Please slide it in while I'm too sleepy to do anything about it. Grab my hips, gently thrust inside of me while shushing me and stroking my hair until I fall asleep. Thank you đ
Not me accidentally saying sphincter instead of specterâŚ. So if I ever meet Noah instead saying how much I love specter Iâd be like I love sphincter đ đ đ đđ Iâm just never gonna talk again
i have always tried to keep this blog a positive and safe space for everyone and i have only shared my art and things i like, but right now things are different and i don't think i can do that anymore.
i am writing this with tears in my eyes because i have no idea how life changed so fast; most of you don't know anything personal about me but i'm from Iran, last week (on june 13th) Israel attacked my country (and my city). some of the strikes were very close to my apartment and i had to leave and take shelter with some people i know in another part of the country that felt safer at the time but right now the city i'm in isn't safe anymore and i might have to move again.
it hasn't been a week and i have lost my job, i don't think i can keep my apartment and there's no guaranteed safe way to get back to my apartment to get my belongings. i am miles away from my family and it's not safe to travel to the other side of the country right now.
if i could do commissions, i would. but right now it's not possible for me to do that.
i will open my commissions as soon as i can find the mental strength and safety to do art but right now any help would mean a lot to me.
internet connection barely works here and i might not be able to come on here again to post but if you want to help, you can dm me and i'll try to send you my wise or paypal account info in the dms when i have internet again.
Summary: Reader is a detective and is assigned to a murder case which she soon connects with previous killings and figures out the religious affiliation, proving there is a new serial killer within the city. Reader soon becomes obsessed with the killers mind and methods and wonât rest until she figures out who the killer is. All while she gets used to working with her new partner on the case, detective Noah Davis.
Warnings: graphic writings of murder/killings, blood, gore, violence, serial killer, swearing, god complex, use of religion, stockholm syndrome, mentions of the death of a parent, smut, PiV, use of an inanimate object, knife kink, blood play (in a way) obsession, dark romance, choking, Iâm pretty certain thatâs it but please let me know if Iâve missed anything!!
Im so sorry for such a long wait, life once again got in the way haha but as Iâm up to date with everything else, I had to dive back into this world!! 5 chapters left until we are finished đ
You stared up at him in shock, that sinister smile not once leaving his lips.
You tried to say something, anything but your words had become stuck in your throat.
âWhatâs the matter angel? Cat got your tongue?â
You blinked and shook your head slightly and glanced away to look at the one man you hated the most.
Ethan Collins.
It had been 11 years, 11 years since this man had taken everything from you. The day your father died, a part of you did as well and your life has never been the same since.
You watched as Ethan struggled against his restraints, his muffled cries coming through the gag in his mouth, his eyes fell into you with a plea for you to save him.
Tears pricked your eyes as you looked at the man, none of this feeling real.
You felt Noahâs presence come behind you as he whispered so close into your ear that it sent a chill down your spine, you could feel the heat of his breath and the weight of his words sinking into your soul.
âIt ends tonight angel...all that pain, all that rage, just let go. He took everything from you. Itâs time to take it back."
A tear ran down your cheek as you turned to look up at him.
âIâŚI canâtâŚhowâŚwhy?!â
Noah smiled and brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear and wiped the tears away.
âBecause you are the final piece of my puzzle, donât you see? Youâre my big finaleâ
âHow?â
âOnly two commandments left, angel,â he murmurs. âJust two more steps between you and salvation⌠or damnation.â
He circles you slowly, predatory, his eyes never leaving yours.
ââThou shalt not kill.â That was never meant for people like him. Monsters deserve the grave they dug for others. And youâŚâ
He gestures toward the man before you.
âYouâve carried this weight for too long. Iâm giving you a gift, the power to end it.â
He stops in front of you, tilting his head.
âAnd the last oneâŚâThou shalt have no other gods before me.ââ
A slow, sinister grin pulls at his lips.
âYou already worship me. I see it in your eyes. The way your pulse races when Iâm near. Thereâs no heaven waiting for you, not anymore. Just me. I am your beginning, your endâŚyour god.â
Then his tone shifts, cold, final, razor-sharp. âSo hereâs the choice detectiveâ
âKill him and stand beside me. Or walk away and I promise you, Iâll put you down myself. No redemption. No escape. Because in the end, you were always meant to be mineâŚone way or the other.â
Your blood ran cold, this was his plan all along, this was what he wanted from the beginning.
âIâŚIâm not a killer like you!â
Noah chuckled low in his chest as he leant down closer, your lips brushing each other.
âNo, youâre my little angel, one that I want to tempt into sinâ
Ethanâs muffled cries became louder, causing your head to turn in his direction, seeing a look of fear and bewilderment on his face.
Noah smirked and walked over so he could rip the gag away from him, freeing his mouth so he could talk.
âWhat the fuck is this shit?! Who the fuck are you?!â
You turned to face him, brows frowned.
âYou donât know who I am do you?â
Ethan continued to struggled in his seat.
âNo and I donât give a shit! Youâll regret this when I get out of here you fucking bitch!â
You felt an anger starting to form in your gut, your hands balling at your side.
âI remember you, Iâve never forgotten your faceâ
Ethan then looked up at you, clearly trying to place you.
âWhat? Did I grope that pretty ass of yours in a bar or something? LET ME GO!â
âLOOK AT ME!â
He stopped and stared up at you with daggers, your body was shaking with so much adrenaline.
âYou killed my father 11 years agoâŚâ
Ethan studied your face, a sudden realisation overcoming him.
âYouâre that daughter of that cop!â
You nodded as Noah came and walked behind you with his arms folded, clearing enjoying this interaction.
âHe was a lieutenant and a very respected and loved man and father and you shot him downâ
He started to struggle again.
âSo what?! He got in my way so I removed the problem! Iâll do the same to you when I get out of this!â
Your blood was boiling, there was no remorse, he didnât even care about his actions all those years ago.
Noahâs breath was warm against your ear as you felt his knife slipping into your hand.
"This is the last step, angel. He deserves it. You know he does."
The tears flowed freely down your cheeks, you clutched the knife in your hands as you stared at the man you hated the most.
