Drive You Insane | Noah Sebastian 08

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Noah Sebastian X psychiatrist!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. A mysterious new patient arrives at the Grimshade sanatorium and you have been tasked with taking care of his case.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). disturbing environment, violence, unconventional treatments, manipulation, questionable relationships, explicit sex and profanity.

Your fingers trembled around the cold doorknob, the icy metal pressing against your adrenaline-heated skin. You tried again. And again. But the door remained motionless, as if Grimshade itself were holding it shut, refusing to let you leave. The air in the archive room felt heavier, and invisible whispers brushed against the nape of your neck.

Darkness swallowed the space around you, an oppressive void growing denser with each passing second. The only light came from the gap beneath the door—a pale, distant sliver, utterly insufficient to ease the tightness in your chest. Your breathing quickened, short and uneven. You swallowed hard, trying to control the suffocating sensation creeping up your throat. But panic was a wild animal inside you, scratching, tearing, desperate to escape.

“Shit… Shit!” Your voice came out broken, a mix of desperation and fury.

The palm of your hand slammed against the hard wood. Once. Twice. Nothing. The silence in the room was maddening, as if unseen eyes were watching, shadows trapped between the dust-covered files. A shiver crawled down your spine—the overwhelming feeling that something—or someone—was there, waiting.

You twisted the doorknob again, pulling harder, feeling your knuckles ache. But the door didn’t budge, not even an inch.

Your heart pounded against your ribs, frantic, as if it wanted to burst out, as if you were trapped in a fragment of distorted reality where each second stretched into eternity.

Heat surged through your body, burning from the inside out, an electric frenzy of fear and desperation. You staggered back two steps, eyes scanning the oppressive darkness around you. Your chest rose and fell violently, blood roaring in your ears.

That was when you felt it.

Dr. Rune is part of what happened in some way. (I think I may have said that before bit I still believe it)

Noah has a sister!

I love this story. I'm sorry @familiarscars for being sp behind. Life is hectic these days so I'm not on here as often anymore.

Drive You Insane | Noah Sebastian 07

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Noah Sebastian X psychiatrist!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. A mysterious new patient arrives at the Grimshade sanatorium and you have been tasked with taking care of his case.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). disturbing environment, violence, unconventional treatments, manipulation, questionable relationships, explicit sex and profanity.

Your body was there, submerged in the warm water of the bathtub, but your mind floated far away, drifting between scattered thoughts. With your eyes closed, you forced yourself to empty your mind, to escape, even if only for a few seconds.

Any daydream seemed more appealing than reality.

Your fingers glided over the water’s surface, tracing invisible paths. Deep in your subconscious, you saw yourself immersed in a river of crystalline waters, the thin fabric of your nightgown clinging to your skin as the current wrapped around your body.

It was too comfortable. Almost natural.

Above you, a gray sky stretched endlessly—no sun, no horizon. A dense mist spread like a veil, punishing anyone who dared to see beyond. Bare trees raised twisted branches around you, and between them, flocks of black birds tore through the sky, forming a noisy procession, coming and going like omens.

Every stroke, aimless, subtly altered the reality around you, but you only noticed when the clear water began to darken. The turquoise deepened into navy blue, and then, in a matter of seconds, turned into an opaque, bottomless black.

Your brows furrowed, eyes narrowing as you tried to determine if it was just a trick of your mind. But no—the river was black.

Black like the birds that cut through the sky above you.

And then, the silence shattered.

The birds’ caws morphed into an agonizing screech, like metal being dragged across a rough surface. The sound pierced your ears like splinters, making your skin prickle, your chest tighten, and your brain compress as if caught between crushing hands.

And that was enough to pull you back.

Your body jolted awake, lungs sucking in air as if you had just emerged from drowning, a dry sound tearing from your throat, your eyes flying open with the flood of dream images still spinning in your mind.

Still struggling to catch your breath, your eyes gradually returned to normal, and your shoulders relaxed. Strands of hair still clung to your face, and you ran your fingers through them, pushing them back.

