#tw.injuries

[croimilis]

King of My Heart

title: king of my heart

rating: 16+

characters: robert ‘bob’ floyd x pilot!reader (callsign ‘siren’)

words: 5.8k

themes: friends to lovers, idiot in love, fluff, mutual pinning

warnings: alcohol, cursing, minor injury detail (bruises, cuts), plane ejection, use of petnames (sweetheart), mentions of illness and parental death, mentions of needles, making out, mentions of anxiety

summary: "and all at once, you are all I want, i'll never let you go"

An accident during training and a little liquid courage has Bob finally making his move

tags: @sebsxphia​ 

a/n: part of the fly me to the moon universe. 

Falling in love with Robert Floyd was like standing in the eye of a hurricane, the world around you being torn apart at the seams and yet there is calm, serenity in the way he holds your hand when he’s nervous, in the way his eyes never leave yours when your talking, in the way he always makes sure to smile at you when you enter the room as a small way to say ‘hey, i’m here’ because he knows that despite your outgoing personality you can get overwhelmed in social situations and he wants to remind you that he’s a safe space where you can just sit in enjoy each other presence without committing to a conversation, in the way that he can read your body language and knows you better than yourself. 

Realising you were in love Robert Floyd was like walking through a soft spring rain, you don’t realise how intense it is until you’re soaked through to the core, until the feeling is so all consuming you can barely breath and you feel it seeping through your bones, setting every nerve on fire until it settles deep in your heart and you suddenly know that is love. 

It was five months ago that you realised you were in love with Bob, well, five months since your sister came to visit you at Lemoore and practically scolded you for not snatching Bob up because he was the perfect man. Five months since you insisted that you were just friends. Five months since he held you in his arms and let you cry your heart out over the fact that your fathers health was getting worse and you couldn’t be there. 

Five months since your sister looked at you watching Bob one night and said to you, “He looks at you like mom looks at dad” and you had never known a purer love than your parents. Five months since you looked over at Bob and saw him already watching you, that soft smile he reserved only for you on his face, and the realisation came crashing down that you were in love with Robert Floyd.  Five months since you decided you were going to do absolutely nothing about it, afraid of ruining the close friendship you had developed over the years. 

Bob thought the realisation that he was in love would be electric, like every nerve would be set on fire, he thought it would be like getting lost at sea and being swept under by waves over and over unable to catch his breath. He thought love should be wild and alive, coursing through his veins like it was adrenaline. 

But it wasn’t. It was peaceful and soft, seeping into the very fibre of his being, it was like being wrapped in a warm hug, of warmth and safety, of coming back to a warm house after walking through an endless storm, it was the feeling of you. 

Of holding you close to his chest when you curl up together during a movie night, of the sound of your laugh and the brightness of your smile, of how your hand slips into his and gives it a gentle squeeze to reassure him that you're there beside him during any event. 

It was two months ago that Bob realised he was completely and absolutely in love with you, two months since Phoenix practically smacked him across the back of the head when he started moping around the hanger when you told him you had a date (one you were going on in a half-hearted attempt to get over him) and explained to him why he was so upset about you going on a date. 

Two months since Bob looked over to you in the hanger, working on your own plane smiling and laughing with your wingmen, and he thought to himself that it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen with the way the sunlight filtering through the hanger danced across your body and made you glow so beautiful Bob could have swore you were a goddess incarnate, a flush spreading throughout his entire body with his heart thundering in his chest and the only thought flashing through his mind being, “I’m so in love you”. It was two months since Bob decided that he was going to take the realisation and the feelings and bury them deep inside himself, the fear of losing you as a friend overriding his desire to pursue you romantically. 

It was 12 hours ago that the world crashed down around Bob, 12 hours since he had last seen you. 12 hours since you had to eject from your jet after an engine failure and were admitted to hospital for a check-up to make sure you were okay, 12 hours since his heart almost beat out of his chest and anxiety swelled throughout his body to the point it was painful and he felt like he was going to throw up, bile forming in the back of his throat every time he thought of you being hurt and alone in the hospital. He knew you hated them, hated the clinicalness of it all, hated the fake smiles doctors and nurses held. But most of all he knew you hated the memories that came with them, of your grandfather and, most recently, your father hooked up to machines, their eyes and bodies lifeless as they finally lost themselves to their illnesses. 