âLET ME GO YOU SICK BITCH!! I DONâT GIVE A FUCK ABOUT YOUR FATHER AND IâLL DO THE SAME TO YOU WHEN IâM FREE!â
âShut your mouth!â
He didnât, he carried on yelling and rocking the chair in anger.
âLET ME GO! You donât have it in you to kill me, youâre weak just like he was! I wonder if youâd have the same pathetic look in your eyes as you die like he did!â
You didn't hear yourself scream. Didn't feel the first swing. Or the second. Just the blood warm, thick, staining your skin like it belonged there as you stabbed away at the man in front of you, the blinding rage had washed over you like a cold winter wind, sharp and merciless, cutting through everything else. The man's laughter died in a wet choke, and still, you couldn't stop.
By the time you did, your hands were shaking, soaked in red. Ethanâs lifeless body slumped forward, crimson pooling beneath him and you felt it splashed onto your cheeks and soaking into your clothes.
The room was silentâŚexcept for the sound of your own ragged breath and Noahâs quiet, reverent whisper behind you.
âThere she isâ
Your breath caught in your throat, the weight of what youâd done crashing over you like a wave of static. Blood on your hands. On your skin. In your mouth.
You didnât flinch when Noah stepped behind you again, his presence calm, so calm, as if this was always meant to be.
His hand slid around your waist, fingers smearing red across your stomach as he pulled you flush against him.
âIâve never seen anything more beautiful,â he murmured against your ear, voice thick with reverence and something far darker.
Your heart thundered in your chest, but not from fear. From something elseâŚsomething hotter, more feral.
You hated how good it felt to hear him say that. You hated how your body leaned into his without thinking. But most of allâŚyou hated that he was right.
He turned you to face him, his fingers still wet with Ethanâs blood as they traced down the side of your neck, painting you like a canvas that he owned.
âYou crossed the lineâ he whispered, tilting your chin up, his eyes burning into yours. âAnd now thereâs no going back.â
Then his lips crushed into yours, hungry, claiming, tasting the ruin heâs created in you.
You kissed him back with as much force as he gave to you, letting yourself get lost in the feeling of him, like he was the only thing keeping you anchored down.
You pulled away and stared up at his face, now covered in the blood that stained yours, something primal and ferocious came over you.
You pulled him back down for another bruising kiss, your teeth nipping at his lips which caused a low growl to come from him.
âMake me feel something! Hit me! Cut me! Anything!â
The knife still clutched in your hand, your emotions numbed as you pushed against Noah, pushing him to fight back, his almost cruel laughter echoing around the room.
Noah grabbed you harshly by your hair at the base of your skull and tilted your head up as he took the knife from you.
âThereâs my girl, I knew she was in there somewhere, youâre just as dark and deprived as meâ
The next few moments were a blur, both of you ripping each otherâs clothes off as he backed you up to the bed.
You found yourself staring up at him, your chest heaving up and down as he suddenly waved the knife at you with a smirk, the blade glistening in the dim light through the blood that coated the steel.
With slow, calculated precision, he drags the tip of the knife, not sharp, not enough to cut, just enough, up your thigh, over your hip, tracing the curves of your body like he's sketching art into your skin as a trail of blood was left in its wake. You arch toward him, breath catching in your throat as you let out a moan.
"That's it," he growls. "Let me see you come apart for meâ
Noah drags the blade down and traces around your inner thighs again, you should be scared, but you werenât, you needed this, needed him like you needed oxygen.
âOpenâ
You spread your legs at his command, your core already dripping with desire for him.
Noahâs mouth fell open as he gazed down at you like you were the most delicious meal.
âPerfectâ
You watched as he flipped the blade in his hand and ran the handle over your slick folds.
âYouâre the altar, angel and Iâm worshiping. I'm your loyal acolyte, here to worship and to ruinâ
Your head fell back as the handle was pushed into you slowly, your walls gripping it instantly.
âHis bloodâs still warm on it. Do you feel how it fits? Like it was made to be between your thighs instead of between his ribsâ
You cried out and moved your hips in time with his hand as he used the blade on you, a sick reminder of what youâve done but instead of shame, all you felt was heat. Twisted, hungry, consuming heat that wrapped around your spine and ignited everything inside of you.
Noahâs breath was ragged as he watched you writhe beneath him, the blood slick handle pumping in and out with a deliberate rhythm.
âThatâs itâ he murmured.
Your fingers clawed at the sheets, desperate for more, more pressure, more pain, more of him. You needed to feel him, to lose yourself completely in the madness heâs dragged you into.
He pulled the knife from you slowly, deliberately, coated in you, in death. And then he tossed it aside and climbed on top of you, settling between your legs like he belonged there.
âI want you to ride me,â he growled, dragging you up with him, positioning you in his lap with your back against his chest. âI want you to look at what you did while I ruin whatâs left of you.â
Your eyes flicked to the slumped body in the chair, still bleeding out into the floor. You felt no horror, only power pulsing through you like a second heartbeat.
His hand curled around your throat, tightening just enough to make your vision pulse at the edges as you sank down onto him with a cry.
âEyes open, angel. I want you to watch while I make you mineâ
Noah helped you start to move your hips on top of his, the feeling of his hard length reaching deep within you as your breath was being choked under his grasp.
You moan and moved your body faster, desperate to chase the high flooding your body.
Noahâs groans came deep from within his chest that vibrated against your back as he kept your head up and facing your kill across the room.
It was all too much, your bodies moved in a brutal, perfect rhythm, your cries carried around the room.
âLook at him,â he snarled through gritted teeth, dragging your gaze back to the lifeless body still slumped in the chair. âThis is what it took to set you free. ThisâŚthis is who you are now.â
You knew it was true, you felt it, you could taste it.
âNoahâŚâ you choked, voice broken, shaking. âIâm gonnaâŚâ
Your vision blurred as your climax hit like a violent wave, tearing through you with a force that stole your breath from your body. You cried out, high and raw as your body trembled, every nerve alight with fire.
He followed with a low, guttural moan, hips jerking up as he spilled inside you, his head falling to your shoulder, teeth grazing your skin like he could devour you whole.
The world was silent again. Except now, it was yours.
Your body went limp in his arms and you felt his hands slide around your middle as he held you close.
Not like prey. Like possession.
Like you're his very own religion.
