of tears, he didn’t acknowledge it. 

“Madison, or whatever her name was,” you said, feeling your eyes start to prickle. “She was in the girl’s bathroom last night talking with her friends. She said Noah reached out to her, and,” you sniffed, “had been hooking up with her a lot recently. So much that she,” you were cut off by your breath hitching. You swallowed thickly, feeling your eyes begin to water. “She was getting tired of him.” 

You buried your face in your palms, trying hard not to let the tears fall, but failed. 

“Shit,” you heard him say under his breath. He said nothing else, but you heard the scrape of the chair against your floor, and then felt the mattress beside you shift. 

“This okay?” he asked, throwing his arm around you and you nodded into your hands. He squeezed you into his chest and you melted into the touch. It wasn’t flirtatious or sexual in any capacity—just genuinely concerned and you desperately needed it. You needed someone to witness your pain and hold you while you felt it. 

“Noah’s not the best at handling his problems,” Nick said. His chest vibrated against your cheek as he spoke. He smelled musty, like stale smoke mixed with some sort of spice. Similar to Noah but the scent was definitely his own. It was earthier, like soil after a heavy rain. “I’m sorry you got caught in the crossfire.” 

You said nothing, but continued to sniffle pathetically. You didn’t even want to know what problems Noah was supposedly dealing with, because you knew somehow you were one of them, and you didn’t want to feel like a problem. 

“I know telling you not to take it personally is kind of stupid, because how can you not?” he continued, “but seriously, it’s not personal.” 

He was right. How could you not? Noah had effectively lured you into a false sense of security, got you to compromise your morals, and then dipped. 

Well, that may not have exactly been the case. You hadn’t compromised your morals for him —if anything, you’d knowingly and gleefully entered into the encounter. Your views on sex had changed far before he’d placed that call. 

If anything, he’d just provided you an opportunity to explore yourself more–you just wish you would have been on the same page about what it meant. 

“I don’t know what to do,” you said morosely. You understood Noah not wanting to hook up with you anymore for whatever reason, but you wished it didn’t involve you not even talking. 

Especially after what had happened yesterday. Noah was the main person you talked to about your religious concerns. He got it. Understood where you were coming from and often knew exactly what to say to calm you down. 

You could really use that right now. 

“Come out with me tonight?” Nick offered after a few moments. 

You pulled away to look at him. He looked sincere. “What?”

“Come out with me,” he repeated. “There’s a party happening at Jolly’s. I think you could use a bit of fun.” 

You stared at him, confused. “Won’t Noah be there?” 

He shook his head. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t come.” 

You stayed silent for a few moments, deliberating. Nick was right, you definitely could use more fun in your life right about now, and a party did sound tempting. But your wounds were so fresh, and you hadn’t exactly enjoyed the last party you went to. 

“I don’t know…,” you said. 

“Come on,” he said, taking your hands in his and squeezing them. “I promise I’ll make it fun. It won’t be like last time. We aren’t playing a show tonight. It’s just a party.” 

You breathed deeply through your nose (which was difficult considering how much mucus had built up), taking in his pleading gaze. This man has indeed perfected his puppy-dog stare and you wondered just how many women he’d used it on. Should you allow yourself to be one of them? 

“I can tell you’re overthinking it.” 

You sighed and chuckled, caught red-handed. “Fine,” you said. Honestly, you could use the distraction and had nothing better to do. 

“Yeeee,” Nick softly boasted, pulling you into another hug and it was so endearing that his joy began to rub off on you. 

“Don’t leave me to go hook up with someone this time,” you said. “Even if it’s Ava.” 

“Promise,” he said, miming an X across his chest before crushing you back into him. “I won’t leave your side.” 

_________

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” you asked, for probably the fifth time since you’d arrived at Ava’s dorm. 

“If you keep asking me that, I’m gonna start minding,” she said, tugging a brush through your hair. 

Shortly after Nick left, you checked your phone and noticed several missed calls from Ava, asking what had happened to you. Rather than explain it over the phone, you decided to make the short trek partway across campus to her dorm.

As soon as Ava took one look at you, she wrapped you up in her arms and held you while you sobbed yet again. Having experienced religious trauma firsthand, she’d had more than enough empathy for what you were going through. She sat and listened patiently while you went over everything that had happened, affirming your decision to leave the church behind. 

You were beyond grateful. It took a lot of courage for you to come to that decision. Knowing that your best friend not only supported you, but agreed that it was for the best was huge. 

You also told her about Nick coming over and inviting you to the party. Though Ava had assured you many times that she didn’t mind if you hung out with him, you couldn’t help but feel guilty, as if by sleeping with him, she’d staked a claim. 

“I don’t understand why you’re so cool with this,” you said. 

As soon as you told her he’d invited you to a party, she’d insisted on dressing you, spouting that this was the perfect time for a makeover since you were already going through a transformative time in your life. 

She paused brushing your hair, gathering the strands in her hands and laying them flat against your back. She stroked them softly. 

“I’ve been…thinking,” she began. 

“About?” you asked, glad to have the focus not on you and your problems. 

She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before she spoke again. “Finally losing my virginity was great, but it sort of opened up a lot of baggage for me to unpack. Specifically about my sexuality.” 

You nodded to show you were listening. 

“There’s this girl,” she continued, and you had a feeling you knew what she was about to discuss. 

Ava’s parents had always been strict with her—possibly even more strict than your parents had been. She hadn’t always gone to Christian school. Throughout elementary, she’d gone to a public school. Then in junior high, she’d developed a close friendship with a girl. 

You never heard the whole story, but her parents had learned something about the girl and flipped, pulling Ava out of her local high school and enrolling her in a Christian academy. You’d always assumed it was because her parents deemed this girl to be a bad influence on Ava, as they had mentioned before. In fact, the only reason the two of you had been so close was because her parents approved of you being the pastor’s daughter. 

But then when the two of you asked to room together in college, her parents staunchly opposed. They shelled out a ton of money for Ava to get a private dorm, stating that they didn’t want her to get distracted by roommates. 

You’d always wondered why they had such a problem with it. It wasn’t until now you’d started putting two-and-two together.

“Tell me about her,” you said, offering a warm smile. You locked eyes with Ava in the mirror as she resumed brushing your hair. 

“She’s in my Art History class. Her name’s Hera.” 

Ava lit up as she talked in a way you’d never seen her light up before. She told you how Hera’s background in activism through art, and how she’d initially approached Ava to study together, but they’d begun hanging out more. And how Ava isn’t exactly sure what Hera’s sexuality is, but she gets butterflies every time she smiles at her. How she’s trying to work up the courage to confess her feelings, but is absolutely terrified and will probably just take it slow, unless Hera says something first. 

She told you about how Hera asked her to hang out tonight at an underground screening of some cult indie flick you’d never heard of, and that’s why Ava can’t come to the party with you. 

All the while you sat and listened, heart growing warmer and softer for your best friend’s happiness. 

Ava’s had a difficult road to get to where she was. Much more difficult than yours. The church you grew up in was not affirming in any way. When you were a child and discussions of the queer community first entered the church, they were staunchly against every facet of it, calling it an “abomination” and stating that it “destroyed the sanctity of marriage”. 

When queer marriage became legal in your state, a bunch of the local churches protested outside the courthouse, yours included. Your parents didn’t let you go, because they wanted to shield you for as long as possible from the discussion. 

You’d always had a hard time swallowing the church’s stance though. It seemed to go against everything they’d taught you about Jesus and the love he had for his people. If God is Love, as he says he is, then how could love in any form be evil? You just didn’t understand. 

You learned not to bring it up with your father. It was a sore spot with him, as it was with the rest of the church elders, but you had no idea if that made you a bad Christian. 

That was the first time you ever remembered questioning the church’s stance on something. Since then, it had been a slow deconstruction. So slow you hadn’t even noticed it was happening until recently, when Noah came into your life and started tearing about the foundation of everything you believed. 

But you weren’t there to think about Noah. You were there to support your friend. Someone who has had to bravely stand in defiance of everything her family and her church has told her regarding who she is. You couldn’t even fathom how much courage that must have taken. 

“I really like her,” she said, and you could tell this was the most vulnerable admission Ava has ever made to you. 

“I’m so happy for you,” you said, biting back the tear that threatened to spill over. You’d been crying a lot the last two days. This time, however, it was a happy tear. “Thank you for confiding in me.” 

Ava inhaled sharply. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before. I’ve been wanting to tell you everything, but I didn’t know how to bring it up. And you’ve been going through a tough time so I didn’t want to pull focus away from that.” 

You shook your head, failing to keep your tears at bay. “Don’t apologize at all. You don’t owe that information to anyone, but I’m really glad you chose to give it to me.” 

Ava smiled, softening. “Well yeah,” she said. “You’re my best friend. Of course I’d tell you.” 

You wanted to get up and hug her. You wanted to tell her how proud you were of her and how brave you thought she was. You wanted to ask her a million questions about her experiences in the church and how she got to this place of self-acceptance, but you knew all the direct attention would make her uncomfortable. There would be lots of time for you to say all of those things. Right now, what was important was that she trusted you enough to tell you. 

In her eyes, you were a safe person for her to be herself around. 

For all the damage the church had done to you, that fact alone was enough to kick-start your healing.

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me waiting for chapter 9 😩❤️

I'm so happy you sent me this! Chapter 9 is written. I finished my first round of editing, then it went to beta (s/o to @throughwoodsanddirt go check out scout's fics in the meantime if you haven't already) and now I'm currently in my second and final edit, so it should be posted any day now! Keep checking back. I'm excited to share it with everyone!

Masterlist

-River

she/its

The Devil's Advocate - Chapter 9

Pairing: Delinquent!Noah Sebastian X Pastor's Daughter!Reader

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

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Underage drinking, partying,

Masterlist

Thanks to @throughwoodsanddirt for the beta

Thanks to @flowerynerds for the banner!

____________

“I don’t know about this,” you said as you attempted to close the clasp on the brown tweed miniskirt Ava insisted on dressing you in. Ava was about a full size smaller than you, so you were rightfully skeptical when she suggested (demanded) you let her pick out an outfit from her wardrobe. 

“Why not?” She asked in her whiney sing-song voice. “It’ll look so good!” 

“Because I can barely breathe,” you grunted, finally getting the clasp to close after laying on her bed and sucking in your gut.  

Ava crossed her arms, regarding the full outfit for a moment and then squinted. “Tough. You look amazing.” 

You sat up, feeling the slight pudge of your belly folding uncomfortably over the waistband of the skirt. The material had little give to it, cutting into your sides in a way you weren’t overly enthusiastic about. 

“Don’t worry, you can wear this over it,” she said, tossing an oversized black shirt your way. You swapped the one you were currently wearing for it, noticing it had a logo and artwork for a band you’d never heard of. It was cut wide at the neck so that it fell over one shoulder and showcased your sternum, plus a tiny bit of cleavage. Definitely more than you were used to showing. 

“Tuck it in,” she said. 

You rolled your eyes. “I just got this thing buttoned.” 

She didn’t respond, and you knew she wasn’t going to budge, so you huffed a sigh and fell back onto the bed, wrestling once again with the clasp. 

Ava stood next to the mirror on the door of her wardrobe, applying lipgloss and studying her own features to determine whether she was happy with her makeup before her maybe-date with Hera. 

“Are you planning on drinking tonight?” she asked, not looking up at you. 

“I don’t know,” you said, stuffing the hem of the shirt into your waistband. “I hadn’t really considered it.” 

“Do you think you’d be open to it if Nick offered you a drink?” She turned from the mirror to face you. 

You sucked in a deep breath and pulled the clasp of the skirt together, effectively hooking it. Sitting up, you found that the shirt was oversized enough to hide any belly rolls that poked out over top of your waistband. 

“Part of me is thinking about it,” you confessed. It was true. Throughout your life, you’d been staunchly against the idea of underage drinking, but you were about to turn 21 at the end of the month, and didn’t see much of a point to waiting. “Nick said he’d be by my side all night, and I trust him to take care of me.” 

Ava smiled softly. “Good. He’s a good guy. You deserve some fun. Oh!” she exclaimed, setting down the tube of lip gloss on her desk and rifling through one of her drawers. “That reminds me. I wanted to give you these.” 

She took out a small handful of foil packets and slipped them your purse. 

“Are those…condoms?” you asked. 

“Yes,” she said, “and I don’t want to hear anything about it. You never know when something might happen. I trust Folio to not take advantage of you, but you still need to be prepared.” 

You sat for a moment, blinking stupidly at Ava. 

Twenty-four hours ago, you were singing in a church. Today, you were considering underage drinking and accepting condoms from your best friend. 

It seemed like your life was shifting from one extreme to the next rapidly—literally overnight. But then again, the changes had been happening inside of you for a long time now. Perhaps this was just the manifestation of those changes? 

“Okay,” you said, nodding once to Ava, who flashed a self-satisfied smile before going back to the mirror to once-again tweak her makeup. 

“When did you buy these?” you asked. 

“Before the semester started,” she said, adding another coat of mascara to her naturally long lashes. 

That long ago? You’d half-expected her to say that she purchased them after the Halloween party, when she lost her virginity. The fact that she’d done it before meant Ava, too, had been going through a sort of religious deconstruction for a while now, and you were only beginning to see the effects of it. 

For some reason, you were comforted by the fact. It let you know that she had been prepared to lose her virginity that night with Nick, and it wasn’t just an impulsive decision, but one she had been thinking about for a while. 

“You think you’ll do anything with Hera if she asks?” 

Ava flushed, offering one of the most timid smiles you’d ever seen from her. “Honestly? I’d let that woman run me over with a truck if she wanted.” 

“You’re down pretty bad, huh?” you asked, finding immense joy in how much your friend was crushing. If you couldn’t find success in your own love life, at least you could live vicariously through her. 

Ava said nothing, but clutched at her chest with both hands and stared dreamily out the window, face slackened by a rather love-drunk smile. 

It was hard to be upset by all the events in your life when things were going so right for Ava. She so deserved this happiness, and her joy was easily rubbing off on you. 

“Oh, crap! What time is it?” she asked, breaking out of her stupor. 

You looked at your phone. “Seven fifty-six.” 

“Okay,” she said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ears. “She said she’ll be here at eight fifteen. What time is Nick picking you up?” 

“Not sure yet,” you said, hopping off her bed and into the pair of black combat boots she was letting you borrow for the night. As if on cue, your phone vibrated. It was Nick. 

“He’s asking if he should come to my room.” 

“Tell him to just meet you here,” she said. “It’s closer.”  ________

It didn’t take Nick long before he arrived at Ava’s door. He greeted her with a warm hug and kiss on the cheek as if they were old friends. 

“Good to see you again,” he said, smiling. 

“Promise to take care of our girl?” she asked, teasing lilt coating her normal voice. 

Nick scoffed, hand splaying over his chest. “You should have more faith in me by now.” 

Ava chuckled, batting lightly at his shoulder. “She’s my best friend. I have to give you at least a little bit of shit, just to keep you on your toes.” 

He smiled, wrinkling his nose at her. “I guess I should be honored then, that you’re even allowing me to take this fine woman out on the town.” 

He gestured to you without looking away from Ava. You watched their interaction with amusement. They reminded you of an old married couple, or perhaps a father grilling his daughter’s new boyfriend before their first date—with Ava playing the role of the father. 

“You sure I can’t convince you to come out?” he asked, grabbing her hand and bringing it up to his lips to kiss. He was indeed charming, you’d give him that. 

Ava flicked her hand out of his grasp and patted him affectionately on the cheek. “You know I would, but I’ve got bigger and better things in store tonight.” 

Nick winced playfully, clutching his hands to his chest. “You’re breaking my heart, Ava.” She smiled at him affectionately. 

It was easy to see why things between the two of them had progressed so quickly. They were two sides of the same coin—both dramatic, whimsical, and charismatic. You also saw why you got along with both of them so well. 

A knock sounded at your door, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen. Ava immediately grew nervous, bouncing once on her heels before rushing over to the door to answer it. 

Nick finally turned his attention to you, eyebrows shooting up towards his forehead. That was all the time he had to react, however, before Ava pulled her date into the room to introduce her. 

Hera was one of the most beautiful women you’d ever seen. She wore a cropped white shirt under a set of green cotton overalls. Her gold jewelry complemented the deep complexion of her skin, which was decorated by tattoos that ran like vines down her arms and around her fingers. 

She smiled wide, displaying a set of perfectly white teeth. Her thick, tightly-coiled hair was worn naturally, fanning out around her face in a large dome with a silk scarf around the base. 

“I’m Hera,” she said extending her hand out to yours and you grasped it firmly while you introduced yourself. 

She turned to introduce herself to Nick and you locked eyes with Ava. ‘Oh my God,’ you mouthed. 

‘I know, right?’ she mouthed back. 

Hera didn’t stay long. She and Ava were quick to leave, wanting to get to their event on time, but she looked genuinely sorry she couldn’t stay and get to know you better. 

“Well,” said Nick after the two of you had followed their lead and exited the building, “I’d say I’m jealous, but I’m mostly just impressed. Who knew Ava could pull a ten like that?” 

“Ava’s already a ten,” you said, “but yeah, I really hope it works out for her. She seems to really like her.” 

“Speaking of tens,” Nick said, taking you by the hand and twirling you around on the empty sidewalk. 

You chuckled. “Ava insisted on dressing me.” 

“She has good taste,” he said, letting his eyes drift down your body and back up. He held out his arm for you to grab and led you down the sidewalk. 

“I should have guessed. I didn’t take you for a Norma Jean fan,” he said. 

“Who?” 

He let out a laugh. “Your shirt. The band on it is Norma Jean. They’re metalcore.” 

“Oh,” you said, flushing. You probably should have asked Ava more about the band in case anyone recognized them. 

“The fishnets are a nice touch, I have to say,” he continued, looking down at your legs. 

“I was skeptical about them, but I really like how they look,” you admitted, following his gaze down.  You’d protested the fishnets at first, but once you saw the finished look in Ava’s full-length mirror, you were surprised by just how much you were into it. It was sexier than you’d ever dressed before, but in a welcome way (though you had insisted on wearing yoga shorts under the skirt just for safety). 

“I like the new look,” he said. “You should keep it.” 

“Yeah?” you said, flattered by his honesty. “I might.” 

“Good.” 

It didn’t take long for the two of you to arrive at Jolly’s house. Technically, his party didn’t start for another hour or so, but several people were already there helping set up. 

“I thought we could pre-game here,” Nick said, turning to face you and walking backwards as he led you across the front porch. He opened the screen door for you and gestured for you to make your way through. 

Several men crowded around a kitchen island. One—you recognized as Jolly—poured out several shot glasses’ worth of clear liquor. 

“Are you drinking?” Nick asked, guiding you towards the kitchen with a gentle hand on your back. The floor was just as sticky as last time, and you wondered if it had ever seen a mop, but tried not to focus on that because you’d rather not start the party off by being critical. 

“I was thinking about it,” you admitted meekly, looking up to him for guidance. You were already feeling shy and none of the other guests had even looked at you. 

“Have you drank before?” he asked. You shook your head no. “Okay, so my recommendation is to start off with something weak. One shot, watered down with a lot of mixer. Most people start with vodka. Is that something you’d like to try?” 

You said nothing but nodded to him. 

“Want me to make it for you?” he asked. 

“Yes please,” you said, moving closer to the table to observe how everyone else was behaving. Nick squeezed your shoulder before heading over to the fridge and pulling out a two-liter of cola. 

“Jolly, mind if I steal some mixers?” he called over his shoulder. 

“Take whatever you want,” said Jolly, passing out the shots he’d just poured to the guys around the table. “We’re doing shots. You in?” 

“Yeah if you’ve got one to spare.” 

Jolly smiled, pouring out one more shot and handing it over to Nick, who kicked the fridge door shut behind him and took the shot from Jolly. 

“Here’s to a good party!” Jolly said, and the rest of the men echoed the sentiment, raising their shot glasses to the ceiling before tapping them on the table and finally downing them. 

Nick winced only a little, recovering quickly and grabbing the bottle of Vodka from where it sat beside Jolly. He busied himself making you a drink and returned shortly after.

“Try that,” he said, handing you the red solo cup. You took a tentative sip, unsure of what to expect, but you were pleased to find it tasted mostly like regular cola, only with a hint of something sharper. 

“Will this get me drunk?” you asked after you’d swallowed the first mouthful. 

He smiled, chuckling at you and you got the sense that you’d asked a stupid question. 

“Not if you stick to just that. Maybe three of those would, but I’m not gonna let you get drunk at your first party.” 

“Thanks,” you said, trying to convey your gratitude without seeming overly needy or like you wanted your hand held—even though you did. 

You smiled while Nick introduced you to the other men at the table—two of which you already knew as Jolly and Ruffilo, but it was nice to meet them again. The other two, Matt and Bryan, looked very similar to the rest of them in style. Long hair, black oversized band shirts, and tattoos decorating their limbs. 