He wanted to be with you, god he wanted to but Maverick had informed him no one was allowed in to see you and that you would only be in for a few hours while they ran some tests, some bloods alongside a CT and MRI to make sure you didn’t suffer from any internal injuries because on the outside you seemed completely fine, a few cuts and bruises from the landing but otherwise fine. Bob should have felt relieved at the news, but his anxiety only grew, despite being one of the best naval aviators that top gun produced and one of the bravest people he knew, he knew of your fear of needles and medical testing, again associating them with the failing health of your family members. 

The anxiety grew and grew throughout the day, turning from a sapling into a horrible monster that wrapped its claws around his heart and squeezed until he was sure it was going to stop, that wrapped a hand or tail around his throat and squeezed so tightly that he thought he was going to pass out because of his inability to breath. The worry planted itself in his heart and spread its roots throughout his veins until he could feel it in every fibre of his being, the heaviness of it making it hard to move until he suddenly couldn’t, as if the roots had spread from the veins in his legs and out through the soles of his feet and wormed their way into the ground beneath him, knotting over and over under the hardwood of the hard deck floors so it kept him anchored, unable to take even a step away from the bar where he currently sat, a bottle of beer in his hands and an empty whiskey glass to the left that he had finished within his first few minutes of entering the bar. 

Phoenix could see the tension in her back seaters shoulder’s, the way he sat hunched over with his eyes trained onto the grains of the countertops and how he was gripping the bottle of beer with all his strength (to the point she was afraid it was going to break in his hands), and it worried her. She had never seen Bob like this, not even when they flew the uranium mission did he hold this much stress in his body and she was concerned. To the point that she was quick to abandon the game of pool she was playing (and winning) against Hangman to go and see if he was okay. Which he obviously wasn’t if the way he jumped out of his skin when she placed her hand gently on his shoulder was any indication. 

“Hey, you okay?” 

As Bob’s nerves settle a little, the scare from Natasha’s sudden appearance dissipating and mingling with the anxiety already overwhelming his body, he puts the beer to his lips and gives a gentle nod. A nod that wasn’t all that convincing as Natasha raises an eyebrow and crosses her arms over her chest, showing she wasn’t leaving until he spilled. As Bob places the beer on the counter he sighs and dips his head forward a little so he’s once again staring down at the counter tops. 

“Jus’ concerned about Siren s’all.” As Bob speaks a little bit of his southern twang slips through, something he was usually careful about, but the small amount of alcohol seeping through his veins alongside the anxiety makes him long forget about hiding his natural accent, and if Natasha notices it she says nothing and just nods her head. Instead, she leans on the bar beside Bob, propping her chin in her hand as she does. 

“Hmmm… and that’s just friendly concern, right?” Natasha’s eyes watch Bob from her periphery, and she smiles as a blush spreads across his cheeks and some of the tension eases a little at her teasing, she didn’t really know how to help. She had never had a friendship like the two of yours, never had a love like what Bob held for you, but if she could take his mind off it for just a little bit then she could. 

“Of course… of course… just friendly concern.” Natasha smirks to herself as she watched Bob down the rest of his beer, it was one of only two times she had seen the WSO drink the other time being the celebration after the success of the uranium mission and even then he limited himself to just a couple beers over the many hours of celebrating but here he was a whiskey straight and a beer already finished in the space of 30 minutes. 

“Right…right.” A deep sigh falls from Natasha’s lips as she fully turns toward Bob once again, her hand still propped on her hand though now it was by her cheek instead of her chin. “You should tell her.” 

Bob eyes Natasha suspiciously, the tension eased a little bit more as he orders another whiskey and Natasha a beer, “Tell who what?” 

