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ladyveronikawrites · 2 months

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DOMINATE THE GAME

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Female Reader

CW: 18+ MNDI, Coach/athlete au, coach athlete sexual relationship [all parties regardless of being fiction are of legal age of consent]

The National Women’s Soccer League Anti-Harassment Policy: This policy prohibits the use of coercion, force, intimidation, or Power Imbalance to pursue sexual contact or an intimate relationship of any sort.

The story includes: oral (male receiving), vaginal fingering, p in v sex, mentions of contraceptives. If I missed anything please let me know💜

This is real person fiction; Fiction based on real people in fictitious situations.

A/N: Huge shout out to @nerdraging4point0 for helping me with this fic, holding my hand every step of the way as I venture into new waters. Coach Davis caused a bit of a frenzy in my server and well here we are. Also, check out her coach au, Underdog 🥎

word count: 2.5k

👑Royal Readers👑

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@dominuslunae @xxrainstorm @lyschko666 @kingdxmxfcxrds @the-ancient-fae

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It’s your third lap around the track and you see him talking with your coach on the sidelines. Coach Davis is back for his third week of observation. Whatever that means. He hasn’t said a single word to you or the other players. You barely remember his voice since he only whispers from the sidelines at your coach and has only addressed the team to introduce himself on the first day. Not even a “congratulations” when we won our last game last week.

Nothing.

You huff as you pass the pair slowing your pace just enough to roll your eyes at Coach Davis in his stupid sunglasses, boring varsity hoodie-from a rival college no less, and his fucking lame ass dad baseball cap.

“You’re going to regret that.” Suddenly the air expels from your lungs, leaving you wheezing and coughing. Easing your pace to a steady jog, you gather your breath as you close the distance between you and your best friend Kate.

“You ok? I saw you having a fit over there after you passed Coach Davis.” This time you fake a coughing fit to cover up the burning in your cheeks and the strange feeling in your stomach as his name rolls around in your brain like a terrible game of racquetball.

“Yeah, fine,” you say between forced coughs before ending your charade by clearing your throat and then spitting into the grass field beside you.

“Yeah, ok whatever you say,” your best friend rolls her eyes as you grin back at her. Just then, Coach Chris blows his whistle and you and Kate pick up the pace, joining the team at the benches. Folding your arms to match him, you narrow your eyes at the to-be-assistant coach.

“Coach Davis will be leading practice today as I have a club meeting right now. He will take good care of you, I have faith in him. Remember we have an away game Saturday morning, be at the field at 7 am for warm up before we commute.”

“Yes Coach,” we all respond in unison. Coach Chris nods at you knowingly, the captain of the team, before sauntering off the track.

“We are going to do things a little differently today,” his voice is low and soft as he scans over the team but you can feel his intense gaze land on yours through his tinted sunglasses. He speaks straight into your soul “You all have great potential, I want to see it. I want to feel it!”

Your heart jumps into your throat as you wait for what comes next. Coach Davis drags the whistle from around his neck to press against his plump lips. Instantly, your mouth goes dry, and something strange stirs in your belly as you stare just a moment longer. You don’t hear the tinging of the whistle, lost in thought about what his lips would feel like pressed against yours.

Transfixed, you don’t recognize the flurry of bodies surrounding you until you hear your name being screamed into your ear. “Hello!? Don’t make me repeat myself!” Coach Davis towers over you glaring, “Get out onto the field, now!” You bow your head slightly, balling your hands into fists as you swallow down the humiliation. Your stomach bubbles with rage and your shoulders tense. You've been playing soccer since you were 6 and this prick dares to tell you how to play.

“Yes, Coach,” you say through gritted teeth, jogging to Kate but she isn't in her usual spot. Fucking Bastard. He has us set up for the ‘Drill from Hell’ as we call it. We never do it with Coach Chris because it just doesn't work for our team.

“I see some concerned eyes and whispers. If you don't like the way I coach you can get the FUCK OFF MY FIELD!”

My Field. Your knuckles turn white as you grind your teeth. No one breathes. No one moves a muscle. The only sound is the high-pitched shrill of the whistle.

We run this drill three more times before Jessie faints, abruptly ending the practice. “She'll be fine. Sydney get her water and a protein bar.” Coach nonchalantly before stalking off the field.

What the fuck.

When you make your way to check on Jessie, she's alert and drinking water. “How are you?” You ask, looking between her and Sydney. Syd looks rattled and Jessie has some color back into her face.

“Yeah, I'll be ok. There was a party last night-”

“Alright, I get it,” you raise your hand cutting her off before giving Syd a sympathetic smile. When Jessie gets this way, Coach Chris just lets her sit out of practice. But this practice was far from normal. You follow Jess and Syd into the locker room to find it deserted. Figures Kate would bail.

Sighing, you open your locker to check your phone. You get a poor excuse from Kate as to why she abandoned you and as you sling your bag over your shoulder your phone chimes. Your jaw drops to the floor. It's Coach Davis, but in a tight white tank top and his short hair slicked back. He's covered in tattoos. Mother fuck.

<Kate: God, he's hot

I can't do this right now. You slam the locker shut and collapse against it. Groaning, you screw your eyes shut tight and pinch the bridge of your nose in a feeble attempt to ground yourself. You hope you never see Coach Davis again. Who died and made him God, like the fuck. Has he even coached a day in his life?

You push off the locker and say goodbye to Jessie and Syndey before heading out the door. Somehow you find yourself at Coach Chris' office just a few doors away from the locker room. Your hand hovers over the doorknob as your brain battles between running away and giving Coach Davis a mouthful, you are the captain of the team after all, and Coach Chris has supported you since day one.

“Coach I need to-” Your hasty demand dies instantly and your feet turn into cement when you spot Coach Davis doing push-ups in front of Coach Chris’ desk.

“99, 100!” Coach Davis grunts as he jumps up from the ground when he turns to face you, all of your pent-up tenacity and wit plummets to your stomach. “I knew you’d come,” Coach Davis smirks as he wipes himself off with a towel. His glistening muscles flex with every minute movement. How could something so simple be so arousing?

“I- uh,” your brain short circuits as you track his flexing back muscles when he turns to throw the used towel into the corner of the room. He leans back against the coach’s desk and crosses his legs at the ankles, folding his arms around his chest.

“Spit it out already,” he barks. You try to swallow down the words you know will get you in trouble, but the lump in your throat gets in the way. His annoyed gaze spikes your anxiety. It’s all too much- his deep voice and damp hair sticking to the side of his face….

Wait, is that a scar from a dermal piercing? Fuck me.

The words tumble from your parted lips before you can shove them away and bury the thoughts of a pierced and tatted Coach Davis.

“Fuck me-” Before the last syllable echoes through the silent room, your eyes go wide and your hands instantly cover your mouth as you begin to retreat. Your eyes go wide when your back hits the wall with a thud. Your shoulders tense and breathing shallows as you wait for your harsh discipline. His features stay neutral except for a small curl of his pouty lip. Did he just smile?

“I’msosorrycoach-” you stammer out an apology when he pushes himself from the desk. Your heartbeat skyrockets as he takes a step closer to you. “I should go.”

Your cheeks flame red as you turn to leave. Your hand is just about to make contact with the doorknob when you find yourself being harshly spun around. Slamming to a solid chest, all of the air expels from your lungs, leaving you stunned and breathless. He doesn’t give you time to adjust your stance before pushing you against the wall, leaning over to lock the door and close the blinds before caging you in his toned tattooed arms.

“Come on now, where’s the fight?” Your blood boils as a smug smirk spreads across his face. “You are the captain of the team? Aren’t you?” He sneers, flashing his canines right in your face.

I want to wipe that smug smile off of his face, your thoughts turn dark. You know he is your superior and you’d lose your scholarship in an instant if someone found out. But there’s something about this moment, it’s exhilarating and you think he wants it too.

Coach Davis leans in to inhale your scent before stepping back. You force your expression neutral as he casually cracks his neck before clearing his throat. “Let’s try this again,” he huffs. “You are the captain of the team? Aren’t you?” He all but screams in your face.

“Yes, Coach.” Your usual confidence springs back into your voice as you stare intensely back at him. If he wants to play, then game fucking on.

“Then lead!” His voice booms loud in your ears as he closes the distance. You suck in a breath as he leans down at nips at your earlobe.

“Lead. Me.” He bites out through clenched teeth.

Lead me. He wants me to do what?!

Then it hits you like a freight train; him- his pheromones mixed with a bite of bergamot that is softened by vanilla. When you take another breath to calm your mind, your system is bombarded by him. The ache between your thighs is answer enough.

“Don’t make me-”

“Kiss me!” Before you have a chance to take it back and ruminate on the consequences of your actions, large hands clasp around your face in a vice grip as full lips crash into yours. At first, your body tenses to his touch, but when he moans into your open mouth, you melt like putty in his hands. It’s all tongue and teeth as you both fight for air, fight for dominance- and this time you aren’t giving up so easily. You shove him in the chest breaking your heated kiss and you laugh at his shocked expression.

“Fiesty little on-”

“Pants off. Now,” you demand.

In an instant, his pants and boxers are pooling at his ankles, his hard cock springing to life. Goddamn, he’s covered in tattoos. Your pussy flutters around nothing as you bite down on your lip hard, tasting copper.

“I wanna hear you,” you say cooly as you sink onto your knees. You spit on your hands before wrapping them around the base of his shaft, jerking him a few times. Peering up at him through your thick lashes you add, “I wanna feel you come undone.”

Coach Davis groans as you take him in your mouth. You dig your nails into his thick thigh muscles earning a hiss and a curse as you take him deeper until you gag. Wrapping your hands around the rest of him, you hollow your cheeks sucking him harder. Bobbing your head up and down, he curses your name. You know he’s close so you double your efforts. Suddenly, pain shoots through your scalp as fingers grip your hair pulling you off him.

“As much…” Coach Davis pants. “I want you to keep going, I-” Coach Davis grips the back of your neck pulling you up to him. He latches his lips to yours, all-consuming. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you snake your hands under his shirt, using your fingernails to claw at his back.

“Fuck,” he groans against your lips. Coach Davis leans back to drag his hands over the desk knocking papers and folders to the ground before gripping you by the hips and hoisting you onto the edge of the desk. You squeal when your feet lift from the ground but it instantly melts into a moan when he spreads your legs apart and slides your panties to the slide before shoving a slender finger inside your slick walls.

“That all you got Coach?!… oh fuck!” he sinks another finger in without warning. He finger fucks you until your legs start to tremble and then he pulls out.

“I’m on the pill!” you blurt out as you watch him line up his red angry cock against your entrance. “I’m clean too, I just got tested last week.” You don’t know why you tell him this as your heart pounds in your chest. Maybe it’s to help calm your nerves or to urge him on. His eyes turn dark at your confession.

“Good. Girl.” He punctuates each word with a shove of his thick member.

The little support your propped-up elbows give out almost instantly as he drills into rough and relentless. You lay back and shut your eyes, giving into the sensations as the coil in your core winds up tighter. A loud groan rumbles from your throat and suddenly a hand clamps over your lips.

“Only quiet girls get to come, got it?” Your breathing becomes labored but you manage to move your head slightly in understanding.

Coach Davis grips your hips tighter, skin slapping, bringing you closer to the edge when he hits the spongy sweet spot. Instantly, your fingernails find purchase on his tattoos forearms.

“Oh my god, you’re close, aren’t you…God you feel so good… come on, let go and co-”

All of a sudden the doorknob giggles. “Fuck,” Coach Davis curses under his breath as he pulls out of you. “Under the desk, quick.” You dive under the desk just as his footsteps cross the room.

“Coach Cerulli,” there’s a rasp in Coach Davis’ voice when he answers the door.

“I was ju-” There’s a pause when Coach Chris clears his throat. “Never mind, I’ll…uh come back later.”

“What do yo-” is the last thing you hear before the door shuts, leaving you alone in Coach Chris’ office.

A few heartbeats pass and you muster the courage to leave. You stroll from Coach Chris's office, looking both ways down the hall to ensure you aren't caught. Walking down the hall with a stupid grin on your face you stop in your tracks when a pair of angry voices carries to your ears, echoing off the walls of the empty hall.

“I’m not stupid, Davis, your ruffled clothes, the papers on the floor… for fucks sake.” Coach Chris's voice is stern and loud. “You need to end this now before it gets out of control.” You hear the shuffling of feet and incoherent grumbles.

“What did you say?” Coach Davis asks.

Chris sighs, “There was this player on a softball team I coached..” his voice trembles a little bit. You cover your mouth turning on your heel quickly to head down the opposite hall.

Back at your off-campus apartment, you scroll through your texts to find that Kate will be out late despite an early game tomorrow. Relief floods your system as you plop down on your bed, knowing you won’t be faced with an unwanted interrogation. You are about to put your phone on dnd for the night when a text from an unknown number pops up. Your stomach tightens, he got the note you left in the mess of papers on the floor… but what if it’s not Coach Davis?

<Since I got you nice and warmed up, ready for practice?

Coach Davis?>

<Of course, my good girl

How can I be sure?>

<Would Coach Cerulli send you this?

Your mouth drops to the floor at the picture, the size of him. Arousal heats your core as the memory of him and your unfinished business.

Fuck it.

Yes, Coach, I’m ready for practice.>

#bad omens #bad omens band #noah sebastian #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x female reader #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #bad omens rpf #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian fic #bad omens au #sports au #coach au #ladyveronikawrites

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cookiesupplier · 6 months

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Hell Ain't So Bad - Masterlist

Then maybe Hell ain't so bad after all

Masterlist for Hell Ain't So Bad

Combined Hell-Verse Masterlist HERE

x-posted to ao3

summary: Ellie is lost in the world, homeless and has been out of the world for so long in her mind she has no idea what to do and nowhere to go.. When the perfect opportunity falls into her lap, she doesn’t want to pass it up.. Turns out though, it might be a little bit stranger than she ever expected. Who would have thought that one day, she’d end up working in hell itself.. And what does this even mean?

chapters: ✨️ = smut

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve✨️ || Thirteen✨️ | Fourteen✨️ | Fifteen✨️ | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty | Twenty-One | Twenty-Two✨️ ||

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian x ofc #original female character #original character #demon noah #demon kink #bad omens #fanfiction #noah bad omens #bad omens au #bad omens band #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian smut #slow burn #joakim jolly karlsson #jolly karlsson #joakim karlsson #nicholas ruffilo #nick folio

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aplaceinthedark · 4 months

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Newly updated moodboards

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens rpf #bad omens au #series: lost in the labyrinth #just LitL things #moodboard #bad omens moodboard

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mysticdoodlez · 5 months

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interlude: MADE BREATH and SKIN

Watcher Noah Sebastian x oc (Taylor)

Word Count: 2.7k+

A/n: so up to around chapter six, I was up in the air over whether Taylor would a) start a relationship, and b) go with Nick or Noah. The interlude was bare bones until Taylor made up their mind, but I always had in my drafts a version where they went with Noah. Some talks on the discord happened and I just went "fuck it we ball" and I expanded the draft to a full-blown one-shot. Also: I KNOW ANTLERS AREN'T SENSITIVE LIKE THAT, BUT HE'S A DEER GOD. THE RULES DON'T APPLY TO HIM.

In other news, I tried to write without limitations like last time, cuz non-binary folk who are okay with their body parts and being called "good AGAB" exist out there too, people! So, if mentions of female body parts or female terminology shuts you down, then this won't be for you.

Cw: language, supernatural themes, sexy stuff: oral (oc receiving), slight monster fucking (monster, demi-deity, whatev), pet play if you squint, unwrapped p in v (be safe, kiddos), telepathic dirty-talk

“I don't need to be babysat. Like they're gonna try to break into my house and kidnap me,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Well, too bad. Like I have anything better to do than babysit you,” Noah said, shedding his leather jacket he had over his hoodie. I could hear the playful undertone in his voice, thankfully. And to be honest, I was kind of glad he was here.

“Need help?” I commented as he pulled his hoodie up.