As other people began to arrive, you started to recognize this as a sort of uniform for the men. Each had their own version of the same style and you wondered whether it was a sort of status symbol—who could fit the most ink on their bodies and grow their hair out the longest. 

Most of the women also sported a number of tattoos, though usually not as many as the men. Many flaunted intricate sternum tattoos, displayed under cropped tank tops and bralettes and paired with high-waisted black shorts. 

Looking down at your own outfit, you acknowledged that Ava was right to dress you the way that she did. Her outfit helped you blend into the crowd much better than you would have if you’d gone with your normal clothes—despite the lack of ink. 

Nick nudged his elbow into your side. You looked to find him smiling down at you. “Wanna play beer pong?” 

“What is that?” you asked. His close-lipped smile morphed into a toothy grin and he grabbed your hand to lead you through the throng of people to the back deck, where a card table was set up and several red plastic cups were arranged in two triangles on either end. The crowd had not yet spilled out onto the deck, so the two of you were the only ones there, save for a few people smoking around the fire pit in the back yard. 

Briefly, you glanced over at the shed that housed Noah’s studio, wondering if he’d been in there at all lately. 

“Normally,” Nick began, brining your attention back to the table in front of you, “you’d play this in teams, but since we’re the only ones here, we’ll play against each other.” 

“Okay,” you said, nodding. “What do we do?” 

“See that ping pong ball over there?” he said, pointing to one of the cups, where an orange ball floated atop a small amount of water. “Your goal is to get that in one of my cups. We take turns. A lot of the time, people will fill the cups with beer, and say I get a ball in one of your cups, you’d have to drink the beer in it.” 

“Oh,” you said, starting to understand the rules. 

“But since it’s just water in these, the rule is you have to take a sip of your drink whenever I get it in the cup.” 

“It’s a good thing we aren’t playing with beer then,” you said. He laughed and agreed. 

“Want to go first?” he asked, smile still lighting up his face. 

“Sure,” you laughed. You’d never have described yourself as coordinated. Your high school hadn’t focused much on teaching physical fitness. They were more concerned with drilling Bible verses into your heads. On top of that, there weren’t enough students for any sort of competitive team sport. Still, you were willing to go out of your comfort zone tonight and actually participate. 

You tossed the ball towards his end. It bounced off the edge of the table, and Nick caught it in his hand. “Whoops!” you said. 

“No worries,” he replied, holding the ball up and aiming it for your end of the table. He tossed it and it sank easily into one of the center cups. “Now you gotta drink.” 

You smiled, already anticipating how the rest of this game was about to go, but sipped your drink nonetheless in preparation for your turn. 

Your intuition was correct after all. You’d managed to get exactly two of his cups before he’d hit all of yours, thus ending the game. By that point, you’d had enough of your drink to start feeling the effects. 

“What are you giggling about?” Nick asked from across the table, where he stood repositioning the cups back into their pyramid shape.

“Nothing,” you said, trying to suppress a smile. 

“You’re tipsy, aren’t you?” he said, and you tucked your lips between your teeth and nodded at him. He walked around to your side of the table and helped you reset the cups on your end. “How’s it feel?” 

“Nice,” you admitted. “I wasn’t sure what to think, but I can see why people like it.” 

Nick turned, clapping both your shoulders with his hands, regarding your state. Your giggles returned under his gaze and the bright lights of the porch began to grow softer. A pleasant warmth washed over you. 

“That’s the danger of it,” he said, thumbs rubbing soft circles into your skin. “People get too invested in that feeling and end up letting it take over. Promise me you’ll pace yourself?” 

You got the sense he’d seen it happen firsthand and that it hadn’t ended well, so you nodded, even though you didn’t feel like you were in danger of losing control. His concern was touching and it was probably a good idea to listen to his advice. 

“How about drinking a glass of water first before you have another drink?” he asked. “Alcohol dehydrates you.” 

“Thanks,” you said, and allowed him to lead you by the hand back into the house, towards the kitchen. His hand was warm and comforting, and necessary because the alcohol was affecting your balance in ways that were unfamiliar to you. You were overcome by your gratitude for him, recognizing that you’d be absolutely lost on how to enjoy the party if he weren’t there to guide you. Perhaps it was the alcohol affecting you, but you reckoned you’d still feel that way, even if you were completely sober. 

It wasn’t long before he was called over by a group of friends to play a game of flip cup. You’d never heard of it before, but he invited you to watch and explained the rules for you to understand, even though it was straightforward and you probably would have picked it up just by watching. 

He was third out of the four people that line his side of the table. It took him three tries to get his cup to land, and when it did, you cheered along with the rest of his team, who ended up losing by a few seconds. 

It quickly became clear that with all these drinking games, nobody actually cared who won or lost. The goal was just to bond, drink, and have something to do. That made you feel more at ease when someone at the table—Bryan you thought his name was—proposed a second game and asked if you wanted to play. 

Recognizing that this was an opportunity for you to be included, not just in the game but as a peripheral member of the friend group, you agreed. 

“Okay, so all you gotta do is wait for your turn, chug as fast as you can, set the cup facedown on the edge of the table and get it to land,” Nick whispered in your ear from where he stood behind you as Bryan began filling the cups for the next round. Your ear tingled where his breath fanned across it. He was so close you could feel the heat radiating off him. You wanted to lean into it, and for once, rather than second guess yourself, you follow the urge. He reciprocated by placing his hands on your elbows. “Focus on chugging and getting it in position for the flip. The rest is up to you.” 

His chin rested on your shoulder as he spoke, and though you didn’t actually need his advice, his presence was more than welcome because you were still nervous. His fingertips braced either side of you, holding you in a starting position as if he were a coach, which he may as well have been. 

“Go!” Bryan shouted and the first person was up—a woman with black hair, several tattoos, and a septum ring. She easily downed her drink and got her cup to flip on the first try. Up next was Ruffilo, who was already a little tipsy and like Nick, took three tries for the cup to stick the landing. When it was your turn, Nick pushed you forward by the hips, chanting ‘go, go, go,’ as you attempted to chug the drink. 

You’d never tasted beer before, and you chugged it so fast you could barely register what it tasted like before it was gone and you had to focus on flipping it. You set it on the edge of the table and flipped it with the ends of your fingers, but miscalculated how much force you’d need and overshot it. 

The cup clattered across the table, but you didn’t have time to be embarrassed. You reset it on the edge, adjusting your approach and used less force this time. It landed. Nick cheered as you backed away from the table. He wrapped his arms around you from behind and hoisted you up into the air, celebrating the small success. You yelped, feeling quite accomplished and grateful for his enthusiasm, but also quite uncomfortable considering the beer you’d just chugged and the pressure he was putting on your swollen stomach. You let out a loud belch as soon as he let you down, and both laughed about it after. 

The person after you, Matt, chugged his and got it in two tries as well, and this time, your team won. Matt offered you a firm high-five, grasping your hand in triumph for a brief second, before turning to Bryan and asking him if he wanted to play another round. 

They invited you to play a second time, but you declined, thanking them for the offer. The aftertaste of the beer had finally caught up to you now that the adrenaline of competition wore off and you realized that it wasn’t your drink of choice. 

“You finish your water?” Nick said, leaning in towards you now that the party was in full swing and the music was too loud to talk casually over. 

“Yep,” you said, nodding proudly. 

He flashed a grin. “Good. Want another drink?” 

“Please,” you said and stepped aside to the counter where the liquor had been moved. 

“Want to try coconut rum?” he asked after perusing the available option, and you agreed because it sounded yummy. As he mixed the drink, you observed the rest of the party. The house was full of people by that point. Another game of flip cup had started in the kitchen, and the living room had been converted into a makeshift dance floor. 

A pungent aroma wafted up from the stairs leading to the basement, and if you had to guess, you’d say that’s where people went to smoke weed. 

“Here,” Nick said, and held out a cup for you. You took it gratefully and sipped.

“I like this one better than the last,” you admitted, savoring the taste of coconut. 

“What?” he shouted over the music. 

“I said I like this one better,” you shouted back. He smiled and shook his head, indicating he still couldn’t hear you. 

He yelled something that sounded like ‘come with me,’ and grabbed your had once again, this time leading you up the stairs and into one of the bedrooms. It was still loud, but more isolated from the rest of the party. 

He sat his drink down on a desk and strolled over to the window, shoving the bottom pane up so it was open to the night air before picking his drink back up and holding out his hand. 

“Care to join?” 

You stepped forward tentatively, peering out of the window to see that it opened up onto the roof of the front porch. 

You took his hand, allowing him to guide you through the open window first before he crawled through. It was a bit of a tight squeeze, but once you were outside, the chill of the cold December night was welcome, considering how stuffy the house had become. 

It was a dry cold. There was no snow on the ground and only a light breeze, but already your legs began to feel the sting of chill. 

“So, how’s your first party experience?” he asked, sitting beside you on the asphalt shingles. 

“Technically, this is my second,” you reminded him. 

He chuckled, taking a sip from his drink and savoring it before replying. “That first one doesn’t count.” 

“Why not?” you asked, sipping from your own drink. 

“Because you didn’t actually get introduced to the party scene. I partly blame myself, because I was hanging out with Ava. But I also blame Noah.” 

This was the first time Noah’s name had been mentioned between the two of you since everything had gone down two weeks ago. It still stung, but the alcohol softened the pain. 

“Why’s that?” you asked, turning to face him more. 

“Because he should have helped you get your bearings,” he said, drunkenly gesturing with his hands as he spoke. “He knew you hadn’t been to a party before. And yeah, I know that he was busy getting ready for the show, but I still think he could have taken a little more time for you.” 

You hadn’t thought of it that way. Both Nick and Noah were to blame. Nick, because he’d invited you in the first place, but also Noah, because you’d been closer with him. At least Nick was taking steps to make up for it. 

Truthfully, nobody had ever helped you assimilate into a group of people the way Nick had that night. You’d always been left alone to fend for yourself and figure out your own way to fit in. 

Not that you’d ever truly fit in, except perhaps at church camp. But that was far behind you now. You’d already changed enough that you knew if you went back, you’d no longer fit in with the rest of them. Nor would you fit in at church anymore. 

And perhaps you’d struggled so much because you’d never had anyone to show you the ropes. 

You shook your head, ridding yourself of the negative thoughts. You didn’t want to dwell on the past. It was better to be grateful for what you had in front of you at the moment. 

You took another sip of your drink while Nick took another sip of his. 

“I don’t know how you can drink beer,” you commented. “It’s disgusting.” 

He smiled, swallowing his drink and then let out a soft chuckle. “You get used to it after a while,” he said. “I didn’t like it when I first tried it, but now I do.” 

“I guess it’s an acquired taste, then,” you commented. 

He nodded, taking another sip. “This isn’t beer though,” he said once he’d swallowed. 

“Oh?” you asked, looking away from him and onto the street below, where a couple of people stood near the sidewalk smoking cigarettes and chatting. “What is it?” 

“Jungle juice,” he answered. You looked back to him. 

“What’s that?” you asked. 

He held out his cup to you. “Want to taste?” 

You took it, cold fingers brushing over his warm ones as he passed the cup to you. You peered inside first to see a greenish liquid with bits of fruit floating in it. You sniffed, noting that it smelled like sprite, something fruity, and something else that stung at your nostrils. 

Tentatively, you sipped, taste buds immediately lighting up at the onslaught of flavor. 

“That’s delicious. What’s in that?” you asked. “And can I have some?” 

Nick laughed. Not just a chuckle but a big belly laugh. “No, I’m not giving you jungle juice for your first drink,” he said. 

You pouted. 

“Don’t give me that look. This is way stronger than it tastes. That cup alone probably has four shots of liquor in it. Jolly makes his extra strong.” 

“What all does he put in it?” you asked, taking another sip of your own drink. You were definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol and it made your skin tingle pleasantly while a warm feeling crept up your neck. 

“I think it’s sprite, Hawaiian punch, a bunch of different fruit juices, and then vodka, rum, and I think he does triple sec too.” 

You blinked at him, tempted to ask what triple sec was because you’d never heard of it, but thought better. You were tired of outing yourself as not knowing anything, so instead you took another gulp of your drink. 

“Slow down,” he cautioned. You pursed your lips and side-eyed him. “I’m not trying to be a buzz kill,” he said clinking his cup with yours and downing another gulp. “I just want to make sure it doesn’t hit you all at once.” 

“What happens then?” you asked, taking another small sip. Perhaps he was right, considering you’d downed two-thirds of your drink during your short conversation. 

“You probably won’t get the spins, since there still isn’t a ton of alcohol in your drink,” he said. “But pacing yourself is a good habit to get into anyway.” 

“Why’d you invite me tonight?” you asked, surprising yourself with the question. 

He didn’t answer right away, just pressed his lips together in a smile and looked down at his drink.  

“I don’t approve of Noah’s actions,” he admitted. “I mean, I’m no saint by any means. I’m probably worse than him, but I feel like you deserved better than what he gave you.” 

You didn’t expect him to be so forthcoming, and when the moment became unexpectedly heavy, you had to look away from him and back to the street below, noticing how the streetlights reflected off the cars lining the curb. Everything was a little hazy, tempered by the alcohol. 

“I thought he’d treat me differently, too,” you confessed. You didn’t want to say too much more than that, because you knew if you talked about your feelings, you’d end up crying, and that’s the last thing you wanted to do at the moment, especially with how much effort Ava had put into your makeup. 

“I wanted to give you a fun night. Introduce you to our crowd so you can get a better idea of what life is like outside of Sunday school. Show you that it’s not all hellfire and brimstone like you were taught.” 

“Thank you, Nick,” you said, nudging his elbow with yours. “That means a lot.” 

You wanted to say more, but knew that if you got too much deeper, it would ruin the party vibe the two of you had worked hard to build. 

“Noah will come around eventually,” he said, apparently not quite ready to let the subject go, even though you thought you were doing him a favor by giving him an easy out and cutting it short. 

Not having anything much else to say, you simply shrugged. “Even if he doesn’t, I’ll be okay.” 

Nick smiled. “That’s the spirit,” he said, holding out his cup to cheers. You tapped yours against it and he chugged the rest of his drink. You followed his lead, in direct contradiction to his previous advice and let out another burp as soon as you finished. He chuckled at that. 

“Want the fruit?” he asked, offering his cup to you. There was a small pile of strawberries, blueberries, and pineapple at the bottom. “It soaks up the alcohol and gets you drunker.” 

“I thought you said you weren’t gonna let me get drunk,” you said. 

He shrugged. “It’s your first party. I’ll make sure you sober up before the end of the night.” 

You thanked him, taking the glass and dumping the contents into your mouth. You could barely taste the alcohol in them as you chewed, but you hadn’t been tasting alcohol since partway through your last drink. 

Nick stood up, brushing dirt off the back of his pants, and held out a hand to you. You did the same, stumbling only slightly as you climbed back through the window and landed in the bedroom. Nick followed, shutting the window behind the two of you. 

“Wanna dance?” he asked.  ________

The alcohol fully hit while you were on the dance floor. It was a difficult sensation to describe, but it had you feeling alive. Sweat-soaked bodies pressed up against you from all sides, and you writhed to the music freely in the knowledge that nobody was paying attention to you. You weren’t an individual anymore, but part of a whole. One drop in a sea of moving bodies. 

Hands gripped your hips. You glanced over your shoulder and found Nick’s face hovering near yours. 

“This okay?” he whispered into your ear. “Yeah.” 

His fingers dug lightly into your side, pressing you into him. Briefly, you registered that this was the most physical contact you’d had with a man. 

His chest rested against your back, and with his hands, he guided your hips to sway to the music, moving his body to match yours. 

“Have you danced like this before?” he asked, lips nearly brushing your ear. You shook your head no, nerves sparking to life underneath your skin and ricocheting around your system. Your stomach twisted in a knot, but you chose not to focus on that and instead keep your mind trained on the steady bass pounding through the speakers. You wanted more, so you leaned into him. He reciprocated by clutching harder at your hips. 

Half of you was present in your body, registering his fingertips, his body pressed tightly against yours, the sweat dripping down your sternum. The other half of you existed in a separate plane above the dance floor, somewhere between the heavy house music and the flashing neon lights. 

Nick grabbed your waist, spinning you around to face him and slotted a thigh between yours. He wrapped his arm around your lower back and pressed you tightly into him and this was now the closest you’d ever been to a man. 

Feeling for the first time like you had finally tapped into your own sexual energy, you allowed and welcomed it to course through you uninhibited, swiveling your hips on your own accord against him and surrendering entirely to your body and however it wanted to move in the moment. 

A thread connected you and Nick. You were on the same wavelength, and whatever energy guided you also guided him. You moved as one, rolling against each other to the music, your sweat mixing with his. 

You threw your head back, closing your eyes and inhaling the sensations of the party. 

You’d lost yourself like this before, but it had always been in a religious setting, losing yourself in what you perceived as the divine energy of God, during a particularly moving prayer or worship song. Often in a group setting. 

Now, you were losing yourself in what you could the divine energy of the collective. The book of Romans, chapter 12 verse 2 stated to not conform to this world, and that verse was pounded into your head over and over again by the church. 

But what if the book of Romans got it wrong? What if this world was Holy too, and it was necessary to fully experience it? Why reject God’s creation? Why not rejoice in it? 

A hand on the back of your neck brought you back to reality. 

“We’re just friends, right?” said Nick, eyes blown wide as he looked at you. “You don’t have any feelings for me?” 

“Yeah,” you said, trying to adjust to how close his face was. “Just friends. Why?” 

He nodded. “Good. Just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page for this.” 

And then his lips were on yours.  ________ Next chapter coming soon! Taglist: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @hoe-for-daddywise @concretejungle420 @sleep-worship @cncohshit @adenobabe @guacinyourarea @escapingourexistence @livingdeceasedgirl @chxrryxox @dem11 @starcrossedwasteland @alm0std3add @reyadawn @karenfranco @glam-cherry-bomb @simpingforniragi @koalakoala8 @themorticians-world @sleepytoken99 @magdalenaxbrenaxorestes. @fuck-me-muke @xmads-omensx @just-randomm-stuff @spookychaosstranger @gravitysembrace @somebodyels3 @klutzy-kay24 @sundamariis @noahsebastions @cyber-tiny @xxkittenkissesxx @treacheryinblue @flowerynerds @1toreyouapart @badomensls @rain-down-on-me @ilovemewwwww75 @poisongirl616 @adenobabe

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The Devil's Advocate - Chapter 10

Pairing: Delinquent!Noah Sebastian X Pastor's Daughter!Reader

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

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Underage drinking, partying, grinding, making out, mentions of roofies, vomiting, blackouts, minor violence.

Masterlist

Thanks to @throughwoodsanddirt for the beta

Thanks to @flowerynerds for the banner! A/N: Sorry about this, guys. I promise I'll do right by these characters. ________

Noah wasn’t going to go to the party. 

No really, he wasn’t going to go. Folio told him to stay home and not come out, and Noah understood that this was the cost of ghosting you. He had no right to keep tabs on you after that abandonment. 

And it wasn’t really that he wanted to keep tabs on you. He had only gone to Jolly’s because he wanted to work on some music in his studio. It honestly wasn’t even to attend the party at all. 

And the only reason he’d come inside was to grab a beer real quick before taking it back to the shed. It wasn’t his fault that he’d been accosted by Matt, who practically begged him to do shots. Plus, he’d scanned the room for any signs of you and Nick just to make sure he wouldn’t run into you. And it was really cold in his studio. So of course he came inside to warm up a bit. He was definitely gonna go back out to his studio.

Any minute now, he’d head back out. 

He took another sip from his beer as he watched you grind on Nick across the house. 

Hood pulled up, hair tucked underneath and sunglasses on so that he wouldn’t be easily recognized—at least if he was sitting down, he sat perched on the arm of the couch, arms crossed over his chest, nursing his beer as Matt told him about the girl he’d hooked up with earlier that week and he only half listened. 

So you had really come out with Folio. 

Didn’t take you very long to get over him, did it?

Noah caught himself in his bitterness and made an effort to let it go. This was his own damn fault, after all. 

Call it morbid curiosity. Call it masochism. Whatever it was, he knew it wasn’t doing him any favors. He shouldn’t be watching this, and by doing so, he was only torturing himself, but it was like witnessing a car crash—he couldn’t look away. 

Nick had his hands on your hips, pressing into the soft flesh of your ass. Noah could see your miniskirt riding up your thighs as you gyrated. He’d never seen you show that much skin. At least not in public. The only time he’d seen more was…

Well, he wasn’t going to think about that. 

Noah dug his nails into the heel of his hand, gritting his teeth together. He breathed in through his nose. Then out through his mouth. In through his nose. Out through his mouth. 

