I need a fucking miracle

THIS IS A FANFIC USING REAL PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL SITUATION! I AM NOT IMPLYING THAT THIS PERSON WOULD DO THIS IRL OR ACT LIKE THIS! ITS FICTION!

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You picked at your fingernails nervously as you sat in the waiting room, your leg bouncing up and down rapidly.

Something about Doctors’ offices always made you nervous, especially when it involved a doctor that wasn’t your own. You were getting a routine check-up and your first pap smear, scheduled with your regular doctor, but she had a last-minute family emergency. This meant you were going to be inspected by someone else, and that thought made you slightly uneasy.

You played with the mask that covered your nose, pinching at the metal band that rested on the bridge before tugging at the string.

The old woman next to you watched your anxious wading with curious eyes, and you simply shifted in your seat, avoiding her gaze.

Your name was finally called and you followed the nurse, allowing her to check your height, and then leading you into a room located at the end of the hall.

She sat you down, your legs crunching beneath the paper as she placed the blood pressure bump along your arm, squeezing until it tightened and let go.

“Your blood pressure seems to be a little high?” She said, eyebrows furrowing.

You rubbed your hands nervously between your thighs, “I’m just a little anxious.”

Her eyes smiled, indicating a soft grin beneath the mask she wore, “You’ll be just fine. Dr. Davis is a fantastic doctor.”

His name rang off her tongue, piquing your interest. Davis. You knew someone with that last name in high school.

“You can take your mask off in here by the way. Just set it on the side.” She nodded before leaving and you sat there for a few more moments, nervously shifting in your seat.

After a few minutes, you heard a soft knock on the door and you sat up straight, anticipating the man who would be taking care of you today.

The door opened and a man with soft chestnut hair that fell slightly in front of his face walked in, thin-framed glasses sat promptly on top of his nose, covered by a black mask. He hadn’t looked up from the clipboard that was in his hands as he kicked the door closed with his foot gently, tattooed fingers holding up the top page as his eyes skimmed rapidly over the words.

“How’s it going? I’m Dr. Davis.” His voice fell from his lips in a firm but gentle tone and your eyes widened in surprise as you remembered the faint lisp at the end of his ‘s’, and the twang in his accent.

“Hi,” you whispered as you absorbed his image, eyes skimming over his white coat that draped down his long body. The light-blue button-up sat tightly against his neck. You swallowed gently at the ink that crawled just above the collar, sinched between a black tie traced with binary code as the pattern.

“Y/N Y/L/N?” He asked with a curious tone, gaze immediately leaving the page as his orbs met your own, and your heart raced as his ochre eyes bore into yours.

His professionalism dropped slightly as his eyes skimmed over your face in recognition, and your lips parted slightly. He stood still, frozen in remembrance before he coughed, setting the clipboard on the counter and taking a seat next to his computer.

Noah Sebastian Davis is your doctor.

He immediately avoided your gaze as your face began to warm, and you crossed your legs, feeling vulnerable under his authority as he sat there, distracting himself with his computer.

Your high school hookup is your doctor.

“Well,” He began typing, a soft waver barely evident in his voice, “It’s been a long time.”

“Thirteen years,” You licked your lips quickly, smiling shyly as you stared at your legs, glancing up every so often to steal a look at your doctor. You felt even more nervous than before as the man who sat in front of you eventually turned, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he watched you intensely.

“Look, let’s just keep this professional. If you’re more comfortable with someone else I can get another doctor in here.” He said monotonously, leaning over his lap as his elbows rested on his knees.

You mustered a small smile as your chest hammered, eyes grazing across the tattoos embedded into his fingers Memories of the way they used to dance along your skin left your stomach swirling.

“It’s alright, I don’t mind…” Your thoughts trailed off as you looked at the ground, “if you don’t mind?”

Dr. Davis maintained strict eye contact, his voice proper and fixed, “It’s my job to remain professional and competent. I strive for nothing but efficiency, and I’ll have you in and out Mrs. Y/L/N.”

“Miss,” You corrected quietly, picking at your nails again.

Something flashed across his eyes at the realization, and your ears flushed as you adjusted yourself on the examination table.

He turned on the chair again, fingers tapping on the keyboard.

“Let’s go through some medical history to clarify things under your files. It seems you usually have Dr. Thomas, am I correct?”

You hummed in confirmation, nodding along.

“Any health concerns to bring up in your visit today?”

You shook your head, “Just a routine check-up and a pap smear.”

Dr. Davis nodded along, shifting in his seat at the mention of a pap, his hand reaching to pull against his collar as if loosening the tension that was building within the room.

“Any issues regarding mental health?”

You shook your head.

“Eating and drinking well?”

You nodded.

“Any allergies?”

You shook your head.

“Sexually active?”

You noticed his voice hither slightly, as he glanced over at you briefly, before fixating his eyes on the computer again.

“Not like, regularly.”

He shifted in his seat, nodding.

“Multiple partners?”

“Uhm,” you began to stutter nervously at his questions, “A few. Not frequently changing.”

It was a routine check-up, you reminded yourself. Doctors asked these questions.

You shrugged, eyes skimming up towards him again as his eyes bore into you once again, your abdomen clenching as his gaze darkened.

“How many since me?”

You coughed, caught off guard as you stared at him in disbelief, “P-pardon?”

He didn’t repeat the question, but instead continued typing, clicking away at your file.

“Three,” You then said, watching him carefully and he hummed in response.

“Anything else you think I should know?” He asked, returning to his cool, professional composure.

You shook your head again, watching as his chest heaved slowly as he stood up. He grabbed the stethoscope that hung around his neck, and you watched as he placed the ends in his ears before standing in front of you, maintaining a distance.

“Let me check your lungs… can you take your jacket off?” He asked, watching you carefully as you peeled off the layer, placing it to the side.