“Nope,” he said, lifting it up above his head. I mainly watched just to see how he could manage to get it over the antlers that were sprouting from the sides of his head, but I would be lying if I said I didn't sneak a peek at the part of his stomach as his shirt rode up. “Jeez, do you have to keep this place like a sauna in here?”

“It's not even seventy degrees in here,” I said, trying to avoid staring too long after he managed to get the hoodie off, but I still couldn’t get over the fact that he was actually that… big under all that clothing. He was now down to just a cut-off tank, leaving all the binding sigils that ran up and down his arms and across his collarbones and shoulders on display. Honestly, combined with the muscles, it made me want to punch him.

But still, after a while, my eyes were drawn back up to the antlers. While not as wide and impressive as the last time I saw them, they still seemed to make him seem taller and bigger than he already was.

“My eyes are down here.”

His words snapped me out of my reverie before he flipped down onto the couch beside me. “What're we watching?” he asked. When I looked down into his eyes, with his face drawn up into a smirk, I was almost taken aback when I noticed the smattering of freckles under them. The Lost Boy Who Would Become King.

“Does it hurt?” I blurted out.

“Does what hurt?” Noah asked.

“The antlers… when they grow out. Do they hurt?” I clarified, curiosity getting the better of me.

He blinked. “N-no?” he replied awkwardly, like no one had bothered to ask that question of him before. “Mostly they’re just sensitive until they reach their full point. Kinda itchy, too.” His thigh bumped against mine.

“Has anyone touched them?” I asked.

“No, usually people are too busy screaming ‘Ah, don’t kill me’ if I get—“ I cut him off with a backhand to the chest. “What? It's true!”

“I meant like Nick and the others,” I huffed, leaning back.

“Nah, they're not stupid enough to–” Noah said, but then stopped dead when I pressed my thumb against one of the points.

“Shit, I’m sorry, did I hurt—“ I stammered, pulling my hand away until I noticed his eyes. They seemed to pin me to where I was sitting.

“No, you’re fine, it's just…” Noah swallowed thickly, “I didn’t expect it to feel like… that.”

“Like wha…?” I trailed off as I realized what he meant. Oh.

My hand, which was still hovering near his head, fell back down to his antlers. Curiosity getting the better of me, I traced a light line from where they met his skull up to one of the first points. He shuddered under my touch, a small moan slipping out.

“Stop that,” he gritted out.

“Stop what?” I asked. I meant for it to be an honest question, but I didn't think he took it to be like that. Especially when his hand shot up and snatched my wrist away from his head.

“Stop teasing,” he said with a low rumble, dipping his head down to where he was eye level with me. My heart stopped when I saw how dark his eyes were.

I felt his other hand snake around my waist, pulling me closer to him. As ironic as the comparison was, I felt like a deer caught in the headlights. “Is that why you asked about them? So you could see me like this?” he asked. I was practically on his lap at this point, my knees straddling his thighs. He dipped his head lower to nuzzle his lips against my jaw.

The movement snapped me out of my paralysis, and I finally found my voice. “Aww, is Bambi sensitive?” I cooed, reaching my free hand up to run a finger up his antlers again. He shuddered against me, breath panting and ragged, and I froze up again when I felt his dick begin to harden underneath my core.

“I said watch it,“ he growled, grabbing that hand as well. “Do you like being a tease? Touching me like that?” He pushed me onto my back, pinning my wrists to the armrest above my head. He easily was able to hold both of them with one hand, those long fingers wrapping around them as he freed a hand to roughly grab my jaw. “Touch me again, and I’ll build you up to just leave you here wet and needy.”

My eyes widened a little bit as I took in what he said. “No—“ He cut me off with a small squeeze. The little puffs of breath he let out ghosted over my ear, making me shudder in his hands. When he finally let go of my jaw, it was to only run it over the hollow of my throat and stop. He leaned down, his lips leaving light but wet kisses along my neck.

A soft whimper escaped my throat, and my legs squirmed under his. He chuckled, my only warning before he bit down on the sensitive flesh between my neck and shoulder. A sharp gasp left me, which turned into a moan when his teeth retracted to let his tongue sweep over the mark.

“I want everyone to know what’s mine, little rabbit,” he whispered. “I want them to know that you belong to the Watcher of the Woods.”

The possessive tone he used slightly pissed me off, but as he alternated between biting and soothing at my tender skin, I could barely care. That's when I realized, despite my fogged-up brain, my mouth was close to the base of his antlers. So between keening, I let out a breathy moan that I knew would hit them.

His reaction was instantaneous. He let out a loud moan against my wet skin, hips involuntarily shunting forward against mine. The straining in his jeans pressed against my covered core, earning a sharp inhale from me. I didn't know how dizzier I could get.

Noah pulled away to look me in the eyes. “Seriously, Taylor, if you want–”

“Noah, I want you, monster or not,” I panted.

For once, Noah was stunned into silence. He hovered over me, jaw slightly dropped as he took in my words. He then brought his lips down to lock with mine in a messy, heated kiss.

There was no gentleness in this kiss, and I didn't expect any. This was a man starved. He finally let go of my wrists and trailed his hands down my chest, my waist, to my hips, then trailed them back up, under my shirt this time.

His thumbs ran small, feather-light circles around my nipples. “No bra?” he asked, smirking against my lips.

“Never wear one,” I admitted.

“Good. Off,” he commanded. “I wanna look at you.” He pulled away to give me space.

Somehow I knew what he was talking about through the sex-addled white noise, and I lifted my shirt up and over my head. I flushed under his gaze that slowly raked over my body.

“I could absolutely devour you,” he admitted, leaning back down, lower this time. He ran his tongue up my sternum, up the small slope of one breast, and closed his mouth around my nipple. I keened and squirmed as he flicked the tip of his tongue over the hard peak, feeling helpless as he teased the other between his thumb and fingers.

Eventually, after both tits were given enough attention, he pulled off with a soft pop, biting into what flesh there was. He left little nips as he trailed down my tummy until he finally reached the waistband of my jeans.

“N-Noah…” I whimpered, trying to get his attention.

“Yeah…?” His eyes flicked up to mine as I gazed down my body at him.

“Please… not here,” I pleaded.

He blinked, his dark brown eyes darkening further. “You don't want me to fuck you on the couch?” he asked.

“P-please n-no.”

Suddenly, with supernatural strength, he hitched my waist over his shoulder, pulling up and taking me with him. I let out a small yelp of surprise, but soon he was taking me back to my bedroom. My world was just an upside- down view of the back of his top and ass. If I could just manage to get my arm up, I could just–

Before I could smack anything, he roughly tossed me onto the bed. He crawled up between my legs, undoing the button and zipper of my jeans. I wriggled my hips as he pulled my jeans and underwear down in one fast motion. With a groan, and without tearing his gaze from between my legs, he carelessly tossed the garments somewhere on the floor. “Fucking hell, you've been wet this whole time, haven't you?” he asked, leaning down.

“Noah–”

“Are you okay with this?” Noah asked. I stared at him in surprise, and he rolled his eyes. “I might be a monster, but I'm not that kind of a monster.”

“Fuck, of course Noah. Just fucking–” My tirade was cut off as he dove down like it was his last meal. My hips lifted off the bed in surprise, and he lifted my legs over his shoulders, wrapping his hands around my thighs and pulling them down against him.

I couldn't think of anything past the feeling of his tongue flicking over and around my clit, spearing into my pussy and then flattening as he licked long stripes up and down my slit. All I could do was grab the top of his head, tangling my fingers in his long tresses as I tried to keep myself grounded.

“Oh, God, No… ah–” was all I could manage to get out as I shook like someone possessed. His fingers dug into my thighs, the pain of his nails pressing in only adding to the pleasure. It felt like the more I reacted to him like this, the harder he worked to make me feel good.

I looked down at him to see that he was already intently staring at me. Somehow his dark eyes seemed to be bright when they met mine. I felt him smirk against my lower lips and then I heard,

YOU TASTE SO FUCKING GOOD.

Speaking into my head, hearing that praise, sent a bolt of pleasure through me that had me arching, releasing onto his tongue as I swore up to the ceiling. He lapped it up, not relaxing his movements one bit, and the overstimulation carried me into my second orgasm, my scream tearing through my throat.

THERE IT IS. THAT’S IT, GIVE IT TO ME.

He slowed down, kitten-licking me through my aftershocks, and then finally pulled away, settling me back down onto my bed. “You good?” He asked, like he didn't just completely shatter me.

Through ragged breaths that hurt my throat and my swimming vision, I nodded. Dear God, that was–

“He's not here, and by the end of tonight, I'll have you screaming my name like you worship me.” His growl sent ripples throughout my body. Noah crawled up on top of me, caging my face between his hands, and kissed me roughly. I could smell and taste myself on his lips.

“Noah, please I need you,” I managed to say between fervent kisses.

“Say my name,” he demanded.

“Noah.”

“Louder.”

“Noah–”

“Pray for me.”

“Please, Noah.”

When I opened my eyes, it was him shoving his jeans off, but what made me gasp was the sight of his antlers, now the crown of bone that I remembered. With his hair wild and tangled from my fingers, and the tattoos spread all across his now naked body, he truly looked like the forest god he was.

He perched over me, leaning down to kiss me hard enough to stoke the fire in my belly again, and trailed two fingers up and down my still-slick folds. He slowly pushed them into my hole, alternating between curling, scissoring, and pulling them out before repeating the cycle. I was a moaning, whimpering mess that could barely talk when I realized that he was lining himself up.

“N-Noah, f-fuck… please,” I near sobbed.

“Shhh, I've got you,” he said quietly, gently brushing some damp hairs off my forehead. He then slowly, tortuously, pushed in, making me cry out in pain and pleasure.

“Ohh god, Noah, a-ah!” I said. “'s n-not gonna f-fit.”

“Yes it will,” he rasped. I was so glad that he too was having a rough time handling me like I was handling him. “I know you can do it.” He then pulled my legs up and hitched them around his waist, nearly folding me in half. With a few more shallow thrusts, he finally bottomed out, hitting a spot in me that turned my moans to something primal.

“There we go, good job. I told you you could do it,” he muttered, kissing the bridge of my nose. The feeling of me clenching on his cock had him groan, a sound that seemed like it came from somewhere deep inside him. “You ready?”

“Y-yes, Noah.”

His pace was steady at first, torturously slow. I rolled my hips to meet his, and his hands flew down to them to encourage the movement. “Go on… Take what you need,” he said, voice hitching at the end. I reached up to wrap my arms around his wide back, feeling the muscles flexing underneath my hands. His forehead dropped to mine and our lips brushed together in unison.

FUCK, IT’S LIKE YOU WERE MADE FOR ME,

he said, a hand reaching up to cup my cheek, tilting my face so our lips could finally press against each others,

MY LITTLE RABBIT.

Noah, I’m gonna - I’m gonna… I was desperately close, and his pace just kept getting hastier. I knew I was about to topple over the edge, and Noah was going to push me over with no remorse.

LET GO,

he said,

I’M RIGHT BEHIND YOU.

When I opened my eyes, I saw his big doe eyes focused on me. I couldn’t hold it anymore, and I screamed his name as my head rolled back against my pillow. I swore I nearly blacked out, or at least the edges of my vision turned black, as my vision blurred. I felt my sweat-slick skin press against his as my back arched completely off the bed.

Noah chased his own release a little bit later, thrusting into me while growling something that might’ve been words in the other tongue, or just gibberish. Soon after, his hips stilled, and his body sagged onto me, the weight and warmth being welcome.

We lied there, chests heaving as we tried to catch our breath, and I found myself gently scratching at his scalp. My fingers gently brushed against the base of his antlers, and I stilled.

“You’re fine, I can’t feel anything when they’re fully grown,” Noah muttered against the skin of my neck.

“You know that, but not when they’re forming?” I asked.

“Like I said earlier, it never came up.” He chuckled airily.

We stayed like that for a while, his body like an anxiety blanket, until my body decided I needed to get up. Noah thought otherwise, as he wrapped his arms around my midsection and pulled me back against him every time I tried to leave the bed.

“Lemme up, I have to go to the bathroom and take a shower.”

“Only if I get to join you,” he said with a sly grin.

“Those things aren’t gonna fit in the shower,” I said with a momentary glance up at the antlers.

“Oh, I’ll make them fit.”

“…Gross.”

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens rpf #bad omens au #bad omens smut #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian au #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian x oc #tag: non-binary character #tag: afab character #cw: supernatural themes #cw: language #fic: lost in the labyrinth

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fandombandomfics · 10 days

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Noah Winchester Aesthetic

Another moodboard for the Bad Omens/Supernatural AU I'm writing

#bad omens #bad omens band #bad omens cult #noah sebastian #jolly karlsson #nicholas ruffilo #nick folio #bad omens fanfiction #joakim karlsson #sam winchester #dean winchester #noah sebastian winchester #bad omens au #spn au

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veronicaphoenix · 2 months

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THE UNMAKING OF A WARRIOR — PART VI

Pairing: samurai/ronin!noah x fem. reader | Words: 7.2k | Cross-posted on AO3.

Chapter tags & trigger warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of pregnancy, brief mentions of suggested abortion.

“Is she your wife?” The question, directed solely at Noah, annoyed me. I wasn’t invisible. I was standing right there. “She’s my…” Noah’s brown gaze softened as it fell upon me, a warmth filling his eyes.

THE UNMAKING OF A WARRIOR

PART VI

We found ourselves standing amidst the winding path that led to an apparent dead end, momentarily distracted from the allure of the vibrant rhododendron plant. Noah's muscles tensed, his protective instinct kicking in as we scanned our surroundings, searching for the source of the voice that had interrupted our exploration. His arm instinctively rose, creating a shield in front of me with his tall, broad frame, concealing half of my body from view.

The instructions didn’t come twice. Instead, the dense foliage lining the path parted before us, unveiling a gate obscured by layers of moss, verdant plants, and creeping ivy, revealing the continuation of the trail. I would have marveled at the vibrant colors that increased the further you walked if it weren’t for the two men and a woman that stood in front of us, each brandishing a sword aimed in our direction.

Noah raised a hand.

“We mean no harm,” he announced, his voice steady despite the tension crackling the air.

“Drop your swords, then,” came the terse demand again.

I looked up at Noah, conflicted. His nod gave me the reassurance I needed. Slowly, I unfastened my grandfather’s katana from my waist with a little bit of hesitation as Noah did the same with his. I placed it gingerly on the ground beside me. I was so tired that even the small gesture of bending down sent a shot of pain through my limbs.

“Why are you here?” The same man questioned, his stance unwavering.

They were dressed in an attire far different from ours, clean clothes that I’d dare say looked even new, a stark contrast to our outfit, which was dirty, covered in mud stains, and had been ripped in some sections around the ankles from the bushes we had crossed.

“We’re looking for shelter,” Noah replied. He kept his chin held high, his determination and confidence never failing.

“We were told this is a safe place,” I added, hoping to convey our innocence and praying that Grandma was right.

There was a moment of hesitation, the three individuals scrutinizing us, assessing both our physical demeanor and emotional state, gauging whether we posed any threat. Oh, how I wished I could glimpse into their thoughts, to discern their impressions as they observed Noah and me—a young couple, desperately seeking asylum, and clinging to each other as if life wouldn’t make sense without the other by our side.

It really didn’t.

After an anguished minute, the woman replied, flooding me with relief.

“It is,” she assured. I notice their posture easing slightly. “We will secure your weapons until we ascertain your intentions. Please, follow us.”

Noah took my hand firmly, and I clung to him as we trailed behind. The silent man retrieved our katanas, trailing behind us at a discreet distance, his vigilance evident.

Grandma couldn’t have lied to us. This had to be a safe place.

Once we passed through the hidden gate, it shut behind us with a soft tud. The path we followed uphill was adorned with an array of plants and flowers of diverse families. I couldn’t resist admiring their vibrance and lively presence as we pressed onward. Their beauty was a shocking contrast with the landscape we left behind. We had found some flowers on the way and I had entertained myself adoring some of them in my hands as Noah and I walked, but this trail we were following now was definitely a place that someone must be nurturing and caring for.