“Tell (Y/N) that you’re in love with her” 

Bob nearly chokes on his own spit at Natasha’s words, his face growing redder than it was before, though it's hard to tell if that was from the alcohol or his embarrassment. He knew that Phoenix knew he was in love with you, she had been the one to point it out to him after all, but this was the first time she had encouraged him to actually say anything. Clearing his throat, Bob begins to pick at the label of the empty beer bottle in front of him.

“I can’t do that…” Though his voice is quiet, Natasha still manages to hear him and she offers him a sweet smile and squeezes him on the shoulder gently. She knew his fears, knew he was scared of losing you but she also knew how you felt. Had seen the way you looked at Bobby (you were the only one allowed to call him that) like he placed the stars in the sky himself and was responsible for the rise and fall of the sun every morning and night, how you always looked at him like he was the most interesting person in the room even as he rambled on about the jets and his systems (something that put most people to sleep). She knew you were as hopelessly and desperately in love with him as he was with you. 

“Can’t do what Bobby?” Your voice surprises them both as they whip around and see you standing just behind them in your civies, your bomber jacket on and your aviators slipped into the neck of your shirt. 

The sound of your voice is like the whiskey he was drinking, warm and honey smooth as it warms its way into his heart and spreads a heat through his body that burns the roots of worry that had made a home in his body and the sight of you, healthy and alive with a smile on your face that is reserved only for him, turns the monster gripping his throat and chest into something soft and fluffy and warm and suddenly he can breath again and can move freely, feet taking him one step closer to you and then another and then another until he’s standing within arms reach and all he wants to do is reach out and pull you into his arms and never let you go until the world falls apart around him. 

“C-can’t handle my alcohol.” Bob lets out a nervous chuckle as Penny sets his second whiskey down behind him and rubs at his neck as Phoenix steps forward and takes you into a hug. 

“Glad to see you’re okay Siren.” 

“Thanks Nat.” Your voice is soft and there’s a little bit of strain to it, like you had been crying and your throat was still tender. To anyone else, it was the only indication you had been crying, your eyes bright and clear,no redness or puffiness around them. But Bob knew better, looked closer and could see the streaks that stained your cheeks no matter how much you tried to wipe them off. 

Natasha gives you one last squeeze and a peck to your cheek as she pulls away, eyes drifting between your form and Bobs with a small smile as she steps back, “We’re in the usual place if you're up for joining us.” As she turns to walk back towards the group crowded around the pool table in the corner, Phoenix mouths at Bob “tell her” and gives your shoulder a gentle rub as she passes by. 

You both smile at her as she walks away, eyes following her until she’s back with the rest of the squad before turning back to one another. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, all the stress and anxiety you had been harbouring all day bubbling to the surface once again and threatening to overwhelm you with tears once again welling in your eyes as Bob opens his arms up to you to bring you into an embrace. One you are quick to take, arms wrapping tightly against his torso and burying your head into his chest, taking deep breaths to try and try and stop the anxiety welling inside you, as Bobs wrapped his arms around your shoulder and places his chin on your head. 

As you took deep breaths through your nose, you’re overwhelmed with the scent of Bob. His cologne is almost over powering but underneath the sharpness is the smell of him, of engine oil from working on the jet all day and the lingering smell of cloves and cinnamon buried underneath the harshness of the engine oil. It was strange but it was grounding and in combination with Bob's strong arms around you, applying pressure in the right places, the anxiety inside you starts to slowly melt away. 

It starts in your shoulders, the tension in them all but evaporating as they droop a little and then it moves down your arms, a feeling of warmth spreading underneath your skin and through your veins as you feel your muscles relax, to your hands which spread themselves against the panes of Bobs back, and down down your spine, legs, and feet, as if it was dripping through your soles and into the floorboards below. 

You're so focused on your breathing, on erasing your anxiety and worries that you don’t notice Bob gently rubbing his hand down the column of your spine and him whispering in your ear that you were going to be okay, but that was more for his own reassurances than yours. The weight of you in his arms, the pressure of holding you against his chest, the scent of your perfume and shampoo invading his senses all serve as a reminder that you were alive, that you were standing in front of him and you were okay. It settled any anxiety that remained in his system. 