Dr. Davis then sat next to you on the examination table and your heart began to pick up pace at the proximity of his body, his cologne melting into your senses.

His shoulder brushed against yours as he leaned behind you to place the end of the stethoscope on top of your back.

He asked you to take in a deep breath, and you inhaled swiftly, attempting to exhale in a slow, controlled pattern; but the breath that left your lungs was shaky and uneven.

“Sorry,” you whispered, and he ran the stethoscope across your back again, this time placing it underneath your shirt, the cold metal causing a shiver to run down your body.

“Three more,” He asked gently and you obliged, each breath faltering again as your heart raced.

There was no doubt he could hear the thump of your heart pick up as his warm fingers gently skimmed your skin as he controlled the stethoscope; knowing how nervous his proximity made you.

He pulled away, staring at your flushed face before leaning behind you to grab an ear otoscope.

“Just going to check your ears,” he said as his warm hands pulled along your ear, his warm breath creating goosebumps along the skin in your neck as the hairs stood up.

Your stomach butterflied as he then grabbed a wooden popsicle stick, standing in front of you now, placed between your legs.

“open,” he commanded and you obliged, sticking out your tongue and making an ‘ah’ sound.

Dr. Davis held underneath your chin to look up at him as he placed the wood on top of your tongue, pressing down slightly. Your abdomen clenched as a rush of emotions ran through your body, making eye contact with the tattooed doctor as he stared back, not even looking at the back of your throat as your mouth was agape, open widely for him.

You wanted nothing more than to reach up and pull against the fabric of his mask, greedily wanting to expose his lips to see the rest of his face and smile, to see how handsome he had gotten with age.

Your chest heaved as his fingers slid from underneath your chin, trailing down your throat with firm but gentle fingertips, the tension between you building as seconds passed by. He pulled back his hand, along with the popsicle stick, and your mouth closed slowly as he took a step back.

As he turned from you, the way he slid his hand into his pocket to readjust himself didn’t go unnoticed, before he faced you again, nodding curtly.

“I’ll let you get undressed from the waist down. You can place this blanket over yourself, I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He averted his gaze as he opened the door, closing it gently behind him.

You let out a breath as your mind began to race. The way your mind kept tracing back to years of messing around with him in high school sent your stomach into a lustful spiral, the warmth of his inked fingers relighting years of memories he engraved into your skin.

Noah had given you years of orgasms, some of the best you ever had. None of your other lovers had compared to him, and your body knew this, sparking complete excitement at his presence once again.

You shifted on your feet embarrassed at this, peeling off your jeans as you folded them neatly on the chair. You slid off your black panties, placing them on top of your pants before lying down on the bed, the cool air causing you to shiver.

Or perhaps, it was the fact Noah was going to be extremely close to your intimate space after so many years of deprivation.

You two hooked up on and off for years during adolescence, never forming a relationship beyond that; even though you always wanted to.

You always had feelings for Noah, but you knew he wanted nothing more than to fuck you senselessly, and then part ways. No strings attached.

After high school graduation, you two parted, never speaking to each other again. You had always wondered what he had gone off and set to do, and being a doctor was honestly the last thing you’d think he’d do. Noah had always been extremely smart, but it still came as a complete shock when he was the one who walked through that wooden door just fifteen minutes prior.

You covered yourself with the thin blanket and a moment later Dr. Davis came through the door again, glancing at your exposed legs before turning to grab a pair of gloves from the counter.

You watched him intensely as he pulled the latex over his fingers, almost drooling at the thought of them running along your folds. You shook away the thought, knowing that you would be completely dripping by the time he would be sitting between your legs, examining you.

The last thing you wanted was for him to know the effect he still had on you, even after all these years.

He made eye contact with you again, tugging at the tie around his neck once again as he took the chair, rolling it to the edge of your feet. Before sitting he pulled out the stirrups.

“You can rest your heels on here,” He pointed to the plastic, and you noticed how his ears began to flush red, his chest rising and falling quickly as he glanced into your eyes once again.

When he looked away you glanced down at his black slacks, swallowing harshly at the bold outline of his erection that was extremely evident, through his tight pants.

You swallowed as you slowly lifted your legs, exposing yourself to the man who now sat at the end of the bed, the thin blanket sliding down your thighs gently, leaving your body on display for Dr. Davis.

“Fuck.”

The word was barely audible. He had whispered it so quietly through gritted teeth, but you still managed to hear the four-letter word, and it sent another rush of warm lust through your body.

“I-I’m just going to examine you before inserting the speculum.” Dr. Davis’ professional tone faltered briefly, and you wanted to look down at him so badly.

You knew that he was aroused, but you had no idea how badly Noah wanted to tear into your pussy right then and there.

For years Noah wondered what happened to you. After years of dedication to med school, he didn’t have much time to form relationships, and he usually had a quick fuck here and there to tie over his cravings. He reminisced frequently about how good you felt wrapped around his cock, all of his past flings never making him feel quite how you did.

This morning when he agreed to substitute at the clinic he had no idea what to expect. You were the last thing he thought would happen, and the second he read your name on that piece of paper as he entered your room he felt his mind begin to spiral.

How was he supposed to remain professional around you?

His biggest regret was never pursuing anything further with you years ago, worried that if feelings got involved he would lose the best thing he ever had. In turn, he fucked himself over in the end, because he had lost you either way; but now, you were right here in front of him, naked and on display.

The second he saw you sitting on the exam table he felt an immediate rush to his pants, his mind racing as he began to sweat, the room suddenly feeling stuffy and tight. He couldn’t help but watch your lips as they parted when you talked, memories of them wrapped around himself as your tongue slid up and down his length leaving him unable to concentrate as he attempted to read your file.