Before long, beyond a copse of trees and in the distance, the outlines of several small buildings came into view.

We found ourselves entering a village located in a majestic landscape. Traditional wooden houses lined along cobblestone streets; their sloping rooftops adorned with ceramic tiles. Lanterns, already on in anticipation of the sunset, bathed the pathways in a warm radiance, casting an enchanting aura over the surroundings. The air was rich with the mingling scents of diverse flowers, cedar, pine, and the faint aroma of burning incense wafting from somewhere my eyes couldn’t reach.

As we ventured further, the heads of numerous residents turned curiously in our direction, yet, what caught my attention was a lone deer who was gracefully roaming the open space, circling unoccupied stone benches. It veered away from the imposing Sakura tree at the center of the square, seemingly uninterested in the new visitors.

The place, the people, were clouded in a sense of harmony and reverence that I was quick to notice, and I was sure Noah caught notice of it, as well.

On one of the far sides, I could glimpse farmers tending to their crops, while on the opposite ends, a group of men arrived with baskets full of freshly caught fish. Outside one of the nearest houses, a woman meticulously crafted pottery on the porch, while a neighboring man worked on textiles.

A hill rose at the back, in the far end, and atop of it rested a temple, standing as a sentinel overseeing the village, its slopes adorned with cherry blossoms that would give way to hues of maple leaves come fall.

Surrounded by a lush forest and verdant canopies, the community lay protected in their embrace. The gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze and the chirping of birds created a symphony of nature’s harmony, soothing my soul and assuring me that we were in the right place.

Everywhere my eye wandered, scenes of beauty unfolded. The grace and kindness I sensed was welcomed into my being, something I had needed since long.

Two women that had noticed us arriving came walking to us. They were a bit older than me, maybe in their late thirties, but with their radiant smiles and beautiful clothing it was hard to tell. Three children came running from behind, their laughter echoing through the village like the tinkling of wind chimes. They clung to the women’s skirts as they curiously peered at me and Noah.

I felt a tug at my heart.

“Where do you come from?” My attention was brought back to the man who spoke.

“From the other side of the Sumire mountains,” Noah responded.

I sensed the dissatisfaction with Noah's vague response and resolved in that moment not to maintain the secrecy of our identities and our relationship any longer. It was time to be honest about who we were and why we were here, consequences be damned.

“We come from Shogun Dai’s kingdom,” I added.

A silence set upon us. They scrutinized us anew, piecing together the fragments of the story that we were revealing.

“You are a Samurai?” The other man asked Noah. There was reverence in his voice, as if he was wondered at the idea of standing in front of one.

“I was,” Noah affirmed boldly.

I pressed my side to his, enveloping the hand that was holding mine with my other one, letting those strangers know that, despite his breaking of the Bushido code, I would stand by him no matter what.

“Is she your wife?” The question, directed solely at Noah, annoyed me. I wasn’t invisible. I was standing right there.

“She’s my…” Noah’s brown gaze softened as it fell upon me, a warmth filling his eyes.

We made it, I wanted to tell him. We’re here. This place is safe, isn’t it? We’re allowed to be honest.

“She’s my princess,” he declared.

In that moment, they understood our story.

A princess and a samurai seeking shelter.

It didn’t take much more than that to have a story worth telling.

“You walked all the way from past the Sumire mountains? With no help at all?” One of the women inquired, concern etching her soft and pale features.

Meanwhile, the other woman’s attention was drawn elsewhere. She murmured something to the child hiding behind her. Then, the trio of children scampered off, their laughter echoing through the air. They couldn’t have been more than four or five years old, and I would have smiled widely at the image if it weren’t for the adults’ attention being solely focused on Noah and me.

“Yes,” Noah confirmed.

“You must be tired and hungry,” the woman remarked empathetically.

“We are,” I admitted, unable to suppress my emotions. Noah tugged at my hand. When I glanced at him, his lips were pursued and his eyebrows raised, as if he was containing a small laugh at my desperate outburst.

“We will ensure you’re tended to,” the man said. “Milla, why don’t you escort the young lady to get something to eat and show her the bathing chambers?”

Instantly, panic seized me at the thought of being separated from Noah. Despite the village’s serene façade, it was still an unknown place to us, and the lingering suspicion in the eyes of those around us only heightened my apprehension. I had had my fair share of trust issues to be okay with being taken somewhere without Noah walking at my side.

“Noah,” I called out urgently, my voice betraying my unease.

“It’s okay,” he soothed, his hand finding its way to my hair. Collected and confident, his figure turned slightly to face me, as if he was whispering a secret. “Nothing is going to happen. They’re just going to make sure you’re okay.” With that, he pressed a kiss to my head and nodded for me to take leave.

Even though I trusted him and his instincts, fined by years of discipline as a Samurai, it brought me no comfort to step away from his side.

As I followed the two ladies, Noah was directed to follow the group that found us at the entrance. They walked in the opposite direction, and as the distance grew between me and my Samurai, I feared what could happen.

“Where are they taking him?”

“Not far,” the woman called Milla replied, her tone gentle. “They just need to get to know him a little bit better, as we do with you.” She glanced back with a friendly smile, but I struggled to return the gesture. Her response wasn’t quite the reassurance I had hoped for.

“Don’t worry,” the other chimed in, touching my elbow gently. Her voice was soft and sweet. “You will be reunited with him soon. Let us take care of you for now. There is food prepared in the common dining room. We will guide you there after ensuring you’re cleaned and settled.”

I just need Noah to be okay. I’ll be fine when I see him again.

But as new corners of the village came into view, a sense of security began to envelop me. The smiles from the people I crossed seemed genuine, their gestures warm and welcoming, reflecting a sense of community and goodwill that had been missing in my father’s grounds. A few elderly people were just merely sitting outside their tiny homes, basking in the gentle warmth of the late sun, their weathered faces creased with lines of wisdom and experience.

My presence there was definitely not unwelcomed. They didn’t even seem to want to know who I was or what I was doing there. It was as if they just wanted me… to be.

I caught side of a shadowed pathway leading to a weathered stone steps ascending the rocky mountain at the back of the village, leading to the immense temple at the crown. The silence as we crossed the entry to the stairs that climbed the rocks and led into the sacred area intensified in that corner of the village. I promised myself I would visit that place regardless of what the next day might bring. It looked too magnificent to go on without setting foot in it and offering a prayer and a blessing to the spirits that watch over the land.

“So, you’re a princess,” Milla commented, ascending the three wooden steps leading to a small cottage porch enveloped by ivy vines and adorned with a flowering tree arching over the entryway.

“I was,” I replied, feeling a twinge of pain shoot through my knees with the movement but unapologetic about my honesty.

“Well, he clearly stated that you are his princess,” she noted.

“What I am to Noah has nothing to do with who I was,” I asserted firmly.

Daughter of the Shogun or not, Noah had told me once, in the comfort of the white bedsheets in my Grandma’s little house, his naked body pressed against mine, the remnants of his high still impregnating the skin on my lower tummy, that I would have been his princess whether he had found me in my father’s castle or in the slums of the city, without shelter and clad in torn clothes.

“You know, my cousin is a princess, too,” Milla continued as she opened a sliding door, gesturing for us to enter.

Inside, the room was bathed in the scent of soap and lavender. Two massage tables and bamboo furniture occupying the space, filed with piles of towers and various amenities.

“I haven’t seen her since I came here, and I doubt I ever will again, but that’s okay. We are different people,” she reflected with a serene smile. “She’s happy with her life in my uncle’s kingdom, while I’ve found happiness here with my husband and our child.”

My brow furrowed as I stood amidst the tranquil room, contemplating her words.

“Why are you here?” I dared to ask.

She stood in front of me, her hands clasped before her, a silent smile gracing her lips. Then I realized the sadness that crossed her eyes, and when I glanced at the other woman, Rika, I detected a similar emotion shadowing her features.

“Rika and I both come from the same family,” Milla explained, motioning towards Rika. “As I mentioned, we belonged to a royal lineage. However, we fell in love with two brothers who worked as farmers in the rice fields. Naturally, our family disapproved, and when they found out, it all came crashing down around us, coinciding with the realization that I was carrying a child. My parents insisted I rid myself of the baby, but I couldn’t bear to. You can only imagine how bad things got... But, as a miracle fallen from heaven, Rika, my family and best friend, blessed me with the news that she was also pregnant, nearly four months along. She hid it well from everyone,” Milla recounted with a hint of nostalgia and pride, her gaze drifting towards Rika. Rika reached out, and Milla squeezed her hand tenderly. “The only one that knew was her husband, of course. My husband’s brother. With no other choice, we run away, the four of us. And here we are. This is where we got married right before our children were born. This is where our children are being raised. This is where we’re free.”

I understood the bittersweetness in their eyes and in Milla’s voice as she narrated the events that brought her and Rika here. Their story was not so different from mine, I acknowledged. It made sense that their actions were filled with empathy and softness. They could imagine what struggles Noah and I had faced because they must have gone through similar ones.

What astonished me the most was how sure and content they looked when Milla stated that now they were free and happy. This was their home and they cherished it. They were family, and not just by blood. They were sisters-in-law. This was the place where they both married the men they loved and where they had given birth to their children, the fruit of their love.

A warmth suffused my cheeks. I coupled that warmth with the notion that what my Grandma had told us seemed more and more real with each passing second. This was a sanctuary, and in this place, Noah and I were welcome, we would be free, and we could let our love run wild.

“Forbidden love,” Rika interjected. “That’s why you’re here, right?”

I could only manage a nod in response, my emotions too overwhelming for words. I had an urge inside of me to hug those two women, to cry in their arms for the pain they had endured, for the fact that they had to leave their families behind and the fact that their own families had forced them to sacrifice their happiness there for a happiness here. For my own pain.

“You will miss home sometimes,” she continued, her touch gentle as she rested a hand on my arm. “Or the idea of what it could have been if they had allowed you to be true to yourself, to your heart. But in this place… If you love that man and choose to stay, you will be able to experience something that they led you to believe was unattainable.”

Their words struck a chord deep within me, their empathy mirroring my own feelings in ways I couldn’t comprehend.

My trembling lip betrayed the tears threatening to spill over, a mix of exhaustion, emotion, and the ache of missing Noah, even though we had only been apart for less than ten minutes. Before the floodgates could open, Milla and Rika guided me to sit on one of the massage beds, wordlessly removing my boots and socks and attending to my battered and soiled feet.

With gentle hands, they washed away the grime, tended to my wounds, and eased my weary muscles with a massage that nearly brought me to tears. For a few moments, when I was lost in the sweet paradise of the pressure their hands exerted on my feet, I thought I was back in the castle, my two personal maids following me wherever I went and attending to my every need. When I fled from my father’s kingdom with Noah, I faithfully believed that it would never happen again, that even though I was noble at heart, the luxuries of real life would be left behind.

And yet, that evening, after having walked for hours, after having crossed miles of forest and almost half a dozen little villages lost in the middle of the mountains, I found myself being taken care of as if there was still some princess left inside me.

When they finished, the two of them helped me to my feet. My feet felt refreshed, but I still felt a twinge of pain as I stood.

Rika and Milla pointed me to the communal bathrooms, which were empty that afternoon. I learnt that not many residents used them, as in that village everyone had their own assigned home, where they had their own room, kitchen, and private bathroom.

While I was taking off my clothes and discarding them, I was told from the room outside that they would bring a new change of clothes and leave it on a bench near the showers.

Under the hot water, as the jets hit my neglected skin and soon the pain turned to pleasure, I let out a few tears that I could no longer hold back, feeling both damned and blessed at the future I had written for myself.

As I got out of the shower, I dressed in the set of white cotton clothes left for me on the bench. I still felt self-conscious at the fact that two women were so aware of me when they didn't even know me. They offered to brush my hair, remove the tangles, and dry it so as to avoid that I would catch a cold when I went back out in the open, but I declined. They had already done too much for me and I felt a little too much self-conscious. They didn't object. They told me where to find a new brush and other tools to treat the skin on my face. When I finished, I stared at my reflection, which had nothing to do with the person who had arrived there an hour before.

I had so many questions, so much to find out about the place and its people.... But even after the shower, after getting rid of the dirt and sweat covering my body and cleaning my hair, I felt tired and could only think clearly about one thing, and that was finding a bed where I could sink into, with Noah's body next to mine.

Drawing in a deep breath, I made my way towards the cottage’s exit, where Rika and Milla were still waiting for me, engrossed in a quiet conversation as twilight descended.

My heart longed to inquire about Noah, but before I could open my mouth, they suggested taking me to the main hall to fill my stomach, and I couldn't refuse.

The common dining room was a large room with a high ceiling and with several tables located in lines organized from one end to the other. Rika informed me that normally, families ate together at home, but sometimes, when there was a lot of work or it was a special occasion, they used to meet there, as there were several people in the village volunteering to prepare large meals.

There weren't many people that evening, but those who were there welcomed me with a nod and a small smile.

The food was certainly good, and I enjoyed it very much, my stomach grateful for the healthy food after almost forty-eight hours feeding on cold sandwiches and sugar-laden biscuits.

I thought of my grandmother, then, and how I wished I could let her know that I had managed to find the place she had only heard about and that it was —or at least appeared to be— much better than I’d imagined.

In the midst of savoring a hearty stew paired with rice, my gaze wandered, instinctively seeking Noah’s presence, but there was no trace of him.

Despite feeling much calmer than when we had arrived, and sensing that no one would harm us, I felt unease at not having Noah nearby to talk things over with. As the hot stew slid down my throat, I couldn't shake him from my mind.

“Thank you for the meal,” I expressed to Rika and Milla, who sat across from me, finishing their own dinners. “Is there any chance you could take me to Noah?”

"He must be with Rei and Maura," Milla replied, prompting me to I raise an eyebrow. "Rei is one of the men who found you at the forest entrance. Maura is the woman who was with him."

"Don't worry, really," Rika reassured me. "They should be finishing up soon since it's dinnertime. My husband and Milla’s will likely be on their way from the rice fields.”

"Would you like us to show you to the house you've been assigned? It's not far from here. You can wait for Noah there,” Milla suggested.

I didn't have many options. I didn't want to tell them that I preferred to go wherever Noah was and be with him, so Isimply nodded.

"Would you care for something else before you leave? Tea, perhaps?" Rika offered kindly.

Truth be told, I did crave a cup of tea. I was getting used to having tea at night. The nightly ritual had become ahabit during my waiting hours for the clandestine rendezvous with Noah at my Grandma’s house. Yet, I hesitated to say yes, opting instead to decline with a shake of my head. "No, thank you," I replied, expressing gratitude once more before assuring them that everything was fine.

Just as we were leaving the dining room, two tall, slender men, with jet black hair, same eye color, and nearly identical overall, approached from the path to the right. Rika's features suddenly lit up, and she stepped away from me, heading towards them. She threw her arms around one of them and hugged him. Beside her, the other man welcomed Milla with also open arms and they shared a kiss.

I blushed and looked away, but as soon as I did, the women approached me again, clinging to their husbands. The men introduced themselves warmly. All I could think about was that they were nearly as tall as Noah and that I just wanted my man to be with me just like Rika and Milla were with theirs.

Looking at them, I thought it all seemed surreal. So much love and such a perfect place...

"We met Noah," Rika's husband suddenly said, capturing my full attention. "Rei and Maura were showing him around the rice fields and the vegetable patches.”

"Oh,” I murmured, a pang of guilt suddenly tugging at my conscience.

I should be with him, I thought. Noah hadn't even slept that previous night, and he was making sure this was a safe place while I indulged in massages, hot baths, and warm meals.

"Come on, you must be eager to rest," Rika insisted, looping her arm through mine, steering me towards our destination.

"Where are the children?" Her husband inquired before he and his brother excused themselves to enter the dining room.

"With Mrs. Mitsuke,” Rika told him. “You know they love playing with her cats,” she expressed, her tone laced with maternal joy.