That’s when you noticed something unusual.

Small pink droplets slid slowly from your damp strands, trickling down your skin, tracing a path until they reached your thighs.

The water was no longer warm.

No longer clear.

The liquid surrounding you was dense, viscous, and dyed a deep red—a crimson so intense it seemed to glow under the dim bathroom light. Your arms floated on the ruby surface, your hands coated in the thick substance, slow carmine serpents slithering down your skin. A metallic scent filled your nostrils, heavy, nauseating, as if you were breathing in horror itself.

Your heartbeat pounded against your temples. Your chest rose and fell in growing panic.

And then, the fear erupted.

A wild, piercing scream tore from your throat, filling the bathroom and crashing against the cold walls, reverberating as if the room itself echoed your terror.

You lunged out of the bathtub in a desperate impulse, but your damp feet betrayed your haste. Your body slipped on the drenched floor, sliding along with the pinkish water spreading across the cold tiles.

Every movement was a battle against your own fear. Your body, weighed down by terror, seemed to drag itself forward, as if struggling to escape something unseen—something still lingering in the air, suffocating and real. Your knees and elbows scraped against the uneven ceramic, stinging from the impact, but the pain was drowned out by the panic pounding in your chest.

You crawled toward the wall beside the door, fingers trembling as you pushed your wet hair from your face. You took a deep breath before finally lifting your gaze, bracing yourself for the horrifying sight you expected to find.

But the shock silenced you once more.

The terror from seconds ago… had vanished.

The water scattered across the floor was crystal clear, odorless, with no trace of blood. Your damp skin bore no crimson stains, no sign that any of it had been real.

Your heart pounded so violently it felt like it was echoing through the walls. With unsteady steps, you crossed the room, nearly slipping on the smooth tiles, and stopped in front of the bathtub.

The floor reflected the dim bathroom light.

The remaining water was perfectly clear.

You let out a heavy sigh, rolling your shoulders back as if you could shake off the tension while combing your hair in front of the mirror.

"Never sleeping in the bathtub again… noted."

Wow that was a steep decline for Dr. Faulkner.

Noah sure is handsy for a guy claiming that he has no interest

Drive You Insane | Noah Sebastian 06

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Noah Sebastian X psychiatrist!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. A mysterious new patient arrives at the Grimshade sanatorium and you have been tasked with taking care of his case.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). disturbing environment, violence, unconventional treatments, manipulation, questionable relationships, explicit sex and profanity.

"If you wanted to take me on a romantic date, you should’ve at least picked a better place," he grumbled, as always.

With your head feeling as heavy as if it were made of lead, you tried to sit up, but the weakness in your body sent you right back onto the bed. Holding your temple, you took in your surroundings and, judging by the equipment and the movement in the hallway, realized you were in a hospital room.

"What the hell happened to you?" Travis asked, settling into the chair beside you. "Do you have some sort of fixation on doing everything the opposite way? I told you to take a walk, and that did not include calling me out of my patients' charts to come pick you up at the hospital!"

"I was in the fraternity meeting room talking to some guy named Patrick, and suddenly everything went black," you murmured. With great effort, you sat up in bed and took a deep breath, gradually adjusting to the daylight again.

Memories of the conversation started flooding back, bringing with them a suffocating unease, as if you were still in that room, facing Patrick. Her eyes, her hair, her smile, the small dimple on her cheek—she looked so much like you, with only a few differences.

"Why didn’t you tell me Rachel and I look alike?"

Rune stopped eating the grape jelly the nurse had brought him and shifted his gaze to you, raising his hands as if he didn’t understand the question.

"I didn’t think it was relevant. A lot of people look alike," he said. "I look like any average blonde, blue-eyed heartthrob. Don’t flatter yourself."

“It wouldn’t be relevant if I didn’t look like my patient’s ex-girlfriend – that guy who hates me and supposedly murdered her!”

"Well, when you put it like that..."

You were restless, not realizing that this could still unsettle you even more. With your eyes fixed on the hospital bed sheets, you mulled over how you could turn this situation to your advantage instead of tormenting yourself over something beyond your control.

