lilhobgobbler - Tumblr blog

lilhobgobbler · 8 hours

Text

to hold you, to heal you | n.s.

Summary: Noah is exhausted. It feels as if he's failing at everything, including at being the boyfriend his girl deserves. She's there to reassure him that that couldn't be further from the truth.

Tags & trigger warnings: angst, implied poor mental health (self-doubt, anxiety, depression), mentions of sex, fluff, comfort, just pretend live 2024.

words: 1.9k | my works

to hold you, to heal you — noah sebastian x fem. reader

The house was shrouded in quietness, the calming fragance of incense lit half an hour ago still lingering in the air.

Noah had gone to bed an hour earlier; he was exhausted.

Silently, she made her way to the bedroom, careful not to disturb him.

He lay on his side of the bed as she entered, back turned to her, the covers barely draped over his bare torso.

The temperatures had risen in the past two weeks, making the house uncomfortably warm. They should've swapped the covers for summer sheets, but neither could muster the energy to change them just yet.

She tiptoed to her side of the bed and slipped under the covers, nestling herself right behind Noah, wrapping an arm around his stomach and pressing her chest to his back, her cheek resting against his shoulder.

It was often that they found each other like this: her spooning him. They loved to intertwine their legs beneath the sheets, and he loved to drag her hand to his chest, right where his heart beat. He wanted her to feel it, to feel how his heart’s rhythm transformed from a relentless dance to a gentle pulse at her touch.

She nuzzled the tip of her nose against the nape of his neck, delighting in the feel of his soft locks, growing longer by the day. His hand found hers and guided it to the spot where his heart resided. She focused on his heartbeat for a while, on his breathing. She let the warmth of his body transfer to hers, despite the heat already filling the room.

Cooconing him like that felt like a promise that would eventually break. When he was in her arms, she felt as though she could shield him from anything, everything. She could just keep him caged, safe and sound tucked against her body, much smaller than his yet capable of safeguarding him. She so desperately wanted to keep that promise…

Yet, she was aware that those we love eventually slip, one way or another, no matter how much we try to ease their fall.

Nobody is extempt from hurting.

And now Noah was hurting. Her promise hadn’t lasted.

She tightened her grip unconsciously when a wave of anger and sadness washed over her, her muscles pressing against Noah’s, her heart wanting —needing— to break through the skin and find Noah’s, merge with his, beat as one.

Love is always a constant battle of trying, trying, failing, trying, trying again, and sometimes, making it right.

Tonight, she would make it right. She would heal him one way or another; take some of his pain and store it in her own chest, in her veins, in her bones.

Blinking away the tears, she pulled back slightly, just enough to see his back. It was dark, but the moonlight filtering through the curtains revealed the faint lines of his tattoos. Unable to stop herself, she traced the designs with a gentle finger, following every curve and sharp edge.

Noah shivered beneath her touch, his muscles tensing.

In less than a minute, he turned onto his back, his hands seeking her. He grasped her and positioned her astride his lap, his hands resting on her hips while hers landed on his chest. He wore nothing but black boxers, and she was clad in his t-shirt and cotton panties.

Under the moonlight, she found his October eyes.

“Hi,” she said softly.

“Hi,” Noah replied.

“Did I wake you?”

“No,” he answered, their voices mere whispers in the night. “Couldn’t sleep,” he explained, a hint of resignation in his voice.

It was soft now, not the rough, visceral one he used on stage for some of Bad Omens’s songs. This was the voice she loved the most, the deep raw timbre that was yet so delicate, both tender and masculine, holding harmony within a quiet power. Every time she heard her name uttered with that voice, that tone so soft yet demanding, she melted in his hands.

“The voices?” she guessed.

Noah nodded, letting out a heavy sight that he’d tried to contain, his gaze falling. She hated seeing him so conflicted, but there was only so much she could do. She didn’t know what else to do beside be by his side, engulfed in the dark of the after hours and surrounded by white noise.

With nothing more than a hmm, she brushed some hairs away from his face, and spent the next few minutes tracing her thumb along his forehead and then down his left eyebrow, trying to push some of his worries away. His eyes closed momentarily, and his own fingers began to move in a soothing rhythm where they touched the skin of her thighs. The weight of her on top of him always felt delightful, a comforting pressure.

But the sensation lasted only a few seconds. He grasped her wrist, holding her hand away from him.

“You deserve someone better than me.”

His words caught her off ward, making her frown and shift back a little, trying to discern his expression in the dark.

But he looked resolute, no ounce of doubt on his face as the words seemed to fill the space they were in, threatening to suffocate them.

“Noah—”

“You should be with someone that doesn’t spend most of the time away,” he began, “someone who isn’t locked in the studio whenever he’s home. Someone who doesn’t take time off to get his mind straight instead of choosing time off to be with his girl.”