He was fine. He wasn’t going to be bothered by something like this. You deserved to have fun, and Folio was a great guy who would show you a good time without taking advantage of your inexperience. It was something Noah wanted for you. He’d even encouraged Nick to do this. 

At least to a degree. He didn’t expect him to take it so far. It’s not like his friend had been crushing on you for a while. Or perhaps he had, but had backed off after Noah’s feelings became clear. 

Still, Noah hadn’t expected him to really go all-in on the good time he was showing you, especially not after Noah had told him how he felt. 

Maybe he was punishing Noah for ghosting you? But then, that wouldn’t make sense because he didn’t even know Noah was watching. 

So maybe, he reasoned, thinking back to that self-help article he’d read on Psychology Today earlier that week, it didn’t have anything to do with him. 

Maybe you and Nick were just two people enjoying themselves, connecting with one another. 

And for some reason, that thought more than anything else, made his stomach clench unpleasantly. 

He gripped the bottle tighter, bringing it up to his mouth to try to mask the acidic taste that had started to coat his tongue. 

You spun around to face Nick, and from what he could see, Nick dragged a hand down over your sternum and your lips parted, eyes soft. You threw your head back, exposing your beautiful neck, and Noah watched as Nick dipped his head toward it, then seemed to think better of it and backed off. 

It didn’t take much brain power to see Nick’s motives. Really, he couldn’t blame Nick—he, too, wanted to suck on the delicate skin below your jaw, to lick a languid stripe from your collarbone to your earlobe. If he could capture it in his teeth and tug, if he could taste the salt on your skin, if he could feel the heat of your body as you writhed over him to the music and watch your chest rise and fall with exertion. He wanted to hold you down and have you grind on his thigh until you were shaking with overstimulation and–

Oh fuck, were you kissing?! 

You were. 

Nick’s lips glided over yours in a searing kiss. Noah narrowed his eyes, honing in on what was happening. You opened your mouth to him without any hesitation and his tongue darted in to taste you. You smiled into the kiss, hands fisting in Nick’s shirt to pull him in close, while Nick cupped the back of your head. One of his hands traveled lower, grabbing at the round flesh of your ass. 

Fire erupted inside Noah, burning and charring his insides as he watched the two of you in this profane display of lust. He was rooted to the spot, unable to move and thank God because if he could, he would have ripped you out of Nick’s clutches in a heartbeat. 

A firm hand clapped him on the shoulder and Noah tore his eyes away from the offensive scene, looking up to find Ruffilo standing above him. 

“Don’t do that to yourself,” he shouted above the music. 

His hand was steadying, enough that Noah was able to take a few deep breaths and calm down. 

“I need to talk to you. Outside,” he said, voice serious. Noah adjusted his hood to make sure any defining features were covered before standing up and following Ruffilo around the outskirts of the crowd. He kept a slight bend in his knee so that he didn’t stand a full head taller than everyone around him. 

Ruffilo led him to the back porch where Jolly and Bryan waited, arms crossed, and Noah briefly wondered if he was in trouble. 

“Someone found a girl passed out in the bathroom,” said Jolly. “Her friend said she’d only had one drink.” 

Noah blinked a few times, once again realizing that he wasn’t at the center of every conversation and that this was not about him. 

Although hearing Jolly’s words, he would have rather it been about him. 

This was bad. Very bad. 

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Noah said. 

Jolly nodded. 

Roofies were not a common problem for the kind of crowd they liked to keep at their parties. Most of the time, the drugs were contained to frat houses and bars, if they were present at all—but they had popped up once or twice, and each time, Jolly and the rest had taken the issue very seriously. 

“What do you need?” asked Noah. 

“I’m going to man the doors and vet everyone who leaves. If any girls look like they’re too drunk or incapacitated, they stay here until we find a way to get them home safely,” said Jolly.

“I’ll watch for any signs upstairs,” said Ruffilo. “I doubt it’s any of our regular guys. Probably someone who doesn’t come here often.” 

“That narrows it down,” said Jolly. “Keep an eye out for any girls who seem out of it. Ask questions. See if they can tell you who they were talking to. Ask their friends, too, and keep a close eye on anyone who isn’t our regular crowd.” 

Jolly wore a mean scowl as he spoke, his fists balled up tight. He took pride in creating a safe space for everyone to enjoy, and took it very personally when someone compromised the safety of that space. If Noah knew his friend as well as he thought he did, whoever was responsible for the incident would have to be carried out on a stretcher before the end of the night. 

“I’ll watch the first floor,” Noah volunteered. That way, he could keep an eye on you as well and make sure you were safe.  

“I’ll help,” offered Bryan. 

“Okay,” said Jolly, nodding. “We still need someone to cover the basement.” 

“I’ll tell Matt,” said Ruffilo. 

Jolly took a second to look each man in the eye. “Everyone at this party is getting home safe, except for the guy responsible. Got it?” 

“Got it,” said Noah, the same answer echoing around the back porch from the other men. And with that, each person went to their respective stake out locations. 

Once inside, Noah began scanning the crowd for unfamiliar faces and women who seemed out of sorts. 

There were a few new guys Noah didn’t recognize, and they all seemed to congregate in a group. These men definitely weren’t part of the normal crowd—he could tell by their button-downs they were probably more comfortable at a frat house. He marked them as potential suspects, but made sure not to focus only on them in case he missed something. 

There were a few women that looked drunk, but not to the point where they were incoherent or falling over themselves, which led Noah to believe that the perpetrator hadn’t struck again yet. 

He circled around the room, keeping close to the walls, eyes trained on the crowd. 

“Hey.” Someone clapped him on the shoulder and he turned to see an incredulous-looking Folio. “I thought you were staying home. What gives?” 

Noah sniffed, wrinkling his face in disgust for what was probably a very valid question.. It definitely wasn’t fair of Noah, but then again, Folio had kissed you. “That’s not important. We’ve got trouble.”

Nick’s brows furrowed. “What is it?”  

“Someone might be spiking drinks,” he said slowly, only half-focused because if Nick was here with him, then… 

“Where is….,” he trailed off. 

“She ran into some friends from her World History class,” said Nick. “They’re in the kitchen last I saw.” 

Noah’s heart fell to his stomach, throat tightening uncomfortably. 

“How could you leave her alone?!” he scolded, throwing Nick’s hand off his shoulder. “You were supposed to look after her!” 

Rather than wait for an answer, Noah began frantically searching the party, trying to catch sight of you. 

“She wanted to talk to her friend,” Nick defended, weaving his way through partygoers to catch up. “I didn’t know.” 

But Noah was already halfway across the room after spotting you leaning next to the counter. 

Noah knew he was being too hard on Nick. He’d apologize once he’d made sure you were okay and could calm down, but right now that wasn’t his priority. 

He almost caught up to you. But then he spotted the group you were talking with. Two men he didn’t recognize. He thought better of it and decided to hang back and observe.

You were laughing with the other men. It looked like there was another girl with you as well. Noah wrinkled his nose again. Something about the men had him raising his hackles. 

“Noah,” Nick called, having caught up to him. “I’m sorry, man. I really didn’t—,” 

“—We’ll talk about it later,” Noah cut him off. “Do you see those guys?” he said, nodding over to where you were chatting with the group. “There’s something off.” 

And indeed there was something off. Nick agreed. One of them—a younger guy in a blue baseball cap and a pink collared shirt shifted nervously. It could be because he was talking to a beautiful woman, but Noah continued to eye him suspiciously. . 

Noah and Nick took turns. One watched the four of you chatting, while the other scoured the room for any other potential suspects. 

Unfortunately, it didn’t take long to figure out why the men had Noah on-edge. 

“There!” Nick pointed. Noah turned just in time to see the man’s hand hover over the drink in your friend’s hand. 

For a brief moment, everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The girl brought her drunk up to her lips, and in less than five strides, Noah’s legs had carried him over, hand coming up to take the drink from her on its own accord. 

“Noah!” you said in surprise, but Noah didn’t acknowledge you. 

“You don’t mind if I have a sip of this, do you?” he said. 

The man in question squared his jaw, puffing his chest out, but Noah could smell coward all over him. 

“What the fuck, man?!” the stranger said, “That’s her drink.” 

“Is it?” said Noah, bringing the drink up to hover near his lips. 

Noah’s stare bored a hole into the perpetrator’s face. The guy was plain-looking, the kind you’d find six replicas of at any boat party. He had barely any distinguishing features, save for a soft jaw and a bulbous nose exaggerated by the sneer on his face. He looked rather punchable, in Noah’s opinion. 

“You don’t think this drink is compromised, do you?” Noah continued. 

The fucker at least had the intelligence to stay silent. That was the only thing going for him. 

By that point, the small group of people nearby had stopped whatever they were doing to watch the altercation. 

“Dean, what’s going on?” the girl asked. “What is this guy talking about?” 

“Yeah Dean, what’s going on?” Noah parroted, not taking his eyes off the despicable face in front of him. 

Dean narrowed his eyes. 

“Go on, tell her,” he goaded. His voice held all the vitriol he felt, words coming out laced with poison. He hoped each of them stung. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Dean. It was a pathetic defense, and one Noah was already prepared to counter. 

Noah pouted, face painted with false sympathy. “Are you saying you didn’t slip something into her drink just now?” 

“What?!” said Dean, and he had the nerve to look offended. He didn’t have the acting chops to pull it off though, and there was still an underlying panic in his eyes. “That’s ridiculous. I’d never do something like that.” 

“So drink it,” said Noah, shoving the cup right into the man’s sternum. It splashed over the rim, soaking the pink shirt in the sticky, blue liquid. Dean brought his hand up to catch the cup as Noah let go, scowling. 

“I’m not drinking someone else’s drink,” he said. 

“Why not?” asked Noah. 

“Because I’m not an asshole. I don’t steal other people’s drinks,” he said, growing more heated in his defense. 

It was the wrong thing to say to Noah. 

“Drink it,” Noah seethed, “or I’ll take it and force—,” 

“—Noah?” your soft voice cut through his anger and for a moment, everything stopped. 

He watched it happen in slow motion. You stumbled, nearly falling over onto the kitchen floor and Nick rushed to catch you. He managed to keep your head from hitting, but you sank hard to your knees. 

Noah looked from you to the man in front of him. All the noise from the party got out of the room as if in a vacuum, replaced with a high-pitched ringing. Red washed over his vision. 

A moment later, his fist connected with flesh. 

Then the sound came rushing back. Shouting erupted from all around him. From inside him. 

“You. Mother. Fucker,” he spat, punctuating each word with another blow to the man’s chin. He didn’t remember how they got into that position, but they were on the floor now, Noah straddling his chest with one fist clutching the collar of Dean's shirt, his other cracking repeatedly against his jawbone. Dean’s head snapped back with each blow, ricocheting off the floor with sickening thuds. 

Within seconds, people were on Noah, pulling him off. Noah fought hard, blinded by rage and the all-consuming need to see this man pay for his crimes. 

“Noah!” someone shouted, but he couldn’t tell who. “Noah, stop.” 

Hands gripped his arms, slowing him, but he still managed to get another two blows in before he was lifted off, but not before he dealt a hard knee to the guy’s groin. 

He fought against the arms of his captors, desperately trying to break free so he could have another go, but by that point, it was three against one and he was out of steam. 

“Relax, man. Relax. You got him. He’s down,” someone was saying. He finally recognized one of the voices as Jolly’s. He twisted around to see the faces of Ruffilo and Bryan holding him by the arms and waist to restrict his movements. 

“Let me go,” he commanded, still breathing heavily. The adrenaline coursed through his veins but had ebbed enough that he could feel the first throbs of pain in his hand. 

He looked over to the man, seeing nothing but a bloody pulp for a face. Either he had been knocked out or he was in shock because he wasn’t moving. 

“Noah, listen to me,” Jolly said, moving in front of him to block his vision. “You have to leave. We’re calling the cops. You can’t be here when they arrive.” 

Noah struggled once more against Ruffilo and Bryan, but it was useless. 

“You have a record,” Jolly continued. “You and Folio have to go. They can’t know you were involved.” 

Still breathing hard, he looked around. For what? He didn’t know. 

“Take Folio and get out of here. Go home. If anyone asks, you were asleep. We’ll vouch for you.” 

It took a few minutes for the reality of the situation to sink in. Noah already had a record. If he was caught at the scene, he could be charged with aggravated assault and end up doing time. His word against some frat guy, probably with a rich father who could afford a lawyer. 

Noah nodded. “I’m good. You can let me go.” 

Jolly stared hard into Noah’s eyes, undoubtedly looking for any sign of incoherence before nodding at Ruffilo and Bryan, who released him. 

He glanced over to Nick, who propped you up with his arms underneath yours. The two locked eyes for a moment, and then Noah sighed, slinging an arm around your waist. 

“Let’s get her home.” 

Together, they carried you out of the door and down the front steps. Inside, they could hear a commotion building. Jolly was surely informing guests that the police were being called, and that anyone underage needed to leave. They were probably also checking to make sure nobody else was in danger. 

“Do you know where her dorm is?” Noah asked Nick, struggling to keep you upright. Every few moments, you would come to. You’d mutter something incoherent, or pause to vomit along the sidewalk, and then go back into a catatonic state. 

“Rose Hall,” said Nick, and Noah tried not to let himself be bothered that Folio knew that detail before he did. 

“Where are her keys?” he asked, stopping to see if you had them clipped to you anywhere. None of your clothes had pockets to search. 

“I think she had a purse with her. She probably left it back at Jolly’s,” answered Nick. 

“Shit,” said Noah, chewing on his lip. “Does she have a roommate we could call?” 

“I think so, but she said her roommate went home for Christmas break already,” Nick answered, looking more and more guilty the farther they got from Jolly’s. Noah wondered if he was feeling guilty for letting you out of his sight.

“Noah, I’m really sorry,” he said, confirming Noah’s suspicions. “I never meant to put her in danger. I just didn’t want to hover all night in case she wanted some independence. I never even considered someone would be drugging people.” 

“Don’t apologize to me,” said Noah, shifting your weight on him so that your arm was over his shoulder and he could grip you by the waist. His voice came out colder than he wanted. “Tell her.” 

“I will,” said Nick. “As soon as she’s awake tomorrow, I’ll tell her.” 

The difference in height between Nick, Noah, and you made it all the more difficult to carry you, and the two of them struggled to get you down the street. 

“Let’s take her to our place,” said Noah. “She can have my bed.” 

Nick look like he wanted to protest, but thought better of it when you raised your head and vomited down the front of your shirt. Your feet dragged on the ground behind you as Nick and Noah trudged the few blocks it took to get back to their place. Noah prayed nobody would see them and think they were up to no good. 

Once they’d successfully gotten you inside, they took you to the bathroom to clean you up. Noah tenderly wiped your face and neck with a wet washcloth, careful not to rub too hard with the rough surface. 

Nick propped you up on his lap while Noah tilted your head backwards over the edge of the tub so he could run cups full of water over your hair and rinse out some of the vomit that had caught in the strands. 

You woke up again midway through, and they had just enough time to turn you back over so you could vomit once more into the bathtub. After a while, it was just dry heaving, and Noah surmised that the contents of your stomach had finally been emptied and you had nothing left to vomit up. 

“We gotta get her changed,” said Nick. 

Noah was aware. He’d been putting it off because he knew he’d have to remove your clothes, and the last thing he wanted was for you to be violated any more than you’d already been. 

“I’ll do it,” Noah volunteered. 

“Why you?” asked Nick. Apparently something about the idea triggered his discomfort. 

“Because I’ve…,” he began, “…seen her. Already.” 

Nick’s eyes went wide. “You,” he began, but then restarted. “She let you…and then you ghosted?” 

Noah exhaled heavily through his nostrils. If Nick wanted to have this talk, he wasn’t going to shy away from it. 

“Say what you have to say.” 

Nick’s jaw muscle twitched. “You treated her like shit,” he said. “You used her. I don’t like the idea of you seeing her like that.” 

Noah nodded. “I know. But if it comes between someone who’s already seen everything and someone who hasn’t, I feel like this is less of a violation.” 

“I don’t like it,” said Nick, shaking his head.  

Noah threw his hands out to his sides in frustration. “I don’t like it either, Nick. I don’t like any of this, but the girl needs to be taken care of, okay? She’s been through a lot. Both of us broke her trust,” Nick winced at that, “and the best we can do now is get her in bed, safely, without doing any more damage. I doubt she’d want someone else seeing her body, so this is the best solution I have.” 

Nick let out a forceful, frustrated sigh, crossing his arms and working his jaw. “Don’t look any more than you have to.” 

Noah scoffed. “What kind of person do you take me for?”  

Nick shrugged, but didn’t say anything, so Noah carried you off to his room and sat you down on the floor. 

He found the biggest, softest t-shirt of his that he could find and brought it over, crouching down at your side. 

Gently, he lifted the hem of your shirt, catching sight of the  band logo. He’d laugh if the situation weren’t so heavy. There was no way this was your shirt. He knew for a fact you’d never listen to a band like Norma Jean. 

Noah tried to avert his eyes as much as possible while he slipped the soiled shirt off your body and replaced it with the fresh one. He did catch a glance though, and was immediately brought back to that night the other week during the video chat, when you’d trusted him with your body, right before he broke that trust. He’d give anything to have had this second glimpse be under better circumstances. 

Next, he removed your skirt, which had also gotten vomit on it, and was grateful to find that you were wearing shorts underneath so he didn’t have to worry about covering you up. 

Then he got to work unlacing your boots and sliding them off your feet, and for a second, he was reminded of an old parable he’d heard before leaving the church. He couldn’t remember the details of the story, but it was something about a woman washing Jesus’s feet with her hair? Something like that. And then Jesus returned the favor by washing her feet. And it was a weird story, but the takeaway, or at least what he took away from it, was that there was a sort of holiness in humble servitude. 

He felt that now, as he picked your limp body up and tucked you neatly into his bed. He only wished there was more he could do.  ________

Nick knocked softly at his door, padding in before waiting for an answer. Noah was seated on the floor, slumped against the side of the bed. He must have dozed off. 

“Thought you could use this,” Nick said, placing an empty bucket beside the bed. “And this.” He set a tall glass of water and a bottle of acetaminophen on the nightstand before sitting on the floor opposite Noah. 

They sat in uncomfortable silence for several minutes before Nick finally broke it. 

“So,” he began. “You came to the party after all.” 

Noah knew this was coming. He didn’t have the skills to articulate a good answer though, so he just nodded. 

“After I specifically asked you to stay home.” 

Noah nodded again. 

“And you had agreed to stay home.” 

Noah nodded a third time. 

“Why?” he asked. 

Noah chewed on his lip, looking over to regard the softness of your sleeping form. You looked peaceful, despite the ordeal you’d just been through. 

“You know why,” he said, lowly. It wasn’t meant to sound aggressive. Just honest. 

Nick sighed, fixing Noah with a hard stare. He kept his voice low so as to not wake you. Not that you were in any danger of remembering anything that happened. 

“Did you see us?” Nick asked. His expression was guarded. Noah couldn’t get a read on him. 

“Yes,” he said, keeping his tone steady. He was angry, and he knew that, but he didn’t want it to come across to Nick. 

“And?” he said. 

“And what?” said Noah, failing to keep his tone level. “You’re both single. You may as well hook up.” 

“We didn’t hook up,” said Nick. “I was never going to sleep with her. I just wanted to show her a good time.” 

Noah rolled his eyes. “Sure.” 

“Noah, this was your idea. You told me to spend time with her. Said I’d be a good influence,” Nick said, exasperation for his friend creeping into his voice. “I don’t know what you want from me.” 

Noah sighed, leaning back and knocking his head gently against his nightstand. He stared up at the ceiling, as if it held the answers he was looking for.  “You didn’t have to kiss her.” 

Noah could practically hear the eye-roll from Nick. 

“If I didn’t, someone else would have,” he argued. “There’s no way to keep her sheltered while you figure out what it is you want. And even if there was, what would that make you? Just another man trying to control her.” 

Noah scoffed, hating what Nick was insinuating, but not having a solid argument against it. 

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to kiss her.” 

Nick scrubbed a palm over his face in frustration. “Look Noah,” he began. “I respected you when you started getting close to her. I kept my distance. I even stayed out of your way during community service so you could get to know her. But then you bailed, and she needed someone to lean on. She’s going through a lot with this church shit.” 

Noah’s stomach turned, guilt seeping into his bloodstream. He tried not to focus on it, chewing on the inside of his cheek while Nick continued. 

“This girl has been sheltered her entire life. She’s only just now starting to explore. I’ve seen girls like her get in over their heads way too quickly because they’ve been repressed for so long, and asshole swoops in to take advantage of it. Then they get their first taste of freedom and lose themselves like that,” Nick said, snapping his fingers for effect. 

“You’ve been that guy, though,” said Noah. “We both have.” 