If Bob was being honest, he didn’t want to let you go, wanted to hold onto you for the rest of time. But he couldn’t, so instead he lets you go but keeps a hand on your arm as he leads you to the bar and moves it so it's sitting just between your shoulder blades as you lean on the bar and order a (preferred drink) from Penny, who gives you a sweet smile that lets you know she’s glad your okay and offers Bob a questioning glance as she notices the closeness between the two of you. 

It wasn’t unusual for you and Bob to be close, unless your training or on base the two of you were never too far from one another but you were usually the one to initiate any kind of affection, be it a hug or having a hand on his arm or shoulder as you stood next to him, and the affection from Bob wasn’t unwelcome, you relished in it and enjoyed it every time he initiated it. But something about this was different. 

It was soft and warm, and yet you could almost feel the desperation and fear behind it, almost as if you were going to disappear in a cloud of smoke between his fingers if he wasn’t touching you, if he couldn’t feel the sensation of your heart hammering against your ribcage (even if it's muted through your back). And if you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t so sure you wouldn’t disappear, even if it was just to an unwelcome headspace, if Bob wasn’t there grounding you to reality. 

Bob wanted to ask how you were, if you were okay, what the hospital said, but one look at the slight dissociation in your eyes and he drops the thought, not wanting to distress you any further, instead her lifts his glass of whiskey and downs it one go which causes your eyebrows to shoot up as you looked at him. 

“You okay Bobby?” The genuine concern lacing your tone sends butterflies coursing through Bob's body, his nerves tangling in his stomach until it felt like it was flipping over and over. You had your personal day of hell, and yet still found yourself worried about little old him. Bob loved your caring personality, he just wished you focused on yourself for once instead of other people. 

Bob is quick to nod his head and place the glass back down on the counter, the burn in his throat and the heat of the alcohol coursing through his veins a welcome distraction from how he had previously been feeling, as Penny places your own drink down on the counter in front of you, accompanied by a shot courtesy of Maverick which you are quick down. The burning sensation is welcome and your body already feels lighter as it makes its way through your bloodstream. 

“I’m good sweetheart” A blush spreads across your face, Bob had never called you sweetheart before and it felt so good coming from him, you associated the word ‘sweetheart’ with condescending men who thought they knew better than you or thought you owed them something, with them it was a weapon. A word sharpened at the edges and used to dig under your skin to cause annoyance or cause you to bleed for compliance. But with Bob, it was like whiskey, honey sweet and smooth, spreading a welcome warmth through your entire body. 

You wanna question him, wanna know why he called you it, but he’s ordering another drink before you can, seemingly doing it by complete accident, just a slip of the tongue brought on by the whiskey he had downed, so you leave it. Instead lift your drink, taking a small sip as you turn and lean against the bar while waiting for Bob's third whiskey to arrive before you join the rest of the crew. 

It's easy to find the rest of the dagger squad in the room of full of khaki uniforms, the tall forms of Rooster and Hangman easily standing out amongst the other aviators in the room, even if they weren’t the booming laugh of Rooster is loud enough for you to follow. You watch in amusement and the disbelief on Hangman's face and the pride on Phoenix’s as she stands from the pool table, she had obviously beat the tall blonde and you could see his mouth moving already demanding a rematch because there was no way in hell he was gonna let Phoenix have her win. 

You smile to yourself and take another sip of your drink, jumping a little as Bob places his hand on your shoulder to let you know he’s ready to head over to the others. Though he’s quick to remove it given your response, but you can still feel the warmth of it even through your bomber jacket almost as if it was scorching your skin. You shake the feeling off though and instead follow behind Bob as you head towards the usual pool table with a smile on your face, giving everyone a tight hug as they greet you. 

It’s three hours later that you move away from the crowd of aviators and towards a little corner to just watch them. You were a social person, enjoyed a good get together but sometimes things got a little overwhelming, a little too loud, a little too much and suddenly anxiety would crawl its way up your throat and take root and you would panic. You didn’t want that. Didn’t want to ruin people’s nights, especially with Maverick bringing his daughter in, just because you were a little anxious. So you took a step back, moved away from the source of the anxiety and attempted to soothe yourself.