She was tempted to snort. He was being silly. Yet, she knew it wasn’t the time to take his confessions lightly. He was suffering, and her job was to ease that pain, even if it meant going through the same conversation they’d had many times before.

“Is that what the voices told you?” she inquired softly.

She was met with silence, the room charging up with his unspoken words.

“Noah,” she said, her tone determined as she tried to capture his full attention. She freed herself from his grasp and leaned forward, resting her forearms on his chest and reaching the sides of his face with her hands. He hadn’t shaved in the last three days and a little stubble was growing. “I love watching you work,” she said. “It’s what makes you happy, and I’d never do anything to keep your happiness away. Same goes for your health. You need this. There’s no arguing about it.”

He didn’t seem convinced by her words, his hands falling to the sides of her body, resting apathetically on the mattress. He felt defeated.

“Noah, baby,” she insisted, calling his name softly and touching his chin with two fingers. Look at me. Listen to me. “You’re driven by passion, and that same passion is the one that led you to me, so please, don’t say that I don’t deserve you. I deserve no one but you.”

She waited for her words to sink in. There was a little crease between his eyebrows now. He was still doubtful, torturing himself needlessly.

“I want you happy and healthy, and taking time off isn’t something you should feel guilty for. I’m proud of you for it. And I’ll be happy if you decide to stay locked up in the house for a month. I’ll stay here with you because a healthy Noah is my favorite Noah.”

Under other circumstance, he would have made a joke about that, probably a dirty one about her favorite Noah. But that night, the truth was that he didn’t feel like laughing. As much as he loved her smile and her little laughs, there was a demon on his shoulder reminding him of all his failures and all his weaknessses.

She was so sweet to him, though. Always making an effort to knock off that demon and step on the devilish creature, turn it to dust with her fierceless light.

His hand instinctively rose to her cheek, his thumb moving in a slow, almost reverent motion that stirred her heart. She leaned into his touch, her own hands cradling his face and keeping him safe, enveloped in her embrace.

She missed him. She had missed him terribly over the last few months. The entire year, in fact. But she was stronger than her own demons. She watched from afar as her boy made his way up, as his band grew, as their artistry gained recognition beyond the walls of their homemade studio with each passing day. She watched Noah’s tireless dedication to reaching out to the world with his music, his stories, the worlds capable of creating on his own. She watched as he poured his heart and soul into it, and how time began to consume him, both day and night.

Until he could bear it no longer.

She touched her lips to his. She kissed him for a brief moment. Soft and slow, emphasizing her presence, her connection to his very soul. And he responded delightfully, breaking the contact just for a few seconds, keeping the kiss a ghost, his lips hovering over hers beyond touch.

Inhaling his fresh breath, she wanted him to kiss her again. She wanted to let herself drown in the kiss.

When he did kiss her, it was the most achingly slow kiss he had ever given her. It was a kiss that said, “I’m tired. I need slow. I need time to stop. Please, hold me.”

And she would hold him. Any time. Always.

As her body relaxed on top of his, he cupped her entire face in his hands, keeping their mouths locked together. She tasted divine, and he cursed every second he had to pause to take a breath before diving back in with a little sigh.

When she shifted on top of him and he felt her core hovering right where he should’ve had an erection, he felt instead another failing.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, withdrawing from her, his hands slipping away, turning his head so that his cheek pressed to the pillow. He exhaled with defeat.

“Sorry for what?” she asked, disconcerted.

“I’m not… I’m not in the mood for sex right now. I’m sorry.”

“Why do you have to be sorry for that?” she questioned, her confusion deepening. “I’m not here to demand that from you,” she added. Far from it. It pained her that he thought she needed that every time he kissed her. It pained her to see him punishing himself again for simply not feeling up to it, as if there was something wrong with it. “In fact, I just hoped I could just hold you all night.”

Noah looked back at her, somewhat taken aback. Not the reply he had expected.

He was definitely not his usual self.

“Would you let me?” she pleaded, blinking.

It took him a moment, but finally he relented, placing a hand behind her head to pull her down so that she rested against his chest. With each steady rise and fall, she smiled through watery eyes, hoping that tonight she could keep her promise: to hold him, to heal him, if only until the sun rose again.

She had just closed her eyes when his voice filled her ears again, soft, delicate, vulnerable.

“I’m so afraid, that the walls that I have made have locked me in. I’m not okay. But I can try my best to just pretend…”

He was singing to her.

If you or someone you know is struggling with mental health & well-being, you are not alone and there is always someone willing to listen and help. Reach out and keep fighting. There's always a light at the end of the tunnel.

178 notes · View notes