Noah had spoken to you after you had irritated him at Hidden. Now, you understood that your presence was a trigger for him—something that infuriated him, made him lose control, made him avoid you at all costs. But it also made him act on impulse, especially when your safety was at stake, triggering his protective instincts.

You had figured everything out up to this point.

Or almost everything.

Noah was scape goat. I am sure of jt.

Drive You Insane | Noah Sebastian 05

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Noah Sebastian X psychiatrist!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. A mysterious new patient arrives at the Grimshade sanatorium and you have been tasked with taking care of his case.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). disturbing environment, violence, unconventional treatments, manipulation, questionable relationships, explicit sex and profanity.

No matter how much your fingers stirred the fork through your food, your wide eyes remained fixed on the center of the table. Ignoring the noise of the staff around you, you struggled to have a normal morning, despite the scene from the night before insisting on taking up space in your mind.

He spoke.

Noah spoke to you.

His voice low, hoarse, laced with threat… but he spoke.

Hearing his voice in such close physical proximity scrambled your senses more than the sight of the lifeless body in the cell. Not that it made the death any less shocking, but for some reason, your mind couldn’t focus on anything except the sound of his voice and the impact of his fury against your chest.

“Doctor?”

A female voice pulled you out of your daze, diverting your attention from the table. When you looked up, you met the unchanging expression of a nurse, her uniform pristine as she approached to speak to you directly.

“Yes?”

“The director would like to speak with you.”

A shiver ran down your spine in that instant, straightening your posture in the chair. Slowly, you set the utensil down on your plate. Since your arrival at the asylum, the director hadn’t even introduced himself on your first night. You had never crossed paths, and your presence had never been requested. So what the hell did he want now?

Were you in trouble? Was the asylum running out of money to pay your salary especially now, when you were still carrying student loan debt? Had Travis said something that displeased him?

Countless possibilities ran through your mind on the way up to the director’s floor and none of them seemed good.

“Excuse me.” You announced, knocking twice on the door with your fist before poking just your head inside the office.

“Come in, please.” The deep voice said.

You stepped into that office with the same fear you had felt when dissecting a body for the first time trembling hands, flushed cheeks, the suffocating dread of making an irreversible mistake.

Unlike the rest of the asylum, the spacious office was clean, well-lit, and properly maintained, making the space both inviting and luxurious. Portraits of former directors adorned the walls, and in the center stood a single desk, with a chair on either side. One of them was already occupied by an older man, his graying hair and small, time-wrinkled eyes studying you.

Dr. Steve was a renowned psychiatrist, with years of experience in the field. Despite choosing to retire in Grimshade—which, to you, didn’t seem appealing at all—he had built a respectable career. During university, you had studied several books authored by him, a reference in psychopathy, a true master of the subject.

He offered you a welcoming smile, dissolving some of the tension in your shoulders, and gestured to the empty seat before him. From his friendly demeanor, you deduced he might be a decent guy. Maybe.

“I heard you wanted to speak with me…”

“I noticed your schedule was open this morning, and I couldn’t put off this conversation any longer.” He cleared his throat before continuing. “As you’ve probably heard in the asylum’s halls, we lost a patient last night. Tom Harrow.”

“Yes… yeah, I heard.” You responded hesitantly. You didn’t want it to be obvious that you knew because you had been at Hidden outside your working hours. That wasn’t right.

“I won’t waste time with unnecessary preambles or probing, doctor, so I’ll be direct: did you notice any unusual activity?”

It was impossible not to notice the tension in his posture and how frequently he smoothed over his own fingers. He was nervous about addressing a subject that clearly displeased him.

“Why would I know anything, Dr. Steve?”

“Because when we checked the security cameras, we saw that you left Hidden shortly after the estimated time of death.” Steve stated cautiously, watching your expression closely as your mouth fell open in shock. “We’re not pointing fingers, but we’d like to understand why you were in Hidden at that exact hour, in the middle of the night.”