He watched as you shifted nervously in front of him when he checked your lungs, heart racing rapidly under his touch. He wanted to rip your thighs apart, slipping his fingers into you, wanting to leave you begging.

Noah wanted to pull his name from your lips; leaving you worshiping him, needing him.

He kept reminding himself that he was a professional now and that it was unacceptable to push the boundary of client-patient professionalism. There was a code of conduct and ethics he was required to follow; but he wanted to forget years of practice, just to get a taste of you.

You lay there, trying to keep your heavy breathing quiet; but you immediately gasped as one of his covered fingers spread you open, barely touching your skin, afraid to go further.

You closed your mouth tightly, biting the inside of your cheek as you scolded yourself.

Don’t fucking moan, don’t fucking moan. He barely touched you.

“I’m going to insert the speculum now,” He said quietly, and you heard him whisper another sentence to himself, “God, you don’t even need lube…”

You knew that he knew how turned on you were by just his presence alone, and you closed your eyes as Dr. Davis inserted the plastic into your body, the feeling of fullness causing you to chew on your bottom lip.

Dr. Davis clicked the hinges as the speculum opened you up, and you covered your mouth with your hand, something Noah had noticed.

“Are you in pain?” He asked gently, and you shook your head.

“N-no, I-I’m okay.”

He hummed again, and it was quiet for a moment.

There was a lack of movement for a second until you felt a gloved finger brush across your clit slowly, and you furrowed your brows in anticipation.

Fuck, that had to be an accident, right?

You tried to think rationally about the situation, but your thoughts trailed to dirty places, silently pleading that Dr. Davis would press against your intimacy again.

Noah had listened for your reaction as he sat before your legs that held you splayed open for him, his mind battling. He swallowed hungrily.

You felt his fingers brush against you again and your thighs jolted to his touch, before you felt the pad of his finger press firmly against you, tracing small circles as he tried drawing a moan from your lips.

Your mouth fell open in satisfaction as your body clenched, Dr. Davis’ fingers rubbing faster and faster.

You couldn’t help it as a gentle whimper crawled from your chest, and with furrowed brows, you bucked your hips into his touch; giving him the permission he desperately wanted.

You felt the speculum being removed, and seconds later a wet swipe trailed up along your folds.

“Oh my god,” You whispered and Dr. Davis hummed, his lips latching onto your sweet spot before two gloved fingers slid into you, curling upwards.

You began to moan again, pulling the blanket away to see the brunette devouring your body. He looked up at you with lustful eyes, his mask pulled underneath his chin.

You ogled upon seeing his entire face, brows furrowed with desire as he remained stone cold.

“If you moan loudly one more time I’ll stop.” He said as he began licking your body once again, eyes fixated on your own.

“Y-yes.”

“Yes, what?” He said, pulling his mouth away as he continued to pump his fingers in and out rapidly, taking his thin glasses off and placing them on the table.

“Yes sir.”

“Good girl,” he praised, burying himself between your legs again in famish, devouring you feverishly with complete craving.

Your legs began to shake from his praise and you covered your mouth with your hands as your hips pushed into Dr. Davis’ touch, completely engulfed with euphoria.

You didn’t know that he was palming himself through his slacks as he ate you out, desperate for friction, desperate for you to be the one touching him instead.

“Cum.” He demanded, and in a second his tongue swiped along your folds you felt the knot that he built release, elation washing through you as you choked back a desiring cry.

Your free hand gripped Dr. Davis’ hair as you pulled him closer, rubbing yourself along his face as he ate you until it became too much, pushing him away.

He stood up, mouth agape and wet from your release as you watched him with yearning, both your chests heaving.

He hastily began pulling off his white coat, throwing it to the floor as you watched him loosen his tie. Sitting up you beckoned him over and his fingers gripped your throat, pulling you towards him as his forehead rested against your own.

You looked into each other’s eyes as unspoken words danced between you, both of you needing each other but too afraid to speak.

He held you firmly for a moment before pulling your lips to his own, kissing you completely with need and hunger, forcing you to taste yourself

You groaned quietly into his lips as your tongues ran along each other, your fingers shaky as you began unbuttoning his blue dress shirt.

His fingers tightened around your neck as your hands trailed to the hem of his black pants, tugging at his waistband as you pulled apart his belt, sliding the zipper down slowly.

He moaned softly as your fingers slid along his abdomen, threatening to dip in to grab where he needed you.

“You’re in no position to tease princess, remember that,” He squeezed your neck again as he towered over you in authority, and you smiled.

“This is wrong.”

“So wrong.” He mumbled before kissing you in desperation again, your minds fogged with nothing but lust and arousal.

Dr. Davis’ hands pulled your shirt over your head as he pulled back, taking in the image of your exposed body, ready for him.

His covered fingers found their way to your core once again, slipping in and out as you pulled down his underwear, his body hard and ready to devour you.

You licked your fingers, smiling up at him as he watched with lustful eyes, before grabbing hold of his erection, pumping up and down as he thrust into your hand in eagerness. He pulled his fingers in and out of you quickly, your mouth falling open as you watched each other, pleasing one another.

“Spread your legs, baby,” Dr. Davis pleaded, and you opened your thighs farther.

“That’s it… Wider,” He whispered, before pulling his hands away from you, wrapping them around himself as he positioned his body to yours.

Dr. Davis didn’t hesitate any longer before he pushed into you, a loud whimper leaving you. His eyebrows furrowed angrily as his gloved hand covered your mouth, pushing you back into the wall.

“Be fucking quiet,” He said through gritted teeth, his chest heaving as he continued to thrust into you, filling your body, claiming you as his own.

He tore into your skin with his motions, the feeling of him pulling out before pushing back in deeply causing your legs to clench shut. He pushed them open with the hand that wasn’t covering your mouth.

“I said to spread them,” He scolded, fingers digging into your thigh before he slapped the top of your intimacy, earning a yelp from you as your body jolted from the contact.