Bob sees you’ve moved away from the crowd, he seems to be the only one who has noticed, the rest of the team too preoccupied with getting to know Mavericks daughter and so he was able to slip away and join you in your little corner. As he joins you, he notices your eyes are glazed over slightly and you look like your mind is floating a million miles away. He offers you a small smile and leans against the wall opposite you, content not to speak but be able to offer you some company, keeping you grounded to reality.

You offer Bob a soft smile and tilt your head towards the ceiling, taking a slow deep breath as you do to try and calm the anxiety that was threatening to boil over the surface. Bob reaches a hand out and runs it down your bare arm (your bomber jacket long abandoned and under the bar away from where it could get ruined), hands wrapping gently around your wrist before moving to lock his fingers with yours. 

The feeling is grounding, bringing you back down to reality before your mind can spiral completely and you're lost in the waves of anxiety. Your skin feels warm where Bob’s touch lingered and you can feel your palm heating up and almost becoming clammy as he brings it up and holds it against his chest where you can feel the gentle beating of his heart and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes in and out. 

What you don’t know is a similar feeling is brewing inside Bob, his thoughts spiralling a little as the thoughts from earlier returned. About how he could have lost you, how absolutely terrified he was over the fact he could have lost you, how his heart got closer and closer to shattering into a million pieces the longer he went without seeing you and how all the cracks seemed to heal over the minute he laid his eyes on your form when you arrived at the Hard Deck that night. 

You come back to reality, moved so you were no longer staring at the ceiling but instead looking at Bob only to see he was now floating away in his thoughts. You untangle your hand from his, placing it flat against his chest and giving it a gentle tap to draw his attention to you, “You’re floating away Bobby, everything okay?” 

Bob cleared his throat and shook his head a little as if that would help dispel the thoughts swirling around them before he replies. “I-I… fuck” With the way you were looking at him, eyes all soft and full of adoration he hadn’t seen before and how you moved your hand away from his chest and down his arm to take his hand in yours and give it a gentle squeeze to ground him much like he did you, he knew he needed to tell you. 

Bob was never poetic and he wasn’t very good with his words, with telling people how he felt about them. He knew what he was feeling, his mama made sure he was emotionally mature enough to identify his feelings, he just had a hard time vocalising them. This was no different, he knew he was in love with you. Had been for god knows how long before he realised it himself and he wanted to tell you. God, he wanted to tell everyone, wanted to climb to the highest mountain and shout it for the world to hear. 

But fear ate away at his heart. Fear that you would think he was weird, that you would withdraw from him, that you would hate him, most of all he feared losing you completely. He would much rather have you in his life as just a friend than lose you completely. But with the alcohol coursing through his blood stream, the fear ebbed away and what was left was an overwhelming desire to let you know. He wasn’t sure where it came from, if he was to rationalise it in his sober mind it would be the fact that you could have died when you ejected from the plane and then you would have ever known, your ejection serves as a reminder that seeing the next sunrise wasn’t promised and he didn’t want to die, or see you die, without you knowing how he felt. 

Bob's eyes dart from the floorboards to your face, your usual soft smile gracing your lips as you look at him questioningly, but never prying. You knew what Bob wanted to say was important, could see it in the tension forming in his shoulders and how the vein running along his jaw jumped, but you weren’t going to push. No, you trusted Bob and he trusted you, so you knew that it would come out eventually, be that five minutes or five years from now. 

As Bob's eyes reach yours, for a second he thinks he can see the love he has for you reflected back at him, the same love Phoenix had insisted you felt for him, and it spurs him on as he steps closer to you. Your breath hitches as he does, a flush spreading across your cheeks as he stops so close to you that you can feel the heat radiating from his body. 

“(Y/N)...I’m in love with you” The silence that followed Bob's declaration seems to go on forever, a pregnant pause as you let his words sink in. Your heart starts to flutter and your every nerve lights up, making you feel like you’re vibrating, heat spreads throughout your body as a flush turns your cheeks red. You're stunned, you never thought you would see the day where Bob Floyd loved you back, had convinced yourself it was impossible no matter what your sister had told you, but yet he does. 