“I… I heard a noise and ended up getting out of bed. I followed the sound and ended up there…”

"And when you got there?" He arched an eyebrow, waiting for more details.

"He was already dead in the cell. The scene startled me, and I froze. Shortly after, Noah appeared in the hallway and told me to get out of there," you replied with all the sincerity you could gather.

The man in front of you seemed more perplexed by the fact that Noah had spoken than by anything else. First, his face showed surprise, then disbelief. He stared at you with such a mix of confused expressions that, for a moment, you doubted your own honesty.

"What did you just say?" he asked, shocked.

"That Noah spoke to me. He told me to leave Hidden."

Steve shook his head, bringing a hand to his chin and scratching it roughly.

"Have you been taking any medication?"

"WHAT?" Your voice rose, but you quickly pulled yourself together, taking a deep breath to stay calm.

"Apologies, but what you're claiming happened in Hidden is impossible. Noah hasn’t spoken to anyone in a long time. He remained silent during the university incident, in prison, during the trial… and he’s still silent here, in Grimshade," Steve stated with conviction, resting his arms on the desk. "Believe me when I say we’ve tried everything to get him to talk—I'm not exaggerating..."

He paused, watching your reaction before continuing:

"I think you may have misinterpreted things. I understand that witnessing such a..."

"I'm not misinterpreting anything, Dr. Steve," you cut him off, firm. "I know what I saw! I deal with unstable patients all the time, but I’m not one of them. I'm fully aware of everything!"

Steve reflected for a moment, his eyes fixed on the computer keyboard, on the scattered files across the desk. Everything seemed enough to hold his attention until he looked back at you.

"If you can’t believe an employee of your own asylum, then ask him!"

"We did..." Steve replied, his voice carrying a grave weight. "We brought Noah to my office early this morning. He remained silent, Doctor."

You felt your blood boil. The urge to march down to Hidden and drive a pair of gardening shears into that bastard’s neck consumed your thoughts for making you question whether it had even happened.

What if he didn’t speak?

No, no, he did speak!

Noah’s silence put you in a complicated position. Especially since everyone knew what had happened earlier in Hidden, during the patient visit how Tom Harrow had provoked you. That could easily be used as motivation for a crime as brutal as that.

If Noah wanted to get you out of his way for digging too much into his life, why resort to this?

Stupid girl. You were talking about a murderer who preferred to stay silent rather than confess to his own crime…

And to think you even considered he might be innocent.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

"The purpose of this conversation was to hear your version, but I have no intention of accusing you of anything. We will continue to investigate this thoroughly."

The calm in Steve’s voice contrasted with the subtle way he still somehow framed you as a suspect. Your fingers curled under the table until your fist clenched tight.

"Apparently, I have no choice but to wait."

"I think it’s best if you take two days off to get some rest. When you return, we can have another conversation. Your patients will be under Dr. Rune’s care until further notice."

He was analyzing you.

This entire conversation had been nothing more than a careful evaluation, and in the end, he chose to believe you were delusional rather than accept that Noah might have spoken.

Your jaw tightened, but you held your composure. There was nothing you could say that would change his mind. Steve had already drawn his conclusions, and arguing now would only make things worse.

It took you a few seconds to realize your breathing had quickened.

Two days off? That was definitely not a favor—it was a disguised suspension.

"Understood." Your voice came out steady, but you felt the frustration pulsing beneath your skin.

Steve merely nodded, his expression far too neutral to be natural.

Dr. Rune is a jerk.

I think Noah's dad had something to do with it.

Drive You Insane | Noah Sebastian 04

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Noah Sebastian X psychiatrist!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. A mysterious new patient arrives at the Grimshade sanatorium and you have been tasked with taking care of his case.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). disturbing environment, violence, unconventional treatments, manipulation, questionable relationships, explicit sex and profanity.

A tour through the Hidden.

How exciting.