He remained cold and composed, attempting to keep up his professional facade that was beginning to crumble before you. His eyes squeezed shut as he pushed your thighs back towards your chest, opening you as he fucked your body with possession.

You watched his head tilt back, exposing the tattoos on his neck as his lips fell open in complete satisfaction.

Your body felt perfectly wrapped around him, years of need ready to release into you.

Dr. Davis wanted to flip you over so you stood in front of him, one leg lifted onto the bed as he gripped your ass and pounded you; but he knew that right now, he needed to watch your face contort in pleasure for him, from him.

Your body clenched around him, “Dr. D-Davis,” You whimpered, still trying to remain quiet so as to not be heard by the rest of the clinic.

“Noah,” the brunette growled, bringing you into a kiss and you nodded, murmuring his name back to him against his lips in a plea.

He was close to his release, but he held back, waiting to pull another orgasm from you before he would bring you to your knees, ready to cum down your throat.

“You can do it, that’s a good girl.” He praised and you melted at his words, letting go as he thrust into you one more time, your body completely enveloping him as your mouth was covered by his hand once again to mask your screams. Your body shook through the orgasm Noah offered you.

He slid in and out slowly, before pulling away. His fingers were threaded through your hair as he guided you to the floor, placing you on your knees.

You took him into your mouth mercilessly, sucking and bobbing along his length before he gripped your face, pulling you closer.

You gagged along him, tears forming as a deep growl rumbled from his chest, signalling he was close.

Seconds later Noah’s release coated the back of your throat, and you swallowed his orgasm, looking up at him in commitment.

“You’ve always been mine to ruin,” He said, panting as he pulled you off of him, and you sat on the ground, smiling up at him.

The two of you got dressed in silence, the hormones lingering in the air as he pulled off the gloves, grabbing his prescription notepad and a pen.

“I wasn’t able to get a good enough sample to send off to the lab,” He said, scribbling away, “I’ll need you to meet me at my office this weekend.”

Dr. Davis handed you the note and you looked at the paper, staring at the phone number and address as he nodded toward you, opening the wooden door and leaving the office.

hshshgsghshghsshgh ok i am a mess

There had been nights where Noah had driven across town because you had mentioned, almost as an afterthought, that you were craving something. He’d insist that it was no bother. 

There had been mornings where you’d wake up tangled in Noah’s arms, his face buried in your neck, his voice still rough with sleep as he’d mumble that he didn’t want to get up. 

There were times where he’d drop everything for you. 

Times where Noah couldn’t stop reaching for you, like he needed to feel you to know that you were there. His hand would find yours under the table. His arm would slip around your waist when you passed him. His fingers would brush against your leg beneath the blanket as you watched a movie.

Always something. Always you. 

There were times when he’d look at you like you were his entire world. Like you’d hung the stars and the moon just for him. 

And, maybe, that was what made now feel so difficult. Because you remembered what it was like being someone’s first choice. How it felt being Noah’s first choice. 

You weren’t sure when it had changed. 

Maybe it hadn’t happened all at once. Maybe it had happened so slowly that you hadn’t really noticed until you were already standing in the kitchen, staring at a made table and a dinner he wouldn’t come home to. 

You waited a little while longer, wanting to give him a chance. You wanted to give him the opportunity to surprise you. So you waited an hour longer. Your own dinner had already gone cold. You glanced at your phone. 

No texts. 

No calls. 

No explanations. 

Whilst you reheated your plate in the microwave, you wrapped Noah’s dinner in aluminium foil before putting his plate in the fridge. You sat down at the table you had laid out for the two of you, not bothering to light the candles. The dinner Noah loved suddenly tasted like nothing. 

Hours passed. When you finally heard the front door open, it was half past ten in the evening. 

“Hello?” came his voice from the hallway. 

You didn’t answer him, simply flipping a page in the book you were clutching before taking another sip of your glass of wine. Soft steps could be heard as Noah made his way through the house, almost like he thought you were sleeping, not wanting to make any noise. You knew he’d passed the dining table, and you found yourself hoping that he’d notice the utensils and glass you had left out by his chair. 

From the corner of your eye, you could see him stopping as he spotted you. 

“Baby…?” 

You lifted your gaze from the book, letting it land on him. He gave you a small, tentative smile. Like he was testing the waters. 

“Your dinner is in the fridge.” 

“Oh,” he said. “I already ate.” 

You looked at him. Didn’t say a word. You didn’t even let your expression change, keeping your face completely neutral. Then you closed your book with a quiet snap and placed it on the coffee table. 

“Of course you did.” 

You stood. He watched you, clearly waiting for something else. Anger. An explosion. Anything. 

But you were determined not to give him anything. You simply walked past him, careful not to even let your shoulder brush against his. 

“Baby?” 

You didn’t answer. 

Making your way upstairs, you closed the door of the master bathroom behind you. Making sure to lock the door. 

You took your time. 

You washed your face. Went through your skincare routine slower than usual. Brushed your hair before slowly braiding it, starting over twice. Changed into your pajamas. Anything to make yourself busy. 

Anything that meant that you didn’t have to look at him yet. 

You stared at yourself in the mirror for a moment, making sure your eyes were dry. They weren’t. Only when you had managed to rearrange your face to an indifferent expression did you unlock the door. 

Noah was sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked up immediately when he heard the door opening. His eyes followed you as you crossed the room, watching as you quietly put your things away. 

“You’re angry with me.” 

You glanced at him. 

“What makes you think that?” 

He gave you a look. A small, almost tentative smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. 

“Because I know you, baby.”

Something about the softness in his voice made your heart ache. 

“Don’t do that, Noah.” 

His expression changed. 

“...Do what?” 

“Don’t put me last and then come home and try to be soft with me.” 