As you stand in silence, letting the shock course through your system, you search Bob's eyes for any hint that he was lying. That it was the alcohol in his system making him say things he doesn’t mean, but all you find is truth and love. The same love you had seen in your dad's eyes any time he looked at your mom, the same love your sister had spoken about when she met Bob all those months ago. 

Bob takes your silence as a negative, the previous flame of confidence dwindling until it was nothing but embers burning in the pit of his stomach, suddenly he starts to stammer. Starts to say “You don’t-” going to tell you it was fine, you didn’t have to reciprocate his feelings that he just needed to tell you, but you’re quick to cut him off. 

“Bob! You place a hand to his chest, just over his heart and you can feel the beat of it against your palm and it feels like it's ready to break out of Bob’s ribs. Bob shuts his mouth tight, lips turning into a straight line, it had been a long time since you called him by his name, usually sticking with Bobby or even Robert when you wanted to tease him, keeping the name ‘Bob’ tucked away for when he was in trouble or you wanted his attention.

You step back a little, letting go of his hand in the process but keeping one on his chest, and throw your head back against the wall with a little huff of laughter. An action that leaves Bob speechless and confused, his mouth hanging open almost comically. Your quick to regain your composure and you tilt your head forward once again to look at him, tilting it to the side almost innocently. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh”

Bob shuts his mouth and gulps at the sincerity of your words, adam’s apple bobbing as he does. 

“I just… I have been dreaming about you saying those words for so long that it feels almost surreal to actually hear them” Bob swears his heart stops as he listens, you had been dreaming about this? The confusion must have been clear on his face, so you continue on. 

“I’ve been in love with you since our first days at Top Gun Bobby.” 

Bob stands like a gaping fish, mouth opening and closing as he tries to find the words to match your confession. After all he never thought he would get this far, thought you would run away at first mention of the ‘l’ word and yet here you are, loving him back. He’s drawn out of his thoughts once again by your voice.

“Bobby?” Your eyes are wide as you look up at him, and with how you have a hand on his chest with the other behind you to take your weight, you look the picture of innocence and sweetness and Bob can’t help but think about how he wants to absolutely ruin you, but that would be for another time. A new found sense of confidence, born from a compilation of your confession and the whiskey in his system,  previously not experienced by yourself and the other pilots left behind at the pool table drives him even closer to you. 

His hand reaches to grab at your waist, giving the flesh a gentle squeeze which forces a small whimper to fall from your lips, and the other ghosts against your jawline before settling on the corner of your neck. His chest presses against yours, he’s as close as he possibly could be and yet you want, no need him closer to you. 

Yeah sweetheart?” His voice is husky and just that little bit deeper than normal, the southern twang he tries so hard to hide slipping through and sending desire flooding through your bloodstream to the point you have to hold back the whimper that is desperately trying to make its way past your lips. 

“Kiss me…please,” your tone is pleading, almost begging and Bob swears it's the prettiest sound he’s ever heard and it sends desire fooding through his system. He wants to hear it again.

Instead of making you beg further, he tilts your chin up with the hand that was on your neck and slots his lips against yours in a gentle kiss. It's so soft and featherlight, leaving you desperate for more and after spending so long pining and wanting, you think you have the right to be greedy and demand more. So you remove your hands from behind your back and instead twist them around Bob’s shoulder, one hand tangling in the little baby hairs at the base of his neck as you push him in closer to you and deepen the kiss. Bob nearly moans at your eagerness.

The kiss is all tongue and clashing teeth, years of pent up frustration and wanting finally spilling over and showing itself, and Bob is gripping your waist so tightly you're sure there's gonna be some bruising tomorrow. 

You pull away from Bob, just barely with your lips still ghosting over his and your noses bumping into one another as your foreheads touch, with panting breath and lust blown eyes. Your hands travel down from the nape of his neck and across the expanse of his broad shoulders to lightly grab at the flesh of his upper arms that are exposed in his service uniform. 