On your activity schedule, a visit to the red-wristband patients first thing in the morning—before the sky had fully lit up—was 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 didn’t even offer support or company during the tour—he simply wished you “good luck” and left for his morning walk. Over the past few days, you had gotten to know more about your colleague. He wasn’t 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 you’d slept together that one night after happy hour—especially since you suspected he didn’t even remember, given how little importance he seemed to give the moment—but 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 didn’t stay in the staff quarters every night. If his father didn’t approve of his chosen profession, then he didn’t live on the island. So where did he stay when he wasn’t 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 rust—and 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.

“I see you…” one of them murmured, voice thin and sharp like a knife scraping against glass.

Your hands tingled. Your stomach turned.

Another laughed—a hoarse, broken sound—as pale fingers stretched out between the bars.

“You smell like blood…”

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 wouldn’t give him the control he craved.

But now… now you were here, frozen.

And he knew it.

“Well, well… look who came to visit.”

His voice oozed through the bars like rotten honey—thick, 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.

“Did you miss me, doctor?” He tilted his head to the side, fingers dragging along the bars. “That heat on your skin? That shiver?”

Your lungs tightened.

“That chill down your spine that wouldn’t let you sleep after our last conversation…”

You wanted to move. You needed to move. But his words held you in place.

“I bet you dreamed about me.”

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.

“I wonder…” He slid his tongue across his lips, letting the sentence hang in the air like a venomous invitation. “What exactly did you feel?”

The floor seemed to sink beneath your feet.

And still, you didn’t 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 you—heavy, invasive, drinking in every tiny reaction.

“You’re trembling, sweetheart.” His voice was sweet poison, slipping out lazily. “Were you like this last time? When you lay in bed, when you closed your eyes and tried to forget what I said?”

You tasted the bitterness of your own fear in your throat.

“Tell 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?”

Your stomach twisted.

He laughed, eyes narrowing in sheer amusement.

“Ah… that’s it, isn’t it?” He whispered, the words laced with something close to a moan, like he was sharing a dirty secret. “That feeling of your skin prickling, heat spreading, that tightness between your thighs.”

You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palm. No. You wouldn’t react.

But he knew you were listening. He knew that, no matter how hard you fought it, his words were already inside you.

“Tell 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?” He paused, letting the word drip from his lips like an unwanted touch. “You know, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it… I imagine it swallowing my cock every single day, doctor.”

A wave of nausea crashed through you.

His smile widened, something wicked and triumphant glinting in his eyes.

“I bet you tried to convince yourself it was hate.” He knocked his head lightly against the bars, closing his eyes for a second, inhaling the air like he could breathe you in. “But deep down… you liked what I said. Sluts like you always do.”

You took a step back.

He moved instantly, pressing closer to the bars, shoulders tense, his expression shifting into something animalistic.

“That’s it… back away. Pretend you’re running.” His tongue swept over his cracked lips. “Don’t forget—that’s what I love most in a woman, doctor. The ones who resist.”

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 couldn’t move when something warm and viscous splattered onto your hand.

Your eyes widened, needing to confirm it was real—that on the back of your hand, seeping from the pocket of your coat, was a splatter of Tom Harrow’s 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 lifted—meeting Noah’s 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, unprofessional—completely exposed in front of a patient like him.

And then, he did something entirely unexpected.

Without saying a single word—obviously—Noah 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 wasn’t 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 Tom’s outburst to notice your absence—nor 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 couldn’t thank him for what he did.

You couldn’t look at him again.

You couldn’t 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 couldn’t be better!" you said, holding the phone with a grimace that didn’t match the tone of your voice.

"I’ve 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.

"I’m just tired and really eager to find a better job."

"We warned you that dealing with so many lunatics wouldn’t be good for you, sweetheart. You were never all that right in the head yourself… I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: it’s time to come home and find something more normal to do." she threw out, alarmed. "I won’t 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! Don’t worry, I’ll 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, she’s 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 weren’t 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.

"It’s not exactly narcissism if it’s 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. Rune…" 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 easygoing—submissive, even—but easygoing. That title belongs only to my father."

"You rarely talk about your parents. Do they live on the island?"

"Yes, we’re from here." He responded without enthusiasm, twirling his keys around his index finger.