He frowned as he reached a hand out towards you. You stared at his hand for a moment before looking back at him. 

“Baby—”

“No.” 

His hand slowly fell back to his side. 

“I was at the studio. I lost track of time. I’m sorry.” 

You folded your arms across your chest. 

“And I’m sorry about dinner.” 

You let out a humorless laugh. 

“You really think this is about dinner, Noah?” 

“I didn’t say that.” 

“But you just apologized for dinner.” 

He sighed, dragging a hand down his face. 

“I… I saw the table and— I’m trying to apologize.” 

“Then apologize for what happened.” 

“I’m sorry I got home late.” 

You raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Hours late.” 

“I know.” 

“And you couldn’t call me? Couldn’t take five fucking seconds to send me a text?”

“I got caught up…” he said, trying to give you an apologetic smile. 

“You always get caught up.” 

Noah’s jaw tightened. 

“You know how it is,” he said, jaw tightening.

“Yeah,” you nodded slowly. “ I do.” 

“Then you know I didn’t do this on purpose.” 

“I know,” you said. You looked down, picking at the edge of your sleeve. 

“Then why are we fighting about this?”

“Because that’s almost the worst part.” 

Noah didn’t say anything, clasping his hands together. 

“It’s not the dinner. It’s not you coming home late.” 

You looked back up at him. 

“It’s that you always choose everything else first. The studio. Work. Whatever it is you’re doing. I’m —”

Your voice grew quieter, until it was scarcely more than a whisper. 

“And I’m just…” You swallowed. “I’m always the thing that can wait.” 

“I don’t—”

“No. You do. You keep doing it.” 

Noah stood abruptly. The sudden movement made you take half a step back. 

“Everything I do is for you. For us.” 

His voice had risen a bit, frustration finally breaking though the softness he had seemed so determinated to show. 

“That’s a very nice excuse, Noah.” 

His eyes narrowed. 

“It’s not an excuse.” 

“Then what is it?” 

It was his turn to laugh humorlessly. He ran both hands through his hair, turning away from you for a second before turning back. 

“It’s the truth.” 

“Then why couldn’t you fucking text me?” 

“I SAID IM SORRY!” 

The words came out way louder than he had intended. 

Silence filled the room.

Thick. 

Intrusive. 

Noah’s chest rose and fell as he stared at you. His expression changed slightly as he caught sight of yours. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, quieter this time. “Okay? I got caught up. I lost track of time. I’m sorry I’m not perfect.” 

You blinked, trying to ignore the way your eyes burned. Because you weren’t asking for perfection. You just wanted him to remember you. 

The blinking didn’t help. A single tear escaped your eye, trailing down your cheek. And then another one followed. And another one. Before you knew it, you were crying.  

The anger disappeared from his face. 

“Baby…” he almost whispered, taking a step towards you. 

You shook your head, wiping at your cheeks. 

“Don’t.” 

He took another small step before stopping himself, arms opening slightly. 

“Pretty girl. I’m so sorry.” 

You stared at him. At his open arms. At the arms that you knew would wrap so tightly around you, just like they’ve always done. You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to be held. Or rather, you wished that you didn’t need to be. 

For a second, you didn’t move. You wanted to stay angry at him. You wanted to make him understand. Maybe you even wanted him to feel a little rejected too. But you just felt tired. So tired. 

So you went to him anyway. You let him wrap his arms around you. Let him press a kiss to your forehead. Let your tears fall freely. Let him cradle your face in both hands, wiping at your cheeks with his thumb. Let him promise that he’d do better. Again. 

And for a while, he did. 

Not perfectly, but better.

The next morning, he had made you both coffee before you woke up. He kissed your forehead before leaving for the studio, and promised that he’d be home for dinner. He even suggested that he’d pick something up from the Thai place you both really liked. And he did. 

The night after, his phone buzzed twice on the coffee table as you watched a movie together. He glanced at it, picked it up and set it down with the screen facing down and pulled you closer instead. 

“I’m busy,” he mumbled. 

You smiled up at him. 

“You’re not doing anything.”

He kissed the top of your head. 

“Exactly.” 

A week and a half later, on Friday, he texted you from the studio just as you were opening your laptop after lunch again. 

Noah: Do you have any plans for tonight? 

You stared at his message for a moment before answering. 

You: No. Why? 

Noah: Be ready at 6.

Noah: Wear something nice. 

You tilted your head a little, smiling despite yourself.

You: Why? 

Noah: Taking my girl out. 

He took you to dinner. A really nice one. 

A few days later, it was the movies. 

Noah remembered the snacks you liked. He held your hand or had one arm draped across your shoulders for the entire thing. Later, in the car home, he complained about the movie the whole way while you laughed at him. 

And he started reaching for you again. His hand found yours without thinking. His arm snaked around your waist when you stood beside him in the kitchen. A kiss pressed to your nose or temple as he walked by. 

Small things… Things that should not mean as much as they did. 

But they did. Because for a little while, you felt chosen again. 

And maybe, just maybe, that was why you didn’t notice straight away when it started fading again. Because there was no big moment. No argument. No conversation where he told you he was too busy. 

He just… stopped. 

The texts became less frequent. Dinner plans became a maybe. Movie nights became nights where he was too tired. His hand stopped finding yours as often. The little kisses as he passed became fewer. 

And then one night, you realised that you were sitting across from him at the dining table, telling him about something that had happened at work that day while he scrolled through his phone. 

You stopped talking. He didn’t notice. 

You could feel your stomach drop. 

But he had tried. Really. And that didn’t go unnoticed. 

So for a few weeks, you gave him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe his workload had picked up. Maybe he had a deadline coming up. Maybe there was a perfectly good reason for it. 

But that was the thing, though, wasn’t it? 