And @iluvmewwwww75 I donât know if you remembered this post but you heavily inspired me last year for this chapter so this one is definitely dedicated to you my lovely đ¤
I really need your reblog! On Tumblr, the content reaches more views and is delivered more through reblog and I really wanted more people to be able to read what I write.
I'm counting on you from now on, ok?
Bitter, like the old coffee grounds left to sit for days at the bottom of a pot.
That was the expression staring back at you in the mirror.
As you absentmindedly combed the ends of your hair, moving with exaggerated slowness, you wonderedâhow did normal people deal with their motherâs death?
They cried until their bodies dried out, drowned themselves in depression, obsessively sifted through the past until it hollowed them out from the inside. They relived memories, tortured themselves with regrets, let longing consume them little by little.
But you?
You had none of that.
No good memories to cling to. No moments worth reliving. No guilt, no shadow of remorse, nothing positive to remember. Not a single tear shed for missing her. The only ones that had fallen since you left prison had been wrenched from you by physical painâand maybe, just maybe, by relief.
Because a part of you believed that, along with her, some of your problems were being buried too.
She had held your instability in her hands for years. She had broken you. Tore your soul to pieces. Made you a puppet whose strings had finally been cut.
And if⌠you were free?
There was no way to know. You had never tasted it before.
You had never known what it was like to sleep in silence, without her voice poisoning your thoughts, repeating those cruel words like a twisted mantra, reminding youâover and overâthat the curse wrapped around you would never leave.
Never.
And what if you were never free?
There were moments when you caught yourself reflecting on that, thinking over and over about âthe day you would finally find rest.â But what if that day never came while you were alive? What if you never felt the lightness of a body unburdened, the quiet of a peaceful mind, the chance to live something that was truly yours? What if you never saw the talent everyone claimed you had, simply because you never had time to notice it? What if you never experienced loveâŚ
Noah.
What if you never freed yourself from the suffocating feeling of keeping someone trapped inside your own dome of thorns? What if you were never capable of loving him the way normal people loved? What if you never saved him from the sentence of existing at your side, waitingâŚ
Waiting.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Waiting for a new beginning that might never come.
Finally, you and your mind, crowded with thoughts, left the bathroom. As you stepped through the doorway, you took a deep breath, facing the familiar scene.
This wasnât your home, and that room wasnât yours.
He had kept everything exactly the same since the time you called this place home. From the cozy scent to the meticulous organization, everything exuded his essence.
You smiled as your bare feet sank into the carpet you had once argued about keeping clean. And as you hugged your arms tightly across your chest, something twisted in your throat when your gaze landed on the bed you used to shareâmessy on only one side.
The side where you had slept.
He was everywhere, even though he wasnât physically within those four walls.
Your feet carried you downstairs slowly, and with each step, the male presence at the kitchen counter came into viewâsitting, eating cereal while watching a video on his phone.
You didnât even need to reach the last step before he turned, as if he could smell you like an animal, no matter the distance.
Noah froze mid-bite, then smirked as he watched you approach.
âI didnât want to wake you, but I made your coffee,â he said, nodding toward the cabinet.
âYou brought me to your house.â
Your words came out quietly as your gaze swept across the kitchen and living room. You felt an absurd need to check if anything was different.
âOur house,â Noah corrected, tilting his head.
âYour house,â you repeated.
"Alright." He nodded reluctantly, resting his spoon on the edge of the porcelain bowl. "I just didnât think it was a good idea to leave you alone. How are you feeling?"
"You donât have to act like she was a good mother."
Your voice carried a sharp edge, one you couldnât control when it felt stronger than you, slipping out of your grasp. You were too apathetic, too irritable for condolences over someone like her.
"That, I know." He shrugged, and you turned your back on Noah, walking to the overstuffed fridge.
Grabbing an energy drink, you snapped the tab open with your finger, feeling his disapproving stareâhis silent distaste for you consuming that this early.
"You know how I feel about Crystal. We always fought because I wanted you to stay away from her, while you insisted on torturing yourself, tied to her. I always hated her because, in some way, I blamed her for⌠for us not being together anymore. But that doesnât mean I wanted her dead."
"I wish I could say the same."
The truth was, you felt completely hollow inside, incapable of feeling anything at all. Maybe you just hadnât processed what had happened yet, your brain stuck in limbo, suspended between awareness and denial, keeping you at armâs length from reality.
His words made you lift your head slowly, meeting Noahâs gaze. His cheeks were flushed from the warmth of the house, and there was an unmistakable sadness in his eyes. His energy was as low as his voice, but still, he tried to offer comfort.
"Youâve always been stronger than me when it comes to feeling things. Tougher. Not just anything can shake you."
He spoke with difficulty, pressing his fingertips together like he was trying to keep something inside.
"Iâm the last person youâd want to trust, and rightfully so. I donât think I deserve that. But more than anything, I want to be someone you can lean on right nowâjust like you always were for me. Because this time, itâs you who needs it."
Setting the energy drink on the counter, you couldnât stop him from touching your hand. Your eyes met, and his skin was warm. The slow breath escaping his nose felt heavy, like he was fighting a battle within himself.
"Iâm trying. Iâm trying so damn hard, little storm."
"Why do you still try?"
Your voice carried no resentment, no bitternessâjust a genuine question that had haunted your chest for nine years. Why did he still hold on?
"Because thatâs what people who love each other do." He took a deep breath. "They keep waiting. Waiting. Waiting."
A silence, without a single trace of awkwardness, settled in the air.
"I want you to stay here⌠I can crash at Ruffilo, but donât insist on going back to that house!"
"Itâs not fair to push you out of your own home, NoahâŚ" You protested, slowly releasing his fingers.
"Come on, you, of all people, know that place is unlivable!" He insisted, exasperated. "You know it so well that when weâre in town, you barely even stay there! That place isnât right for you when you have a real home!"
You rolled your eyes, but maybe he wasnât entirely wrong.
When it came to comfort, that house had none. It was cold, messy, isolated from everything, surrounded by horrible memories, and had long stopped being a safe place. That was where you spent the worst months of your life while the band was awayâa period stolen from your mind, a time you were still trying to piece together to make sense of it all.