"And you don’t visit them when you come to town?"

"Homesickness isn’t 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 naïve.

Or maybe his parents were simply people he had no desire to be around, no matter how strong their personalities were.

"If you’re 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 didn’t even know he existed. Everyone lived in their own little bubble. Who would’ve thought he’d end up becoming my patient, huh?"

"That’s quite the coincidence…" you murmured, lightly biting your lower lip. "I’d even say it’s convenient."

Rune took the ice cream the friendly attendant handed him over the glass counter and—showing off his impeccable manners—walked 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 ‘grudge,’ since, from day one, you’ve 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 hasn’t changed a cent since he arrived. I don’t need to protect him or make his life harder. To me, he’s just another file, another patient whose brain will be fried by meds and electroshock therapy… That is, if he doesn’t end up offing himself first."

"I don’t think it’s ethical of you to talk like that."

"You wanted to know, and I simply answered, doctor. And I believe that’s the most you’ll get out of this story that intrigues you so much. But if you’ll take some advice, I’d 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, you’re 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 Travis’s ride, but what other choice did you have? The next taxi wouldn’t pass for hours, and by then, the sky would likely be dark. You weren’t 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 couldn’t quite place, but listening to Dr. Rune hum along in his undisturbed peace as he turned the steering wheel—

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 thud—like 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 time—old 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 hallway’s 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 else—something metallic, which your mind refused to name.

The Hidden’s gate was slightly ajar.

Your body locked up.

It was like reliving the horror from hours ago, Tom Harrow’s 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 them—mumbled 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 it—and 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 overwhelming—something 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 shifted—the 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 blade—dripping 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.

“Which part of ‘I don’t want you here’ does the doctor still not understand?”

Noah spoke.

Oh my. Dr. Rune has something dark he's hiding. I have a feeling.

Noah what did you do? I know but still.

Hello my friends!!! I just wanted to get on here and drop some mushy stuff for a minute.

The world has been really hurtful to me lately. People who've said they are friends have hurt me and stabbed me in the back, and situations have just not been ideal. But I've kept going, I've kept pushing through all the bullshit and have kept my faith, knowing it's just a season, and things will eventually get better.

With that said, I want to thank everyone in this community that we've built together through a band, their world, and music for all of the love and friendship you've shown me in the past 2 years since coming back to Tumblr. Thanks for being my friends, for being my escape, for supporting my writing and sharing it. It means everything to me.

I've never been great at making friends because I have serious trust issues and am just socially awkward. But here, I've made some of the best friends.

I love you all so much and hope you know that you make a huge difference in this world with every little act of kindness and love you share. It's appreciated, so never stop giving it even when you feel or think that you can't!

Alright, mushy part over lol!

Working on "At Odds" pt 2 atm. Hoping to get it out ASAP.

Sorry the updates and replies to the requests are slower than others. I just want to take my time and give the ones who are asking for stories the best I have and not disappoint.

Have a beautiful rest of the week, be safe, and remember you're loved, and you matter.

Also, my inbox is open for anyone who needs a friend, an ear, a laugh, or just someone to talk to. I'm here 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶 And you're never alone 🥰🥰🥰🥰

Tag list:

@philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @thisbicc @lacy1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @mrsnoahsebastian @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers @myownthoughts12 @sister-sebastian @missduffsblog @bngurngheart  @somebodyllelse @xxkittenkissesxx @dizzylmwahh @kenjipepsi1 @blackveilomens @chey-h @disappearintothegrey @jilliemiw86 @pathion @fear-its-beauty @an0mallly @potterheadquinn @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @montgomery-929494 @missduffsblog @lilcazy011 @Lonelydragonlady @Mattysbitchvic @athenexe @flowery-mess @bloody-spades

You are an amazing person. The world sucks a lot of the time but I am so happy and honored to be part of the part that doesn’t suck with you. This community has been an amazing gift for so many.

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 33

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, swearing, drug addiction, violence.