You didn’t need a perfectly good reason. You just wanted him to let you in. To tell you what was keeping him away. To make you feel like you were still worth coming home to. 

Noah barely made it three steps into the living room when he stopped. It was late. Too late. And he knew that perfectly well. There had just been this one vocal take that he couldn’t quite grasp. He had, to put it simply, lost track of time again. 

You were still on the couch. Still awake. Still waiting. 

Noah’s shoulders dropped slightly. 

“Baby, I know.” 

You looked up from your book. 

“It’s the seventh time.” 

“I know.” 

“The seventh time in less than two weeks.” 

He sighed, already knowing where this was going.

“I know.” 

You closed your book unnecessarily slowly, making a spectacle of it. You placed it on the table, taking your time to straighten it. 

“Out of those seven times, how many did you actually text me?” you asked. “How many times did you let me know that you were going to walk through that door in the middle of the night? That I’d be alone?” 

He groaned, dragging a long fingered hand across his face. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Once.” 

There was a moment of silence. 

“Baby…” he said, voice softening. “I’m so sorry.” 

You tilted your head a little. 

“Are you?” 

His eyebrows knitted together. 

“Of course I am.” 

Neither of you said anything else for a moment. Then Noah walked over and sat down at the opposite end of the couch. You looked at the space between you. It wasn’t much. Two cushions. Maybe four feet. 

But suddenly, it felt like an ocean. 

“...Do you even want this anymore, Noah?” 

His head snapped towards you. 

“What the fuck? What kind of question is that?”

“Just answer the question.” 

Noah stared at you for a moment, his eyes narrowing. There was a twitch in his jaw.

“Of course I do.” 

“Then why doesn’t it feel like it?” you asked, picking at the throw pillow beside you. 

He let out a frustrated breath and fixed his gaze somewhere in the ceiling, rubbing his neck. 

“Because I’m busy?” 

“You’re always busy.” 

“I have work.” “I know you do. I do, too.” 

He turned back to you, hands falling to his sides.

“Then what the fuck do you want me to do?!” 

“I want you to remember that your girlfriend exists.”

“I come home to you every night.”

You shook your head. 

“That’s not the same thing.” 

He threw both hands out to his sides. 

“Then what is?” 

“I need to feel like I’m a priority.” “You are a priority.” 

“Then act like it!” you couldn’t help but to raise your voice. 

Noah’s gaze fixed on you, his nostrils flared slightly. 

“I do.” 

“No, Noah. You don’t.” 

He stood suddenly. 

“What do you want from me?!” 

His voice had risen too. 

You pushed yourself to your feet too, refusing to let him tower over you more than necessarily even though your heart was pounding.

“I want you to act like this relationship is still important to you!” 

“I give you everything I fucking have!”

He gestured sharply around the room. 

“I don’t want a damn house, Noah!” 

“Then what do you want?” 

You threw your hands up helplessly. Noah turned away from you, both hands going into his hair. 

“I’m fucking human, Y/N! I’m not perfect, okay?” he turned back to you. “I can’t be perfect.”

“I don’t want perfect.” 

“Then what?” 

“I want to feel like you fucking want me!” you spat, voice cracking. 

You felt the familiar burn behind your eyes. The second the first tear fell, you wiped at your cheek, angry at the tears that insisted on falling. 

Noah’s expression changed slightly. 

“You’re crying again.” 

You let out a shaky, humorless laugh, shaking your head a little. 

“I’m crying because I’m so fucking angry at you, Noah!” 

He went quiet. His chest fell and rose heavily now. He looked away for a second, jaw clenched tightly, before looking back at you. 

“Maybe you don’t want this anymore.” 

“...What?” 

“Maybe you should find someone else. Someone who can give you what you want.” 

His words seemed to hang between you. Hard and heavy.

Noah closed his eyes, rubbing one hand over them. 

“I didn’t mean that,” he said. 

You swallowed. 

“I know.” 

He took a small step towards you before stopping. 

“I didn’t. I don’t know why I said that.” 

“But you still said it.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. You stood at opposite ends of the couch, looking at each other. 

“What do you want from me?” he asked quietly. 

You looked at him through the slight blur or the tears still clinging to your lashes. 

“I want you to want me.” 

His eyes locked onto yours. 

“You want me to want you?” “Yes.” 

He crossed the distance between you. Slowly. He was giving you every opportunity to step away. You didn’t. He came to a stop right in front of you, towering over you. 

His hand came up to your cheek, thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped. 

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered. 

You shook your head. 

“I’m still angry with you.” “I know.” “I mean it.” “I know, baby.” 

You grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down. The kiss was nothing like the soft apologies from your last fight. 

It was angry. 

Desperate. 

Almost like neither of you knew what to do with everything you were feeling. 

Noah deepened the kiss, your teeth clashing together. His tongue brushed your bottom lip, asking for entrance. You let him in, his tongue finding yours. His hands left your face, sliding down the sides of your body, pulling you closer by your hips. In turn, you pressed yourself impossibly closer to him, one hand gripping his shoulder as the other nestled in his hair. You gave his hair a little tug, earning a soft groan from him. 

Pushing him forwards a little, the back of Noah’s legs hit the couch. He let himself fall down on it, pulling you with him without ever breaking the kiss. Your hands found the bottom of his shirt, impatiently tugging at it. Noah chuckled darkly as he allowed you to pull it over his head before mimicking your action and disposing of your shirt too. 

His hands found your hips, pressing you down harder where you straddled his lap. You rocked your hips against his, making his head fall back. You could already feel how hard he was underneath you. 

Noah looked up at you through almost black eyes. 

“And you still think I don't want you?” he breathed. “I don’t want anyone else.” 

One of his hands found their way underneath the hem of your pajama shorts, pressing two long digits to your core. His mouth latched itself to your neck as he slipped underneath your panties, running his fingers through your slick folds. 