You didnât have the luxury of mourning in bed or processing any shred of grief. You needed to understandâurgentlyâone missing piece of your life.
"I need to go out for a bit, but Iâll see you later."
You announced, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek as you rose onto your toes and swiftly grabbed the car keys from the counter.
"I can drive youâŚ" He started innocently but slumped back into his chair, raising his hands in surrender when you shot him a look over your shoulder. "Okay, okay, sorry. You look really pretty today."
Rolling your eyes again, you turned away from him and shut the door behind you, heading toward the garage.
Resting your forehead against the steering wheel, you forced your mind to work at a pace faster than usual.
Like you told Jolly at the hotel, all the memories you had from that period were nothing more than fragmented scenesâblurred, unfinished, as if your brain had never fully processed them. They told you thatâs how the mind of an addict worked, that it was your own fault for destroying yourself until your brain suffered the consequences. That was the most convenient argument they could have given.
Your fingers pressed into the sides of your head, as if that would somehow make it function better.
Seeing Dr. Kleinâs name on Noahâs prescription bottle had triggered a chain reaction of questions in your head, tangled among the messy, fragmented cuts that resurfaced with the unlocked trigger.
And the biggest question of all was: why?
If you could find the answer to that, youâd be closer than ever to filling this empty gap.
And you knew exactly who could answer it.
Running your nails lightly across your palm, bouncing one leg in a slow yet anxious rhythm. You felt like you were about to face death row. There was no point in rehearsing the right words or the correct approachâit never suited you, not when you had always done what you felt needed to be done, without a script.
The amber glow of the bedside lamp cast a soft light over your body, revealing only part of your silhouette in the armchair. Your eyes never strayed from the door, while inside your chest, your heart felt like it was being shaken back and forth, as if a tractor were dragging it mercilessly. You listened intently to the muffled goodbyes and fading laughter dissolving into the air as he approached the entrance.
His shadow stretched across the floor before the key turned in the lock, and for a moment, your breath nearly faltered.
As soon as he stepped inside, he kicked his shoes down the hall and tossed his coat onto the table. It took him a few seconds to finally turn aroundâand when he did, he startled, his hand flying to his chest and his eyes widening upon noticing you there, seated in his living room, legs crossed, waiting.
"Hi, Landon." Your voice was cold.
"AngelâŚ" He nearly laughed in awkward surprise, his posture loosening. "How⌠how did you get in?"
"Your maid isnât a very trustworthy person when she believes anyone with strong persuasion skills. I spoke, she believed, and here I am." Your tongue traced the edge of your lips, and you shrugged, watching him nod slowly. "Seems like itâs easier to get inside some peopleâs heads than others."
Landon chuckled, dragging a chair to the center of the room before sitting down. He wasnât an unattractive man, but at that moment, his presence stirred in you an almost visceral aversion. It was as if he belonged to a distorted version of realityâwhere his face was grotesque, his scent unbearably peculiar, and even the tone of his voice irritated you. Still, you swallowed hard.
"Well, I like this little visitâŚ" He said, his tone laced with amusement. "You came at the perfect time, angel. Guess what just landed in my hands?"
The enthusiasm with which he referred to you made your eyebrow arch. It was obvious he was drunk; his speech carried a lazy, salacious edge. His eyes, pupils dilated and dark, gleamed beneath the damp strands of sweat-soaked hair falling over his forehead.
Landon leaned slightly forward, inching closer. You tensed as you saw him reach into his pocket. When he pulled his hand back out, he was holding a small transparent packet filled with tiny crystalline rocks. He smirked, shaking the package before your eyes, tapping the plastic twice with his index finger.
"Fresh off the market. Got it from my dad a few hours agoâbrand new stuff, and he gave it to me to tryâŚ" Landon flicked his gaze between you and the drug. "I missed my little friend whoâs always up for anything with me."
Your body reacted before your mind could even form a response. You turned your face away with a reluctant jolt and pushed yourself up from the armchair, pacing restlessly back and forth. He frowned, watching your hesitation with a puzzled expression. Even without understanding why you were there, he knew your weakness wellâand he knew now was not the time for distractions.
"Iâm trying to stay clean."
Your voice came out low, almost a whisper meant only for yourself. You had never really tried before. Never said those words out loud.
"What?" His response was coated in irony, followed by a short laugh. "What kind of stupid joke is that?"
"Iâm not joking."
"Thereâs no way youâre serious, angel." He waved a dismissive hand through the air, as if brushing away the weight of your decision. "We used to have fun together. You were always crazier than me. This kind of shit made your eyes shine. Anything new excited you⌠Cut the nonsense. Since when did your sober life become so damn interesting?"
"When being too high started warping my sense of reality."
Your voice came out sharper than you realized, the words laced with an icy edge.
"When they started lying to confuse me and incriminate me against myself, using my addiction as their argument, Landon."
His smirk faltered for a brief moment, but it was quickly replaced by a bored look, as if your response was nothing more than a temporary inconvenience. He tilted his head to the side, analyzing you with that expression that had always made your skin crawlâa mix of disdain and feigned understanding.
"And what do you want me to say? That Iâm sorry?" He let out an exaggerated sigh, throwing his body back against the chair. "This all feels a bit dramatic, angel. You always knew what you were getting into, you knew that people who go overboard end up losing their minds in the long run."
"Why did you lie to me?"
Your voice came out rougher than expected, weighed down by a pressure in your chest, as if invisible hands were squeezing your heart, trying to stop it from beating.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Landon didnât even flinch, his expression an impenetrable wall of cold indifference. But you felt your own body react to the question, the pressure in your chest intensifying, like sharp claws digging into your ribs. The air felt too dense to reach your lungs.
"You lied."
Your voice faltered before gaining strength.
"You said everything I was feeling was just in my head. That it was a side effect of the shit I was using. You watched me agonize, confused, not knowing what was happening to me. You watched me lie to other people without even realizing it, saw me get crushed by stories I couldn't even refute because I didnât remember. And you stayed silent."
The words came in bursts, each one delivering a fresh blow to your own chest, as if you were tearing yourself apart just by speaking. The air burned as it passed through your throat.
"You had all the answers, Landon!"
Your tone rose, fury mixing with pain, with the knot tightening around your trachea.