Nick paused, deflating for a moment as he reflected. He closed his eyes. “I know. I’m not proud of it.” He looked back at Noah. “But I’m trying to do better. That kiss was not about me trying to exploit a weakness.” 

“Then what was it?” spat Noah, knowing Nick’s words made sense but still not wanting to believe them. He wanted to be angry with Nick. It was so much easier than the alternative, which was to consider the role he played in his own suffering. 

“She’s exploring her sexuality. I wanted to be a safe person for her to do that with.” 

“Jesus,” whined Noah, slumping back against the nightstand. “Do you have to come after me like that?” 

They both knew what Noah meant: you’d already tried exploring your sexuality with Noah, and they both saw how well he’d handled that. 

Noah refocused on the guilt that had been coursing through him, allowing it to slowly settle into a quiet humility. He really had been the asshole in the scenario without even meaning to be. Not just to you, but to Nick as well. 

“I feel like I owe you an apology,” he admitted. “I didn’t trust that you were taking care of her.” 

Nick raised a gentle palm. “No need. I didn’t give you many reasons to trust.” 

“Still,” Noah said. “I’m gonna try to keep my cool more.”  

The corner of Nick’s mouth lifted into a polite, yet disbelieving smirk. “If you say so,” he said., then refocused his attention on Noah’s face. 

“What do you want moving forward?” he asked. 

Noah shrugged. 

“I don’t know.”  

“Are you sure?” implored Nick. 

Noah looked back at his friend, his last remaining defenses crumbling under Nick’s steady gaze. “I don’t know what I want. From you. From her. From myself,” he said. “And you’re right. I asked you to show her a good time. I shouldn’t get mad at you for doing exactly that. I’m just…,” he trailed off. 

“Confused?” Nick offered. 

“Confused,” he affirmed, hanging his head and staring at his shoes. 

“It’s okay to have feelings for her,” Nick said hesitantly, as if he were trying to coax a feral cat from its hiding space without spooking it. 

Noah looked back up to find Nick eyeing him with sympathy, and his gut seized uncomfortably because it felt gross, like a slime coating his skin. He tried to breathe through the feeling instead of running from it, thinking back to a quote he read in one of the many self-help articles he’d been scouring over the past week. 

Let the light in. That’s how the light gets in. 

Noah was not good at letting the light in. He much preferred to keep himself in the dark. Every time someone offered to meet a need of his or show him love in a way that he didn’t anticipate or wasn’t prepared for, he rejected it. Either brushed it off with humor or outright ignored it. 

He walked through life with a chip on his shoulder, feeling sorry for himself because he’s never known love. Truth is, he could have known love. He’s had many opportunities to know love, but he constantly rejected it whenever it was offered, because anger and bitterness felt safer. More familiar.

He thought back to the times in his life where he’d wanted love. He pictured his nine-year-old self, crying alone in his room and wanting nothing more than to be comforted by parents who instead yelled at him for his emotional outbursts. 

What would have happened if that nine-year-old had just been hugged? Would the trajectory of his life have changed? Would he be more capable of holding a relationship? More receptive to love? 

He nearly choked. That was a can of worms he wasn’t sure he wanted to go near. Opening himself to love would mean opening himself up to processing that pain, and that scared him. 

He exhaled a deep breath, running his fingers over the fibers of the shaggy white carpet that covered the floor of his bedroom. 

Running from it, however, was holding him back. He knew it. His friends had noticed, and had long grown tired of that behavior pattern. He’d had opportunities to heal before and had refused, choosing instead to stay closed off, and he could tell his support system was running low on patience.

If he was ever going to grow into the man he wanted to be—the man you deserved, it started with choosing to let the light in, regardless of how uncomfortable it was. 

Nick’s sympathy turned Noah’s stomach sour. His over-inflated ego observed it as pity he neither needed, nor cared to indulge. His knee-jerk reaction was to object and disregard it, too proud to have needs. But as much discomfort as it caused, he begrudgingly allowed himself to receive what his friend was trying to offer. 

The light wouldn’t get in on its own. He had to choose to let it in, and that required effort. 

“I do have feelings for her,” he acknowledged. “I don’t know why that’s so hard for me to admit. And I don’t know why I’ve been acting this way.” 

Nick sighed, visibly relaxing now that Noah had accepted his offering, and Noah sighed as well. The icky, slimy feeling he’d registered at the first sign of Nick’s sympathy slowly started to melt into something warmer and more comforting. His nervous system finally started to pull back from the edge it had been operating on for who knows how long. 

“That’s okay,” Nick said, cracking a grin. “Feelings are hard to navigate. They cause people to act like idiots sometimes.” 

“No kidding,” Noah agreed, mirroring Nick’s smile. 

It felt good and humbling to finally admit. Noah could use a bit of humbling. Over the years, his biggest defense mechanism had become his pride. It had grown out of control, looking down on people who asked to get their needs met—dismissing them as weak and pitiful for not being able to make it on their own the way Noah had. 

He shook his head, chuckling bitterly to himself. 

“What are you laughing at?” whispered Nick. The hour had grown late and Noah was tired, but he was enjoying Nick’s company. 

“I’ve been such an idiot,” he said, looking back up at Nick. “How have you been able to live with me all this time?” 

Nick shrugged, grinning at his friend. “It’s not easy. But you’re not all bad. You just need some sense knocked into ya’.” 

“You guys are way more patient than I’ve given you credit for,” he said, feeling gratitude for his friends.

Nick snorted, quickly covering his mouth and nose to not wake you up. “I could get used to this Noah,” he said. “It’s a nice change.” 

“Don’t get too excited,” said Noah. “I’m still an asshole at heart.” 

Nick chuckled, standing to wipe off his pants and grabbing the pile of your vomit-ridden clothes. “It stinks in here. I’m gonna throw these in the wash and then head to bed. You got this?” he asked. 

Noah nodded. “I can take it from here.” 

Nick fixed him with one last serious look. “Be good to her. She’s one of the better ones, and for some fuckin’ reason, she seems to like you.” 

Noah laughed softly. “Turn the light off when you leave.” 

Nick did, and Noah sat in the dark, mulling over the events that had taken place that night. He’d have to have a very difficult conversation with you when you woke up, and he was not looking forward to that. 

What he was looking forward to, however, was an opportunity to repair some of the damage he’d done. 

Hopefully you’d let him.  ___________ All rights reserved to @doomhands-jr, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate. A/N: I'm so sorry! I will give MC the ending she deserves, don't worry! She'll have her day in the sun. She's just gotta get through some stuff first.

Next chapter is almost finished. Will be up soon.

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The Devil's Advocate - Chapter 11

Pairing: Delinquent!Noah Sebastian X Pastor's Daughter!Reader

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

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Not much. This is a dialogue and processing chapter, though there is a scene of religious anxiety. ALSO THIS IS UN-BETAD TRASH. If you find any corrections I should to make, please DM them to me.

Masterlist

Thanks to @flowerynerds for the banner!

____

You had no semblance of how much time had passed from when you first stirred to when you finally opened your eyes. It could have been ten minutes, or it could have been three hours. Waking up took the level of effort one would expect from a task like climbing out of quicksand—every pause had you sinking further back into a pit of unconsciousness. 

The first thing you noticed was the pounding in your head. That was all you registered the first three times you attempted to wake. The fourth time, you registered a vile taste in your mouth. Cold metal, mixed with stale liquor, mixed with mold, mixed with acid. 

You fell asleep again for a while longer after that. When you stirred again, you could tell you weren’t in your room, judging by the smell and the feel of the mattress. The bed was firmer than yours. It smelled familiar, but your head was so cloudy that you couldn’t place where you knew it from. 

Then you were under again, pulled into yet another dreamless sleep. At some point, you opened your eyes to see blurry light peeking out from an unfamiliar window, and that’s all you had time to register before slipping away again. 

The next time you woke, it took. Lids filled with lead, you kept them closed for several minutes, but your fingers twitched against the polyester comforter covering you and you breathed deep, recognizing the smell a little more, but still having trouble placing it, visions of cinnamon lattes and rain drifting across your closed lids. 

You wiggled your toes, the sleep paralysis finally beginning to release its hold over you inch by inch. After a few more minutes, you opened your eyes. It took some more time before the blurriness in your vision began to clear enough for you to study your surroundings. 

The room was familiar—you’d seen it once before. Perhaps in a dream. Or in a photo. It was as if bits of cotton and fluff had been stuffed into the crevices of your brain and it was a struggle for you to think past them. 

There was an element of danger to waking up in a strange room. You recognized that, but there was no emotion tied to the thought. No panic. No adrenaline: your nervous system was still asleep. 

Realization crashed into you like a wave when you looked over to the edge of the bed and saw a familiar tattooed hand peeking out from a black sleeve. A head of brown hair rested on the arm and suddenly you knew where you recognized the room from—it was in the background of the video chat you’d had with Noah. 

As if the realization had taken all your remaining brain power, you let your head fall back onto the pillow and closed your eyes again, feeling your head throb with every heartbeat. 

This was Noah’s room. You were in Noah’s room. 

How did you get here? 

You were at a party last night. That much you remember. You’d had a few drinks. Maybe you’d gotten drunker than you realized and that was why you couldn’t remember anything. 

Nick had said he wouldn’t let you get drunk. 

That’s right. You were with Nick. 

Your eyes flew open. You had kissed Nick. The two of you had been dancing. And then you were making out. The memories came to you in flashes, as if you were flipping through a photo album. 

So how did you get in Noah’s room? 

You lifted your head as much as you could to get a better look. 

Noah sat on the floor, back against a dresser. He was slumped over to the side, resting his arm on the mattress, forehead on forearm while his hair spilled over like a curtain, hiding the side of his face. 

Mustering all the strength you could, you pressed your palms into the mattress and pushed yourself into a half-sitting position against the headboard. 

The movement must have startled Noah because he awoke the opposite of you: with a sharp inhale, his head snapping up, eyes scanning the room until they landed on you. 

“Angel.” The word fell softly from his lips, and there was relief coded into it. He sat up, shifting to face you. The arm that had been on the bed drifted closer, reaching toward you before he thought better of it and pulled it back. 

Your mouth fell open, but no sound came out. At least not at first. It was a few tense seconds of eye contact before you spoke. 

“Noah…” Your throat cracked painfully when you spoke, and you realized how dry your mouth was. 

“Shh,” he soothed, reaching up for a glass of water that sat on the nightstand and offering it to you. “Here.” 

You took it gratefully, noticing how cold and unfamiliar the tips of his fingers were when your brushed them.

You sipped, the water soothing your throat and lubricating your vocal folds. “Why am I here?” you asked. “What happened?” 

Noah watched you with caution, face falling.

Something was off—he was reluctant he was to answer your question. The look he gave you made you squirm uncomfortably. 

“Tell me,” you said. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head to break whatever thought he was trapped in. “Um,” he began, taking a deep, steadying breath.

Your stomach sank. 

“First of all, you’re safe. Nothing happened. Nick and I made sure you were taken care of.” 

“You…what?” His words were concerning. Why did he have to make a point that you were safe? Had there been a time when you weren’t?  

“Also, we caught the guy. He’s in police custody.” 

Your heart began to race. “What guy?” you asked, breath growing tense and rapid. “Noah, what happened?”

Noah bit his lip, eyebrows pulling together in a mix of emotions you couldn’t decipher. “Someone was slipping stuff into girls’ drinks last night. We caught him before anything happened, but you were drugged.” 

It all came out too fast before you could make any sense of it. 

“And you were in pretty rough shape last night.” 

The words hung in the air, unabsorbed as you blinked stupidly at him. You’d heard them, but there was something preventing you from processing them. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, kneeling beside the bed so he could see your reaction. He reached out again, this time to grab your hand and you pulled it away out of instinct, body on autopilot. He flinched away, looking hurt for half a second before training his features into something calmer. 

“Give me a second,” you said. He nodded. 

Your stomach churned uncomfortably, and you slumped forward, feeling the saliva and bile seep into your mouth. You gagged. 

Noah jumped into action, grabbing an empty bucket from beside the bed and tucking it under your chin. You gagged a few more times but nothing came up, so you sat back against the headboard, wiping at your irritated eyes. 

You waited, allowing your stomach to settle again before entertaining any thoughts. 

You’d been drugged. 

It was too big of a thought to process all at once. Your mind didn’t have enough elasticity to wrap itself around something like that—you had to start smaller. 

“How did I get here?” 

“Right,” said Noah. “Nick and I brought you back here.” 

“Why didn’t you bring me to my dorm?” you asked. The questions were coming rapid fire now. 

“We couldn’t find your keys,” Noah answered, not missing a beat. He seemed eager to explain. You were grateful that he also seemed to recognize your need to digest the information in bits and pieces. 

“They should be in my purse. Where is it?” you asked. 

Noah shrugged. 

It hit you how strange it was seeing his face again. There was a part of you that acknowledged how much you’d missed him. Another part recognized how angry you still were at him, but all of that was overshadowed by the information you were learning. 

“I didn’t see it,” he said. “It’s probably back at Jolly’s. We can go get it if you want.” 

“In a bit,” you said, leaning back against the pillows and taking a sip of water. The thought of getting out of bed and doing anything right now caused your anxiety to spike once more. You had to calm down. You could feel yourself getting worked up and knew that eventually, your emotions would surface and spill over, but you had questions you needed answered first. 

“How did I get here?” you asked again, this time gesturing the bed. “Last I knew, I was with Nick.” 

Noah looked entirely uncomfortable once again, but he willfully pushed past his discomfort to answer you. 

“Well, uh,” he said, his voice low and soft, as if not to startle you. “You started vomiting. It got all over your clothes, so one of us had to remove them. I volunteered since…,” he trailed off. 

“…since what?” you asked, not understanding what he was getting at. Thinking was still difficult. It was like your brain was trudging through mud to form thoughts. 

“Since I’d already seen you.” 

When his answer finally registered, you exhaled a deep, regretful breath. It was a truth you didn’t want to remember or acknowledge. At the time you’d been excited, but now you were ashamed and embarrassed that you’d been so easy. 

That was another conversation you needed to have with Noah. But not right at that moment. 

“Angel, I’m so sorry I didn’t—,” 

“—I don’t want to talk about it.” The words were out of your mouth before you’d even processed them, body once again going on autopilot. Noah’s face fell. “I’m sorry,” you followed up, softening. “We can talk about it later. Just not right now.” 

He nodded. “I understand.”

“Where are my clothes?” you asked. 

“Nick put them in the washer last night,” he said, standing up. “I can go check on them.” 

Perhaps he was eager to escape the discomfort that had settled between the two of you in the wake of all the events that had taken place, or perhaps he just wanted to do something for you. Either way, Noah got up and padded across the room, pausing at the door to make sure you were okay. 

When you nodded, he slipped through the door, leaving you alone to process your thoughts. 

As soon as he was gone, you felt like you could breathe again. You inhaled deeply, now free to think and feel without being observed by anyone, which was initially what you thought you wanted. 

But without him as an anchor, intrusive thoughts crept in. 

God’s punishing you. 

It came as a whisper in the back of your mind, and at first you brushed it off—a stray remnant thought leftover from all the time you were steeped in church culture. 

But then it got louder. 

You brought this on yourself, you know. This is what’s waiting for you when you stray from the path of righteousness. 

You squeezed your eyes shut. The thoughts were familiar. Ever since childhood, you’d had this voice in your head, but you knew what it was. It was the voice that arose any time you did something that someone else said was wrong, or anytime something bad happened. It was the one that said God was punishing you for some sin you’d committed. 

You could tune the voice out now, though. You knew it was just anxiety. 

It’s not anxiety. It’s a warning. 

You swallowed, excess saliva having pooled on either side of your tongue. It wasn’t a warning. Your brain was lying to you.  

You’re going to Hell if you keep acting like this. 

You clenched your jaw. It was a lie. 

It’s not a lie. 

It’s a lie. 

Your hands shook, and you struggled to catch your breath. Tears began leaking out. You hated feeling like this. This was the same feeling you used to get after every mistake. Any time you drifted from the narrow path laid out by the church. 

Atone for your sins. Go back to church. 

The shaking in your hands had progressed up your arms until it reached your chest, causing your breath to hitch, and you knew you were about to start crying. Not because you believed the voice, but because you couldn’t get it to leave you alone. 

You’re going to Hell. If you don’t go back to church and believe in what they tell you, you’re going to Hell. You’ll burn for your sins. 

You rocked back and forth, clutching onto yourself as you spiraled. Visions of you burning in a lake of fire flashed before your eyes. Your skin prickled all over and you struggled to breathe.  

You didn’t register the door opening from across the room. 

“Your clothes need more time to dry…oh shit!” 

You heard Noah bound across the room and before you knew it, his arms were around you and your head was buried into his chest. 

“Shhhh, it’s okay,” he said, stroking your back as he rocked you back and forth. “I’ve got you.” 

The deep pressure was just enough to tether you to Noah. Solid, sturdy Noah who slowly pulled you back to the present. And though, at that moment, you wished it was anyone other than him holding you, you were still grateful. 

“What happened?” he asked, once your breathing had slowed. 

You shook your head, not even wanting to voice your thoughts, as if saying them aloud would make them more real. If he could just hold you for a while, that would be enough. 

“Okay,” he said, clutching you tighter. “Okay, we don’t have to talk.” 

You focused on your breathing, in for four counts. Hold for four. Out for four. Hold for four. Repeat. You latched on to the scent of spiced oil—the scent you remembered fondly. You breathed it in deeply, allowing it to fill your nostrils and keep you grounded. 

Your heart rate slowed. You pressed your forehead into the soft black cotton of the hoodie Noah wore, sliding your cheek over the fibers. You blinked back tears, eyes landing on a small hole near the pocket of the basketball shorts Noah wore. 

Touch. Smell. Sight.

At least three out of your five senses were activated, and it was enough to pull you securely back to the present. The thoughts no longer consumed you, but they still lingered in your psyche and you were unable to fully relax. 

With great effort, you cleared your throat. 

“I’m going to say something,” you said. “I need you to tell me if it’s true.”  

Noah squeezed your shoulder in affirmation. “Okay.” 

“I am not being punished for leaving the church.” 

Though you had been afraid that voicing your concerns would make them real, speaking them aloud had the opposite effect—your fears reduced in size as soon as the words were out.  

“Jesus,” Noah remarked in disbelief, “Is that what you thought?” 

“True or false?” 

“No, you’re not being punished for leaving the church,” he said with a sigh. “Where is this coming from?” 

Noah pulled away to look at you and you struggled to meet his eyes, focusing still on the small rip in his shorts instead. 

“It’s something I heard a lot growing up,” you confessed. “If I turned away from God, I’d find nothing but pain and misery.” 

You chanced a glance back up at Noah. He worried at his bottom lip, eyes focused on something on the ceiling and brows pulled together. His fingers tightened where they gripped your shoulder. 

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” said Noah, shaking his head. He situated himself against the wall so that he could sit comfortably next to you. You were touching at the knees and shoulders, and you wondered if he noticed as much as you did. Despite the anger and hurt you still had with him, you couldn’t help but lean into him a little. 

“It’s not you. It just bothers me how much they try to control people. And they don’t care about the way it fucks them up.” 

 His words hit harsh and you flinched. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, looking over to you. His face was intimidatingly close. You tried to look up at him, but the eye contact was too intimate, so you wound up staring somewhere between the bottom of his nose and his upper lip. “I don’t think you’re fucked up. I just hate that you have to worry about this. You’ve been through enough.” 

“Thank you,” you said, and in the silence that followed, your thoughts began to settle. The knowledge that you’d been drugged was no longer too big for you to process. You were reaching a state of acceptance. 

“I don’t think you turned away from God, by the way,” said Noah. You looked up to see him quietly regarding you. This time the eye contact was tolerable. 

“What?” you asked. 

“You said that the church told you that if you turned away from God, you’d find nothing but pain. I don’t think you turned away from God. Maybe you turned away from the church, but not God.” 

You twisted his words around in your head, examining them as they worked to combat some of the negative thoughts in your head. 

“I thought you didn’t believe in God?” you asked. 

It was Noah’s turn to look away. He sniffed once and tucked some hair behind his ear.

“Yeah, well…,” he trailed off, bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. 

You let him avoid your question for the time being, but you couldn’t help the corner of your mouth from quirking up, feeling as though you’d caught him in a moment of vulnerability he never meant for you to see. 

“I should go,” you said, hoisting yourself up off the bed and stretching. “I need to get my purse.” 

“I can walk you,” Noah offered, mirroring your actions. “I’d feel better not leaving you alone.” 

You weren’t planning on company. In fact, you could probably use some alone time to gather your thoughts, but being on better terms with Noah felt really good, and you wanted to enjoy it for a little longer before you got to work processing everything else that had happened, so you agreed. 