"They must be asleep by now," Milla's husband said, looking up at the sky. Another wave of guilt washed over for making the women feel obligated to be with me since I arrived, depriving them of being with their children. "Don't worry. We'll go get them when we finish dinner and take them home," the man assured with a smile.

"Thank you, dear."

"Pleased to meet you," I said before turning around.

With a sigh, I followed the women up the same path that had led us to the bathing chambers just a couple of hours earlier, but when we reached a fork, we veered onto a different path, the lights from the lanterns illuminating the way and creating an enchanting atmosphere that I had always dreamed of as a child.

I still felt as if I was trapped in a space between a dream and reality, but the moment Rika and Milla led me to what would be Noah and I’s little temporary home, things changed.

The traditional Japanese little house they guided me to was located in the westernmost part of the village, close to the rocky mountain where I had seen the stone stairs that ran parallel to the mountain and granted access to the temple. It was a small space consisting of a main room, a kitchen, a private bathroom, a room for tea ceremonies, and a balcony overlooking the gardens that ran almost throughout the village.

I spotted our katanas on top of a drawer, resting on a support.

“This is lovely,” I managed to say. It was more than I had expected. More than I had dreamed of.

If this were to be the place where I would live with Noah, then I was thoroughly content.

“This will be your place for now,” Rika said. “In the long term, you can have access to a bigger place. Some houses are being built higher on the valley.”

“They’ll even have private gardens,” Milla added, “perfect for children if you decide to have any.”

The comment prompted a blush to rise to my cheeks.

“Oh, you’re… You’re not pregnant, are you?” She asked hesitantly.

Quickly shaking my head, I reassured her. “No, I’m not pregnant.”

“Okay. My apologies if that was too forward. Given Rika and my circumstances when we arrived, it just crossed my mind,” she explained apologetically.

“It’s not like that,” I repeated, trying to keep my tone regulated. I was getting anxious at the whole new world unfolding before me and not having any clue where Noah was or if he was okay. I wouldn’t believe any more words until he was standing in front of me safe and sound.

“All right. We’ll leave you to rest now. May you need anything, please, do not hesitate to ask. Our homes are at the end of the row,” Rika offered.

“Okay. Thank you. Your hospitality means a lot,” I expressed as they bowed their heads and departed, leaving me to acquaint myself with the unfamiliar space, feeling a mix of gratitude and apprehension as I stood alone in the house.

It had been more than three hours since we arrived —and got separated— and Noah was nowhere in sight yet. I had spent the last thirty minutes on the balcony, peering out over the village from our vantage point at the slightly elevated house.

There was still movement around, people coming and going, their soft chatter and laughter being carried through the air.

A couple of fireflies danced around me. A few seconds later, the door to the house slid open, and my heart jumped.

Turning back towards the room, I found Noah standing in the doorway, his smile washing away any worries that had lingered in my mind.

He had changed out of his dirty clothes and his hair was still a little damp from the recent shower he’d taken. From one shoulder, the backpack given by Grandma hung loosely, while in his hands he carried a tray bearing a small iron kettle and a single ceramic mug.

Dressed in fresh sweatpants and a crisp cotton white t-shirt, he looked as radiant as a sunny day. I couldn’t contain myself as I rushed toward him, barely giving him time to set the tray down and discard the backpack before throwing my arms around his neck.

“Hey,” he said, dragging the word as his arms encircled my waist, pulling me close against his body. He smelled comforting, and despite the chill of the night, his embrace was warm like a blanket.

“Where did they take you?” I asked as I pulled back, not letting go.

“Not too far,” he answered, studying my face with a look both of worry and joy. “They showed me around. This place is incredible,” his voice brimmed with excitement, filling my heart with happiness. “There are training grounds just ten minutes away on foot. They train both girls and boys from a young age. Rei, the man with short hair that led us in, was also a Samurai. Can you believe it?”

I stood in his arms for a moment, observing his expression and reading between the lines. I always found it evident his love for training, physical exercise, and the art of wielding a katana. Noah wasn’t truly a man of words. When he was, he really meant every utterance, but he was more of a man of actions, hence why we had never talked about what it would mean for his warrior persona to leave my father’s army.

To know that he could still pursue his passion for training and share his skills with others who shared his background brought tears to my eyes. All I wanted, above my own happiness, was his.

I had been so scared about all he would sacrifice for me…

“Oh, Noah,” I tightened my arms around his neck again, burying my face in the crook of his neck.

He hugged me back, inhaling deeply against the exposed skin of my clavicle.

“You smell wonderful,” he murmured. “Did you get to bath?” Before I answered, one of his hands found its way to my hair, and he touched it with tender affection, reveling in its silky texture. “Of course you did,” he remarked, his eyes shining. “I hate that I had to put you through all that ordeal out there in the wild.”

“It doesn’t matter.” We went through it all together.

His eyes roamed my face again before settling on my arms. His expression shadowed at the sight of a few minor cuts I had gotten from the bushes in the forest. He took hold of my arm and brushed his thumb over one of the cuts.

“I’ll ask for some herbal ointment to help them heal faster.”

“It’s not necessary,” I said, grateful for his attention and concern. “These will heal quickly.”

“I don’t want them to leave a mark,” he insisted, his intentions dripping with sweetness.

Moved by his thoughtfulness, I rose onto my tiptoes and planted a kiss on his smooth, freshly shaven cheek.

“They took you to the common eating room, right?” he asked. “Those ladies?”

I nodded in confirmation.

“The stew was delicious,” I told him.

“Good,” he touched my hair again, as if he wasn’t totally sure I was standing in front of him, cleaned up and safe. “I didn’t know what you had so I brought you tea, just in case.” He pointed towards the tray placed on top of a dresser.

“That’s just perfect. Thank you” I smiled, walking to it. The aroma of jasmine and ginger wafted up as I poured water into the mug.

Returning to him with the mug in hand, I found Noah extending his arm to me. I took his hand, allowing him to guide me to the bed.

He pulled back the duvet and settled against the headboard, closing his eyes for a moment, lips parting in a sigh of relief. The sound was so beautiful that I wished I could capture it inside of a bottle and keep it forever.

“Rika and Milla were really nice,” I said then after taking the first sip of the tea, relishing its warmth. Seated in a lotus position on the left side of the bed, facing noah, I found the mattress to be incredibly comfortable, surrounded by a number of pillows that created a cozy cocoon. I could already imagine the countless hours we would spend here together, sharing whispers and little laughs, our naked bodies entwined after hours of lovemaking, fingers tracing every inch of skin. “They even gave me a feet massage.”

Noah opened his eyes and feigned suspicion.

“Hm. I didn’t get one,” he grumbled, his playful expression causing me to laugh. My laughter elicited a broad smile from him, white teeth an all. “Do you mind if I check your feet?”

I tilted my head in protest, brows furrowed, for his concern was unnecessary. I was also aware that he wouldn’t desist, so eventually I surrendered, placing the tea mug on the small square shelf that served as a nightstand and extending one leg over the mattress, placing one foot in Noah’s lap. His large hands instantly enveloped my foot and with delicate fingers he examined every inch.

“This is a nasty cut,” he said, focusing on my heel.

And it pained like hell, in all honesty, but I wasn’t going to admit that to him. Instead, I said, “Are you going to carry me in your arms wherever we go?” I flashed him a kittenish smile.

“Wouldn’t you love that?” He teased back, running his fingers up and down my sole.

“Don’t,” I protested. “That tickles.”

“It does?” He raised his eyebrows, doing it again, his hand keeping my foot retained on his lap.

“Yes!” I exclaimed when he didn’t stop. I reached for his hands, but he managed to dodge me. “Noah, I’m serious. It tickles!”

But saying it only made him rejoice in the playful torture even more. I reached for him again, my foot on his lap making it difficult to move, also my flexibility wasn’t at its best that night. I ended up letting my body fall to the side and accidentally kicked Noah in the stomach.

“Ouch,” he complained. He wasn’t hurt but he took it upon himself to continue with his ticklish assault up my legs until he reached the sides of my stomach.

By the time he was practically on top of me, I was a mess of giggles and small screams, his name filling the room along with my pleas for him to stop.

As I lay captive in his grasp, the world around us finally changed its colors.

After his tickling rampage came to an end, he lay on the mattress with his back against it, his gaze up on the wooden ceiling. Meanwhile, I caught my breath next to him, lying on my stomach, my face turned toward him on the pillow.

“I’m exhausted,” he finally admitted, his breath heavy.

I placed a hand on the side of his neck, feeling his pulse, and I massaged a spot right beneath his ear with a finger.

As I slid closer to him, he began to comment on what he had learnt about the place, about the house that apparently was now ours. He shared with me everything that he got to know about the sanctuary and its people, its rules and its role in relation to the outside world.

This was no secret place, but it was indeed sacred, and it was protected by a higher power that superseded any laws written with ink on paper, which meant that my father’s army couldn’t reach us here. They couldn’t even set foot on the premises. However, that didn’t mean that they wouldn’t try to.

It came as no surprise that royal families never spoke of this place, ever.

As I settled my head on the pillows after taking a few more sips of the tea, Noah told me that this wasn't the only place of its kind. There were several scattered throughout the country, hidden away, known only to a select few. But the families, particularly the royals, never acknowledge their existence, considering them a great inconvenience, of course.

If Noah and I had known about this place when we were younger, we likely would have left the castle as soon as I came of age.

For my part, as Noah's fingers began to trace lines down my temple and cheek, I shared with him the story of Rika and Milla, and he concurred by telling me the story of Rei, a Samurai born to a Ronin father. Rei’s father had been a great Samurai during his youth, but he fell in love with a woman of another class and they both had fled to the sanctuary after their relationship was threatened. This was where Rei was born more than thirty years ago. Blindly believing that Rei would have a chance at a different and better future away from here, they sent him to his grandparents, who, despite everything, raised him as a Samurai. After he found out the truth, Rei eventually chose to leave the warrior’s life behind to be with his parents, and he did not regret his choice.

For one reason or another, the people who resided in the sanctuary had all arrived after a struggle to be true to themselves and to find happiness with those they loved.

The sanctuary had been standing for several centuries, and the residents, from one generation to the next, had built a community founded on honesty, respect, freedom, and cooperation.

“Why didn’t they want me to be there when they told you all of this?” I wondered, my disappointment showing in the slight frown creasing my brow.

“It’s not that they didn’t want you there,” Noah explained, his thumb smoothing away the furrow gently. “Everyone could see how exhausted you were when we arrived. I was worried you might faint if they kept you standing for another ten minutes,” he continued. “They actually wanted to fetch you to join the tour after they interrogated me with a thousand questions about where we come from, why we’re here, and how I really feel about you. But I asked them not to. You’ve walked enough these past two days.”

“So have you,” I retorted, my frown deepening.

Noah clicked his tongue.

“I’m okay.”

“Are you, really?” I pressed, placing my palm over his heart, searching his gaze for reassurance.

It took him a moment to reply, his brown eyes penetrating deep into mine.

“I’ve found myself in a place I once believed only existed in fairy tales,” he began. “I’m wearing clean, new clothes, I’ve eaten a bowl of hot stew with rice, and now I’m lying in a comfortable bed with my girl in my arms, knowing that she’s safe and that I will wake up next to her tomorrow. She’ll be the first thing I’ll see when I open my eyes. Can you tell if I’m lying when I say I’m okay?”

With the sincerity spilling out from his lips and my heart drumming in my chest, I closed my eyes and drew closer to Noah, pressing my lips to his in a slow, deliberate kiss. His hands found my face, cradling my cheeks, his touch tender and affectionate.

Our kiss was filled with thoughtfulness, each movement meaningful despite the hunger we felt for each other. I shifted one of my legs to nudge his, wanting to be as close to him as possible.

I was aware that we were both exhausted, so it was a silent understanding between us that we were too tired for anything more. I could see the lack of sleep taking a toll on Noah’s face, despite the strength of his grip whenever he pulled me closer and closer. He needed rest, more than I did, and he very well deserved it.

With one final lingering kiss, I brushed some stray strands of his hair from his forehead, watching his eyes as they traced my face.

“Is this what you wanted?” He whispered, his lips still brushing mine.

“You’re all I ever wanted,” I replied softly, “since I was a little girl. I wouldn’t have cared if we ended up in a modest apartment in the city. But as fate would have it, we’ve found paradise, and I couldn’t be happier. I truly can see us building a life here,” I gifted him a smile. With his thumb he traced the curve of my lower lip, satisfied with my answer, “don’t you?”

I sensed a slight shift in his expression, indicating he was holding something back.

"What is it?" I pressed, eager to understand his thoughts.

“I just— This is too perfect, and I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

“Why would I be?”

“Your father is still looking for us. I wouldn’t trust that he would stop looking merely two days after we left his estate. If anything, his soldiers must be out there right now, combing through each town and city.”

It must have been difficult to refer to his former comrades as his soldiers, my father’s, when merely forty-eight hours before he had been one of them.

But if it pained him, he didn’t show it.

“I know you’re worried,” I said to him. “I am, too, but… tonight we’re safe, I promise.” He was usually the one to make such promises, so it felt nice for once to turn the tables.

For a moment, he simply gazed at me in awe, his hand trailing down my hair and the side of my face.

"How did I get so lucky?" he murmured.

Returning his smile, I gently pushed him to lay on his back and nestled my face against his chest, draping an arm over him and entwining my leg with his. Noah pulled the duvet over our bodies, wrapping me in his embrace one final time before kissing my hair and whispering sweet words in my ear. And for the first time in my life, I fell asleep in his arms without fearing the implications of loving him.

Readers tagged: @thescarlettvvitch | @girlfromrussia-universe | @kankuurohs | @somebodyels3 | @missduffsblog

Thank you to each of you for reading this story. It means a lot as I pour my heart into it and I learn more about other cultures and worlds. It's so interesting!

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darksigns-exe · 2 months

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Little Remedy - Girl!Noah x Layla (OFC)

Pairing: Girl!Noah x OFC Warning: Swearing, Oral Sex (f receiving), Fingering (f recieving) Word Count: 4.4k Note: This is a gender bent AU. Read at your own discretion. Thank you @deathblacksmoke for the thought and listening to my rambles about two pretty girlfriends <3

She’s got the prettiest girl, Layla thinks. The sheer blouse shows off the intricate lines of ink that cover most of her body. The high-waisted trousers accentuate her beautiful long form even more. For once, Noah listened to her when she made a suggestion for her to wear. And she looks gorgeous — she always does, but something about this get up makes Layla feel especially warm inside. Maybe it’s because she knows what’s hiding under the thin fabric, maybe it’s because they’d basically been on top of each other all day before they got ready.

It’s a good occasion, though. An end of year party hosted by the band's label to celebrate the achievements of the last year. And of course, her girl brought home the biggest share of sales this year. As if she’d expected less from her. She knows what her baby is capable of.

And as much as she wanted to keep her to herself today, seeing her all dressed up like this is worth it. The combination of the sheer blouse and the tailored pants makes Noah look even taller than she normally does.

Layla herself feels a little as if she’s been put on a serving platter for all the straight men in the room to devour. She understands that this night is mostly for Noah and the boys to network, but she wants nothing more than to drag her back home and into their bed.

She watches Noah from across the room, where she’s tied up in a conversation with both Nicks, something about the band she assumes - it usually is.

Those long, slender fingers curl around a glass of something. Even from this distance, she can make out the counterpart of the bracelet she wears. Hers has a little N dangling from it, while Noah’s has an L. Layla had bought them for their first anniversary and Noah had been wearing hers since that day almost a year ago.

The last of them, Jolly, comes up behind Layla. She’s grown comfortable around them in the two years since she’s met Noah, and she doesn’t mind when he throws an arm around her shoulder.

“I still can’t believe that you managed to tie her down.” He shakes his head.

There’s a snarky comment about her skill to be made that Layla elegantly bites down on.

“I’m just that lovable.” She says instead, and Jolly gives her a wholehearted laugh in return.

He pulls her in a little closer, “That you are. You’re good for her.”