"You knew I wasnât losing my mind. But you kept forging that reality until I believed in it. Until I doubted myself! Until I let go and accepted a reality that wasnât mine!"
Your head throbbed, the pressure in your chest growing, like something inside you was about to collapse. But Landon simply took a deep breath, raising his eyebrows, studying you with a gaze devoid of any guilt.
"Notice how your so-called perception of things around you only came back now that you claim to be clean?"
His voice carried a suggestive undertone.
"That proves I didnât lie, angel. Your mind is so fucked up it keeps inventing scenarios all the time. And now youâre saying itâs my fault that you isolated yourself and tried to take your own life when I tried to help you!"
"STOP LYING!"
You screamed, clutching the sides of your head as tears streamed down your face.
The agony of revisiting that time corroded you from the inside out, like something was peeling your skin away, exposing every nerve raw. It wasnât just physical painâit was something deeper, something that ripped through your spirit, crushed your chest, and made your own body feel like a prison with no escape.
"You helped your father cover up my hospitalization⌠a hospitalization I never consented to."
Your voice trembled, but not from weaknessâit was the contained fury spilling over.
"He needed to test how the band would function without me, and when the plan failed, he brought me back. And you⌠you helped him scramble my memories all over again."
The hazy flashes of that time were becoming more vivid as you demanded more of yourself. You ignored them, but he had repeated, over and over, that they were just side effectsâand back then, you had no argument to contest him.
Landon sighed, rolling his eyes as if all of this was just unnecessary drama.
"Whatâs the point of bringing this up now, angel? I tried to help by hiding that part. No one likes knowing they were sent to rehab."
He shrugged, a cynical half-smile on his lips.
"I didnât want you to feel even weaker."
Your stomach twisted, a wave of nausea rising in your throat.
"You had no right."
Your voice came out through gritted teeth, disoriented, suffocated by the crushing weight of the truth.
"It was for your own good and for the bandâs as well⌠Wouldnât have looked good if people found out where you really were during the tour absence. Cheating doesnât affect contracts, but the lead singer being admitted to rehab? That sure as hell does."
His words landed like a final verdict, but there was nothing comforting about themâonly the echo of everything they had stolen from you.
"You violated my body by throwing me into that filthy place!"
Your voice tore through the air, thick with desperation and hatred.
Your chest heaved with quick, ragged breaths, and your fingers dug into your scalp, as if trying to contain the explosion of pain expanding inside you.
"You wrecked my body even more! Left me more addicted than when I went in! You have no idea the dirty, forgotten holes I ended up in⌠You crushed my mind until I didnât even know who I was anymore!"
Landon averted his gaze but made no move to respond.
"You pinned all the blame on me, as if I had chosen any of this!"
Your breath became a dry sob.
"You destroyed my relationshipâŚ"
Your voice wavered but quickly regained its strength, now filled with resentment.
"You destroyed the man I love!"
The scream cut through the room like thunder, reverberating against the walls and inside his chest.
"Of all the cowardly things you could have done, dragging him into it was by far the worst!"
There was an accusation in every syllable, a weight even Landon, in his usual cynicism, couldn't ignore. He swallowed hard, but you didnât care. He could feel guilty, he could try to justify himselfânothing, nothing would change what they had done.
"Your father almost did the same thing to Noah nowâŚ"
Your voice broke through your sobs.
"As if we were just two dolls he takes pleasure in emotionally torturing."
The silence that followed your outburst was deafening. Landon stared at you, his eyes burning, but you didnât look away. Your chest ached, compressed by pain and fury that had no escape.
"When he went back on the commitment and decided to pull you out of there before the band returned, he wanted to pretend none of it had happened," Landon continued, as if justifying the unjustifiable. "It wasnât hard⌠you were always high, as you know. He told the doctor to increase your doses before releasing you, so it would take longer to leave your system⌠the rest was just about being convincing."
Your fists clenched. A bitter taste rose in your throat.
"You took me from my home." Your voice came out shaky, but charged with indignation. "I would never leave my home!"
"I did you a favor by helping you!" he shot back, throwing the words as if they were a gift. "Your relationship with Noah was already falling apart, you two fought like cats and dogs. He hated who you were, but I didnât! I always accepted you just the way you were! We spent way more time together than you ever did with him! You yourself said he was boring, especially after he started not being able to stand you!"
You let out a cold, humorless laugh.
"Stop acting like I lived the best moments of my life by your side." Your gaze burned. "Stop acting like you're anything more than what you really are: a bastard who even to have my friendship had to keep me drugged, because you know you're despicable."
Landon scoffed, stepping forward, his face twisted in anger.
"DONâT TALK TO ME LIKE THAT!"
"Or what?" You lifted your chin, disdain sharp in your voice. "Are you going to commit me again? Keep lying to me to feed your rotten ego? You go along with your father because you resent your biggest competitor. Gerard is a criminal, heâs disgusting⌠but you are just as filthy as he is."
Landon was breathing heavily, his fingers trembling. You could feel the tension pulsing in the air, but you didnât back down.
"And you know whatâs worse?" Your voice lowered, but the wound throbbed in your words. "This is going to be your life, Landon. You will never have a woman who loves you and protects you with everything she has. You will never have a friendship that truly cares about you. You will never have genuine success, the kind that comes from your own talent and not your fatherâs name."
You tilted your head slightly, piercing him with your eyes.
"You will always be a nobody, even in the eyes of your father, who only sees you as just another employee."
Your voice dropped to a near whisper, almost smug, as you leaned in to deliver one last message slowly.
"I will make you pay for every drop of suffering you put me through these last few months. I will make you regret every ounce of siding with him⌠I will make you want to die."
Landonâs eyes gleamed with something dark, the barely contained rage pulsing beneath his carefully maintained mask of calm. He tilted his head slightly, like a predator assessing its prey.
"Careful with your words, angelâŚ" His voice dipped into a low, almost whispered threat.
You felt the weight of that warning, but you didnât waver. Your chest still burned, compressed by the rage and sorrow that had boiled for years. He could try to intimidate you, but it was far too late for that.
"Your father already tried to break me once, thinking I was a threat, darling." You stepped forward, your breath steady. "Iâve been a survivor since the day I was born. For someone like you to even remotely scare me, youâd have to be born again."