Noah smiled, and you were greeted with his too-big front teeth. The sight of it ripped off the scab that had grown over the wound he’d left on your heart, leaving just enough space for him to crawl his way back in. 

Uh oh.  _____

That feeling stayed with you for the rest of the day, and you wished it wouldn’t. It was much easier when you’d written him off as a player and could focus on your self-discovery without thinking about him. Now that he’d weaseled his way back into your life, you were more confused than ever. 

Rather than try to sort out exactly how you felt, however, you decided to distract yourself with Ava. As soon as you got back to your room and charged your phone, you were hit with several alarmed texts from her. 

Ava: 3:08 AM: OMG Nick just told me what happened!!!! Are you okay?!?!?! 

Ava: 3:22 AM: Text me as soon as you get this! 

Ava: 10:55 AM: Girl! Where are you?!?! 

Rather than text her back, you pressed the call button. When she answered, she sounded frenzied.

“Oh my God, where have you been?!” Her voice through the phone speaker came out tinny and shrill and you had to flinch away from the phone, head still pounding from the after-effects of the drug. As if she sensed she’d had a bad start, she immediately lowered her voice. “Sorry, I don’t mean to yell. Are you okay?” 

“I’m okay,” you said softly. “My head hurts, but I’m fine. I could use some company though. Are you busy?” 

“What do you need?” she asked. “Are you at your dorm? Want me to bring food?” 

“Just company,” you said, sighing back into your mattress. “That’s it.” 

“I’m already on my way.” 

_____

Ava arrived fifteen minutes later with a massive duffel bag. Once she greeted you with a hug, she got to work pulling out various comfort items she’d brought with her. 

Within thirty seconds, your desk was covered in an array of face masks, bottles of coconut water, electrolyte drinks, painkillers, and several snacks, both salty and sweet. 

“I also brought this in case you felt like doing a hair-of-the-dog,” she said, pulling a bottle of champagne out from the bottom of the duffel. 

It was a lot. You probably could have anticipated that she’d go to such lengths to make you feel better, but her energy was too intense for you to digest. 

“Thanks,” you said, scanning the contents of the table and grabbing a bottle of coconut water. 

As abrasive as her energy was, she was right. As soon as you took the first few sips of coconut water, you started to feel better. 

Ava, to her credit, quickly picked up on the fact that you weren’t responding favorably to her energy and stayed quiet after that, allowing you to take in everything for a few moments.  “How are you?” she said after you’d taken your first few sips. This time, her voice was soft and tender. 

“I’m okay,” you assured. “A little roughed up, but I think I’ll be fine.” You wanted to tell her that Noah helped talk you through it, but thought better of it. She might latch onto that detail and make it into a bigger deal than it was, and honestly you didn’t feel like answering questions regarding whatever was going on between you and Noah. 

“Want to talk about it?” she asked, helping herself to a seat on your bed. 

Sitting beside her, you offered a noncommittal shrug. “What all did Nick tell you?” 

“Not much,” she said, taking the bottle of champagne off your nightstand and twisting the cork out with a satisfying pop. She took a careful sip of it before offering it to you. 

“No thanks,” you said, holding up a palm. 

“He just told me that there’d been an incident, and you’d been slipped something. That he and Noah were taking care of you and that Noah beat the guy up.” 

Your eyes snapped up to meet hers. “Noah beat him up?” you asked. This was news to you. 

She blinked, tilting her head at you. “Yeah,” she said, eyebrows furrowed. “Did you talk to him at all?” 

You knew you wouldn’t be able to avoid this conversation forever, but you had hoped you could hold out a little longer. That was the problem with being known as well as Ava knew you—you couldn’t hide from her for long. 

“We talked,” you said. “He didn’t mention anything like that.” 

“What did you talk about?” she asked, regarding you with careful and practiced neutrality. 

Ava had an opinion she wasn’t sharing and you knew it. She was putting you on the spot to see if her opinion was correct. 

“He just helped me process everything,” you said, training your voice to match the neutrality of her face. 

She took another sip of champagne, savored it in her mouth for a moment and then swallowed. “Anything else?” 

“No.” 

“Ah,” she said, nodding.

“Out with it,” you said, growing impatient. Better to just rip the band-aid off. 

“Do you know what you want with Noah?” she asked, words coming out rushed, as if pressure had been building up behind them. 

“No,” you said firmly. “And I’d rather not torture myself trying to figure it out.” 

Her eyes held the same concern that Noah’s had that morning, as if you were a fragile, delicate flower in danger of being crushed. 

“You know I’m here to talk about it if you need,” she said. You could tell it was coming from a place of concern, but if you knew Ava as well as she knew you, it was also coming from a place of curiosity, and wanting to ease the tension of not knowing what was going to happen. 

“I understand your concern,” you said. “You don’t want me to get hurt again.” 

“I don’t,” she said, wrapping her arms around you, and the gesture contained an unspoken apology for pressing a matter you clearly didn’t want to discuss. 

She was sweet though, and you knew it came from a good place, so you relented. 

“He tried to bring up what happened, but I said I didn’t want to discuss it at the time.” 

She gave you a firm squeeze, causing the champagne to slosh against the side of the bottle. “Do you think you will in the future?” 

“Yeah,” you said. “Probably sooner rather than later. Just not right now. I’m too tired,” you said, punctuating it with a yawn. 

“I bet,” she said. 

“Can we talk about something easier?” you asked, slumping against the headboard. “How was your time with Hera?” 

“We, uh…,” she trailed off, bashful smile playing on her lips.  Your jaw fell open. “Did you…?” 

The smile grew into her full, toothy grin and a flush crept over her cheeks. 

“Shut up! How was it?” you asked, grateful for the change in subject. 

“It was amazing,” she said, stars in her eyes as she stared dreamily off into a corner of the room. She sighed, likely still picturing it, before launching into a detailed explanation of how her night had consisted of a slow flirtation that had quickly grown into a banter and culminated in Hera kissing her once they’d gotten back to her dorm, which then led to Ava spending the night and ‘losing her lesbian virginity’ as she’d put it.  

You smiled, relaxing into the pillows of your bed and observing her as she spoke animatedly about her evening, lighting up from within, and you couldn’t remember ever seeing her this happy. You hadn’t spent much time with Hera, but if she made Ava this happy, she was someone you wanted to get to know more. 

“So who’s better in bed,” you asked after she was done. “Nick or Hera?” 

“Hera, for sure,” she said. “But Nick could give her a run for her money. The man knows what he’s doing.” 

“Oh my God,” you said, sitting up. “I forgot to tell you. Nick and I made out!” 

“What?!” she squealed, half-spilling the bag of sour cream and cheddar chips that the two of you had been sharing. “Why didn’t you mention it earlier?!” 

“I kind of forgot,” you admitted. “A lot happened, but yeah.” 

“Who moved first?” she asked, picking up the chips she’d spilled and popping them into her mouth one by one. 

“He did. We were dancing and then he pulled me in and kissed me,” you confessed, “I wasn’t expecting it at all.”  You plucked the half-drunk bottle of champagne off the nightstand next to you and took a careful swig. Your headache had finally subsided, but you were still feeling some leftover brain fog. 

“How was it?” she asked, tearing off the foil edge of a face mask pack and sliding the mask out. 

You shrugged, grabbing a mask for yourself while she smoothed hers onto her cheeks. “It was fun, I guess. The whole night was sort of a blur by that point.” 

“Did you talk to him at all after? What did he say?” she asked. She poured some of the leftover serum from the packet out into her palms and began smoothing it over her chest and arms. 

“I didn’t, actually. He was still asleep when I left. Oh wait!,” you said, fetching your phone from where it was still connected to the charger. “I think I have a text from him.” 

“What does it say?!” 

You tapped on it a few times—the residue from your mask smearing over the screen and making it difficult to open. “He’s asking if he can come over…or well, he was asking. That was a couple of hours ago.”

“What are you going to say?” she asked. 

“I’m having fun just us,” you said, fingers already busy texting a reply. “But I’m inviting him over tomorrow after my Lit final.” 

“I should probably study for those, by the way,” she said, but she made no move to get up. 

You raised an eyebrow, feeling the sheet mask crinkle with the movement. 

“I’ll be fine,” she said, waving your concerns away. “I only have one actual final. The rest are projects I’ve already finished.” 

You also felt confident that you knew the material enough that you could pass without too much studying. Besides, a good night’s sleep was probably going to help you pass more than pouring over your textbooks would. 

“How do you feel about what happened last night before everything went down?” Ava asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Did you have a fun time with Nick?” 

“I did,” you said. There was something you needed to admit to yourself, however, and probably to Ava as well. 

“Can you tell me more?” she pressed. 

You took a large sip of champagne to stall while you worked up the nerve. Too big, in fact: the carbonation compressed the neck of the bottle, causing bubbles to shoot up your nose and out of your mouth, coating your face in the sticky beverage. 

Ava couldn’t help but laugh at your clumsiness and you followed suit. After using the corner of your duvet to wipe your face, you discarded the soiled face mask into the trash and sighed, struggling to meet Ava’s eyes because you knew what you were about to confess. 

“Truth is,” you said, “part of me was hoping I’d lose my virginity last night.” 

Ava’s mouth fell open, shock etched across her face. “What?! With Nick? I thought you didn’t want to.” 

You hid your face in your palms, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “I didn’t,” you said. “But then…,” 

“Say no more,” she said. “I get it. He’s very disarming. It didn’t take long for me to hop on that train either.” 

You relaxed, glad Ava understood what you meant. “Yes! Exactly, and it doesn’t even feel like a trick. I think he’s genuine about it.” 

“He is,” she said, nodding. “He took care of me the whole time. Now I’m bummed you didn’t get to.” 

You sighed. “It’s probably for the best,” you said. 

“Why’s that?” Ava asked, peeling her own mask off and tossing it into the trash. 

“I don’t know,” you said. “I just get the feeling it wouldn’t have solved my problem.” 

“What problem, specifically?” she asked. It was a good question, but one you didn’t know the exact answer to. It lingered in the back of your head—a sort of quiet discontent and sense of unease. You knew it was related to the church, and had something to do with your sexuality, but couldn’t quite articulate what it was.

_____

“Hey,” said Nick as soon as you opened the door. You stepped aside to allow him more room. “Hard to believe it’s only been two days since I was in here last.” 

He was referring to the décor, which you’d purchased that morning and had spent the last two hours hanging up. It wasn’t anything fancy—just a few items you found at a bargain store a few blocks from campus, but it made your room a little warmer than the barren wasteland it had been after you’d torn down all of your church-related posters. 

“Thanks,” you said, stepping further into the room. “How are you?” 

Nick spun around to face you, tilting his head to the side. “I’m good, thanks for asking. I’m more concerned about how you are though.” 

You took a deep breath—something you’d been doing a lot of lately, and softened. “I’m okay,” you said. “Yesterday was kind of rough, but I’ve done a lot of processing and I think I’ll be fine.” 

Nick searched your face for any sign of dishonesty and after finding none, he visibly relaxed, lips pulling up into a soft smile. “That’s good,” he said. “I’ve been kicking myself for the last two days for allowing you to get into a situation like that. I feel like I failed you.” 

Your eyebrows pulled together. “Nick, you didn’t fail me,” you said, moving across the room to sit cross-legged on your bed. Following your lead, Nick pulled the chair out from your desk and spun it to face you, sitting comfortably. “I don’t think it’s reasonable to expect you to predict every possible scenario and prevent it from happening. You did your best.” 

His lower lip jutted out from his face in a pout. “I still wish I could have stopped it.” 

“I know,” you said. “Me too. But these things happen. It sucks that they do, but you did a good job. As soon as you noticed something, you stepped in.” 

“Noah stepped in,” he corrected. 

You scowled, not about the fact that Noah was there, but because he wasn’t giving himself enough credit. “Are you going to make me comfort you all evening? Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” 

He breathed out half a snort. “I like when you check me.”

“I know,” you said, picking at the pilling on your flannel pajama bottoms, “considering I’m always having to do it.” 

You looked up to find him unguarded, looking back at you with genuine fondness and the two of you shared a moment of warm sincerity. You really did like Nick, which made the conversation you were about to have with him all the more irksome. 

You sucked in air through your teeth. “Nick…,” you started. 

“Hold on,” he said, raising a palm to interject. “I have a feeling I know what you’re going to say, and I want to say something first.” 

You nodded, gesturing for him to go on. 

“I’m not going to apologize for kissing you, because I really did want to. And I enjoyed it.” 

Your face twisted into a look of surprise, not expecting the turn in conversation. 

“But,” he continued, “it probably didn’t make things easier for you with Noah the next morning, and for that, I am sorry. I hope it wasn’t too awkward.” 

“We didn’t even talk about it,” you said. “Does Noah know we kissed?” Your stomach folded in on itself, chest seizing up at the idea. You had to manually relax your muscles, reminding yourself that you’d done nothing wrong. 

Nick looked uncomfortable, eyes scanning over your bedspread rather than meeting your face and he drummed his fingers nervously on his knee. “Yeah,” he admitted. 

You steadied your breathing, eyes flicking up to the ceiling in search of some sort of answer for how you should proceed. “What did he say?” 

“He wasn’t exactly happy,” said Nick, smoothing his hands over his jeans. “We talked about it though, and I think he’s good. If he didn’t bring it up to you yesterday morning, he probably isn’t going to.” 

“Okay,” you said, nodding to yourself. “Okay, I can work with that.” 

“Have to talked to him since?” he asked. His eyebrows disappeared under the rim of his black beanie and you could see on his face just how much he cared for you and Noah, and how much it ate at him to think he’d caused problems. 

“No,” you said, not enjoying how the answer felt coming out. “I know I should, but I’ve been taking some space. Wanting to sort some things out in my head.” 

“I can respect that,” said Nick. 

He waited for a few minutes, quietly regarding you as you checked in with yourself to see how you were feeling about the situation. 

You knew you needed to talk to Noah. Over the last twenty four hours, you’d opened up the text thread that you had with him, typed out a few words, sighed, and closed it again without sending anything on several different occasions. Nothing felt right. 

“How’s he doing?” you asked. 

“He’s fine,” Nick said, but the slight shift in energy on his end led you to believe that it was more complicated than that. 

“Are you guys okay?” you asked. 

“Yeah,” he said. “We talked about it. I explained everything and he said he understood. He’s not mad at either of us. He knows he fucked up and has no right to be upset.” 

“I think he’s allowed to be upset, just not with us.” 

“Right,” Nick said, nodding. “He’s frustrated by the situation, but he doesn’t have any resentment.” 

You let out a long, slow breath. “That’s good,” you said. 

A few beats passed, both of you knowing what needed to be discussed next, but neither wanting to bring it up. 

When the tension grew too thick, you finally spoke up. “So about the kiss,” you said. 

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he said, words coming out rushed. 

You nodded. “I didn’t think you did, but I wanted to make sure.” 

Nick stood up, walking over to your bed and with a twitch of his eyebrows, wordlessly asking for permission to sit next to you. You nodded. He sat facing you, tucking his legs underneath him. “I really liked kissing you,” he said. 

You flushed, not used to someone being so direct. 

“But Noah is one of my best friends. And you’re quickly becoming someone important to me as well,” he continued, placing a gentle hand on your knee for emphasis. “I don’t want to fuck with either of your happiness. As much as I hate it, we probably can’t do that again.” 

You chuckled, placing your hand over his and squeezing it. “I know,” you said. “It’s probably for the best.” 

“Can I ask you something though?” he said, leaning towards you in earnest. 

“Sure.” 

“In an alternate universe where you’d never met Noah and hadn’t been brought up in the church,” he began and you smiled, already guessing where this was going, “what do you think would have happened.” 

You bit your bottom lip, debating on whether or not to be honest with him, but your smile betrayed you. “I think you know.” 

He beamed at you, glee radiating off of him. “That’s all I needed to know,” he said. 

“What about you?” you asked. “Would you have?” 

“Oh, in a heartbeat,” he said, needing no time to think it over. He brought his other hand to your leg, palms gently squeezing your thighs to emphasize his point. 

Your eyes flicked from where his hands rested on your legs back up to his face and there were only a few times you could ever recall anyone looking at you with the desire that was etched across Nick’s face. 

You could see it. A world where you and Nick met under different circumstances. As you scanned his face, you could feel the pull of him. Your eyes were drawn to his lower lip and it was reeling you in like a fish that had taken the bait. 

It was a soft pull, though. One that you’d have entertained had you never gotten close with Noah and didn’t have religious trauma to work through before you could consider being intimate with anyone else. 

You sat up straight, not realizing that during the course of the conversation, you’d been inching towards Nick, and he followed your lead, removing his hands from your thighs, though he still watched your face like he was considering throwing caution to the wind and going for what he wanted. 

You rolled your shoulders, shaking off the heady cloud of lust that had settled over the two of you. 

“Thanks,” you said. “I’m not sure I trust myself with that kind of stuff yet.” 

Nick blinked back a few times, likely also still pulling back from his desire. “Yeah,” he said, sighing the word out. “Yeah, it’s not the easiest thing to navigate, especially for someone so new to it.” 

An unexpected wave of disappointment washed over you. It was small, but not insignificant, and you realized just how difficult it was to say no to temptation. Not that you were concerned about the sin of it. It was just the realization that sometimes what you wanted went against your better judgement, and that choosing the right thing came with its own set of consequences. 

“I’m gonna have to talk to Noah soon, aren’t I?” 

Nick nodded, swallowing thickly as the last bit of desire released him from its clutches. “I think you do.” 

And with that, you and Nick were back to platonic companions. It was bittersweet, but it was also the right move, and both of you knew it. 

Besides, you had a feeling the upcoming conversation with Noah was going to be complicated enough. No need to throw another wrench into it. 

_______ All rights reserved to @doomhands-jr, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

A/N: Okay so I know the ending wasn't my best, but I was on a deadline and just wanted to get this chapter out so we could get to the NEXT chapter, which is where the real meat of the story is.

Also I have to write the taglist like this because tagging normally isn't working.

Let me know what you think! Sorry if it's a little rushed. Hope we're all okay with it though.

Taglist:

@traffordonna 

@velvetlilacsdaisies

@sunsshinesunny

@rain-down-on-me

@friedchildblaze 

@emilygalindo

@kat-rhi-lac

@sister-sebastian

@badomensls

@collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard

@hoe-for-daddywise

@concretejungle420

@sleep-worship

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@noahsebastions

@cyber-tiny

@xxkittenkissesxx

@treacheryinblue

@flowerynerds

@1toreyouapart

@poisongirl616

The Devil's Advocate - Chapter 12

Pairing: Delinquent!Noah Sebastian X Pastor's Daughter!Reader

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

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Nothing but fluff, baby.

Masterlist

Thanks to @flowerynerds for the banner!

Thanks to @throughwoodsanddirt for the beta!

___________

The New England winters tended to hone its inhabitants like an axe against a grindstone, sloughing off the weaker bits until you were left with only the hardest, sharpest edges of the soul. 

The anticipated nor’easter was due to hit sometime in the next few days. Local newscasters said it was likely to be severe. Currently, it was the calm before the storm. The weather was still, like all the substance had been sucked out of the air so the storm could dump it out again once it hit. 

On the ground, gray-stained slush clung to sidewalks and frozen lawns, still leftover from last week’s snowfall. The bitter December air stung at your nostrils and turned the tip of your nose red, and Noah Davis’s hot breath drifted out of his open mouth in billowing clouds as he looked down at you from where he stood in his door frame. 

It was early morning—three days after you’d spoken with Nick. The western edge of town had all but cleared out, having been comprised mostly of students, who had all gone home for the month-long winter break. 

Noah sniffed, blinking down at you and you cleared your throat. 

“I, um…I have your stuff.” 

You held out the clothes he’d let you borrow, freshly washed and folded, stacked neatly in a pile on top of your mittens. 

Noah stepped to the side and gestured for you to enter, which you did, apprehensively. Something about being in his space felt off-limits to you, yet he welcomed you in without hesitation. 

Briefly, you surveyed the space before you. A worn sofa and two overstuffed armchairs surrounded a stained coffee table littered with empty beer cans, paper plates, and ashtrays with the spent butts of cigarettes and, you suspected, joints. 

The mess was contained to the coffee table, however. The rest of the living room was fairly clean. A large-screen TV sat atop a dark glass stand. An array of gaming consoles and controllers decorated the shelves below it. It was off, and you could see a shadow of your reflection in the black glass of the screen. 

Noah cleared his throat and you spun around to look at him. He regarded you with intention, surveying you up and down, but his face didn’t betray whatever information he gathered from the act.

“Do you want something to drink?” he asked. 

“I’m good,” you said, and immediately regretted it because it wasn’t until after you spoke that you realized how dry your throat had become. “Water, actually.” 