She wants to protest, but Noah has been very honest with her. She knows how much she had struggled when they met, how difficult things had been, and Noah is adamant that it took them meeting for her to find the strength to make it out of that.

“Take the compliment for once. She was a mess before you met.”

Jolly lets go of her just as Noah finds her eyes. She smiles, and it makes Layla feel a little funny inside. She’s absolutely devastating when she wants to be, and sometimes Layla isn’t sure that her love is aware of it. She thinks it’s especially bad when her hair is pulled back like this, and just a few strands fall into her face. The fact that she’s one wrong move away from putting her pretty tits on display for everyone doesn’t exactly help.

But while her girl likes to tease and taunt, Layla knows that she’s the only one that gets to see her all bare.

She’s playing coy tonight, Layla thinks. They’re still surrounded by way too many people, so in a way she gets it. But she’s been hit on by one too many band dudes for her taste, and Layla decides that now is the right moment to end the evening.

They’ve been here for far too long anyway.

She pushes her way through the crowd until she gets to wriggle between Ruffilo and Noah.

“I’m gonna have to steal this one.” She says, sneaking an arm around Noah’s middle, “You’ve had enough of her for the night.”

Layla feels her squirm just a little bit when her finger pulse against the flimsy fabric.

“And we still have unfinished business from earlier.” She adds just to torture Noah a little more.

Opposite her, Folio turns beet red and quickly excuses himself under the guise of wanting to get another drink. Layla thinks it’s adorable. He’s so easy to fluster.

Nick stays for a moment longer, and Layla uses the opportunity to let that promise of more dangle in front of Noah for just a moment longer. The topic is so horribly mundane that she can practically feel her growing more and more restless by the minute.

She feels Noah’s hand wrap around her own, one that is still resting against her waist. Layla laces their fingers together.

“I won’t keep you. It was good to see you, Layla.”

He sends them off with a hug and a kiss to Layla’s cheek. They’re silent for a moment, as they watch Nick disappear into the crowd.

“I hate the dress.” Noah says quietly as she empties the remainder of her drink.

“You didn’t seem to hate it when I put it on.”

Noah detaches her hand from Layla’s and brings it to her waist instead. Layla shifts so that she’s standing right in front of her.

She tries the glass again, only to find it properly empty this time, “I only hate it because you look too good in it. I couldn’t stop looking at you, and it seems like I wasn’t the only one.”

“Are you jealous?” She traces the backs of her fingers against her cheek.

“Am not.”

“I know you, baby.” She places her hand against Noah’s cheek and carefully steers her down towards her lips, “Let’s get out of here. I still have plans for you.”

By the time they’re back home, Noah’s practically attached to her. She tastes like the drink she’d had earlier, something sweet and warm, but Layla doesn’t mind, not when her hands are so desperate to find something.

She manages to detach herself from her long enough to lead her back to the bedroom.

Noah’s just a few paces behind her, fingers still interlaced with hers. Those elegant fingers that feel absolutely divine when she works them into her.

Tonight is about Noah, though. She’ll treat her pretty girl just right. She’s earned the treat.

Noah closes the door behind them, and suddenly they’re tinged in that warm orange light of the way too expensive bedside lamps Layla had insisted upon.

“Come here.” She says softly, and she can almost see the shiver running down Noah’s back.

She follows, hands immediately finding Layla’s waist.

“You’re touchy today.” She notes, “Pretty thing.”

Noah bends to kiss her again, “How could I not be when you look like this?” Her lips trace across the joint of her jaw and neck, lower and lower still, “Everyone was looking at you.”

“You think?”

“I know.” Another kiss to the top of her bare shoulder.

“Gotta show you that I’m all yours then, don’t I?”

Layla tugs her blouse free from the waistband of her trousers, before she slowly works her way down the row of buttons. With every button she undoes, she presses a kiss of her skin. One by one until she had to bend to kiss her tummy.

“I could have sworn that you skipped the bra today.” She says, pushing the soft fabric from her shoulders.

Her fingers trace across the thin straps. It’s nothing fancy, but it suits her, and it does exactly what she needs it to.

“And give everyone a show?” Noah scoffs in reply.

Layla presses a soft kiss to the centre of her sternum, “You’re right. They’re just for me to see, aren’t they?”

She lets out a soft little sound at that. It’s not quite a gasp yet, but Layla knows that she’ll have her there before the night is over.

She moves to undo the button of Noah’s trousers and lets her shimmy out of the garment.

“Help me with the zip?” She asks, turning so that Noah can access it.

A warm hand comes to rest against her shoulder. The dress slowly loosens around her body as Noah tugs the zip down. She eases the fabric down her body, holds out her hand to steady Layla as she steps out of it.

Behind her, Noah draws in a sharp breath.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Layla asks innocently.

“Forgot that you didn’t have anything on under that dress.”

Layla feels her hands drifting down her back and across her waist, until her arms wrap around her middle. Noah pulls her close against her body. Her chin comes to rest on top of her shoulder, “I know you said you have plans…”

“God you’re spoiled.” Layla sighs, “What did you do before we met?”

“I don’t know.” she kisses her neck, “But I have you to take care of me now don’t I?”

Layla shakes her head, “You’re a real menace sometimes.”

“But you love me.” another kiss.

She hums a yes.

“If you’re good, and you lie down for me, I’ll show you just how much.”

Noah detaches herself from her as soon as the words leave her mouth. She sits at the edge of their bed. Layla kneels behind her. She carefully pulls the tie that holds up Noah’s hair and carefully brushes it over her shoulder. With a hand on her cheek, she moves her so that she can kiss her again. Her lips feel soft against Layla’s, she’s soft so everywhere. She can’t wait to get her mouth on her.

She pushes at the soft bra still covering Noah’s chest. They manage to get it off somehow, despite their unwillingness to separate.

Layla has her on her back before long. The cologne Noah wears fills her senses, it's mixed with her own perfume. She kisses along the length of her neck, the soft curve of her shoulder.

She knows where Noah wants her, knows where she has to bring her lips to make her sing. For now, she skirts around those delicate spots.

It’s her favourite game.

She keeps her kisses light and barely there, fully knowing that it’ll drive her mad. And when she draws the tip of her tongue across a pebbled nipple, she sighs so prettily that it makes Layla feel so very warm inside.

“Don’t tease.” Noah whispers.

The protest is half-hearted. They both know that she enjoys this just as much as Layla does.

She brings her hand up to cover the breast she isn’t lavishing with attention already. They’re so very sensitive, and she’s sure that she could bring her over the edge just like this. But she knows what her pretty girl is so desperate for.

Her lips trail across the expanse of her belly; lets her fingers trace along the sides of her body. She whispers praise against her skin. Gentle prayers to some foreign god to let her baby know how deeply rooted her love truly is. When she looks up, she finds Noah’s eyes blown wide, but focused solely on her.

Layla presses a kiss to her hip, before she lifts herself up a little.

“Have I told you how proud I am of you?” She asks and almost feels herself choke on the fondness in her chest.

Her fingers soothe over the place she just kissed. Noah finds her free hand and tangles their fingers together. She pulls their joined hands up towards her lips.

“On occasion.” Noah kisses the backs of her fingers.

“Can’t hurt if I show you too, hm?”

“Would you?” Layla can feel her breath brushing against her fingers, “Please?”

Layla keeps their hands linked as she lowers herself back to her previous spot. She kisses along the waistband of her panties. The fabric is soft, just like Noah’s skin. She eases the garment down and Noah lifts her hips instinctively, allowing her to slide them down her legs. They disappear somewhere between the tousled up sheets, forgotten until they will shake up the sheets in the morning. Layla brings her lips to the soft skin just above her mound. She skirts around her centre and instead trails her kisses along the top of her thigh. Noah squirms a little when her lips brush against a little tender spot just by the inside of her thigh. Faint remnants of previous nights still litter the skin there. Mostly faded bruises left behind by her lips and fingers.

One of Noah’s hands finds its way into her hair, not to tug, but to keep some of the curls away from her face. It’s selfish, though, because all Noah wants is to see her face.

Layla scrapes her teeth against the inside of her thighs, drawing a pretty little whine from Noah. She’s so close to where Noah wants her, and really she has to force herself to stay away from her.

“Baby.” She whines, tugging at her hair just a little.

“You’ll get what you want.” A kiss to the inside of her thigh just below where she wants her, “Let me play with you a little first.”

She pulls her hand away from Noah’s, only to be rewarded with another little whine. She brings her hand to her other thigh and gently pushes until Noah understands, and she can arrange her the way she wants. She’s beautiful like this, hair spread out around her head like some angelic vision of a woman.

Mary Magdalene has nothing on her.

Sometimes Layla wishes that others could see how beautiful she is when her head is stretched back like this, how absolutely addicting the sight of those long, elegant fingers wrung into their sheets is. They don’t get to see her like this, they don’t get to hear how softly she sighs when Layla draws a single finger through her folds.

“You’re so wet already.” she says more to herself than to Noah.

She knows that it’s not enough for her, but Layla is intent on drawing her pleasure out tonight. She draws her finger back down to dip into her for just a second. She takes her time, easing the tip of her finger into her. She whines with every slow drag, impatience lacing every breath she draws into her lungs. Noah’s hips shift, trying to find more friction. Layla stills her movements entirely at that.

“Be good, my love.” She brings a kiss to her hip, “I told you that you’ll get what you want.”

Once she’s still again, Layla resumes her tortuously slow pace. She’s so pliable when they play like this. Her body slowly grows more relaxed, and Layla takes it as a sign to work a second finger into her.

“Feel so good around my fingers.” She muses, “So soft, too.”

Another whine falls from Noah, and she clenches around Layla's fingers. She curls her fingers into her, keeps the pads of her fingers against that spot that makes her cry out in pleasure.

“Come on, baby. Want you to cum on my fingers first.”

She presses her thumb against her clit. Her pace is still so tortuously slow, but she can tell that Noah is getting closer. Her free hand rests against Noah’s waist, gently caressing the soft skin she finds there.

Noah’s hand finds her thigh and grips into her until her nails dig into her skin.

“Layla.”

“I’m here baby. Let go for me. Let me see you.”

“Please.”

“You’re so close, aren’t you?” Noah nods almost frantically at her words, “I know, darling. I know. Do you need a bit more?”

Another nod.

She presses her fingers up against that soft little spot. At the same time, she speeds up the circles her thumb draws against her clit. It doesn’t take much of this to make her come undone. Layla watches as her body grows taut, as it wreaks through her. The barely there noises that fall from her lips are all too enticing. She feels her pulse around her fingers, feels her twitching beneath her thumb, belly rising with every slow breath under her palm.

“You’re so beautiful like this.” She leans down to kiss the top of her cheek, “So gorgeous when you cum for me.”

She works Noah through it until her hand wraps around Layla's wrist. She stops her movements, but holds her hand in place for a moment before she carefully removes her fingers from her.

For a while, all that fills the air around them are Noah’s laboured breaths. Layla watches her, eyes sweeping across that lithe body. The pretty images that line her skin entrance her. Her skin shines with a thin sheen of sweat that makes her look even more otherworldly. She’s divine — Layla thinks. There’s no way that someone this beautiful is bound to the profane limitations of this world.

Layla gives her some more time to recuperate before she leans down to kiss her again.

“How are you feeling?” She asks softly, breath brushing against Noah’s lips.

She feels her hands wrapping around her middle, pulling her closer towards her, “You always make me feel so good.” Noah leans up to press her lips to Layla’s.

“Up for a bit more?”

“I would hope that that wasn’t the end of it.”

Layla feels her smile against her lips. It’s dizzying, even when she can’t see her smile.

“Cocky.” Layla returns the smile, “Let’s see how much you can take.” She lets her hands drift across the sides of Noah’s body, “Scoot up a little?”

Noah does as she’s told and moves herself up so that she’s properly resting against the pillow. Layla, still between her parted thighs, scoots a little further down until she can rest on her belly.

She trails a few kisses up the insides of Noah’s thighs. Delicate little things that make her girl tremble just so. She’s so close to her now that she can already smell the remnants of her honey sweet release.

She’s still so wet. And she squirms so deliciously when Layla draws a finger through the mess between her thighs.

She gives a first tentative lick to her folds, gently draws the tip of her tongue across the soft flesh.

“Oh baby.” She sighs against her.

It’s reverent - filled with worship and admiration for the woman below her. The first taste always makes her head swim a little. She swipes her tongue through Noah's folds. The taste of her floods Layla’s senses. It’s addicting – sweet like lambrusco and just as intoxicating. She wraps her lips around her clit, sucks just enough to draw a gasp from her lips. When she looks up at Noah across the expanse of her body, she finds her already watching her.

Noah finds Layla’s hand against her waist and tangles their fingers together once again. She sighs so softly when Layla laps at the little nub. This is her favourite part. She loves watching Noah unravel below her. It’s a slow, tortuous game, and she’s intent on making it even slower today. She needs to see her fall apart, needs to see her broken down to the barest of bones just so she can reassemble her again with the sweetest praise.

She takes her time with it; allows herself to enjoy the sweet taste that floods into her mouth. If it didn’t mean she would never get to have her like this again, Layla would let herself drown in her. Sometimes she wishes that she could stay here forever.

The world outside of them doesn’t matter. When they’re wrapped up like this, nothing else matters. Noah is so soft and sweet against her tongue. She continues to lap and suck at her; works her until she feels her thighs tremble and shake. It doesn’t take long for her to cum again. It never does when Layla gets her mouth on her.

Layla pulls away, deciding to give her a little break. She diverts her attention back to the soft skin of her thighs. She finds herself lost in the way Noah moans above her when she sucks a pretty bruise into her skin.

And another.

She doesn’t stop until Noah’s skin is littered in her marks. Layla looks up at her again. The sight sends a shiver down her spine. Her head is still tilted back, eyes pressed shut so tightly. The hand that isn’t entangled with her own rest against the softest part of her tummy.

Layla runs her hand across Noah’s thigh until it rests up against her waist. She draws gentle circles over her skin, comforting little things that she knows soothe Noah’s mind.

“How are you feeling?” she asks.

Noah blinks up at her. Her eyes are a little damp already, but Layla knows that she can take a little more.

She nods.

“Words, my love.”

A visible shiver runs through the length of Noah’s body.

“I want more.”

She can’t deny her that. Not when she looks so pretty and desperate for her. Layla drags her thumb against the pretty swollen nub of nerves. She gasps out a breath, hips coming up to find more friction.

Layla brings her mouth back to core, draws the tip of her tongue along the length of her. She doesn’t give Noah too much time this time around and quickly works two fingers back into her.

“Wish you could see yourself.” Layla speaks softly, “That pretty little pussy is all for me, isn’t it?”

Noah’s cheeks somehow become even pinker as she tries to bury herself deeper into the pillow. Layla loves shoving it in her face, loves watching her writhe like that.

“Maybe I should take a picture so you can see for yourself.”

She continues the steady rhythm of her fingers. It’s still slower than what she knows Noah needs. Layla wants to hear her ask for it first, she needs to hear those whimpered pleads before she gives her what she wants.

The insides of Noah’s thighs shine with a mixture of her release and sweat. She’s trembling beneath Layla’s hands. When she works a third finger into her, Noah lets out a whine that shakes her to the core.

“Oh, baby, does that feel good?” Layla taunts, “God, you look so pretty stretched around my fingers. So fucking tight and wet.”

“Layla.” she whines.

“I know, baby. I know. Is it too much?”

Noah shakes her head, “Feels so good.”

“Can you cum like this or do you need more?”

Her chest shakes with every breath, “More, please.”

“Good girl.” Layla presses a kiss to her tummy, “You’ve been so good for me.”

Another kiss to her tummy, lower this time.

Layla trails another string of kisses from her navel down to where Noah really wants her.

The taste of her fills her mouth. It’s so sweet and warm. She works her faster now, fingers mercilessly pressing up against her with every push. Layla decides then that she needs to taste her properly.

Reluctantly, she pulls her fingers from her. Noah lets out a whine at the sudden lack of contact. Layla wraps her arm around Noah’s thigh; shifts her so that she can bury herself in her properly.