“You’re fucking soaking, baby,” he chuckled. “What’s got you all hot and bothered?” 

The remark earned him a sharp tug on his dark hair. 

“Shut the fuck up,” you said through gritted teeth. 

“Noted.”

You lifted yourself up slightly, allowing him to shimmy his pants down a bit, freeing his hard length. The tip was a little red, already leaking precum. Noah didn’t bother to remove your tiny shorts or underwear, he simply pushed them to the side before lining himself up at your entrance. 

You lowered yourself slowly onto him, both of you catching the same breath. It had, to be honest, been a while. When he was buried in you to the hilt, you started to rock your hips over his. Noah groaned, letting his head fall back to rest against the cushion, watching you. 

You gripped his shoulders for support, putting up a relentless pace. You were still so angry at him, and wanted him to know. One of Noah's hands gripped your hip, the other made its way down to where you were connected as he started to thrust up into you. 

The feeling of him like this, buried so deep within you was overwhelming as it was. The added pressure to your clit, the small, fast circled he rubbed on it and the way he repeatedly hit that one spot as he thrusted up into you made you cry out. 

“Getting there baby?” he murmured. “Squeezing me so fucking tight.” 

You couldn’t even speak, so you simply threw your head back, an all but pornographic moan leaving your lips. It was almost embarrassing how fast you felt the heat building in your lower belly, how the coil inside was threatening to snap. Noah thrusted harder, rubbed your clit a little faster. Your vision blurred as your legs started to shake on either side of him. Your eyes rolled back as white hot pleasure rippled through your body, making you fall forwards against him. Noah kept rubbing those perfect circles and kept fucking up into you as you rode out your high. Your legs gave out, making you sink down completely around him. 

“I can’t…” you whimpered against the crook of his neck. 

“I’ve got you.” 

Noah simply grabbed both of your hips, holding you in place on top of you as his thrusts became sloppier. Moments later, you could feel his cock twitching inside of you, filling your insides with hot ropes of cum. 

The morning came quietly. You woke to the smell of coffee. For a moment, you stayed still with your eyes still closed, listening to the sounds coming from downstairs. After a while, you could hear Noah walking up the stairs. Then the mattress dipped beside you. A second later, you felt a kiss pressed to your forehead. 

“Good morning, baby.” 

You opened your eyes. 

Noah was already dressed, hair still slightly messy, a mug in his hand. 

“Made you coffee.” 

“Thank you,” you said, smiling sleepily. 

He leaned down, giving you a tender kiss. 

“I meant it, by the way.” 

“What?” He looked at you for a long moment. 

“What I said last night,” he said, pushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “You’re the only one I want.” 

He brushed his thumb over your cheek. 

“Only you.” 

And maybe he actually tried. It felt like it, at least. 

He sent you a picture from the studio one afternoon, something completely mundane that he knew you’d find funny. 

Noah: Thought you’d like this. 

You stopped in your tracks on the way to the office printer, grinning from ear to ear. 

A few days later, he came home with your favourite snacks without being asked. 

“I saw them and thought of you.” 

When you told him about your day, he actually listened. Asked questions. Remembered the little things you mentioned, asking you about them later. 

Every night when he knew he’d be working late, he called or sent you a text. And on the nights you were already asleep, he would gently wake you just enough to press a kiss to your forehead. 

“I’m home, baby.” 

Sometimes you barely managed a sleepy ‘okay’ before falling back asleep. 

But you always smiled. Because he was trying. 

And for a while, he really was. 

You let yourself believe him when he said he’d do better. Because maybe, this time he really would. 

Then came your fifth anniversary. You had been thinking about it for weeks. 

Not because you expected something extravagant. You didn’t need every surface in the house covered in flowers. Didn’t need some expensive piece of jewellery. 

You just wanted quality time with him. 

You’d bought him a small gift a few days before. It was nothing big or fancy. Just a funny mug that you’d seen in a shop that had made you think of him immediately. You had wrapped it yourself, storing it in a cupboard you knew he didn’t frequent. 

You had bought some cheese and good wine, happy that your anniversary happened to fall on a saturday. Noah had told you that he needed to finish the verse of a song, but that he’d make sure to come home in the afternoon. He’d wished you a happy anniversary that morning, kissing you so hard you swore you could still feel his lips against yours hours later. 

You got ready slowly, even though you didn’t know if he had planned anything or if you’d just stay home. You’d be happy with both and just wanted to look pretty for him. 

You curled your hair. Put on a little more makeup than usual. Sprayed yourself with the perfume he’d bought you a year ago. Put on the navy blue dress you knew he loved. 

You had lit the little mushroom shaped table lamp in the walk in closet as you got ready, music playing in the background. 

You checked your phone. 

Nothing. 

You smiled to yourself, maybe he really was planning something. Maybe he was going to surprise you. 

And then, again, you found yourself waiting for Noah. 

Before you knew it, seven became eight. 

Eight became nine. 

You checked your phone again. Still nothing. 

By ten, you had slipped out of your dress. Fifteen minutes later, you had wiped away your makeup and brushed the curls out of your hair. 

By eleven, the front door finally opened. 

Noah knew he was late. So, so, so late. 

“Baby?” he called as he stepped through the door. 

No answer. He frowned slightly, closing the door behind him. The house was quiet. Too quiet. 

He stepped inside, glancing into the living room. Empty. Turning back to hang his jacket up, he noticed that the light was still on in the dining room. And then he saw it. 

The little wrapped box on the table. 

Waiting. 

His stomach dropped. 

Noah walked closer, his eyes moved over the table. Two places had been set. Two empty wine glasses. Untouched candles. 

His breathing hitched in his chest. 

No. Fuck. 