He let out a breath somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle, moving to the open-concept kitchen space to fetch a glass out of the cupboard. “Have a seat,” he called over to you without looking. 

You took a seat on the brown tweed couch, shrugging off your coat and removing your mittens, and bundled them into a neat pile on your lap. 

The acrid smell of stale cigarettes stung the inside of your nose and you discreetly nudged the ash tray across the coffee table. 

Noah appeared at the other side of the table, a glass of water clasped in his outstretched arm and you took it gratefully, working hard not to look at him too much. 

Though this wasn’t the first time you’d seen him since your one and only sexual experience, it was still a shock to your system. Noah stood in front of you, looking regrettably Jesus-like with his long hair cascading down his shoulders. His clothes were unassuming—gray hoodie and black jeans, but they fit him effortlessly well. 

He took his seat on the armchair to your left, legs about six inches too long to fit comfortably between the chair and the end of the coffee table. He rubbed his shins, friction offering more warmth than the sputtering vents and the furnace that whined in protest. Even your ancient dorm with its concrete brick walls could stay warmer than the drafty rental Noah and the band called home. 

You noticed a distinct absence of sound or movement in the house. 

“Just you today?” you asked. 

“Folio and Ruffilo went home for the holidays,” he said, settling back into his chair and sipping from a mug of black coffee. 

You didn’t need to ask why he wasn’t doing the same—with all the baggage he carried from his family, you’d be surprised if they even exchanged Christmas cards. 

You bounced your knee, knowing there was a conversation to be had, but not wanting to approach it. 

“I’m surprised you’re still in town,” he remarked. 

This time you chanced a look at him. The coffee mug obscured part of his face, but his eyes still held the same intensity they always had. 

“My parents are on a missions trip in Africa,” you said. 

He quirked his head to the side, forehead wrinkling in confusion, and something about the crease between his eyebrows had you looking away again, too overstimulated by your own attraction to him. This was going to be harder than you thought. 

“What’s a mission trip?” he asked. 

“Missions trip,” you corrected. “It’s where groups of people go and build schools and stuff in small towns that don’t have enough resources.” You said this into your glass of water, thankful for something you could anchor your focus on. 

“That’s pretty sick, actually.” 

“Yeah,” you said, taking a sip to quell the tightness in your throat. “Yeah, I mean, it’s all sort of religiously-motivated though. The real reason is to spread Christianity.” 

You almost felt his face twist with displeasure. Glancing over at him confirmed it. He didn’t say anything though. He didn’t need to. You understood what that look was about and you felt the same. 

A few awkward moments passed while you tried to think of anything you could say that wasn’t the one thing you came here to say. 

“How were your finals?” Noah asked, coming to your rescue. 

“Good,” you answered too quickly in a rush of air. You cleared your throat and forced your next words to come out at a more conversational pace. “They were good. I think I passed all of them.” 

If Noah noticed anything off about your energy, he didn’t let on. Instead, he smiled. “I’m not surprised.” 

You gave him a questioning look. 

“You’re really smart,” he explained, setting his coffee on the table in front of him, sans coaster, “and you seem like the type of person to study hard.” He drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair while he said it, resting his chin on the palm of his other hand. 

You smiled back because he’d clocked you. “Does that make me boring?” you asked, finally relaxing into the usual back-and-forth of your conversations with Noah. 

His smile grew wider, and you were stuck by just how sharp the corners of his mouth were. “I don’t think it does. I mean, if that was all there was to you, it might, but you have more layers than that.” 

“Like an ogre,” you said. 

His face fell and he blinked, waiting for you to explain. 

“From Shrek.” 

“Get out.” 

Your composure cracked, and through the fissure erupted a fit of giggles, surface tension finally breaking into something warm and homey. Noah snickered and at last, the shields were down—both of you disarmed and ready for what lay ahead. 

It took several moments for the energy in the room to settle where it needed to be. When it finally did, you regarded Noah with your full attention for the first time since arriving. 

He looked tired. The light bags that usually hung around just under his eyes had deepened into something sadder. Patchy stubble dotted his chin and upper lip, and his hair looked stringy and unwashed. 

“So,” he began, drumming his fingers on the armrest of his chair. 

“So,” you parroted. 

In the span of a few seconds, the air around you folded in on itself and grew twice as thick—dense with unspoken sentiments and the possibilities for what could come out of this conversation. 

He fixed you with a serious look, assessing your demeanor before speaking again. You’d been on the other end of that look before, but every time it happened, it struck you just how large and intimidating Noah’s presence was. 

“Should we talk about it?” he asked. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, leaning back in your seat. When you opened them again, you were staring at the ceiling. “No….” 

You heard Noah huff a laugh through his nostrils. That was good. At least he was amused by your discomfort. Without lowering your head, you shifted your eyes over in his direction. He smiled at you, and it took the edge off. 

“I promise I won’t make this any harder than it has to be.” You appreciated the gentle tone he took—a nurse soothing his patient before administering a shot. 

You said nothing, but no longer protested. He took it as his cue to go on. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. 

You exhaled deep. “I know,” you replied, unable to look anywhere but your hands. His apology didn’t make you feel any better about what happened. It was more for him. 

“I know you know,” he said. “But I want to explain why.” 

It was already too much. You squeezed your eyes shut and blinked them back open. You hated everything about this situation. “Why you ghosted?” 

“Why I’m sorry,” he said. 

You looked at him with trepidation. He had your attention, but you were still wary and unsure if you wanted to hear what he was about to say. You almost hated yourself for being stupid enough to give him the chance to apologize. 

If he got it wrong it would feel like reopening a wound. 

He took a deep breath. Somewhere behind his eyes, an unnamed heaviness settled in and you had to look away. The last thing you wanted to do was empathize with the man who hurt you.  

“I’m not the best communicator,” he began slowly. 

“Ya’ think?” You couldn’t stop the sarcasm from slipping out. His face went from soft and patient to something more frustrated.  

“Sorry,” you muttered. 

He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat before he resumed. “Things like honesty and vulnerability? They were weaknesses in my book for a long time. I could go into detail about why, but that’s not really important.

“What’s important now is that you know that I’m trying. I understand that I fucked up. I hate that I did it. I wish I wasn’t that person, but it’s a shortcoming that I’m learning to deal with.” 

“I also hate that you fucked up,” you said, matter-of-factly. You didn’t say it to hurt him, but it was true, and it was important to you that you no longer filtered your thoughts to protect his feelings. 

Noah, being Noah, saw the humor in your statement and huffed. “Your honesty is refreshing. If not a little cold,” he said. A half-smile painted his face and God, if you didn’t want to slap it off him so that you’d no longer have to look at it. 

Letting his face fall neutral again, he continued. “You’re not the first important person that I’ve hurt because of this,” he said. “But hurting you did force me to pay attention to how that feels, and I don’t like it. I’m tired of being an asshole, and I think, moving forward, I want to be more honest. Not just with you, but with myself. I think I’ve been fooling myself for a long time about what’s important to me, and I’m starting to realize those things don’t make me happy.” 

You resisted the urge to ask him what things he was talking about. You wanted to break out of the habit of giving him more attention than he’d earned. That had always been a problem for you with men, and you suspected it was what got you into this mess in the first place. 

You could see on his face that he almost expected you to ask him more, and when you didn’t, he faltered for a moment. “Good,” you said with a nod. 

He deflated, but ultimately melted into a smile. “Thanks,” he said. You could tell he meant it, and holy bricks, did that have you softening more for him against your will. 

A warmth blossomed between the two of you, slowly at first, but it grew with each passing moment. You could feel it in your bones, and despite your best intentions, you caught yourself smiling. 

You didn’t want Noah to have this pull over you. You couldn’t tell if you were relieved that he’d done a good job with his apology, or resentful because it would have been so much easier to write him off had he failed. 

“Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?” you asked, ready to be done with the conversation for the time being and beyond grateful it hadn’t stemmed into more intimate territory—you didn’t think you could handle that. 

“How are you?” he asked. “I feel like so much has happened since we last talked.” 

“Ha!” you said. “You could say that again.” 

Noah leaned back in his chair, shifting his weight to make himself more comfortable. “Tell me about it. Do you want to get some food? I’d love to catch up.” 

“Maybe another time,” you said, with only the slightest twinge of regret. It was for the best. “I’ve got laundry to do.” 

It was a lie. You had nothing to do, but as much as you wanted to spend more time with him, your intuition was telling you to go, and you’d promised yourself you’d start listening more. Something inside of you wasn’t ready to be alone with him for much longer. 

“I understand,” he said, voice dipping in enthusiasm, but clearly respectful of your boundaries. “What about tomorrow?” 

You didn’t have an excuse ready—the knee-jerk denial didn’t kick in at the idea. Perhaps that was a sign? 

“I…I can’t commit for sure, but I’ll think about it.” 

He seemed satisfied with your answer, offering a smile that was a little too sincere for you to handle and you had to get out of the room before you lost all sense of self. 

“Okay. See you around,” you said quickly, shuffling to grab your backpack and swing it around onto your shoulder while nearly tripping over the coffee table on your way to the door. 

Noah didn’t chase you—you knew he was going to give you whatever space you needed in order to be ready for him. 

And that might have been what scared you most. 

------------

The tip of Noah’s nose almost touched the mirror with how close he was leaning over the bathroom sink. He’d been dealing with a very stubborn ingrown hair in a painful spot right under his nostrils. It was angry and red, but it hadn’t quite come to a head yet. 

Perfect. Just what he needed. 

He leaned back to get a better macro view of himself. The spot was definitely visible, but he was more than likely fixating on the small flaw. He couldn’t help it though—he was nervous. 

Letting his gaze drift over the rest of his face, he noticed he’d missed a spot while shaving. Fetching his razor from the shelf in his bathroom cabinet, he ran it under water and brought it to his face, moving it slowly around his jaw. 

Fuck! 

He nicked the skin. 

At first there was nothing, but then red began to seep out from the tiny cut and Noah had to grab a tissue and dab at the small drop of blood that had gathered around the wound. 

Steadying himself with a deep breath, he grasped at the porcelain sink with both hands before facing the mirror once again. 

This was stupid. He was stupid. You were just someone he liked. There was no reason for him to be so on edge. This wasn’t even a real date, you were just meeting up for coffee. 

Exhaling slowly through his nostrils, he brought the razor to his face once again, this time successfully removing the hair he missed. He finished up with moisturizer, giving one last menacing look at the angry red zit above his upper lip and recognized that it was a lost cause. There was nothing he could do about it now. 

He reached for the bottle of spiced oil he usually wore and then thought better of it. This was a special occasion. He had a small sample bottle of designer cologne tucked away in the back of his sock drawer. Normally he wasn’t the type to reach for expensive brand names, but he was nineteen at the time and he liked the way it smelled, so he shoplifted it from an outlet mall that wasn’t smart enough to keep their shit in locked displays.  

Noah smiled bitterly at the memory. He’d done a lot of stupid shit in his youth. He supposed he was still in his youth, because hardly four months had passed since his last petty crime—the one that had led him to meet you. 

He understood why he did it all. But lately the desire to act out wasn’t there, and he didn’t know why. 

Perhaps these days, there was a greater incentive to earn his joy. He no longer needed to steal it. 

Dabbing a small amount of the cologne on his pulse points, he stuffed it back in the drawer and shut it away. He could reflect on his shifting morality later. Right now, he needed to figure out what he was going to wear. 

________

Noah exhaled into his palms, warm breath serving to heat up the red, frozen extremities. It was a short walk to your dorm, but the air was bitingly cold and the snow was already ankle-deep. The storm was due to hit sometime within the next 24 hours, but he still had some time before the sidewalks grew too treacherous to walk. He wore the nicest outerwear he owned—a black pea coat and pair of black leather boots, but they were no match for the harsh December cold. 

He raised his hand and rapped three times on your dorm. 

He heard momentary shuffling on the other side before you opened the door in a flurry. The first thing he noticed was the light dusting of pink across your cheeks and the way your chest heaved with labored breathing. Try as he did to keep his eyes focused on your face, he let them drop for only a moment to take in the sight of you in your plain white top and faded denim jeans. 

You looked clean, comfortable, and unassuming, and for some unknown reason, it did things to Noah. 

“Hi,” you breathed and all at once, the moisture in Noah’s mouth evaporated, leaving a dry, scaly desert in its place. One hundred percent of his brain power was devoted to taking in the sight of you until it was satisfied that it had catalogued every inch of your presence. 

“Hi,” he said once his speech returned. His voice came out softer than intended. 

“You ready?” you asked, grabbing your coat from the back of the door. He tried to peek inside your dorm room—wanted badly to glean any additional knowledge of who you were when you weren’t with him, but you didn’t afford him the chance, stepping out and shutting the door behind you in one swift motion. 

“Yeah,” he replied, and then he didn’t say anything else because he’d apparently never had a single conversation in his life and had no idea how to begin one. 

You and Noah walked in silence, boots leaving two pairs of footprints in the snow. You wrapped your arms around you as you walked, and Noah noticed you wore mittens instead of gloves. He liked it. He liked that you wore mittens instead of gloves and it stuck out to him because he couldn’t remember ever liking any article of clothing worn by a woman that wasn’t about what wasn’t covered.

You observed the surroundings while Noah observed you, every once in a while commenting on a specific tree or building you liked, pointing to it with a mittened hand and Noah briefly wondered if there was a limit to how much time he could observe you being yourself before he got bored. He hoped he’d never reach it.  

“What’s up with you today?” you asked as the two of you rounded the corner that led to the coffee shop. “You’re quiet.” 

“Sorry,” he said casually. “Would you like me to talk more?” 

It wasn’t sarcastic, but a genuine question, asked in the way a server would if they found out their customer didn’t enjoy the meal. Did you want him to bring something more appetizing to the table? 

“No,” you said, looking down at your boots. “I just…want to know what’s on your mind.” 

The only thing on his mind was how physically aware of you he was. To ease the tension that had been pulling on his bones, he took a step closer to you. He wanted so badly to reach out and touch you in some way—grab your hand or throw his arm around you or something—but he refrained.  “Nothing,” he said with a shrug. “Just vibing.” 

You rolled your eyes, sighing as the two of you reached the entrance to the coffee shop and you pulled on the large brass door handle, gesturing for him to enter first. “Well, I take back what I said earlier then,” you said. “I do want you to talk more. I’m doing all the heavy lifting.” 

Noah smiled, tickled by how unapologetically honest you were. He liked this version of you. Not that he didn’t like every version of you he’s had the privilege of knowing, but something was different. You were less eager to please him. Almost like you wielded the sharper parts of your personality as a weapon, testing to see if its sting would scare him away. 

It wouldn’t. 

“What do you want to do after you graduate?” he asked as the two of you made your way to the counter. 

“Just jumping right in, then? No warmup?” you asked. Noah shrugged. “Grande cinnamon vanilla latte, please.” you said to the barista. 

“Medium black coffee,” said Noah. 

Noah was reminded of the first time the two of you went to this café together. You were wearing the same rubber boots and Noah was doing his best to flirt with you. He smiled to himself and pulled out his card to pay. You let him without protesting. Good. You knew you deserved it. 

“I’m not sure anymore, to be honest,” you said as the two of you slid over to the pickup window. “I used to think I would work at the church my dad owned. Be office personnel or something.” 

“That doesn’t seem like you,” Noah observed. 

You shrugged. “It was the obvious choice at the time. My parents both believe I belong in the ministry in some regard.” 

“Would you be a pastor one day?” Noah asked.

You let out a loud, bitter laugh. “I don’t think our church would ever be ready for female leadership. It’s so old-school.”

Noah frowned. He didn’t like hearing that. In his opinion, you’d make a much better pastor than any other religious person he’s met. You actually practiced what you preached. 

“So what do you think you’ll do instead?” he asked, trying to shift the subject away from religion. He got the feeling that those wounds were still fresh for you. 

You shrugged. “To be honest, I haven’t put much thought into it. I know I should, but so much has changed in the last few weeks—I’m still kind of wrapping my head around it.” 

“I get it,” he said, reaching to pick up the drink orders that had arrived. You led the way over to a small two-person table in corner of the otherwise empty café. Noah followed dutifully, trying his best to express with every single movement how completely present he was here with you. He was sure you didn’t notice, but that wasn’t the point. For him, it was about the intention. 

“You do?” you asked, sitting down. Noah sat across from you and indulged in a moment of unapologetic eye contact. 

“Mhmm,” he nodded. “I mean, not that I’m experiencing it or anything, but I know that when it comes to big decisions like that, I need a clear head. If there’s too much stuff going on in my life at one time, I don’t have the headspace to think about it.” 

Some of the tension in your shoulders slackened—not by much, but he was so hyper-aware of you by that point that he couldn’t miss it. He wanted to think it was because of him. 

Rather than responding, you sipped at your latte, closing your eyes and savoring it. He took another indulgent moment—this time, to observe how your face responded to the small moment of pleasure. It was almost sexual, he noticed, the way you tucked your lips between your teeth and smiled. He appreciated that this moment was clearly for you, but that you allowed him to witness it. 

His mind drifted, picturing himself drawing that same response from you with his touch. A hot coil tugged just behind his navel. Saliva pooled on his tongue and his thumb twitched with the urge to reach out and tug your bottom lip away from where it sat tucked under your teeth—until he caught himself. Lusting after you felt forbidden in a way he hadn’t allowed lust to feel since middle school. 

Noah sipped at his coffee, eyes trained on you until you were finished squeezing all the serotonin out of the taste. It was bitter, but in a good way—like he needed a palate cleanser to shock his system after the sickening sweetness of the last few moments. 

“What about you?” you asked eventually. “Are you planning to stay at your job?” 

“No,” he said. “The job is there to pay the bills while I try to find something else.” 

It had become apparent that he’d have to find something else sooner rather than later. As much as the piece work gave him time to think, all of the repetitive motion was taking its toll on his body. He came home at the end of every shift with back pain on his left side and he’d been having to spend more and more time in the gym evening it out. 

“What would something else be?” you asked, eyes trained on him and his neck grew warm under the intense observation. 

“I want my music to take off, if possible,” he said. “I’ve been working on a lot of new stuff. Actually, I’d love to show you sometime if you want.” 

“What kind of stuff?” you asked before taking another slow sip. 

“Different from what I usually write. More experimental. I like it, but I haven’t shown the band, so I’m not sure what they’ll think.” 

You nodded slowly, mulling something over in your head and Noah waited patiently while you found your words. 

“I think…,” you began. “I think I’d be okay with hearing it. If you wanted to share, that is.” 

Noah blinked a few times. “I mean, yeah. I’d love to share it with you, but why the hesitation?” 

You smiled bashfully, full lips still wrapped around the edge of your cup. “It’s hard to explain. And it sounds mean.” 

“Please humor me,” said Noah in earnest. He liked when you were mean. You deserved to be mean. He had a sneaking suspicion that you’d only ever been overly nice in the past and the more you dropped the façade and stopped worrying about being polite, the more he enjoyed your company. 

You licked your lips, staring down into your mug and smiled to yourself again. “I’m trying to be careful with how much attention I’m giving to men these days.” 

“Oh.” The word escaped in a breath from Noah’s parted lips. His eyebrows lifted up towards his hairline and he had to take a minute to digest this bit of information. 

Something that felt a lot like jealousy flared up in his stomach and he had to examine it. He didn’t like it, whatever it was. It felt hot, slimy, and thick, and it sat just below his ribs. 

“Other men too?” He couldn’t help but ask for clarification. Perhaps he was showing his cards by bringing it up, but he didn’t care. 

The way the corner of your mouth lifted in response to his question let him know that you caught on to the implications of his question. “If there were other men, yes.” 

“So there are no other men,” he stated, feeling a flicker of hope rise up in his chest. 

“They’ve all gone home for Christmas break.” The teasing smile never left your lips as you said it. 

Fine. You could play your cards close to the chest if you wanted. He was fine with that. Whatever. 

He liked it though. Underneath the frustration, he liked this version of you: empowered, a little bitchy, tongue like a whip, lashing him in penance for his sins. The sick, masochistic side of him wanted more. Needed more. [4] 

He took a deep breath to help him refocus. “So why the newfound caution? Not that I’m against it, it’s probably a good idea. But why?” 

You raised an eyebrow, wordlessly asking if he really wanted to get into it, and he did, so he held your gaze until you decided to grace him with the truth. 

“I think I’ve given men a lot of unearned attention. It’s come back to bite me many times over. I’m trying to learn my lesson this time.” 

Noah nodded. He knew he was one of the reasons. He was prepared to hear that. But then… 

“What other times have you done that?” 

You tilted your chin down, narrowing your eyes in skepticism. “You mean aside from you?” you asked. 

He couldn’t help but smile, appreciating how resistant he was growing to the sting of your candor. You weren’t afraid to let him know just how much he’d messed up. 

He nodded. 