She can feel her pulse against the flat of her tongue. Noah won’t last long. She’s trembling, thighs shaking around Layla's body. Above her, Noah whines so deliciously.

She finds her hand again, gripping it so tightly that Layla thinks she’s about to break a bone. But she’s rewarded with the sweetest sounds. Noah’s body tenses, flexes. Layla stays where she is, burrows herself deeper into her.

She can’t help herself, she has to feel more of her, has to feel her tighten around her fingers.

When she briefly removes herself from Noah to work her fingers back into her, she finds her girl a little teary-eyed already. But that doesn’t deter her. Noah knows that all she has to do is say stop if it becomes too much. But Layla also knows that she likes balancing on the edge of too much.

Noah’s not quite there yet, though.

And Layla is determined to push her as far as she can. She keeps her face buried between Noah’s thighs; fingers working her at a harsh pace now. Noah’s thighs clamp down around her, drowning out most of the sounds her girl makes.

It hits her suddenly.

Layla feels her squeeze around her fingers; body tensing and bowing off the mattress. She doesn’t stop, though. She pulls herself away from Noah, but keeps her fingers working her through her orgasm. The moans that fall from Noah’s mouth are breathless. She whines, gasps so prettily when she returns her thumb to her clit. Layla keeps working her until Noah squeezes her hands, making her look up from where her fingers are still thrusting into her.

Her mouth hangs open so sweetly, tear-stained cheeks all pretty and pink, brows are pulled together, chest heaving with every gasp that falls from her.

Layla slows her movements down, carefully pulls her fingers from Noah. She scoots, so that she can cradle Noah’s face in her hands. She bends down to press a kiss to Noah’s cheek.

“All good, pretty girl?”

She’s blissed out, eyes somehow glassy and teary. Layla isn’t sure if her cheeks are glossy with sweat or tears.

Noah nods “So good.”

Another kiss to her cheek, “Think you know how proud I am of you now?”

“I’m gonna need to hear it a few more times, I think.”

Layla pinches her side, “Be glad that I love you.”

“I’m very glad that you love me.” Noah pulls her down for a kiss “I love you too.” she speaks against Layla’s lips.

It doesn’t matter how often she hears it, it always makes her feel warm inside.

“I’m gonna draw us a bath.” she says, still so close to Noah, “Or do you want to stay here for a bit longer?”

“Stay with me for a moment?”

Layla can’t say no when Noah looks at her like that. And so she stays and holds her for a while longer, her hand carding through Noah’s hair until she grows restless. Layla is glad that they’ll have the weekend off, because she really doesn’t want to let Noah out of her sight just yet. If she could, they’d be here forever.

Just the two of them in the comfortable warmth of their bedroom. She’ll have her dream for the weekend, and truth be told she’s glad for every moment they have.

#bad omens au #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x ofc #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian au #noah sebastian fanfic #bad omens fanfic

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noahlkaline · 2 months

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I've been obsessed with this My Little Pony AU and decided to give it a shot ! So, yo. there you go. Nicholas, as a my little pony character.

#drawing #my little pony disease AU #bad omens au #not a fanfiction #but a fanart #fanart #whay do yall think YOLO #thats nick btw

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jacksonroseroth · 4 months

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~The Price~Chapter 1~

Patrons in The Drunken Wench were loud and rowdy as a fight broke out and the bouncers had to not only break up the fight, but call the cops once it got too out of hand for them to control. The red and blues flashed outside and the guilty parties tried to scatter, but they were all soon taken down and to jail for trying to incite a riot. Once everything calmed down and the bar was more or less back to how it was, one of the barmaids slipped around and began sweeping through the establishment, fixing chairs, cleaning up glass and clearing off tables.

Thatcher eased past the straggling bar fighters as the cops dragged them out, patting the bouncers on the back with a light smirk. He chuckled as he and his bodyguards shuffled in, then the men behind him dispersed to different corners of the room, while Thatcher went straight to the bar and slid onto a stool. He swept his gaze over the talent they had behind the bar for the night, noting one new face as she slipped back, tossing the broken glass in her dustpan and putting it, along with the broom, away before washing her hands and jumping back in line to take orders.

He kept an eye on her as she inched her way down, not giving any of the other barmaids any attention as they attempted to take his drink order. He watched her curls bounce around, long enough to just spill over her shoulders in a deep, rich chocolate brown color that glinted red when she walked under the lights. Her green eyes sparkled as she smiled at the patrons she mixed drinks for and her laugh floated down to him; Loud, light, and hearty.

As she approached him, wiping down the bar and quickly mixing drinks, Thatcher’s piercing green gaze poured into her as she finally slid in front of him and she lifted her head from wiping, flashing him a bright, sweet smile. Thatcher returned it as she said, “Hi. Welcome to The Drunken Wench. What can I get you?”

“Whiskey double. Shaken. Neat.” Thatcher said, watching her face as it remained neutral, but her sweet smile stuck. She gave a nod, then gestured to the wall behind her as she said, “Do you have a preference? We have Crowne, Jameson, or Rye?”

Thatcher nodded and briefly held up three fingers before he pulled out a gold plated, rectangular container, flipping it open to pull out a cigarette from a line. The woman arched a brow at him, then turned to grab a bottle of rye whiskey and glass. She turned back to set the glass on the bar, then poured about two shots worth into a metal cup, then scooped ice into it before she capped the cup and began to shake it. As Thatcher sparked up his lighter, watching her, he was impressed that she didn’t ask any extra questions about his order and got it right, to boot.

Taking a drag from his cigarette, he watched her take the cap off then slide a filter over the top before turning it upside down over the glass. She dunked both instruments into soapy water before setting them on a rubber mat to dry. As Thatcher reached for the glass, she slid back over as she asked, “Did you want to open a tab, sir?”

“No, just the double, darlin’. Thank you. Keep the change.” Thatcher said, producing a $100 bill from the inside breast pocket of his jacket and handing it to her, between two fingers. She blinked as she reached for it, freezing when the last part registered. His smirk lifted, slightly, and tilted his fingers toward her more for her to take it.

“Th-Thank you.” She said, stunned, taking the money. She stared at him for a moment, then cleared her throat as she turned away to put the ticket into the register and close him out. Thatcher took another drag then a sip of his whiskey, watching her as she broke the $100, taking 4 $20’s as change then pulled out a blue rubber bag, unzipping it. Thatcher saw the name ‘Taddie’ scrawled across it and she tucked a $20 into it, then pulled out three more, all with the names of the other barmaids on them, tucking the remaining $20’s into their bags, zipping them all and putting them back under the register when she was done. She took the remaining 5 of his change and stuffed it into the communal tip jar. Giving a nod, Thatcher downed half the glass of whiskey before taking another drag and sitting back as he cast a glance back to one of his bodyguards and giving him a nod. The man nodded back and zeroed in on the woman as he moved from his position in the corner, to the bar to grab her attention for a drink.

Thatcher wathed his man give her a polite smile and strike up a conversation with her as she made his drink. An excited, happy smile spread across her face as she happily responded to whatever it was he had said, pausing in the mixing of his drink as they locked in a quick, deep conversation, then she immediately picked up her pace again, finishing the drink and setting it on the bar for him. He handed her a card that she quickly ran, coming back with his card, the receipt and a pen for him to sign. They continued to talk as the man signed and handed the pen and receipt back, giving her a wide, flirtatious smile, to which she responded with a less than matching, polite smile, quickly moving on. Thatcher chuckled and nodded at his bodyguard as he went back to his spot, sipping on the drink.

The woman slowly made her way back down to Thatcher and he downed the rest of his drink, stamping out his cigarette in the ashtray beside him. She moved in front of him and spotted his empty glass, then reached for the bottle again as she said, “Another double for you?”

“I’m good, darlin’. Thank you.” Thatcher said, giving her a once over as her back was turned and he smirked to himself. She turned back and raised a brow, slightly, than nodded, giving him a sweet smile, moving on as she said, “Have a good night, sir.”

Thatcher smirked and pulled another $20 from his pocket, slipping it under his glass before he turned from the counter and slipped out of his chair, nodding at his men. They all abandoned their spots, converging at the front door, two walking out as their heads whipped around, while the other two stood by the door with the bouncers, waiting for Thatcher. They walked out and Taddie lifted her gaze from the drink she was mixing, watching the men file out. She shook her head with a soft sigh and pasted on a smile as she handed two drinks off, then began wiping down the bar where it was empty. She made her way back up to Thatcher’s empty seat and grabbed the glass, then stopped as she stared at the $20 he’d left as her tip.

Taddie picked it up and blinked, utterly confused. The man handed her a $100 bill for a $15 shot, telling her to keep the rest of the $85 as her tip, then left her another $20 tip on the same drink. Whether it was some weird, new flirting tactic she wasn’t aware of or the man was ridiculously rich and just wanted to throw it around, she wasn’t about to turn it down as she desperately needed the cash, which was the whole reason she took the bartending job in the first place. She would take the flirty, drunken men and the half ass passes they tried to make at her if it meant close to $300 nights in tips. Stuffing the bill into her bra, she dunked the glass into the disinfectant water, then set it on the rubber mat to dry.

As she went to the register to run a few cards, one of the other girls slunk up to her, gripping her arm with a wide eyed stare. Taddie glanced at her then snickered as she shook her head and said, “What’s the look for, Ash? Who’s the hottie you’re after now?”

“Not me-You, bitch! You have no idea who that even was you were serving, do you?” Ash asked, leaning one hand on the counter, planting the other on her hip. Taddie chuckled and gave a shrug, glancing up at the perky blonde as her blue eyes sparkled with excitement.

“No? Just some guy? Loaded, by the way he’s throwing around hundred’s like they’re ones…Why? Who is he? Some hotshot Wall Street banker or something?” Taddie asked as she closed out tabs and waited for receipts. Ash tsk’d at her and sighed, shaking her head as she said, “You’ve heard of the Price family? The Swedish Mafia family?”

“Oh, please. I’ve heard those rumors. If this bar was owned by the mob, I think they’d do better--They don’t want cops crawling all over the place.” Taddie said with a soft, disbelieving laugh. Ash gave her a look and said, “Alright, you’re new to Virginia, especially Roanoke. The mob is very present here, but the Swedes do a very good job of hiding themselves.”

“I thought you hated the mob in Roanoke?” Taddie asked, giving her a look. Ash gave a shrug and said, “I’m not gonna lie and say they aren’t attractive. They’re good to look at. ‘Bout it.”

“Okay, so who is he? The head honcho? The son? The cousin? The best friend? What, Ash?” Taddie asked, going along with her friend, though she very much did not believe her.

“He’s Thatcher Price. The youngest. He has like 6 brothers that are all in the business. Thatcher is the rebel, likes to bullshit around town, plays in a band-”

“He plays in a band? Mr. All Black, Fancy Cuff Links and Silver Chain? Yeah, I caught that, by the way.” Taddie said, shooting her friend a look and raising her brow. Ash smirked and let out a soft, swoon sounding sigh.

“Yeah, they all look real good when they clean up…Um, no-Really, he’s in a heavy metal band and his father hates it. Loathes when he goes on gigs and shit. He zeroed in on you, Tads. I’d keep an eye out. The Price brothers are a little rough with their women. I dunno about Thatcher? But he might not be completely the black sheep he’s made himself out to be…Just be careful, okay?” Ash said, giving her a firm look as Taddie grabbed her receipts and a few pens, nodding along.

“Ash, you’ve seen me handle myself. I don’t think a spoiled, little rich boy is gonna be able to shake me.” Taddie said with a soft laugh, giving Ash a bubbly smile and wrinkled her nose at her before flitting away to hand back cards.

Over the next several months, Thatcher made frequent stops to The Drunken Wench when Taddie was working. With one of his brothers taking it over from their father 4 years prior, Thatcher was able to get a hold of her schedule, even tweaked it once or twice to give her a few days off when he found she needed it, other times to coincide with when he’d come back into town after being dragged on a business trip. While he wanted to talk to Taddie himself, he was more interested in how she interacted with his bodyguards and his other friends he sent over to her, watching her closely as she spoke with the men.

Thatcher was the middle of 4 brothers and rebellious as any middle child. He held no interest in his father’s ‘business’ dealings, in complete contrast to his three brothers, who gladly took over where ever their father had felt they were ready to. His oldest brother, Thomas, was his father’s heir and there was no disputing that; He was by his father’s side on a daily basis, learning how to run the business to one day take it over. Thomas was 6’3 with a constant brooding expression boring out through his near jet black eyes, they were such a deep shade of dark brown. His hair matched, dark and hanging past his ears that glittered with a single diamond earring in each ear.

Tristan and Theo were the youngest, and twins; Tristan running the bar and Theo running the strip club down the street. Fraternal twins, Tristan was the oldest and taller of the two, with dark brown hair and bright blue eyes, making him swoonable toward any woman he looked at, Theo having dirty blonde hair and green eyes that matched Thatcher’s. Though both had their own much softer, more angelic features than Thomas or Thatcher.

While the three were quite happy and content taking their place in the family business, Thatcher was always somewhat repulsed by the idea behind the mob, but seeing the advantage of being the son of a mob boss is what made him stick around to use and abuse it to his benefit. He joined a local band in Richmond, he dedicated most of his time toward it and soon fell in love with music, though he’d never tell his father that. Thatcher was far more interested in the arts and music than he was in shaking down local businesses that were already struggling to begin with. He was glad his family was able to provide protection from other mob families that constantly tried to take over the small town, but not at the cost his father made them pay.

Luckily, Tristan told his older brother he could always come to The Drunken Wench and do what he pleased and their father would never know. Thatcher was often there to find a semi drunk, but still consenting woman to bring home and have a wild night with, or hustle a few drunken assholes out of a few hundred bucks, only once having gotten into an all out brawl, from which Tristan dragged Thatcher away from it and shoved him in the back room to keep him out of any police reports that would travel back to their father. Now, however, he had a new interest that brought him to the bar and kept him out of trouble, for once…For now.

Taddie noticed Thatcher frequenting the bar more often, but always got the same order and left her with a whole extra $100 tip from a $15 drink. She questioned his motives, but never said anything as she’d amassed quite the savings in the last several months, her piggy bank overflowing with $20’s and $50’s. Around the same time, she also noticed a slew of men had begun to order about 2-3 drinks from her, leaving her rather generous tips. What was suspect about it, was they all had something new they asked about her.

The first was what she did outside of bartending, to which she responded that she was an aspiring painter and saving to get a small studio space to work and display her pieces. Another asked if she ever did anything outdoors or like being outdoors. There was a brief and passionate conversation about camping, something Taddie had been dying to start up again since she moved from California to Virginia, moving in with Ash to start over. A few asked about her perfume, though she wasn’t wearing any, and they started guessing her favorite scents. She gently corrected them, not wanting to really engage with a few of them, but otherwise let it go. As it neared Christmas and the snowfall got heavier, Thatcher began plotting and making moves of his own.

It was a busy Friday night when Thatcher stopped by, brushing the snow from his jacket before he slipped it off and one of his bodyguards took it from him before he went to the bar and his usual seat. Taddie had seen him walk in this time, finding it odd that he handed off his jacket, then watched as the posse he walked in with split up as he headed toward her. Taddie took a deep breath as she finished the slew of drink orders she’d been given, then quickly handed them off to the other girls to deliver them to their tables. Wiping down her section of the bar then her hands, she went over to Thatcher and grabbed the bottle of rye whiskey that they were now running low on, again.

As she shook up and poured out his drink, she said, “You’re back again. Not surprising…At any point were you going to tell me you’re name?”

“Why would I do that? We’ve never spoken more than a few words to each other.” Thatcher said with a teasing smirk as she set the glass on the counter and he quickly produced a $100 bill. Taddie narrowed her gaze at him, snatching it from him and waving it back in his face as she said, “That’s why…If you’re gonna be handing over hundreds, I think I should at least know your name?”

“Thatcher.”