Landon remained still for a moment, but his clenched fists trembled. You saw the mask slip for just a secondâa second of frustration, of hatred, of something he would never admit out loud.
But you already knew.
He would never have what he wanted. And you would never be broken by them again.
â đđđđđđđ. Noah Sebastian X psychiatrist!Reader.
â đđđđđđđđ. A mysterious new patient arrives at the Grimshade sanatorium and you have been tasked with taking care of his case.
â đđđđđđđ(đ). disturbing environment, violence, unconventional treatments, manipulation, questionable relationships, explicit sex and profanity.
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A tour through the Hidden.
How exciting.
On your activity schedule, a visit to the red-wristband patients first thing in the morningâbefore the sky had fully lit upâwas the first item on the list. They rarely left the Hidden due to the high level of risk involved in being in the same environment as them. And, of course, you had already experienced firsthand what it was like to deal with one in your office recently when you had to attend to Tom Harrow.
Even if you were surrounded by a legion of guards, the feeling would be the same as walking through those rusted gates that creaked as they opened. The darkness that dominated almost caused a strange sensation, with flickering spots before your eyes. The lighting in the Hidden was scarce, and the dim, flickering light from the cells forced you to strain your glasses.
You thought about how Travis was a rather questionable friend, considering he didnât even offer support or company during the tourâhe simply wished you âgood luckâ and left for his morning walk. Over the past few days, you had gotten to know more about your colleague. He wasnât the helpful type, nor was he empathetic, no matter what kind of relationship he had with another person.
Not that you expected anything from him after youâd slept together that one night after happy hourâespecially since you suspected he didnât even remember, given how little importance he seemed to give the momentâbut you had at least hoped he would be less⌠of an asshole.
Honestly, you even found him a little mysterious beneath that impeccable scowl he carried most of the time. Always clean clothes, neatly combed blond hair, a perfectly aligned smile, and flawless diction, never hesitating over a single word. He never seemed unsure about anything. On the contrary, Rune exuded an unshakable confidence, something you could hear in the tone of his voice and see in the way his posture was always elegantly upright.
And so, he planted a seed of doubt in your mind.
Who was Dr. Travis Rune?
Your seemingly perfect, routine-obsessed colleague who didnât stay in the staff quarters every night. If his father didnât approve of his chosen profession, then he didnât live on the island. So where did he stay when he wasnât sleeping at Grimshade?
The stench of old disinfectant and mildew clung to your throat as you snapped back to reality. Your feet stepped onto the cold, cracked floor of the Hidden, and the sound of your own breathing felt out of place, muffled by the screams echoing through the corridors like the wails of a personal hell.
The lights flickered from the high ceiling, buzzing like flies over rotting flesh, casting erratic shadows that made everything seem even more distorted. The walls were a filthy white, peeling in several places, revealing concrete stained with rustâand something far too dark for you to want to identify. With every step, your shoulders tensed further, as if the oppressive atmosphere of screams and grinding teeth was coiling around your body.
The patients were there, locked in their narrow cells with thick, rusted bars. Some rocked back and forth, staring into nothing with glazed eyes. Others followed you with hollow gazes, whispering fragmented words, laced with something that burrowed under your skin like invisible splinters.
âI see youâŚâ one of them murmured, voice thin and sharp like a knife scraping against glass.
Your hands tingled. Your stomach turned.
Another laughedâa hoarse, broken soundâas pale fingers stretched out between the bars.
âYou smell like bloodâŚâ
You swallowed hard, forcing your feet to keep moving, ignoring the cold wave that crawled down your spine. With every step, the whispers grew, indecipherable phrases, words spat into the air, as if the very ward was trying to consume you.
And then, you stopped.
Right in front of his cell.
Tom Harrow.
Your body tensed before you even forced yourself to look.
The memories of your last encounter hit like a punch. The way he watched you during the session, as if stripping you with his eyes. The way his mouth shaped every filthy word, every malicious insinuation, trying to unnerve you. The anger in his lips when he realized you wouldnât give him the control he craved.
But now⌠now you were here, frozen.
And he knew it.
âWell, well⌠look who came to visit.â
His voice oozed through the bars like rotten honeyâthick, immersive, dripping with a slow drawl that seemed to savor your presence.
You swallowed down the acidic taste in your throat, but said nothing.
Tom rose from the bed with a lazy movement, like a predator stretching before the hunt. The flickering light illuminated his pale face, the deep-set eyes gleaming with something that made you want to run. He smiled. A slow, arrogant smile that knew exactly the effect it had.
âDid you miss me, doctor?â He tilted his head to the side, fingers dragging along the bars. âThat heat on your skin? That shiver?â
Your lungs tightened.
âThat chill down your spine that wouldnât let you sleep after our last conversationâŚâ
You wanted to move. You needed to move. But his words held you in place.
âI bet you dreamed about me.â
The distant screams blended with the sound of your own blood pounding in your ears. The air in the Hidden was suffocating, viscous, and you could feel his eyes crawling over your skin, sensing every minuscule detail of your reaction.
âI wonderâŚâ He slid his tongue across his lips, letting the sentence hang in the air like a venomous invitation. âWhat exactly did you feel?â
The floor seemed to sink beneath your feet.
And still, you didnât move.
Tom let out a low, drawn-out laugh, as if relishing your stillness. He stepped closer to the bars, long fingers curling around the cold metal, his knuckles turning white with the pressure. His eyes were locked onto youâheavy, invasive, drinking in every tiny reaction.
âYouâre trembling, sweetheart.â His voice was sweet poison, slipping out lazily. âWere you like this last time? When you lay in bed, when you closed your eyes and tried to forget what I said?â
You tasted the bitterness of your own fear in your throat.
âTell me⌠was it quick? Or did you lie there, in the darkness, feeling your breath hitch, your body heat up, your mind drifting back to me as your hands slid between your legs?â
Your stomach twisted.
He laughed, eyes narrowing in sheer amusement.
âAh⌠thatâs it, isnât it?â He whispered, the words laced with something close to a moan, like he was sharing a dirty secret. âThat feeling of your skin prickling, heat spreading, that tightness between your thighs.â
You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palm. No. You wouldnât react.
But he knew you were listening. He knew that, no matter how hard you fought it, his words were already inside you.