Your eyes flicked up to the ceiling while you thought. You sucked on your teeth while your gaze drifted across the room, picturing invisible figures from your past and the moments they’ve wronged you. 

“My dad, for one.” 

He was hoping you’d say that one. 

“How?” Noah scooted forward in his chair, elbows resting on the table between the two of you. Part of him was eager to know how his fuckup had fared in comparison to other men in your life.

“Even just listening to him preach every single Sunday. Sometimes the sermons would be worthwhile, but a lot of them were just him spouting his opinions on how people should behave. I don’t like that he has the platform he has. He doesn’t deserve it.” 

Your face had morphed into a scowl as you talked. Noah could see the resentment you held for your father and he wished there was something he could do—some word of comfort he could offer, but he knew it wasn’t his place, considering. 

“Isaac, too,” you said, and Noah rejoiced internally. He’d been hoping you’d say that even more.

“What did he do?” Noah asked, training his face and voice to appear calm and unbiased. 

“Oh my god,” you said, setting your cup down in front of you and clasping your hands together with a newfound focus. “I forgot you don’t even know!” 

“Know what?” 

“Isaac donated the proceeds of the showcase to a pro-life organization.” 

Noah had to force himself to swallow the sip of coffee he’d just taken. “What?!” 

You launched into the story, telling him all about how you’d been lured into participating because he’d said he wanted to donate the proceeds to charity, and how he’d been respectful the entire time, despite knowing how you felt about the subject. How he didn’t tell you about it beforehand because he knew you’d protest, so he went and did it behind your back, and how you didn’t find out until right before you were supposed to go on stage and sing. 

“Which I rocked, by the way, and you totally should have been there to see it,” you said, crossing your arm and fixing him with a scowl. 

“Something came up. I’ll have to make it up to you somehow,” he said. He didn’t have the heart to tell you he’d gone, but was too much of a coward to go inside the sanctuary. 

“Yeah, I know. That Something apparently lives in my dorm and had a lot to say.” 

Noah’s eyebrows pulled together. “What?” 

Apparently he’d struck a nerve. Within the span of a second, you were back to being closed off from him, arms folded across your chest and chin jutting out while you stared out the window. He probably deserved that. 

“I forget her name. Madison or whatever,” you said. 

Internally, his body hissed at him. He forgot he’d been trying to use Madison as a distraction. He hated that he’d done it, but at the time it felt necessary. He wasn’t sure how he could explain that to you, though. 

“So yeah,” you said. “I’m done with men for a while,” you said, still staring out the window and bouncing the leg that was crossed over the other. 

“For what it’s worth, I’m really sorry,” he said. “I should have been there. It was…not my best hour.” 

He could tell you wanted more of an explanation, but weren’t about to beg for one. He’d tell you what really happened eventually…just not yet. 

 “What can I do to earn your favor?” he asked. 

“Be worth my time.” You said it without missing a beat and Noah had to hold back a snort. He was not expecting such a no-holds-barred answer from you and it hit him like a bucket of…not exactly ice water, but something warmer. Kinder. You were giving him the information he needed, unafraid of whether or not it would hurt his feelings. God, there was something about that he couldn’t get enough of. 

“Noted,” he said. “Still, I can’t believe Isaac did that.” 

“Yeah, well…,” you trailed off, mouth still pulled down into a frown. A few beats passed where neither of you said anything, and in the silence, Noah realized what he had to do.

He drained the rest of his coffee, then stood up and collected his things. 

“I should get you home then,” he said. 

Your face morphed into one of surprise. “What?” Noah wished he could take a photo of how you looked right then. Lips parted in bewilderment. Eyebrows pulled together in confusion. It was cute. 

“Your time is precious,” he said. “I don’t want to take up more than I’m worth.” 

“That’s not…are you serious?” you asked, turning to face him. He was already setting his empty mug in the dirty dish bin at the end of the counter. He turned back to face you and nodded to the door, gesturing for you to follow. 

You dumped the remainder of your latte into your mouth and stood, shoving your arms into your coat and hurrying to catch up. “What’s the rush?” you asked. 

“Trying to respect your time,” he said, smiling to himself as you struggled to match his pace. 

“Noah,” you said firmly, grabbing his arm and turning him around to face you. You didn’t say anything else but studied him with your jaw set firm. 

He stared back, face calm, but unyielding. The wind picked up, blowing a few strands of hair across your face. The skin at the back of his neck stood on end in the cold. His nose began to run, and he sniffed it back. 

“Why are you doing this?” you asked. In the back of his mind, he registered your hand still wrapped around his arm. 

“I just got back into your good graces,” he admitted. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”  “Overstay? Noah, we’ve only been hanging out for an hour.” 

“I know,” he said, resisting the urge to pull you in closer. “It was an hour I wasn’t sure I’d get.  I’m grateful for that.” 

“Okay,” you said, looking off to the side when the eye contact grew too intense. “So, what’s the problem?” 

Noah searched for the right words, trying to describe what until now had only been a vague emotion that hadn’t quite surfaced. 

“The problem is that I will always want more than I’ve earned,” he said, softly, like he was only just now admitting this to himself. “An hour is already more than I deserve. Any more, and I’d get spoiled. But I would love the opportunity to earn your company again soon.” 

You processed what he said for a few beats and then rolled your eyes, lips stretching into a begrudging smile and if Noah had the ability to freeze time, he’d use it right then and there to study every inch of your face. 

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” you said, sighing and hooking your arm through his. You allowed him to walk you back to your dorm. 

“Maybe,” he said, enjoying the pressure of your elbow against his. “Hopefully a harmless one.” 

“Is this love bombing?” you asked, short legs still struggling to keep up with his long ones. “Are you love bombing me?” 

“I hope not,” he said. “That would be really fucked up if that were the case.” 

“It would make you a terrible person,” you agreed. “You better not be love bombing me.” 

“I’ll watch out for that,” he said, smiling to himself. “What counts as love bombing in your book?” 

You grinned, as if this was a special interest of yours and you’d been waiting for someone to ask you that exact question. 

“Showering me with compliments, for one,” you began. 

“Noted. You look terrible today.” 

“Ha!” you said, nearly skipping with energy and warmth bloomed in Noah’s body at the thought he’d made you happy. 

“To be honest, I don’t exactly know,” you said. “I think people who love bomb have this skill about them–where they can pay close attention to a person, pick up on what they want or need, and then give it to them. But it doesn’t come from a good place, and they can’t sustain that energy. They do it until they get what they want, and then they leave.” 

Noah’s stomach twisted, the warmth that had previously inhabited it sucked away in a vacuum, leaving only tightness. 

He’d done that before. Many times. Fuck. 

As the two of you walked back to your dorm, Noah’s conscious weighed heavy on him. You continued talking about red flags, but Noah’s ability to actively listen was compromised with the weight of his guilt. 

He had a habit of justifying his past actions to himself–if women were naive enough to fall for simple flattery, they deserved it, he told himself. 

His stomach rocked again and he felt like he was going to be sick. 

He couldn’t change his past. He was well-aware he’d done things he wasn’t proud of, but he could change how he was going to act moving forward. 

This time, he was determined to get it right. 

“I guess this is where I leave you,” he said, unhooking his arm from yours. 

You stared at the door longingly, and Noah hoped that meant that you weren’t ready to leave. 

“You want to do this again sometime?” you asked, turning to him. 

Noah nodded, swallowing the sinking feeling in his chest for now. He could process everything when he got back to his apartment. “This or whatever else. Whatever works best for you.” 

“It can’t all be about me, you know,” you said. Your hand rested on the door knob, keys dangling uselessly from your fingers. 

“I know,” he said.  

Your face grew serious as you studied Noah, looking like you were still trying to figure out if he was for real. 

“Why are you doing all this?” you asked. 

Noah didn’t have an answer at the ready for you, so he simply shrugged. “Feel like it.” 

You continued to regard him. He couldn’t help when his eyes dropped to your lips—full and flushed with pink from the cold. He had a feeling he was letting his cards show, but he didn’t have much incentive to keep them hidden from you anyway. 

He brought his eyes back up to meet yours and caught the second your eyes flicked back up from his own lips. When you realized you were caught, you averted your gaze to your shoes. Noah did the same. 

“I, uh. I should get going,” he said, reaching to rub at a spot on the back of his neck. 

“Yeah,” you said, side-stepping away to break some of the tension that had been building for the last thirty seconds. You fiddled with your keys, finding the right one and using it to unlock your door, but made no move to enter. 

This was the hardest part. He didn’t want to leave. From what he could pick up, you didn’t want him to. But it was important that he did. He knew it. He wasn’t going to fuck this up by being impatient again. 

Just when he was about to say his final goodbye, you beat him to it. 

“See ya,” you said. And then in one swift motion, you grabbed the lapel of his coat, pulled him down, stood up on your toes and gave him a peck on the cheek. 

Before he even registered what had happened, you’d unlocked your door and disappeared behind it. 

It took all of Noah’s willpower not to follow you.  _______ All rights reserved to @doomhands-jr, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

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Destroy Me More

noah sebastian x reader 

Content warning: smut (clearly), oral (f. & m. receiving) fingering, squirting

word count: 1.6k

MINORS DNI 18+

it surprised everyone when you two got together because everyone said the same thing every time. “he seems so shy compared to you.” maybe everyone thought that because he mainly kept to himself and his friend group but no one knew how much control he truly had over you. 

“just imagine the look on everyone’s faces if they knew how much of a slut you are for me.” he says as you run your tongue along his dick. you look up at him with big doe eyes and he smirks, he loves this sight and can’t help but to tease you. you kiss the tip then begin to take him in your mouth, he grabs the back of your head with his tattooed hand to push you further and you breathe through your nose to help yourself as you begin to bob your head. his eyes can’t help but to look at the bulge in throat caused by him. 

he apologized when he heard you gag and wiped away the tears forming in your eyes. he usually didn’t expect you to deep throat him but you just wanted to please him more than usual today. he felt heavy on your tongue and the way his hips twitched, you knew he was close. he pushes himself to the back of your throat when he cums so all you can do is swallow it. when he pulls away, you can feel a bit on the corner of your mouth which he cleans with his thumb and puts it in your mouth. you hum as you suck and he groans at the sight.

“you just think you’re so fuckin cute, don’t you?” his voice makes you whine and send shivers down your spine. “acting like a bitch in heat, just for me.”

“only for you, sir.” those words set him off because the next thing you knew, you were on the bed with noah’s face right in front of yours.

pressing his lips against yours harshly and you give back the same passion. he pulled away to remove his shirt and you looked at him with pure lust swimming in your eyes. sitting up to get a better look at him, you ran your hands up his firm ink covered chest and cupped his face. lust may be the main feeling in your body right now but love was all you felt for him. his brown eyes almost looked black, his lips felt swollen as you ran your thumb over them, and his face was pink due to you studying him.

“i love you.” was all that you told before kissing him again. 

“i love you too.” he spoke between kisses and he grinds his hips against yours which causes you to whine. his tongue moves against yours, your fingers threaded through his hair and tugged. he moans at the feeling, his hands moves down your body and runs his fingers lightly up your thigh. he purposely avoids touching where you need him and grips your hip instead. you pull away and whine at him.

“what’s wrong, my love?” he asks with false innocence. 

“now you’re just being mean.” you pout at him and he chuckles. 

“I mean we can stop he-“ “no!” You shout at him. “i’m sorry! i don’t want you to stop.”

“ask nicely and you’ll get what you want.” he smirked as your face became flushed. “please don’t make me say it.” he hums at your response then starts getting up.

“can you please touch me, sir?” you ask in a small voice as you grab his arm. “you gotta say where baby.” he knew you hated saying where you wanted him, you got so embarrassed about it and he loves it.

“please finger me, sir.” you whimper to him and he felt like he could cum again right then and there. “of course baby.”

he pushes you back down, leaving love bites on your neck, breasts, some on your navel while trailing down your body until he gets to the band of your underwear and then starts tugging them off. you lift your hips to help, he pulls them off and throws them somewhere behind him. when you spread your legs, you shiver due to the cool air and he smirks at how wet you already are. his thumb presses against your clit and you jolt at the feeling. 

“more, please!” he hasn’t even started yet but you could cum just from this simple pleasure.

he starts rubbing in circles and your eyes closed while you cried out. His long slender finger soon enters you but with how wet you are, he’s able to add a second finger with no problem and curls them. the squelching sound made your face burn but the pleasure from feeling his fingers pumping and his thumb swirling your clit drowned out the embarrassment. he lifts your legs up which causes him to hit deeper and your moans became more high pitched as you got close. he chuckles at how cute you are. you felt him kiss your neck then nibble on your earlobe. his palm was getting soaked because of you.

“noah, please.” you begged him while holding onto his arm. 

“use your words or else i don’t know what you want.” he mocked, you felt like crying due to the pressure and need to cum. 

“can-can i please cum? please sir?” you opened your eyes to see him and he pecked your forehead.

“good girl. now cum for me.” you closed your eyes then felt your mind go blank as you came though it felt way different from any other orgasm he’s given you before. he stared at your cunt as you started squirting on his fingers and moaned at the sight. he couldn’t believe it honestly since it was the first time you’ve done that. 

“[y/n], are you still with me?” you heard noah ask and you whimpered as a response when he pulled his fingers out. 

“are you okay?” he started to worry thinking he pushed you past your limit. your eyes fluttered open and sat up, when you saw the blanket was wet you felt bad.

“oh no, i’m so sor-“ “love, it’s fine. it was pretty hot actually.” he told you and you covered your face in embarrassment. 

“no, don’t do that.” he then removed your hands and held them, you looked up at him and saw that he was serious.

“i, uh, i didn’t know that i could do that.” you sounded like a mouse speaking to him and he kissed your head.

“let’s stop here for toni-“ “stop saying that!” he was surprised by your words.

“i don’t wanna push your body anymore, love.” you know he was just looking out for you.

“but i want your cock inside of me.” you pouted and he froze at how bold you were. 

your back hit the mattress again, he lined himself up to your cunt then pushed into you. crying out, your nails dug into his back and he groaned. he was so big and no matter how wet you were, it still stung whenever he first entered you. even with closed eyes, you feel tears and noah wipes them away. 

“noah, you’re so big.” you whined to him and he scoffed.

“isn’t this what you wanted? you know you can take it you little slut.” you already felt close again due to those words. his pace quickens, you could feel him hitting your cervix and you scream at the feeling. he couldn’t help but love the sounds you were making and looked down to see himself poking out at the edge of your stomach. he grabbed one of your hands and you opened your eyes confused until he placed his hand on the bulge. so many new things tonight we’re happening and you couldn’t help but love it. 

“do you feel me? can you feel me that deep inside of you?” he whispered in your ear.

“yes sir!” you cried, “i love it! i really do! please, please let me cum again.” 

“you call that begging? try again slut.” you whined at him.

“Noah, noah,noah! please please please sir! i wanna cum and feel you cum inside me. make me yours please. please sir!” his dick twitched at your words while your back arched at the pleasure you were feeling. he pushed your legs up to your chest and thrusted harder. 

“sir please!” you cried again feeling your orgasm creeping over the edge.

“cum now, slut.” is all he said before you felt yourself creaming on his cock and you could feel his cum spill inside of you. you moan at the feeling and he kisses you hard. once he pulls out, you both watch as his cum rushes out of your cunt and moans. 

your body felt like it was on fire and noah could tell. he picked you up then carried you to the bathroom and started the shower. 

“i can stand you know.” you said hoarsely which shocked you.

“i’ll get you some medicine after we shower, love.” is all he said and he let you stand by yourself. after he washed you, he let you wash him but when you saw his back you gasped. 

“what’s wrong?” he asked worriedly.

“uhm, i guess i got a little too excited because there’s actually deep scratch marks on your back.” you told him and he laughed. after the shower, getting dressed, changing the sheets, eating, and him giving you medicine, you both finally laid back down.

“i’m sor-“ “don’t apologize for going rough. i really enjoyed it.” you told him before the tiredness hit you.

“i love you.” he says and you smile.

“i love you too, noah. more than you’ll ever know.” is the last thing you remember saying before falling asleep. 

Far From Being Kind

noah sebastian x reader 

content warnings: smut

MINORS DNI 18+

word count:730

“fuck!” 

“how does it feel, love?” noah whispers into your ear which causes you to shudder and melt into his touch more.

“it-it feels amazing.” you groan as he presses the hitachi wand a tiny bit harder against you.

your face feels hot as you catch your reflection in the mirror and your body tenses even more but noah just smiles at your reflection. trying to hide in the crook of his neck doesn’t work when the smell of his woody cologne takes over your senses, it was so strong that you couldn’t help but try to close your legs and he immediately pulls the wand away and smacks your thigh with his other large hand.

“do that again and I’ll stop. I’ll leave you to cum on your own.” he threatens with authority and your legs open again upon hearing him. he presses the wand against you harder and turns up the speed, body shuddering and letting out soft whimpers due to the pleasure.

“look at you. you’re soaking straight through your underwear, love.” you can’t help but look at yourself and he’s right. the center of your underwear is dark and it’s so slick that it’s leaking onto your thighs. 

“noah, i’m gonna cum.” tears pricking the corners as you whined to him and your nails dig into his arms as your hips stutter. 

“fuckin hell, even when you’re spread out like this and close to cumming, you’re still so fuckin cute.” noah says in a low voice, “don’t you agree?” 

no answer can escape as he turns up the speed again and you cry out. the feeling of sweet release being so close yet so far.

“noah, please. i’m so close. please let me cum.” croaking out to him. 

“hm, i don’t know.” his fake questioning makes you wanna smack him. 

“please! please! i really wanna cum!” begging him as tears begin to spill.

“no.” he says then removes the wand from your clit and turns it off and places it off to the side. you let out a loud whine and wipe away the tears. 

“baby, don’t cry.” he says as he turns your head to face him, “You look so pretty right now.”

his soft lips crash against yours in a harsh manner. you open your lips to let his tongue in and massage against your own. when he finally pulls away, a string of spit comes along and you whine at the sight. his tattooed hands then reach the band of your underwear and you lift yourself up so he can slide them off. his eyes immediately go back to the mirror, your cunt on full display for him and he spreads your folds apart for you to see how wet you are for him. 

“all for me, love?” noah asks and you immediately nod. “yes, it’s always for you.” 

“good girl.” is all he says before bringing the wand back to press against your clit and he turns it on to the highest setting.

“noah!” a scream is all you can let out as you throw your head back and feel your eyes roll to the back of your head. the pressure comes back too fast for your body to handle as you feel him press it harder. your thighs shake, heels dig into the carpet and toes curl to the point where it hurts. 

“cum, now.” is all it takes for him to say and you let go. you heard little drops hit the mirror and carpet but didn’t know what it was until you opened your eyes. 

as the cloudiness started to fizzle out, your body began shaking and he removed the wand. his other hand rubbing your thigh, trying to calm your body down and you take a deep breath.

“you did so good for me, love. i’m so proud of you.” he whispered into your ear and you shuddered again. 

“can- can you please fuck me now?” you quietly ask him while hiding your face from his. 

“are you sure?” he asks with worry since he saw how spent your body is and you face him with a rosy face.

“yes, please. i wanna cum again with your cock in me this time.” you beg him with a pout.

“get on the bed then, sweetheart.” 

author's note - i tried so hard to make this one good so please be kind ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

title comes from playboy by exo

the center of my day

noah sebastian x reader

word count: 370

the sound of rain hitting the window woke you, gloomy clouds making the sky and outside appear gray. the air felt cold but your body was warm due to noah holding onto you with a death grip. you wiggled a bit so you could turn over but stopped when you heard him let out a groan.

“what are you doing?” “just wanted to turn so i can look at you.”

facing him you were met with his slightly puffy face still drenched with fatigue, you couldn’t help but to start tracing his features while admiring him and feel your heart start pounding. he let out a sigh of content at the feeling of your thumb rubbing his cheek and started to fall back into his slumber. a little bit of guilt washed over you for waking him since he was trying to catch up on sleep after months of nonstop grueling touring and he deserved the rest.

not to mention, pushing himself more by already going right back into the studio to make the next album. even with pure exhaustion and stress on him, he still looked so beautiful and peaceful while sleeping.

“you’re so beautiful.” you whisper to him.

“don’t lie to me.”

his response startled you a bit but you gave him a light smack on the shoulder. “i would never lie to you.”

noah shook his head as he let out a weak chuckle. “i guess not.”

“so don’t ever accuse me of lying to you because you are so beautiful.” you say louder as you push his dark hair off his face.

“fine. fine.” he murmured as he rolled his eyes.

“don’t get all sassy with me!” laughing at him, “i thought you fell back asleep.”

he hugged you tighter as he let out another sigh. “i almost did till you spoke. i won’t lie, i loved the compliment.”

“well, it’s true.” you gave him a soft kiss and he kissed you back.