“Take me home.” Your breathless from the kiss and adrenaline coursing through your system, with your words coming out barely above a whisper but Bob hears you and he moves his hand from your hip and neck to take your hand in his, using it to guide you through the sea of people now gathered at the Hard Deck. He stops at the bar and closes out both your tabs as you order an uber, not wanting to be driving even with the small amount of alcohol in your system. He guides you outside and pushes you against the exterior of Hard Deck, hands moving under your shirt to grab at the soft flesh of your waist as yours wrap around his neck and pull him down into another kiss and this time you don’t stop until the uber pulls up.

As the two of you make your way out of the Hard Deck, you miss the smiles from your fellow pilots (especially Phoenix) as they watch the two of you leave, giddy smiles on your faces and hands tangled with one another, happy to see you two finally getting together, and miss Hangman handing money out Phoenix and Rooster with a grim look on his face.

[smallestapplin]

Be careful

Request : can I request a fic of Dracula where the reader gets injured and he thinks they are gone, but they aren’t and he takes care of them.

Cw : mentions of blood and injury, nothing severe or graphic, but a heads up! Mainly from Dracula view, so has a few of his worried thoughts of losing you. Fem reader is called wife.

(Also another repost from my now deleted side blog)

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You’ve never wandered too far from the castle, it’s why Dracula has never had to worry, you never venture too far, and always stay where one of his minions can aid you.

Which is why you not returning for dinner has him concerned, you didn’t mention going into town, or going out somewhere he was unaware of.

All you had mention was going on a walk, and that usually meant walking around the castle grounds.

So he does not wait another moment, anxiety already gripping his undead heart that something happened. He cannot lose you too.

The second he’s outside, the cold wind hits him, reminding him of how late in the night it is. You’ve never been out so late, at least not without him at your side.

His cloak flows behind him with the wind, black hair becoming a mess from it, but he does not care, only focusing on finding you.

In a moments notice, the night becomes still, giving the vampire an overwhelming feeling of loneliness.

Until his smells something all to familiar.

His heart drops at the smell of human blood, moving so quickly to the source it was like he was a blur to the rest of the world.

Amber eyes darting around, trying to find you. Though he freezes when he does.

You look so beautiful as you always have, but you’re not moving. You lay limp on the ground, facing the sky, you outfit a little messy from the dirt.

Dracula is instantly at your side, hands shaking as he tries to calm himself down. Gently lifting you up, making sure to take great care to not jostle you too much.

He sighs loudly, and of relief once he sees your breathing, he can hear you heart beating, it’s such a beautiful sound he was almost afraid he wouldn’t hear it anymore.

Holding your head to his chest to protect it, he realizes that’s where the blood is coming from.

He wastes no time, teleporting to castle and rushing off to your shared bedroom.

Once you’re safely on the covers he gets to work. Being mindful to be careful with you, he takes great care to clean the wound on the back of your head, making sure no a speck of blood or dirty was covering it.

He nearly collapses in relief once he sees the cut is not that big, can feeling your skull was not hurt in the process. After patching you up, and satisfied at how you seem to be in less pain, he calls for one of his minions.

“I require a glass of water, and a cold pack, now.” He nearly growls, watching the guard rush off to go get exactly that.

Once everything was set, he light a few candles, just to offer some dim light for you. No doubt your head will be sore once you awake.

If you awake.

He sits by your bedside, refusing to move and leave you, even when the supplies he asks from arrive, he merely sets them on the night stand.

And stays right next to you.

His ears twitching at the smallest change in your heart beat. He can hardly focus on reading his book, waiting for you to wake up, when all he can focus on is your breathing.

You can’t help but groan, your head feels like it’s throbbing, and everything hurts. Your slowly open your eyes, cringing at just how sore you feel.

You move your arm sluggishly, as it feels like it’s made of lead, to wipe the sleep from your eyes.

“Oh thank goodness you’re awake.”

You cringe at the deep, gravelly voice speaking to you, only to hear him coo softly at you. Blinking a few times, your eyes finally focus onto the worried face of your beloved.