âTell me, did you try to resist? Or did you give in? Let your mind play a little⌠let your fingers explore that tight little pussy of yours?â He paused, letting the word drip from his lips like an unwanted touch. âYou know, I havenât been able to stop thinking about it⌠I imagine it swallowing my cock every single day, doctor.â
A wave of nausea crashed through you.
His smile widened, something wicked and triumphant glinting in his eyes.
âI bet you tried to convince yourself it was hate.â He knocked his head lightly against the bars, closing his eyes for a second, inhaling the air like he could breathe you in. âBut deep down⌠you liked what I said. Sluts like you always do.â
You took a step back.
He moved instantly, pressing closer to the bars, shoulders tense, his expression shifting into something animalistic.
âThatâs it⌠back away. Pretend youâre running.â His tongue swept over his cracked lips. âDonât forgetâthatâs what I love most in a woman, doctor. The ones who resist.â
The corridor around you felt like it was shrinking. The Hidden was breathing around you, pressing closer, heavier, suffocating with every second. The screams in the distance seemed too far away, too muffled, like the world had narrowed down to just his cell. Just him.
And you couldnât move when something warm and viscous splattered onto your hand.
Your eyes widened, needing to confirm it was realâthat on the back of your hand, seeping from the pocket of your coat, was a splatter of Tom Harrowâs semen.
While he had been saying those vile things, he had been masturbating in front of you.
Your mind spun, confusion tangling with shock as your gaze locked onto the stain on your skin. The guards rushed toward his cell, and the only thing you managed to do was stumble backward, desperate to get away from that place as fast as possible.
Your ragged breathing quickened as your back collided with something firm in your frantic attempt to escape. Like an unyielding concrete statue, he halted your steps in place, and instinctively, your eyes liftedâmeeting Noahâs apathetic face, his expression undoubtedly irritated by you crashing into him.
The thought that he might have seen what that man had just done sent a wave of automatic heat rushing to your face, and something damp welled up in your tear ducts. Shame coiled inside you, making you feel filthy, unprofessionalâcompletely exposed in front of a patient like him.
And then, he did something entirely unexpected.
Without saying a single wordâobviouslyâNoah wrapped his hand around your right wrist and wiped the back of your hand with his own shirt.
Stunned, you let him do as he pleased. He seemed to⌠want to comfort you through an act of service? This wasnât the time for analysis. Not when your skin burned from his touch, as if Noah carried embers between his fingers.
Expressionless, still not releasing your wrist, he guided you slowly toward the gates of the Hidden. The guards were too occupied with restraining Tomâs outburst to notice your absenceânor the fact that you were being escorted by the most dangerous patient in the custody ward.
When you reached the exit, Noah let go. The cold air rushed in to replace the warmth he had held onto so firmly as he led you out of that wretched place.
You couldnât thank him for what he did.
You couldnât look at him again.
You couldnât cling to those fleeting sensations, hoarding the comfort of this moment for the days when agony would come.
Noah turned his back and shut the gates of the Hidden, leaving you on the other side.
"Of course, Mom, I couldnât be better!" you said, holding the phone with a grimace that didnât match the tone of your voice.
"Iâve known you since you were a child, girl! You came out of me, and I know when something is wrong!" your mother said, hardening her tone.
"Iâm just tired and really eager to find a better job."
"We warned you that dealing with so many lunatics wouldnât be good for you, sweetheart. You were never all that right in the head yourself⌠Iâve said it before, and Iâll say it again: itâs time to come home and find something more normal to do." she threw out, alarmed. "I wonât accept you ending up as a patient in that madhouse! Visiting you in Grimshade would be a disaster for our finances."
"Thanks for your concern! Donât worry, Iâll keep your bank account intact." Impatient, you slammed the phone onto the receiver, hearing murmurs of joy from the never-ending line behind you.
"Mom missing you?" Rune teased, nudging your arm lightly as he adjusted his sunglasses.
"Despite her progress in therapy, her narcissistic traits always find a way to surface. But overall, sheâs a good mom."
Returning to administration still shaken, the first thing you did was take a shower, washing away any lingering trace of the Hidden from your skin. Travis suggested you accompany him into town as a distraction, and you agreed.
A little fresh air actually did you some good. The town had little transportation movement, keeping the sky clear and the air breathable. The people werenât as welcoming as one might expect from such a small Victorian-style place, but maybe that was your fault for expecting otherwise. They were direct, rarely using words of gratitude, and you figured their curt manner must have been cultural.
"Itâs not exactly narcissism if itâs a mother. Seems more like something that comes with childbirth and follows them for the rest of their lives," he commented, not exactly offering comfort.
"An interesting analysis, Dr. RuneâŚ" You arched your lips in a brief smile before adding, "Did your narcissistic mother also try to choose your profession like she picked your girlfriends until you turned eighteen?"
"My mother was always easygoingâsubmissive, evenâbut easygoing. That title belongs only to my father."
"You rarely talk about your parents. Do they live on the island?"
"Yes, weâre from here." He responded without enthusiasm, twirling his keys around his index finger.
"And you donât visit them when you come to town?"
"Homesickness isnât something I tend to suffer from."
From the side, you glanced at his unchanged expression, and for a moment, you almost felt like he was throwing a jab at you for coming into town just to call your mother.
Yeah, despite the narcissism, she was still your mom, and you two got along. Maybe Rune thought you were a little naĂŻve.
Or maybe his parents were simply people he had no desire to be around, no matter how strong their personalities were.
"If youâre from here, then you studied at the only university in town," you concluded, piecing together the obvious but realizing that learning more about him was helping push your mind away from the previous chaos. "So you studied with Noah. His file says he was in medical school."
As always, mentioning Noah made Travis roll his eyes, especially since this was happening outside the asylum. He seemed determined to spend the afternoon eating ice cream and feeding birds, ignoring whatever else was going on.
"Yeah, I was about to graduate when we had a few classes together," he replied, carefully eyeing the ice cream flavors displayed in the glass case. "Chocolate and mint, please!"
"So your issue with him started at university?"
"At university, I didnât even know he existed. Everyone lived in their own little bubble. Who wouldâve thought heâd end up becoming my patient, huh?"