“alright, can we go back to sleep now?” his eyes already closed again before finishing the question.

“of course.” settling back down then focusing on the sound of his heartbeat lulling you back to sleep as he fell back into a deep slumber again.

AN ~ i tried so hard to take a chance of writing fluff after actual years

title comes from dare4distance by nevershoutnever

All Of Our Foolish Notions

noah sebastian x reader

content warnings: angst and cheating

word count - 1.7k

an ~ the beginning is heavily based off my personal life and something i've gone through recently so this was my way of letting go

The world felt like it was collapsing on you. A dream couldn’t have possibly led to this. no way. You couldn’t believe it. 

Maybe it was a little strange to go through someone’s phone over a dream but you couldn’t help it. The dream was too realistic and caused you to worry for a couple days before getting the bravery to check. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise because you had certain doubts about Sam and reading the messages just confirmed them.

I miss you, Kali

I miss you too, Sam.

How could he say that to her? Why would he say that to her? He always said she treated him so badly yet he’s putting in the effort to talk to her? Anger and betrayal ran hot through your veins but you couldn’t help but look further and sadly found more. Just what you wanted to see. An intimate video that was definitely not of you two and the date/timestamp was a couple months ago and just a day before your one year anniversary.

You quietly put his phone back down, carefully not to wake him up and just stared at him. It felt like a bigger slap in the face that he was sleeping so peacefully while you felt like your heart was being ripped apart. Choking back the sobs felt like pure hell but you didn’t want him to see you like this because it’s not like he would even care.

The energy to even stand up couldn’t process in your head so you crawled back to your side of the room and grabbed your phone, quietly crawling to the bathroom and locking the door. You only knew one person who could help you out in this situation and maybe it wasn’t the best to call another man but he was your best friend.

“Hey, are you okay? it’s 1 am.” His voice was too relaxing to hear though you felt bad because he sounded groggy.

“He’s been cheating on me. with his ex of all fuckin people, Noah.” Saying it felt like a bigger punch in the gut. 

“Hold on, what?” He said more clearly and wiping the tiredness from him.

“I-I had a dream the other night, i guess my subconscious trying to tell me something so i started to overthink but i didn’t ask because i didn’t want to start an argument and tonight i finally broke. I know i shouldn’t have but i went through his phone and saw-“ a painful sob left you, “he literally filmed them having sex just a day before our one year anniversary.” 

“I’m gonna fuckin kill -“ “No, please just help me get out of here. He’s not even awake. I just want to leave.” Begging him made you feel so small but you couldn’t help it. 

“I’ll be there soon.” 

“Thank you.”

-

When Noah arrived, it made you feel a little better though it still all felt like a big blur packing your things quickly, quietly and carefully to not wake up Sam. Maybe it was the power he had over you but you felt guilty, just leaving and not even leaving a message, note or anything. Just the key to his apartment on the coffee table and walking away from someone you spent a year of your life with. 

“This is stupid to ask but are you okay?” Noah asked as you tossed your bags into his car and you couldn’t help but chuckle weakly.

“I just feel really fuckin stupid. It doesn’t help this situation but i had already caught him in two lies about her before i found this out and i just made excuses for him. I thought the last time was the final straw but clearly not. The worst part is somehow i feel like i deserve this.” You confessed and could feel the anger rise again. 

“No, you fuckin don’t. Don’t ever say some stupid shit like that again. He’s an insecure stupid little prick who doesn’t even know that he just lost the best person ever.” Maybe he let his feelings out a bit but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t stand the fact that you genuinely believed you deserved to get cheated on and treated like garbage.

“Let’s just go back to yours before i go back in there and punch him.” Saying as you headed to the passenger side.

Even while having your heart broken, you let your anger get the best of you and Noah couldn’t stop his heart from beating faster. He always thought it was cute.

-

The amount of crying you did exhausted you to the point you didn’t even feel Noah carrying you to his bed and tucking you in.

“Don’t leave me.” you mumbled to him.

“Just wanted to make sure you’re comfortable first.” He tells you as he crawls into the bed, you automatically cling onto him and let out a sigh of calmness. 

“I love you so much and thank you.” He shouldn’t have taken it too seriously but he couldn’t help it. It was killing him that you were going through this pain but he didn’t want to make it worse by confessing to you and messing with your mind/feelings more. 

“If only you knew.” You swore you heard him say but decided to not say anything and just fall asleep.

-

Getting back on your feet again wasn’t the hard part of getting over your last relationship, the hard part was realizing your feelings for Noah. You didn’t want to admit it though because you don’t want to make him feel like a rebound or taking advantage of him. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if he thought about himself that way.

Drinking wasn’t the right choice but you were so overwhelmed that you didn’t know what else to do and honestly, you didn’t mean to get too drunk either. You just wanted to stop thinking about everything so you could calm down though maybe going out with the whole group wasn’t helpful. 

“Are you ever going to confess to him?” Folio’s voice broke your thought process.

You didn’t want to answer him at first, instead downing another shot of tequila. 

“I’m just scared.”

He scoffed at your response, “Of what? It’s clear that he loves you.”

Noah’s words replayed in your head from that night, “If only you knew.” and the memory made the alcohol hit ten times harder. 

“I don’t want him to think of himself as a rebound. He’s too special to me. I love him but i don’t want to hurt him.” You could tell you were slurring your words but he still acknowledged what you were trying to say.

With the alcohol hitting hard, you couldn’t even tell if Folio said anything else. All you could think about was Noah and everything you two had been through. Seeing his hardships from a young age, letting him stay with you when you two were teenagers and your family treating him like their own, going to his local shows with his old band, the fallout, seeing him mature and grow while forming bad omens, his past flings, his breakdowns, his decision to cut his hair short after so many years and seeing bad omens blow up with just pretend and all the success they received. 

It hit you hard. You were in love with him. Maybe you always had been but just refused to accept it. You were there for him through everything and he was always there for you. Why didn’t he ever confess?  was the main question in your mind.

“Where is he?” you asked Folio.

“Outside with Jolly.” Once he told you, you tried to quickly stand up but stumbled. “Let me help you out.”

Folio helped you through the crowd, guiding you out the door and the cool air sobering you up just a tiny bit. 

“NOAH!” yelling his name immediately got his attention and he rushed over. 

“Are you okay? Did some-“ “She’s fine. Just drunk.” Folio warned him and Noah sighed with relief. You tried to hug him but you just fell into his chest bursting out into a giggling fit as he held onto you so you wouldn’t bust your ass on the ground. 

“I’ll take her home and I’ll text you guys later.” He said guiding you to his car, buckling you in and making sure you’re comfortable. The ride was quiet until you finally spoke up.

“Why haven’t you confessed to me yet?” 

He felt like his heart genuinely stopped for a moment. His throat dried up, his face became red and his stomach started hurting.

“I don’t want to have this conversation when you’re drunk.” his voice was stern which caused you to whine.

“I was just-“”I will not have this conversation when you’re drunk.” To be honest, he shocked you with how stern he was again and decided to drop it until you woke up the next morning.

-

The raging hungover headache woke you up though the blinding sun wasn’t helping it and trying to remember the night hurt your head more. 

“Here.” Noah said startling you while holding some ibuprofen and a glass of water. Quickly downing both and thanking him.

“Why didn’t you ever confess to me?” You ask him finally sober. Seeing him squirm from the question surprised you. Did Folio lie to you? 

“I was just scared of you rejecting me and leaving.” he confessed avoiding your eyes.

“Noah,” your heart was feeling like it was going to explode, “It may have taken me a lot longer than you to realize my feelings but i do love you and i always have.”

“Really?” His timid voice made your heart hurt. 

“Absolutely.” you reached for his hand, it felt so clammy yet still so soft and kissed his hand softly, “I love you Noah.”

“I’ve always loved you and i always will. I love you, more than you will ever know.” He felt relief after so many years of hiding this secret from you. “Can i kiss you?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, “Of course.”

Soft lips met yours, the kiss just felt right and like it was meant to be. You couldn’t help but feel bad for not realizing your feelings sooner than later and putting him through hell. 

When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours and cupped your cheeks as he asked, “Will you finally be mine?”

“Absolutely Noah.” 

title comes from Lucky Ones by LIGHTS

i mean camaraderie

noah sebastian x reader

content warning: smut, rough / harsh sex, belly bulge, size kink, fingering, noah is pretty much just a pleasure dom honestly

word count: 1.6k

MINORS DNI 18+

The loud sound of the front door being slammed let Noah know immediately you were in a bad mood. Must’ve been pretty bad he thought to himself and let out a sigh as he could hear you screaming into a pillow since the apartment walls were thin. 

He made his way to your bedroom door, knocking lightly and waited for an answer. The sound of your mumbling made him nervous but he just wanted to check on you and made sure you weren’t gonna destroy your vocal cords from screaming so much.

“WHAT?!” “Woah, what’s wrong?” He asks, raising his hands in defense and you immediately feel bad. “I’m sorry, the date was just-ugh.” you explained and he just chuckled.

“Was it really that bad?” You couldn’t help but start ranting about how the dude was a complete narcissist misogynistic asshole even though you tried so hard to deal with it to get a quick fuck. You didn’t even hesitate to complain about how badly you needed it because it was ovulation week and it was killing you.

“Are you serious?” he scoffed, “You went out with a complete stranger when i was here the whole time?”

He wasn’t wrong. Everyone could just smell the sexual tension between you two, even past boyfriends or girlfriends and hell, even flings could. It would be a lie if you denied ever thinking about him in that way but you always pushed those feelings aside so it would never be awkward. Fuck, why did he have to be so attractive? 

“You’re so fuckin lucky that i need dick so badly or else i’d turn you away.” You tell him as you grabbed him and pulled him into your room, slamming the door shut. Hopefully Jolly will come home late tonight. A rough kiss makes you moan softly, his large tattooed hand holds your face, and he tilts your head slightly trying to kiss you deeper as his tongue enters your mouth. Pushing him down on the bed, knees buckling as you sat on his lap and could feel him getting hard. 

“Damn,” he breaks away from the kiss, “You weren’t lying.” Whining at him as you kiss him again, Noah then gently tugs at your hair causing you to pull away and let out a sigh of pleasure. “So fuckin needy for my cock, aren’t you?” 

“Don’t start talking like that.” Breathlessly telling him, grinding on him to feel some type of friction. “Awww, why not?” his taunting didn’t help, tugging again while his other hand trailed under your dress. “ Because I’ll cum way sooner than I plan to.” You informed him and tugged at his hair causing him to hiss as his eyes closed from the pleasure. As much as he knew this probably didn’t mean much to you besides a quick fuck, he couldn’t help but think of it much deeper. Was it because he always felt something more for you or was it because of how fuckin cute you looked in that short red & black velvet dress?

Removing each of your hands from each other, you reached behind to unzip the dress and let it fall around your hips. Your mind is blank as he pushes you onto your bed, removing your clothes and pulls you into another kiss, softer but still passionate. Feeling his hands and fingers roam your body makes you shudder as he pulls away. Noah settled himself between your legs, running a finger along your slit and rubbing his thumb in circles on your clit. Hips and knees are buckling from just the tiniest bit of stimulation, both of you groaning at the sensation of his finger sinking into you and just taking in the feeling of his finger, thicker and longer than your own and reaching places you couldn’t. 

“Fucking hell, Noah.” your voice sounded like you were on the verge of crying. If you were already this fucked out from his finger how were you gonna be due to his dick? He rested his other hand on your right thigh and squeezed, trying to help you back down to earth but with him entering another finger didn’t help and it just caused you to go more light headed as he pumped them.

“Hey, don’t go dumb just yet.” Shivering as his hand touched your cheek, eyes fluttering open and kissing him. 

“Please just fuck me. I can’t stand this anymore.” Begging him as he pulled away and he lifted himself up to tug off his shirt. You couldn’t help yourself as you caressed his chest, lightly dragging a finger to trace some tattoos and the sight of his bulge making you whine.

As he removed his boxer, you weren’t expecting him to be so big. I mean you had thought it was but actually seeing it made you anxious. It was actually pretty and didn't look like a mushroom wearing a skin hat.

“You plan on using lube?” He laughed at your question. “I’m serious. You’re the biggest I’ll probably ever take or have.” 

“C’mon, I’ll fit.” You just scoffed. 

“Let’s test it real quick then. Get up here.” He shrugged then positioned himself between your legs and lined his size against your stomach. Right at your navel was his tip, precum dripping right in your belly button and it made you whimper again.

“Noah, I don’t know about this.” “How about this, just the tip and it’s up to you when you can take more?” It shouldn’t be surprising that he was being thoughtful but it made your heart swell with how understanding he was. “Deal.”

He gave you a quick peck before letting his spit fall directly on your hole, shivering at the feeling of the warmth and feeling his tip run through your folds, his tip slightly pushing into you and already feeling the pain. Digging your nails right into his forearm and you could feel yourself break his skin but you didn’t mean to, it’s not like you expected him to be this fuckin big. He just rested there while you did your best to relax and get used to the feeling.

“You know what?” You groaned out. 

“What?” He was worried you changed your mind about the whole thing.

“I’m probably gonna regret this but just go balls deep.” “Are you sure?” Absolutely not but it’s just better to get this pain over with.

“Yes please.” 

Just the feeling of him pushing himself just a little bit more in made you feel so like you were genuinely being split in half so when his pelvis met your own, your head fell back against the pillow and felt so full. 

“Are you still with me?” “Mhm, just please fuck me now.” The feeling of pleasure taking control over you again. 

“Whatever you want princess.” Not even looking at him, you could hear the smirk in his voice and you almost snapped back at him until he pushed your knees near your head and it caused you to literally scream. 

The way he angles his hips makes you feel the merciless rhythm,  deciding today was a good day to try and completely obliterate your cervix. You could feel the tears streaming down your cheeks, brain feeling so fuzzy and Noah clouded any thought you could form. He couldn’t help but feel proud of himself. The way you looked as you got fucked stupid made you look so beautiful. The way your hair was disheveled, face flushed, eyebrows furrowed with pleasure and the little whines of his name leaving your lips. His eyes trailed down your body, the little bump that would appear as he thrusted into you made him want to cum right then and there.

“Wanna feel something?” You nodded weakly. 

Feeling his hand guide yours to your belly and you could feel the bulge of his cock from inside of you.

“Noah.” is the only word you could whine and for some reason, that awoke something in him. He pulled out then flipped you over and slammed back into you, hips slamming into your ass at a bruising force and honestly thought you could feel him ever deeper than before. His moans sounded so guttural at first but as he got closer to finally cumming, he got so whiny and you couldn’t help but have a slight thought that he was so cute.

 “How can you still be so tight? Please tell me you’re close? I’m about to cum. Oh f-fuck,I’m gonna cum. Please cum first.” 

Hearing him whine made you clench around him tighter as you finally came, screaming and crying out his name.Noah then pulled out and flipped you onto your back again making you overstimulated as he leans down into the side of your neck,he slams into you one more time before his hips finally stutter and feel him paint your inside with his cum as he bites your neck harshly causing you to let out one final moan. 

Even with the cloudiness in your brain, you still felt Noah lift himself up, an audible pop could be heard as he slid his cock out of you and the stickiness of the mix of cum leaking out made you cringe just a bit.

“Don’t make that face.” His chest was heaving, “Honestly, it’s hot.”

You weakly chuckled at him,” You’re not wrong but i’m already sweaty as fuck so this just makes me feel gross. Also, you’re a fucking dumbass.”

“Hold up, I just gave you the best dick you could’ve ever imagined and you’re insulting me?”

“I am because I didn’t think you would actually cum in me. I told you during my ranting that I was ovulating!” You remind him as you lightly slapped him.

“You act like we can’t go get the morning after pill.” He tells you.

“I don’t think I can walk because of you. So get your ass moving.” Groaning as he stands up and pulls his boxers back on then gets dressed. “Fine but I expect some cuddles when I get back.” 

“Of course.” 

A/N - this took me over a day to finish because fuck walmart also if it's not clear, yeah jolly didn't come home.

by the way, i based the height of the reader on myself since i’m 4’10 but obviously this could go for any height since noah is 6’3

let me go or pull me closer

noah sebastian x reader

warning: cheating, breakup, angst, throwing things and yelling

word count: 1k

The loud ring of your alarm awoke you, rolling over to shut it off and suddenly felt the emptiness from Noah’s absence. The house was unusually quiet, so you knew they weren’t in the studio. As you sat up, you looked around the room and noticed that it looked exactly the same from last night. Did he not come home? Nothing too big was planned so it’s not like Bad Omens had rehearsals and they were relaxing from the studio since they achieved a lot yesterday. Maybe you were overthinking the whole thing. Maybe he went over to Ruffilo’s to do something. You decided to shake off the thoughts as you walked to the bathroom to start your daily routine.

Maybe you should’ve called out of work today. It was too hard to focus when all you could think about was where Noah was. It was near one in the afternoon but still nothing from him. You already sent a couple texts and called him twice on your lunch break but nothing. Even the rest weren’t answering back which was very strange because Jolly would always answer if you couldn’t get in touch with Noah immediately. The more the thought, the more you realized a couple things. 

He was attached to his phone a lot more than normal. Even with the new album on the way, he stayed glued to his phone. Always keeping it on him, never putting it down and never leaving it alone around you. You understood that he was a busy man, had friends that were famous or not, whether they were male or female, but it was a little strange that he would quickly answer when it was a certain name that would pop up. He never let the notification stay on the screen long enough for you to see the name but it was easy to recognize. It’s not like you meant to micro manage him, it just happened.

Then it hit you. 

-

It was near midnight when you finally heard their voices. Jolly, Jesse, Michael and Noah. Only bad thing was you could tell they were all drunk. You left your shared room, staring down at them from the second floor and could feel your heart breaking. Noah never drank after everything that happened in 2020, so to see him relapse so hard and not seeming to care about anything. 

“Looks like you're in trouble.” Jesse fails to whisper to Noah while pointing towards you and all he did was scoff at the sight.

“No, he’s not. Noah is a grown man and can do whatever he wants.” Saying as you turned from them. “He can also fuck whoever he wants because it’s not like he has a girlfriend waiting for him. Seems like Olivia is more important.”

“Who the fuck is Olivia?” Michael slurred and the sound of someone struggling up the stairs didn’t surprise you.

“It’s not what you think, babe.” Noah says barging into the shared room, running into the wall next to the door and trying to grab you. You couldn’t but scoff at him as you continued to pack up the rest of your things, the feeling of heartbreak and rage running through your veins and trying to ignore the feeling of bursting out into tears.

“How did you even find out?” 

“How long did you plan for this to go on before I found out?” Snapping back at him. “If you must know, I decided to go through your macbook while you were out doing whatever the fuck you were doing and never texted me back.”

“Why did you go through my things?” He asked anger, lacing his tone and the anger made you chuckle.

“Are you pissed off because I went through your things or are you mad that I found out?” Asking him while holding up your hands like you’re weighing out the pros and cons. “You’re mad about those things but not even trying to lie about fucking someone else?”

“No, because there’s no reason to lie. I understand why you’re mad. I didn’t even me-” “Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Noah. You meant to. If you truly loved or even fuckin cared for me, you wouldn’t have even ever had the slightest thought of ever cheating on me. I’ve spent the last five years doing everything I ever could for you. Helping you, supporting you, moving across the country with you, and doing so much more for what? To get spit in the face by you.”

“I’m sorry. I thought it wouldn’t-""How long Noah?” You cut him off again, he stays silent.

“How long? How long? How long?” Asking him continually and he finally broke down while covering his face with his hands. “Noah Sebastian you better fuckin tell me how long.”

“About a year.” Time felt like it stopped. “I never meant for it to happen. A mutual friend introduced us and I didn’t originally even have the thoughts in my head then the night after the Concrete Jungle tour ended and we had that get together. She kissed me.”

“And instead of telling me, you just decided to make me look stupid and continue it? I was with you that night! Not to mention, I was with you the whole tour because you asked me to come with you!” Anger finally took over you. You tore off the necklace he bought you while on that tour and threw it at him. Grabbing the pictures of you two off the bedside table and throwing them at him as well. Glass shattering as they hit the wall and Noah moving away to not step on it.

“Can we just talk about this?” He asked as he moved over to the bed to sit down and you had to stand in silence for a moment to collect your thoughts.

“Are you proud of yourself? Do you feel good about your decisions? You wanna sit and talk about this when we had that first night to talk about it. There’s nothing to talk about now. I’m done, Noah. I’m officially done.” Informing him as you grabbed your suitcases and headed towards the door.

“Please don’t leave.” He softly begs.

“You don’t need me, you have her.” You tell him as you leave.

AN - i didn't expect to post again so soon but this was idea was driving me crazy and it was so hard to make Noah a cheater.

tbh, i'm not too proud of this but hey, i tried and that's all i could do.

title comes from I Wait by Day6