“Thank you…Uh-Um, th-thank you.” Taddie snapped, quickly changing her tone when she realized. Thatcher raised a brow at her then chuckled as he lifted his glass to his lips, taking a slow sip. She bit her lip and let out a soft huff, holding up the bill again as she added, “Why though? I’m-Not that I’m complaining…I just-I don’t understand. You get a double whiskey then leave…Why?”

Thatcher gave a shrug as he set the glass down and folded his arms over the bar with a small smirk as he said, “Because I can? I felt like it? If you don’t want it, give it back.”

“Never said I didn’t want it--Just said I was curious…I-I…I kind of need the money, so-so thank you.” Taddie said, chewing her lip before she gave her head a shake and turned to make the change, then split it between the girls that were working, as she did every so often. Thatcher watched her with a smirk and took another sip, waiting for her to come back.

“So, you split the tip instead of taking the whole thing, because you kind of need the money…Why?” Thatcher asked, dragging his gaze up to her with a knowing smirk. Taddie pursed her lips, slightly, trying not to smirk in embarrassment of being caught. He chuckled and pulled his gold cigarette case from his breast pocket, taking out a cigarette and his lighter, glancing up at her, waiting for an answer. Taddie tapped her manicured nails on the bar a few times before she pushed off it.

“Because some of the other girls need it more than me. They’ve got kids, medical shit, bills upon bills upon bills…Money is the only reason most of us are working here. At least in my case, this isn’t what I want to do and the last job I would take…Which…Is why I’m here.” Taddie said, looking away as she began to squirm under his intense gaze. Thatcher lit the end of his cigarette then quickly tucked the lighter in his pocket as he said, “Why are you here? What do you want to do?”

As if he didn’t already know.

“I, um…Well, I’m-I’m actually saving for a studio that’s still for rent downtown. I’m an aspiring painter, I need space.” Taddie said, a genuine smile slowly creeping across her face. Thatcher’s smile lifted as he nodded and he lifted his cigarette for another drag.

“Painter? Mmm--Might need to talk to my boys, have you commission something for us.” He said, closing his lips around the filter and taking a deep drag, one he ghosted before blowing out, away from Taddie’s face. She raised a brow, laughing in her head at the thought of being invited to the family mansion and painting a portrait of the secret Swedish Mafia family of Roanoke.

“Commission? For who? You and your brothers or something?” Taddie asked.

“How do you know I have brothers?” Thatcher asked, smirking at her as he lifted his glass for another sip.

“You give younger brother energy-Rebel child…Do you have brothers?” Taddie questioned, raising a brow at him as she spread her arms across the bar as she planted her hands on it. Thatcher chuckled and nodded, setting his glass down.

“Three-Older brother, me, then the twins. Middle child syndrome, is what you’re getting.” Thatcher said, taking a quick drag. Taddie nodded and slowly leaned back from the bar, twisting the rag in her hand, pretending to dry them off.

“Alright, then.”

“So, you’d do a commission for me and my brothers too? I was actually talking about my band.” Thatcher said, ashing his cigarette in the ashtray before bringing it to his lips again. Taddie raised her brows as an amused smirk crossed her face, chuckling softly. Thatcher raised his brows as well, surprised by the reaction. He blew his smoke just past her head as he rumbled at her, “Something funny?”

“I ju-I’m sorry…I can’t see you in a band. Everytime you come in here, it’s all black, all fancy, all suit. I-I can’t picture anything else?” Taddie said with a soft chuckle. Thatcher arched a brow as he took a deep swig of his drink.

“So, we picture me in something other than a suit?” He teased, making her jaw drop a little more, caught off guard by the question. She stammered a little and swallowed, hard, before she cleared her throat and glanced away as he snickered to himself. “Yes, I’m in a band. Metal band, in fact. Can you picture me in that?”

Taddie bit her lip as she felt her cheeks heat and she darted her eyes away. Thatcher slid his tongue over his lower lip, lightly, letting his gaze drag over her, then back up as she looked at him again, opening her mouth to respond, when someone called her name, soon followed by glass shattering from across the bar. Her head snapped over and he glanced over his shoulder. Turning back to her, he blinked when he saw she was gone, then looked around, seeing her flying down the bar and around it, shooting over to a booth where two men sat, grappling with a third that had stepped in on behalf of the waitress they were harassing. Thatcher abandoned his cigarette in the ashtray and his drink on the bar, following her as he made eye contact with two of his men, who quickly made a beeline to the altercation.

“-You want her? You can fuckin’ have the whore!” One of the problem men hollared at the third man, who stood between the table and the waitress, who cowered behind him. The third man shouted at him, then sent a cross hook to his jaw that started an brawl between the three, a fourth man jumping in to aid the third.

“Hey! Hey! Knock it off! Break it up, asshole! Hey!” Taddie shrieked at them, managing to pull one of the problem men off and shoving him into a table.

“You want to go, bitch!? Fuck off! This isn’t your fight, cunt!” He shouted at her. Taddie grabbed his shoulders and shot her knee into his groin, making him double over as the breath whooshed out of him and he collapsed.

“That’s for me. Your boy will get it for my girl.” Taddie spat at him, planting her foot on his side and giving him a shove, pushing him onto his side. One of the men she’d seen walk in with Thatcher grabbed the man, another accompanying him and dragging him to the door, shoving him at the bouncers before they headed back to break up the rest of the fight. Taddie quickly turned and grabbed the waitress, tucking her away from the brawl as she screamed at the men to stop fighting. Thatcher’s bodyguards hurried back and tore the men apart, the two that came to the rescue immediately backing off once the other man was subdued and dragged away by the bouncers.

“-And make sure you get their licenses and put them on the list, Charlie! Fuck-Natasha, are you alright, babe?” Taddie shouted to the bouncers, lowering and softening her voice as she turned to the brunette waitress, Natasha, and consoled her as she shook like a leaf.

“Ye-Yeah-Yeah, yeah, I’m-I’m fine. Ju-Just a little, um…Shaken. Can-Can I take ten or-or something?” She asked, looking at Taddie as she let out a shaky breath. Taddie shook her head and said, “No. You’re going home. It’s Friday, we’ve got the bar, it’ll die down soon anyway-Go be with your kids, Tash. Don’t forget your tip bag.”

“Are you sure? Okay-Thank you so much, Taddie.” Natasha said, giving Taddie a tight hug before taking off to the back, ripping off her apron. Taddie sighed and thanked the two men that had jumped in to save and defend Natasha, offering them drinks on the house for their heroics. They agreed, happily, and headed off to the bar to claim them, while Taddie sighed and turned to the table, clearing it off. As she muttered to herself, she’d completely forgotten about Thatcher until she turned and gasped, seeing him standing behind her.

“That was quite the jewel destroyer you gave that guy. Not as innocent as you look, are you?” He asked with a charming smirk. Taddie let out a huff of a sigh and moved around him as she said, “Never said I was innocent. He called me a cunt so I tried to make him one of his own, he loved the word so much.”

Thatcher raised a brow with a soft snicker and followed her at a slower pace, returning to his seat, his drink and his cigarette. Sliding onto the barstool, he watched her plunge the dishes into the disinfectant water, scrubbing them with a sponge before setting them on the rubber mat, then beginning to move around the place, cleaning up. Thatcher took another drag before he stamped out his cigarette and downed the rest of his drink, slipping a $100 under the glass this time. He cast another glance down the bar as Taddie returned, then turned and signaled to his bodyguards that he was ready to go.

Taddie glanced at him as he walked out, watching the four men converge on him at the door, one handing him his jacket that he slipped on before they walked out into the cold Virginia air. She ducked to the back room for a breather, dropping into the armchair with a sighed and closing her eyes. She let out a deep groan as she stretched, then sighed as she curled up and pulled out her phone, scrolling for a few minutes. She shifted in the chair, with another sigh, then closed her eyes as she cradled her phone against her stomach, letting herself drift off for a while.

Before she knew it, there was a sudden burst of chatter that startled her awake, making her gasp and sit up quickly, rubbing her eyes with a soft groan. As she shifted in the chair, yawning and looking around, she saw all the girls taking off their aprons and switching shoes as they grabbed their things. Taddie blinked as she braced her hands on the cushion, letting her mouth hang open for a while before she pushed herself to stand.

“Um, okay, why is everyone changing and getting ready to leave? We-We still have like 4 more hours-”

“We’re closed, Tads. It’s 2:30.” Ash said with a chuckle, tossing Taddie her jacket and bag. Taddie let out an oof as she caught them, slightly stumbling back as she was still half asleep.

“I’m sorry-So, what you’re telling me is, you let me sleep the last four hours of my shift?!” Taddie cried at her, giving her a half scared, half incredulous look. Ash chuckled, as did the other girls, going to her friend as she tossed her things onto the chair and went to the door.

“Tads! Tad-Chill out. We had it handled. You needed a break anyway.” Ash said, catching Taddie’s arm. She whirled around and shot Ash a look as she said, “And if Vincey came in while I was snoozing in the back? He would have fired me on the spot. Don’t let me sleep that long again, Ashlen. Seriously.”

“Well, Vincey didn’t show up, so we let you sleep. Come on, let’s go home.” Ash said, guiding her back to the chair and pushing her jacket at her. Taddie sighed and reluctantly shoved her arms into the holes before she tore off her apron and stuffed it into hers and Ash’s shared locker, kicking off her shoes and stuffing her feet into her grey sherpa boots before grabbing her bag from the chair. Ash grabbed her bag and closed the locker, both her and Taddie making their way out with the rest of the girls, through the back door.

As their boots crunched in the freshly fallen and still falling snow, headed for the car, Thatcher watched her from across the street in the comfort of his heated and illegaly tinted SUV. Taddie intrigued him and the fact she had a wit about her made it grow. She seemed shut off from her true emotions, save when she spoke about art. Though it was a brief conversation, he’d seen the sparkle in her eye grow when they talked about her art. He made a note to be back on a day when they were slower so he could actually speak to her and discuss his proposition.

Well, shit, here we go. DX XD

Let me know what you guys think! If you want to be added to a taglist for future chapters, send me a message or drop a comment!

@badwolf-in-the-impala

#Jolly Bad Omens #Jolly Karlsson #Joakim Jolly Karlsson #Jolly AU #Bad Omens AU #Jolly Karlsson AU #Joakim Jolly Karlsson AU #Noah Sebastion #Nick Folio #Nicholas Ruffilo #Bad Omens #Bad Omens Fic #The Price

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nerdraging4point0 · 2 months

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Power Play // Chapter 1 // Hockeyplayer!Noah AU

Tropes and tags: RPF:AU hockey player romance, angsty romance, hidden relationship, forbidden relationship, smutty, MF, multiple POV.

Content Warning: angsty romance, hockey player shenanigans, locker room talk, smutty, aggressive hockey players, PinV, MF relationship, possessive male, protective male.

This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

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I sank into the faded beige couch in our cozy two-bedroom apartment, soaking in the last moments before everything would change. Through the open window, the sweet scent of yesterday’s rain drifted in on a gentle breeze, reminding me of all the lazy spring days spent here with friends. Marissa plopped down beside me, and I felt a pang in my heart realizing how much I would miss this—being with her, my best friend and rock through the chaos of senior year. Now, a few months out after graduation, a bittersweet nostalgia washed over me. I etched each detail into my memory: the worn fabric beneath my fingertips, the birdsongs outside, Marissa's quiet presence. Soon we'd close this chapter, but the memories we made within these walls would blossom in our hearts for years to come.

The last four years of nursing school had flown by in a blur of late nights studying and early mornings in clinicals. Now with our bachelor's degrees finally in hand, my best friend and I found ourselves at a crossroads. Where did we go from here? I was tempted to jump right into a job at the hospital we'd done rotations at, but ultimately decided a few months off would do me good. Time to decompress after the whirlwind of college, and spend some much-needed quality time with my dad before launching into my nursing career. Though the future felt wide open and uncertain, I knew this break would help me recharge and figure out my next steps.

I gaze at my suitcases lined up by the door, like soldiers ready for battle. The rest of my belongings sit sealed away in cardboard coffins, soon to be shipped off to my father's house. In a few short hours, I'll board the plane home, leaving this chapter of my life behind.

I glance anxiously at my phone. The Uber is ten minutes away, coming to ferry me to the airport and the imminent end of my time here. Ten final minutes before my ship sinks into the sea of memories.

Part of me thrills at the thought of going home. But another part dreads that I won't summon the courage to uproot myself again as I did to come here. I feel caught between the familiar comforts of home and the terrifying freedom of the unknown.

As the minutes tick down, the nerves and sadness swell within me like the tide. I'm unsure if I'm ready to leave, but the choice has been made. My bags are packed. The car is on its way. My ship is sinking, and it's time to go down with it.

Marissa grasps my hand, intertwining our fingers in a familiar, comforting way. "This is just a new chapter for us," she says gently. "You know we'll find our way back to each other soon. Just give me a few months to settle into my new job, and I'll come out to Cali for a long overdue visit." Her words wrap around me like a warm hug, reassuring me that our bond can weather any storm.

As we stand from the couch and fall into a tight embrace, I can't help but feel a pang in my heart. Her messy bun tickles my nose, and the familiar scent of cleaning products and lavender clings to her old sweats and university tee. We had spent all day tidying the apartment, scrubbing away remnants of late nights gossiping over takeout and movie marathons. With each swipe of the washcloth, another memory got wiped away.

My phone pings, the Uber waiting to take me to the airport. I cling to her a little tighter, not yet ready to let go of my best friend. We'd been through so much together in this little apartment - late night study sessions, tears after bad breakups, celebrations after every accomplishment. And now we had to say goodbye.

I feel her tears dampen my shoulder as we sway back and forth, the unspoken "I'll miss you" hanging thick in the air. This isn't the end, I know, but as we finally pull away and I gather my bags, my heart breaks nonetheless. One chapter was closing, but a new adventure awaits for both of us.

She helps carry my bags down to the curb where the driver puts them into the trunk of his SUV. We exchange one more hug and a few tears before I climb in the backseat, waving goodbye out of the tinted window till she is out of sight. I pull out my phone shooting a quick text to my dad that i’m on the way to the airport. He wasn’t so much of a worrier, but he’d be upset if I didn’t at least warn him.

The afternoon sun peeks through the clouds as I drive down I-5, weaving past exits for Tacoma and Federal Way. The leaves on the tree limbs turning a faded shade already line the highway, a sure sign of Autumn in Seattle. Before I know it, I'm pulling up to Departures at Tacoma International Airport, the scent of coffee and jet fuel mingling in the air. Two overstuffed suitcases roll alongside me while my backpack bounces on my shoulders.

After checking my bags, I meander through the terminal, watching businesspeople rush to their gates while families herd overexcited kids onto flights. My flight isn't for another hour, so I find a seat by the window overlooking the tarmac. Planes taxi and take off as I confirm my hotel reservation. I could've stayed at my dad's place, but I know by now my old bedroom has likely become his at-home office. Anyway, it'll be nice to have some independence on this trip back home.

The call comes over the intercom: "Now boarding Flight 784 to LAX." I grab my carry-on and hustle to the gate, eager to secure my window seat near the front. The line inches forward as passengers jam the jetbridge, jostling for position. I finally reach my row and hoist my bag into the overhead bin. As I plop into my seat, I peek out the oval window at the tarmac below. Ground crew in neon vests scurry around the plane, making final checks. The cabin door slams shut, and we lurch into motion. The engines rumble as we gather speed, pressing me back into the headrest. My pulse quickens in that familiar pre-flight rush. The nose tilts up, and we're airborne! Home, here I come!

The LA sun hangs low in a hazy orange sky as I collapse into the hotel room's plush queen bed, weary from a day of travel. Cleaning and packing left me exhausted, so I had to cancel dinner plans with Dad despite his obvious excitement on the phone. He mentioned some "proposal" he has for me - likely another attempt to get me to ditch the hotel and stay at his place instead. But this modest room has everything I need - soft carpets, textured walls, and pillows galore.