Swallowing hard, Noah made his way up the stairs. The bedroom door was slightly open. So was the door to the walk in closet. A warm light spilled through the gap. It was the little mushroom lamp you loved so much. The one that was perched at the edge of your little dressing table. 

Your curling iron still sat on the table. Makeup was scattered around it, much more than usual. In the little trash can, he found cotton pads stained with makeup. Noah hid his face in his hands. How could he have been so stupid? 

He turned his attention to the bedroom. From where he stood, he could see your dress laying in a crumpled pile on the floor. The navy one. His favourite. 

Noah’s stomach twisted violently. 

Five years. 

Five fucking years. 

And he’d forgotten halfway through his day. Lost track of time. Again. 

“Fuck…” he whispered, almost inaudible. 

He wanted to hit something. Wanted to smash his head through the nearest wall. Instead, he just stood there. Staring at the evidence of everything you’d done for a night he’d hadn't even bothered to come home for. 

The gift.

The table. 

The makeup. 

The dress.

You’d waited for him. 

Deep inside, Noah knew that there was no coming back from this one. 

He found you asleep on your side of the bed, back turned against his side. For a moment, he just stood in the doorway. Noah swallowed hard. He peeled off his hoodie and jeans before he carefully climbed into bed behind you. 

He hesitated for a second before he reached for you. His arm slipped around your waist. Noah pulled you closer until your back rested against his chest. You didn’t move. He pressed his nose into your hair. 

He broke. 

His breathing hitched. Once. Then again. Silent tears slipped down his cheeks and into your hair. He held you tighter as he wept silently, pressing his body against yours as if he thought the physical closeness could convey how sorry he was to your sleeping form. As if holding you hard enough could somehow undo the last twelve hours. As if your unconscious mind would feel the kisses he pressed to the back of your head, and somehow manage to forgive him.

He didn’t know you were awake. Didn't know you felt every tear. Felt every kiss. 

And yet, you lay perfectly still. 

Because somewhere deep inside, just like Noah, you already knew. 

This was the end. 

The sun hadn’t fully risen when you untangled yourself from Noah's sleeping form, turning to face him. He was still asleep. For a moment, all you could see was the man you’d fallen in love with five years ago. The boy who would drop anything for you in a heartbeat.

You saw the man that couldn't seem to keep his hands off you, always reaching for you as if to make sure that you were still there. You always were. 

The man who looked at you as if you were his entire universe. 

You could still see him. Somehow, after everything, you could still see him. 

And maybe that was the cruelest part. The most painful part. 

Because you also saw every night you’d spent waiting. Every dinner he’d forgotten. Every unanswered text. Every broken promise of ‘I’ll do better’. Every time you had believed him. Every time he had wiped your tears, telling you that you were the prettiest girl in the world. Every time he’d made you feel chosen, only to make you feel forgotten again. 

You loved him. God, you loved him so much. 

But you were finally beginning to understand that loving someone didn’t mean you had to keep waiting for them to become the person they kept promising they would be. 

You got up and reached for the suitcase. For the first time in years, you chose yourself. 

“Baby?” 

You didn’t look up at him as you folded another shirt, placing it in the open suitcase on the floor. 

“What— what are you doing?” 

“I’m leaving.” 

He sat up immediately. 

“What?” 

“I’m leaving, Noah. I’ve had enough.” 

“No.” 

You pulled the zipper closed. He was out of bed before he’d even fully woken up. 

“Please don’t,” he said, moving towards you. “I’m so sorry, baby.” 

You pushed the suitcase up, reaching for the handle. He reached for your hand. He didn’t grab you. His fingers just closed gently around yours. 

You froze. 

He looked at you, his face draining of colour. 

“Please look at me.” 

You didn’t. 

“Baby, please.” 

Slowly, you lifted your eyes to meet his. The look on his face almost broke you. He looked terrified. Pale. 

“Please don’t go.” 

His voice cracked as his eyes filled with tears. 

“Please don’t leave me. I love you so much, baby. I— please. I’m begging you.” 

He opened his arms, just like he’d done so many times in the past. 

“Please.” 

You simply stood there for a moment, not knowing where to look or what to do. 

Then he slowly stepped closer, like he was afraid that you’d bolt if he moved too quickly. His arms wrapped around you. 

You didn’t hug him back. 

And that was when his breathing truly hitched. 

“I can’t lose you,” he begged. “I need you.” 

“You don’t need me, Noah,” you said firmly. “You just need me not to leave.” 

He held you a little tighter. 

“What do you need from me? I’ll do anything, baby. Anything.” 

There was a moment of silence. 

“I needed you to ask me that months ago.” 

You gently pried his arms away from you, and he let you do it. That somehow hurt even more. 

“I can fix this.” 

“Noah—”

“I can. I swear to you, I can. I’ll cancel things. I’ll—”

“That’s not the point.” 

“Then tell me what the point is. Please.” 

“Noah,” you said gently. “You had months to figure that out. 

“Baby, please. I’m so sorry. Just— just tell me what I’ve done wrong. I’ll fix it.” 

You looked at him for a long moment, at the tears that stained his face. You didn’t want to cry. But of course, like they always did, your tears started to fall too. 

“I did.” 

He swallowed. 

“What?” 

“I told you.” “I know, but—” 

“I told you when I was angry. I told you when I was crying. I told you when I was calm. I told you in the car. I told you when I was lying beside you in our bed. I tol—” 

Your voice broke slightly as your eyes met his. You swallowed. 

“I told you until I stopped believing you would listen.” 

“But— but I love you.” 

You gave him a weak smile, gently cupping his face in one of your hands, wiping his cheek with your thumb. He leaned into the touch. 

“I love you too,” you said. “That’s the problem.” 

There had been a time when waiting for Noah never really felt like waiting.

Now, for the first time, Noah spent his days waiting for you to walk back through the front door. 

You never did.