Coming home after a day like that became your only goal. You longed for a warm shower, soft sheets, and, for the first time in a long time, a deep sleep. During the rest, your thoughts would rearrange themselves, and the next steps would unfold with more clarity. Little by little, everything began to fall into place, each piece revealing a fragment of what once seemed unreachable.

You no longer felt trapped, like someone with their hands tied, defenseless in the face of the unknown. Because now, finally, you knew your past.

Although still cloudy in some places, it was no longer a complete mystery.

When you crossed the door, the silence hit you like a punch to your empty stomach. You turned on the living room lights, but the space remained sterile, devoid of any sign of life. Even the kitchen counter was spotless, with no traces of breakfast dishes or any hint that anyone had been there.

Your fingers slid across the cold surface of the countertop, and a growing discomfort settled in your chest. The more you examined the perfection of that empty space, the less at ease you felt, from the kitchen to the slow, deliberate steps you took on the stairs.

With a lump in your throat, you walked toward the bedroom, each step echoing in the silence of the house. The doorknob was cold in your hand when you turned it, hesitating for a moment before pushing the door open.

The shock hit you like a dry punch. The room seemed... smaller. Or maybe it was just the absence of him that made it feel so vast and strange. The drawers were open, empty. The closet, once filled with clothes, now displayed only hangers with a few pieces, gently swaying with the draft escaping through the window crack. The desk, where he used to leave scattered notes and forgotten items, was impeccably empty.

Your chest sank. You blinked quickly, as if the simple act of closing your eyes and opening them could change that reality. But nothing changed. He was gone.

For real.

He had simply left, taking with him everything that could have been proof of his existence there. The pain came slowly, first as a tightness in your stomach, then spreading in cold waves throughout your whole body. Your fingers trembled as you touched the bed, feeling the fabric still stretched, untouched.

The truth hit you.

He was gone.

"So this is how you felt..." you said quietly as you sat at the edge of the bed.

Where did he go? Why did he leave?

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 32

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, swearing, drug addiction, violence.

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 wondered—how did normal people deal with their mother’s 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 pain—and 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 you—over and over—that 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 “the day you would finally find rest.” 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 love…

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, waiting…

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 wasn’t your home, and that room wasn’t 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 share—messy on only one side.

The side where you had slept.

He was everywhere, even though he wasn’t physically within those four walls.

Your feet carried you downstairs slowly, and with each step, the male presence at the kitchen counter came into view—sitting, eating cereal while watching a video on his phone.

You didn’t 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.

“I didn’t want to wake you, but I made your coffee,” he said, nodding toward the cabinet.

“You brought me to your house.”

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.

“Our house,” Noah corrected, tilting his head.

“Your house,” you repeated.

Good on her! I am so glad she's healing. And her and Noah are working towards healing as well

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 31

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, swearing, drug addiction, violence.

For at least six years, you had developed the habit of spending as little time as possible sober and even less time sleeping. It was your escape. Your safe haven. The moment when you could detach yourself from your own mind just enough to erase any thoughts you were running from. When your brain went numb and your fingers tensed, it felt like being instantly transported to another dimension, where silence ruled over glass walls. The TV, which once replayed your past endlessly as if it were an inevitable punishment, finally switched off, allowing you to exist in a life that wasn’t your own.

You just wanted to play with a doll, style its hair, and curl the ends. You wanted to wear a pink dress with white frills, tall socks, and ballet flats, free from the burden of hungry eyes following you. You wanted to live without your mother’s voice insisting that the curse of seduction was ingrained deep into your bones. You dreamed of being a child with friends. You longed to walk around the house at night without the fear that made you hold your bladder until morning. You wanted something as simple as a pretty bow in your hair. You wanted her to listen when you said you didn’t feel well, that something was wrong. Above all, you wished for a puppy for Christmas.

All of that was only possible in the life you had when you were high.

But there was a big difference between inducing that feeling yourself and having it forced upon you without your consent. Losing control of your memories, not knowing if you were dealing with reality or fantasy, and getting lost in endless mental trips trying to find answers was far from comfortable. In fact, it was painful and agonizing, like watching your own life from the other side of a window.