"Thatâs quite the coincidenceâŚ" you murmured, lightly biting your lower lip. "Iâd even say itâs convenient."
Rune took the ice cream the friendly attendant handed him over the glass counter andâshowing off his impeccable mannersâwalked straight to the nearest available table without offering you anything. You followed him and took the seat across from him.
"Are you implying that I made Noah my patient for personal gain? Or maybe as revenge for my âgrudge,â since, from day one, youâve assumed that just because I treat him like any other patient?" he asked mockingly, holding the spoon between his teeth.
"I heard his parents have a lot of money and that he has a certain⌠protection. The kind that got him into the asylum instead of serving a prison sentence."
"And what does that have to do with me?" He shrugged. "Hate to disappoint you after all your investigative effort, but my salary hasnât changed a cent since he arrived. I donât need to protect him or make his life harder. To me, heâs just another file, another patient whose brain will be fried by meds and electroshock therapy⌠That is, if he doesnât end up offing himself first."
"I donât think itâs ethical of you to talk like that."
"You wanted to know, and I simply answered, doctor. And I believe thatâs the most youâll get out of this story that intrigues you so much. But if youâll take some advice, Iâd suggest you find another hobby⌠Maybe work, what do you think?"
Your neck prickled, and your fists clenched on the table.
"As punishment for this unpleasant conversation, youâre paying the bill," Travis announced before getting up and leaving the ice cream shop.
You blinked a few times, processing his audacity.
Bastard.
On the way back to the asylum, you opted for silence. After what happened at the ice cream shop, the ideal thing would have been to refuse Travisâs ride, but what other choice did you have? The next taxi wouldnât pass for hours, and by then, the sky would likely be dark. You werenât about to test your luck wandering around an unfamiliar place at night.
Travis turned on the radio, the sound crackling slightly as they climbed the hill, getting farther from civilization. The song playing sounded like a creepy opera or something you couldnât quite place, but listening to Dr. Rune hum along in his undisturbed peace as he turned the steering wheelâ
It bothered you.
It bothered you a lot.
The night at Grimshade was never truly silent, but the sound that woke you cut through the air like a blade. A muffled, deep, hollow thudâlike something heavy hitting the ground.
Your eyes snapped open, your heart already slamming against your ribs. For a moment, you just lay there, listening to nothing but your own breathing and the distant ticking of some old clock. Maybe it was just another one of the strange noises that place emitted all the timeâold pipes, doors creaking under the whim of the wind.
But then came another sound. Lower this time, a rough scraping, like something being dragged.
A shiver ran down your spine, and you felt the weight of fear settle onto your shoulders.
You hesitated. But you couldn't ignore the urgency swelling inside you.
With a sudden jolt, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed, bare feet meeting the cold floor. The thin nightgown clung to your skin, still warm from the bath, but the hallwayâs chill wrapped around you like a warning.
You followed your instincts.
The asylum looked different at night. The emptiness of the corridors was suffocating, as if the walls were closing in, swallowing every sound, every breath. The dim light flickered, casting long shadows that seemed to shift on their own. Each step echoed against the floor, a muffled whisper that trailed behind you.
The air was thick.
Wrong.
Your feet carried you through the garden, where the icy wind brought the scent of damp earth and something elseâsomething metallic, which your mind refused to name.
The Hiddenâs gate was slightly ajar.
Your body locked up.
It was like reliving the horror from hours ago, Tom Harrowâs voice still clinging to your skin like a filthy touch, his eyes still hanging in your mind like hooks.
But you kept going.
Your steps were firm but dragging, as if some invisible force were pulling at your ankles, trying to hold you back.
The Hidden was darker than usual. The shadowed cells gaped like open mouths, starving. Something seeped from the bars of some of themâmumbled words, raspy laughter, incoherent sounds bleeding from the blackness within. With every step, the cold sharpened, crawling up your spine, digging invisible claws into your skin.
And then you saw itâand froze instantly, your body locked as if torn from time itself.
The blood.
Black under the flickering light, thick and heavy, pooling from the last cell in the first corridor.
Your heartbeat pounded like a frantic drum.
The same cell.
The one that had made your body recoil earlier, as if something had been wrong from the start.
Swallowing down the panic, you forced your legs to move, each step heavier than the last. The scent of iron flooded your senses now, nauseating, thick like smoke.
And then you saw him.
Tom Harrow.
His body lay carelessly on the floor, face turned upward, lifeless eyes fixed on the ceiling as if still staring at something unseen. His throat was torn open in a jagged, grotesque cut, the edges of the wound shredded as if the blade had chewed through his flesh.
And there, embedded in the still-warm flesh, was a pair of gardening shears.
A dry shiver shot down your spine.
For a long moment, nothing moved.
The Hidden held its breath with you.
The shock struck like lightning.
Large, strong hands emerged from nowhere, clamping over your mouth and waist in a vicious surge. The world tilted violently as your body was yanked backward, feet scraping against the cold floor of the Hidden, darkness swallowing everything before you could even react.
The scream died before it was born, smothered beneath the hot, calloused palm silencing you.
You struggled instinctively, but the strength holding you was like iron. Your heart hammered, so hard that the pain echoed in your chest, your skull, the tips of your fingers. The scent that enveloped you was overwhelmingâsomething between wood, metal, and a trace of smoke.
The flickering light in the corridors revealed only fragments of his face. Deep brown eyes, burning with fury. A clenched jaw, teeth gritted tight. The tattoos winding down his forearms, shifting like living shadows.
Then, in one swift motion, he slammed you against the cold wall. The air fled from your lungs in a single, choked gasp.
The temperature in the room shiftedâthe icy shock of the concrete at your back clashed violently with the solid, burning heat of his body pressing into yours. Every muscle beneath his fitted shirt was taut, as if holding back a storm on the verge of breaking.
The silence between you was electric, heavy as lead.
Your eyes traveled upward, slowly, meeting his in the narrow space between your faces.
Shadows danced over the sharp angles of his jaw, his gaze locked onto you like a bladeâdripping with anger, warning... and something else. Something so raw, so feral, that it sent a shiver down your spine.
Then, his voice came. Low, rough, thick with menace.
âWhich part of âI donât want you hereâ does the doctor still not understand?â
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