After a long day, the thought of going back out into the bustling city streets makes me weary. I decide to unwind in the cozy confines of my hotel room instead. Stepping into the shower, I turn the heat up high, letting the warm water envelope my tired muscles. As steam fills the air, I feel the stress of the day wash away. Wrapped in a plush robe, I settle into the comfy armchair and flip on the TV. The sports channel is covering the latest NFL news - the FortyNiners are gearing up for a big pre season. But soon they switch over to hockey, and my ears perk up. It's an update on my dad's team! I lean in, eager to catch every detail and stat. The lively commentary of the sportscasters fills the room as I relax into the overstuffed cushions.

"Folks, the Rooks are looking like a force to be reckoned with this season," the announcer says with enthusiasm. She’s blonde, wearing a gray suit and enough makeup to cover her crows feet and forehead wrinkles, "Coach Brody has lit a fire under this team during preseason and you can see it in the intensity of their practices and scrimmages. The offense is clicking and putting up big numbers, but don't overlook the tenacious defense - whether it's the starting unit or the backups on the ice, these guys are shutting down opponents left and right. The Rooks are hungry for a championship and have all the pieces to make a deep playoff run. If they keep up this level of play, we could be in for an electric season with the Rooks!"

The Rooks take to the ice, a blur of black jerseys with fiery red numbers, names shining under the arena lights. Skates slice and sticks flash as they circle the rink, putting on a show for the cameras.

“Goalie McClain is a steel wall with his saves.” the announcer gushes as the footage switches to practice - the puck rockets toward McClain's net but the goalie drops, gloves flung wide to make the save. You can almost hear the ice spray and skate blades carve as the team flies around the rink, hockey poetry in motion. The Rooks glide and dash in a choreographed dance, aggressive and graceful all at once, as their dark uniforms and gear mesh into a cohesive force.

The defense barrels towards their opponents with unrelenting intensity, their eyes locked in a fierce glare. "Sanchez is proving himself as the team's starting center this season," the announcer declares, her voice rising with excitement. "Sebastian and Karlsson - the league's top defense duo - are an unstoppable force!"

A tender smile spreads across my face as I gaze at my father's team, my heart swelling with pride. My phone chimes softly, lighting up with a new message from the coach.

Dad (04:45PM): Visitor pass will be at the front desk of your hotel in the morning. Should get you into the rink for the game on Saturday and tomorrow. Come down to the rink after four, we will grab some dinner once I'm done with practice.

Curled up under my warm blankets, I open my phone to a new Snap from Marissa. Her selfie pops up on my screen, a pouty expression across her face with the words "miss you" scribbled in playful handwriting. I can't help but smile, picturing her exaggerated faux sadness at our time apart.

The sun melts into the horizon, casting an amber glow over the Los Angeles skyline. Palm trees dance in the gentle evening breeze as the city begins to wind down for the night. The view from my hotel is stunning, with the skyscrapers silhouetted against the vibrant sunset. I open the blinds to take it all in, the concrete jungle transformed into a sea of gilded light. There's a magic in the air at this time of day, a tranquil beauty that washes over the urban landscape. For a moment, the hectic pace of LA seems to fade away. I breathe deeply and let the fading light soothe my soul, appreciating the simple joy of a perfect sunset over the city of angels.

#bad omens cult #noah sebastian #bad omens #noahsebastian fanfic #bad omens band #hockey player noah #hockey #bad omens au #bad omens smut #hockey romance #hockeyomens

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ladyveronikawrites · 2 months

Text

So I want to try something

If you all lovely souls can get @nerdraging4point0 fic Underdog to 100 notes, I will write up a part two to Dominate the Game. cough Coach crossover cough

I will love you forever💜Happy reading👑

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cookiesupplier · 4 months

Text

Hell Ain't So Bad - Part Twenty-One

pairing: Noah Sebastian x ofc (Ellie)

warnings/tropes: slow burn, smut, angst, fluff, mentions of death, mentions of torture, thoughts of religious ideology, minor violence, swearing, cheating.

summary: Ellie was lost in the world, homeless with no idea what to do and nowhere to go.. Who would have thought that one day, she’d end up working in hell itself.. And what does this even mean?

author’s note: Unbetaed, readers beware. Only one part left after this of Hell Ain't So Bad, and then we start A Friend Down In Hell

tags: @spicywhenspeaking @bngurngheart @cncohshit @valiantroeagleangel @blackveilomens @dominuslunae @tearfallpixie @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @wild-child-7747 @notingridslurkaccount @lyschko666 @lacktoesandtoddlerants @jilliemiw86 @emmmm127 @laurpartyprogram

“Noah.”

Looking up at him, her breath caught in her throat, Ellie felt frozen in place.

“Ellie.”

Not BabyGirl. She remembered she’d shut him down for that. He hadn’t called her that since, not even in the messages. She’d noticed. Her heart and her head screamed two very different things, and do not ask her which one was saying which right now because for the life of her, she couldn’t tell you. One wanted to throw herself at him, right into his arms, wrap her own around him and never let go. The other wanted her to slam the door right in his face, his tired, drawn face. And he did look it, so tired, he looked a mess. Noah’s dark eyes looked dull, weary, whether of her, and of whether she’d bother to give him the time of day, or something else he’d been dealing with, she didn’t know. His hair hung limp around his face, and there were shadows forming under his eyes. This was not the Noah she knew. In a blink he could change his appearance, she knew that, but this was a Noah that didn’t seem to care. That didn’t seem to be fussed over anything, and it hurt some to see him like this. To see him beaten.

Why did it hurt? There was a part of her that was still so angry at him. How dare he make her feel like this. How dare he look at her with those eyes and make her want to crumble in her arms and beg his forgiveness for ignoring him, for sending him away, and she’d done nothing wrong!

Steeling herself, Ellie took in a deep breath as she looked up at him, with the state of him, she was almost surprised he was standing right now. He looked dead on his feet. Was he sleeping? None of the others had said anything about him doing this badly, but then again, she had refused to hear anything about him, refused to talk about him at all if she could help it. So how would they have been able to tell her anything? How would they have been able to tell her they were concerned about him or not?

“May I come in?”

He asked, his voice rough, and not in the roughness that told her she was going to be in for a wild night, wicked that would have her voice hoarse from delicious screams by morning. Still, Ellie blinked slowly and nodded slightly, accepting, he asked, he asked instead of demanding, for that she could give him time.

“I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

Offering without thinking, because, honestly, it sounded like he needed one. He sounded wrecked, and, if he was there to talk and not to knock her off. Hey, she was already dead, what more could he do to her, right? Aside from dragging her to a punishment realm, and Nicholas had already assured her she wasn’t assigned to one, then, the least she could do was make him a cup of damn tea while they talked. Find out what he had to say for himself.

Stepping aside, she let him pass her by and come into her apartment. The whole place was so very different from that first night he’d brought her home, that first night she’d drunkenly tried, and failed, to seduce him at the time. It had gone from just being a place where she just slept her nights away, considering she'd barely arrived back then, and now, this was her home. Noah had spent many a night with her here if she was honest, and yet right then, as he walked in, the way he looked, he just seemed, adrift, and it hurt her heart even more than she missed him. Less than two weeks ago, it had felt like he belonged here, about as much as the stupid fake plant Jolly had given her when all the boys had realised how easily she kept killing the ones they’d kept replacing for her housewarming present. Sure, she might keep a cactus alive, but this was one prettier! It had bright flowers, she loved the flowers.

Standing in her kitchen, she watched as he moved to sit on one of the stools at her breakfast bar, swallowing as she set the kettle to boil and prepared Noah some tea. It was Mama Ruffilo’s special blend, she made it herself. He was silent as he waited, just watching her while she moved around the kitchen until she set the cup in front of him lightly and moved to sit across from him with her own cup of tea. As he took a sip, sighing as she looked at him. Swallowing as her hands curved around her mug, trying not to think about how formal this felt now that they were sitting across from each other. Those dark eyes looked right into her like they always did though, a shiver running down her spine.

“Do you have any idea how much I have tried to beg to get this tea out of Mama Ruffilo?”

Ellie smiled slightly at the question, his voice a touch smoother, but still so rough, and tired. Noah was trying to find a way to be light-hearted, she could tell, but what was between them was weighing them both down.

“Please, she’ll practically give you anything you want, Noah Sebastian. She loves you like a son, Nicholas always spouts that she’d disown him and adopt you if her husband would let her, and you know it.”

Shaking his head a little, taking another sip of his tea slowly, easing it down his throat before speaking again. His eyes held a little mirth at her words, she wasn’t wrong, it was a running joke between him and Nicholas about his mother, however when it came to this tea, that was a different story altogether.

“Not this tea, this is her magic tea, this is her feel-good tea. She only ever gives it up when she wants to make someone feel better, or, she particularly likes someone. She hasn’t given that tea to any of us to take home, ever. Furthermore, she gives it to Nicholas for his office to calm anxious people, she makes us a cup when we visit, but lets any of us take some of it home. Never. Until you. Everyone says I’m her favourite, but I think it’s you, BabyGirl.”

Noah’s voice grew smoother, and softer as he spoke, the tea soothing his throat as it did. She tried not to react, but a tiny smile formed on her lips as he spoke of Mama Ruffilo and how protective she was of her tea, and his claim that she was her favourite. Never had she ever been anyone’s favourite before. She did know about the tea at the office, she’d been one of those that needed a little soothing, just as Nick had told her, she remembered telling his mom about her magic tea, and how it healed her cough.. She realised now that she’d known she was dead, it was a horrible reality, figuring out all the people who had hidden so much from her. Did it make her a horrible person that forgiving Mama Ruffilo was easier, though? Was it cruel to hold it against Noah? He’d been in her home, her life, her bed.. He lied to her every day.

Then her breath hitched, that tiny smile on her lips froze, and her heart clenched when she heard it, BabyGirl. She remembered him telling her how nothing could make him not want her as his BabyGirl. Taking in a sharp breath as her expression dropped, setting her mug down, she wasn’t sure calming tea was going to help her now.

“Noah, I-”

Swallowing, she didn’t know what to say to him.

“Listen, Ellie, I would have told you if I-”

“Don’t.”

Her eyes closed quickly as she stood back from the bar and shook her head, no.

“I don’t want to hear you tell me excuses, about how you would have told me if you could have. Noah, you could have. You chose not to. You lied to me, Noah, you started a relationship with me knowing you were lying to me, the entire time.”

Ellie couldn’t help the way the words were flowing when she started talking now, almost ranting at him. Noah’s dark eyes pained as he regarded her, he hated that she thought that they got involved as they did, and how he felt about her, and all she could think about was that he lied to her. He knew why, he knew... And it was killing him.

“I’m not-”

She just kept going, cutting him off as he tried to talk.

“And don’t you dare try to say we weren’t properly dating, because I was stupid enough to keep telling myself that again and again, that we were just hooking up, and just hanging out every time you came over to spend time with me. That we were only enjoying ourselves, nothing more. Even if we never said the words specifically, even if we never actually called them what they were, we’ve been dating for months. You’ve been lying to me for months.”

Standing from the breakfast bar, Noah’s voice was forceful as it cut through her little tirade, but he had no choice as it was the only way to get her to hear him as her words just kept steamrolling forward. “Goddammit, Ellie, I’m not Jeremy!”

He couldn’t stand it anymore, he couldn’t stand her accusing him like that, she wasn’t saying it, but she was comparing him to that bastard, he could feel it, every time she talked about their relationship, talked about him lying.

“Yes, I lied, I should have told you, but I didn’t, because, I love you BabyGirl. After our talk, I was trying to convince Nick to tell you, I was going to enlist his Mama if I had to, to get him on board, but I was not going to back down. I didn’t care if I was going to get busted down to the lowest of ranks, I would have done it.”

Ellie glared a little at how aggressively he spoke about Jeremy, she knew he wasn’t, didn’t she? She went to yell at him, how dare he assume to know what she was thinking when he kept going, and suddenly she was completely floored with what he was saying to her.

Watching him, completely silent, a bit dumbfounded actually as he paced back and forth, ranting about how he was going to push Nicholas to finally agree to tell her if it was the last thing he did. Hearing that he couldn’t stand holding back from her anymore, that the night before she found out had almost broken him, but his best friend, his brother, it was his job that was on the line, and betraying him was…

Hearing Noah’s voice crack at the word betrayal had Ellie finding her voice, finally, not just because it was finally dawning on her just how much turmoil Noah must have been dealing with, going in circles dealing with his loyalty to Nicholas, and how much guilt he had with how he’d treated her.. But also her feelings about what he’d said..

“You love me?”

Her voice was so quiet, that the words were barely breathed out. She felt so small. He’d never said it, and she knew she hadn’t either, not until, not until she’d admittedly thrown it in his face that she’d fallen in love with another liar.

Despite how soft her voice was, even with his ranting, Noah heard them, how could he not? Of course, he fucking heard them, this was Ellie, this was BabyGirl, he’d been dying to get her to talk to him all week, and hearing her utter anything at all, and he’d hear it. No matter how painful. Yes, her questioning whether he loved her, was painful, because, did she not know?

No, he hadn’t admitted how he felt, that was something Noah had struggled with since he was young, and he always had, he’d lost so many people in his life, that telling someone how he felt came with actions, over words. He showed them how he felt. Which, is kind of why he tended to round up all the people who hurt everyone he loved and tortured them to wit's end. It was safe to say, that Carla, Jeremy and Gia had truly been enduring so much pain and suffering at Noah’s hands this past week. It wasn’t his wrath that was justly earned, however, his pain that had been poured into their suffering, which just made it all the more potent as far as he was concerned.

Noah moved around the island bar and shifted to stand before her, his hands moving to cup her face in his hands.

“Ellie, BabyGirl, of course, I love you. If you’ll let me, I will spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

His forehead leaned down to hers softly, she shuddered softly, tears glistening in her eyes as she smiled slowly,

“I love you too, you, idiot.”

Thankfully he was already leaning down to press his forehead to herself so it wasn’t hard to bring her lips to his with a kiss. She hadn’t told anyone she loved them properly since, since… Jeremy. Ellie hadn’t dared trust herself to do such a thing, because the thought of that kind of betrayal…

Her heart clenched thinking about loving someone who would use her, and lie to her, and yet, seeing the pain and anguish in Noah’s eyes with the fact he’d been living with the reality, she’d been comparing them.

And she had, hadn’t she?

It made her feel sick.

That this man, this man that had been willing to try and force the hand of the closest person to him in the world, his brother, for her. No, not a man, a demon, who could torture, main, and kill, all manner of beings in ways she could only imagine, and he had been talking about plotting against Nicholas, because that was what he’d been saying in no uncertain terms with that little rant just now. His words were coming out in a jumbled mess as he paced along the breakfast bar, but they had been there. Looking up at him now, her hands resting on his biceps, fingers squeezing lightly as she smiled.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, BabyGirl, but I couldn’t stand the thought of, okay, still having been lying to you when I did.”

She laughed at that, tears in her eye, fuck, why was she crying, her cheeks were wet and Noah was kissing them now, brushing her tears away with his lips. Sighing when she got another good look at him though, shaking her head, she might be in tears, but he looked, damn he still looked like he was barely able to stand up on his feet, how was he still standing right now?

“Come on, Mister, you look like you are about to fall asleep on your feet! What you have been doing all week??”

Starting to guide Noah towards her room, he really did need to sleep, he looked dead tired, and she was the one who was honestly dead.

“I’ve been playing with my new pets, three of them, it's been cathartic to make them scream.”

Oh, oh, she could bet what their names were too, Carla, Jeremy, and Gia.

As she got him into her room, and into her bed, wrapping him up into her blanket, he managed to convince her to join him, she did, wrapped up with him, cuddles, nothing more, he needed sleep. Sure, he could magic himself to look normal, but he’d still be exhausted, and she wouldn’t believe him for a second until she’d seen him sleep with her own two eyes. Her head on his cheek, hearing his heartbeat start to lull,

“Ellie?”

“Mmm, yeah?”

“M’not Mister.”

“No?”

“I’m the fucking king.”

Giggling as she remembered one of his lines at the music show, yes, yes he was.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

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