You stared at the mirror every morning as if it were a daily ritual, running your index finger over the marks that, with time, became softer, almost invisible. You had no idea where they came from; they constantly ached until fading beneath your skin. And day after day, no matter how much you pressed your fingers against them in an attempt to retrieve some trace of memory, it was always futile.

All that remained was a massive void in your memory, as if those months had never existed. Your friends asked if you were okay, where you had been, and whether you needed help. You would have asked for help if you knew how to answer so many questions. But instead, you found yourself forced to seek refuge in silence. In the overwhelming guilt of what that silence might cause.

Fully dressed, you were ready to leave with your keys in hand and a cup of coffee. Gerard blatantly ignored the funereal air surrounding the band and your breakup with Noah. In fact, he had never seemed happier or more motivated to make you work; he could have done a better job of hiding how little faith he had in that relationship. There was no excuse to justify your absence, and he insisted you’d been gone long enough. He claimed that any more time off would ruin your voice entirely. His words, not yours.

With his usual disapproval, Gerard had reluctantly allowed you to stay off the stage until the bruises faded, preventing any news or speculation from being associated with your name. He had asked questions when he saw you, but you hadn’t been able to answer any of them about where they came from, and he had decided it was better to leave it at that.

Now, your route to the studio was a bit longer, but nothing you couldn’t handle. Honestly, you didn’t even understand where the need to leave your old house had come from. You couldn’t remember the time between deciding and actually moving, but considering how the last days with Noah in that house had been, maybe it was understandable.

“Hey!” A male voice called out, and you turned around as he touched your arm. “Easy there! It’s just me.”

So heartbreaking. Gerard sucks

Nothing to Lose: Prologue

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Content Warnings: dark themes, detailed murder (including unborn child), restraining, implied kidnapping, blood with description - if I missed any PLEASE let me know

A/N: If you’d like to be removed from the taglist after reading, let me know

Taglist: @oobleoob @xnew-way-outx @xmads-omensx @lilgarbitch @shayeanna-ashlie @supersquirrel1996 @lacy1986 @enemiestolovershoe @bloody-spades @ami--gami @blade-dressed-in-red @death-ofpeace-ofmind @dsireland86 @lyinginbetween @justdamnpeachy @rafecamerons-national-anthem @sweetwombatpizza @geminigirlfromfinland @overmydeadbodysblog @amelia-acero @chey-h @heyyoplayer @dontwantthemoney @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @thisbicc @lonelydragonlady @tosoundlessdarkistare

Banner: @xmads-omensx

Summary: Noah had it all. The house, the cars, the money, the girl. His crime organization, The Grey, was taking over. He was finally getting the respect he deserved. Until it all came crashing down around him. He was betrayed by a man who he thought was his brother, his wife murdered in front of him. He had the whole world once and he gave it away thinking it would save her. He watched the light fade from her eyes and vowed to never love anyone again. 

And then he met Y/N and it all changed. 

If this dream should last forever, he prayed to die. 

I can't wait to see how this plays out

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Reader

Content Warnings: smut, oral f. receiving. fingering f. receiving, MDNI (if I missed any let me know)

Taglist: @oobleoob @xnew-way-outx @xmads-omensx @lilgarbitch @shayeanna-ashlie @supersquirrel1996 @lacy1986 @enemiestolovershoe @bloody-spades @ami--gami @blade-dressed-in-red @death-ofpeace-ofmind @dsireland86 @lyinginbetween @justdamnpeachy @rafecamerons-national-anthem @sweetwombatpizza @geminigirlfromfinland @overmydeadbodysblog @amelia-acero @chey-h @heyyoplayer @dontwantthemoney @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @thisbicc @lonelydragonlady @tosoundlessdarkistare

A/N: if you don't want to be on the taglist for thots, let me know

Ok, this killed me. I'm dead.

I love your writing!

We all know he's good in bed don't we?

Emery

I love this so much! They had a great cute amazing unity!

And he calls her mom, mom! I love this!