“Hey…” your throat hurts, as you sound hoarse.

Dracula reaches over, grabbing the glass of water, before gently helping you sit up, while bring the glass to your lips.

“You gave me quite the scare, dear.”

He chuckles at your soft whine. You lay back covering your eyes with your arm, while he sets the glass back on the night stand.

“Do you remember what happened?”

You move your arm, looking up at him as he leans over you. His cold to the touch hands cup your face, letting you melt into the welcoming touch.

You close your eyes, trying to think.

“I was walking, and I remember I wanted to check out the flowers in the court yard, but then I slip or must’ve tripped over something…”

You press your face further into his hands, trying to sooth your headache. Dracula strokes your cheeks with his thumbs, cooing softly to ease and comfort you.

“Worry not, just rest here. I’ll take care of you, my love.”

He cannot express the weight lifted off his shoulders, he wouldn’t know what he would’ve done had he lost you, undead heart aching at just the mere thought.

You’re his beloved wife, his beloved, he adores you so much, if anything worse had happen…

He shakes those thoughts from his mind.

You’re safe.

You’re in his arms, on your bed, talking to him just fine.

You’re okay.

Your warmth is still in his hands. Your heart beat still ringing in his ears, reminding him you’re alive, you’re still here.

You let out a confused hum, feeling his hands move from your cheeks, to wrapping around you and hugging you to his chest.

You bring your arms up and hold onto his cloak, burying your face into his shirt. The vampire buries his face into your neck, breathing shakily.

He won’t tell you, but you know, you can feel how worried and panicked he was or has been.

He doesn’t want to worry you.

But you know.

You nuzzle against his chest, sighing contently.

It wouldn’t hurt to stay like this for a few more minutes.

[honeymaki]

thinking about mikasa taking her anger out on you after a fight with annie 🥺 her being all mean and calling you all sorts of names as she’s fucking you with her strap but after you’re done she calls you her good girl and is so proud of you for taking her cock so well 🥺💕

Warnings: rough sex, strapon, use of petnames (baby, princess, love), implied fem reader, crying, praise, mentions of injuries and blood, ever so slight implications of dubcon but prior consent given.

Notes: please read my rules, I don’t like to write or read degradation in any form thank you 💕

This is such a 🥺🥺 so what if she just - is so angry, so flushed and puffy lipped and hard handed with how she mandhandles you on to your back, thighs up by your ears, dick hitting so deep and so hard. Her big hands still taped and bandaged from the fight, bruises littering the knuckles visible through the tape, one of her nails purple where it’s digging into the fat of the back of your thighs, keeping you rooted, holding you down, tummy folded and jiggling with every downward swing of her hips.

“Take it - nngh - take it fuckin’ -,” sweat drips between her breasts, strands of her black hair sticking to her forehead with effort, eyes squeezed shut and the little cut on her lip is all you can focus on. Between that, the heavy brush of her tits over yours, the yellowing bruise on her jaw and the nasty fuck of her cock stirring your insides,

“S-slow Mika please,” you’re halfway to sobbing, lip wobbling, fingers grappling at her ass to pull her closer or push her away, head tossing into the sheets and pillows tossed around you. She hoists a leg, adjusts her arms so they're fisting the sheets, doubling down over you, knees cradling her shoulders that bulge and strain with every mean nasty thrust. 

“Nnghnot gonna - won’t stop, I can’t - I know you don’t want me to,” Mikasa pants above you, eyes fluttering shut when the strap pinches her clit and slips and slides when she - “Right there, feels so good - can’t stop you just gotta fuckin’ take it,” it’s like she’s not even talking to you, jaw clicked and neck straining, that lickable tendon still baring the bruises of her fight with Annie. The practise fight with Annie, the silly little wager Eren suggested, the stupid playful fight where Annie got too serious and too boisterous when you were mentioned.

“So fuckin - ,” she punctuates an explosion of anger with a particularly harsh thrust, grinding and kissing so so deep, “Wish she could see you now, see how good you take it, how good you are - look at you baby,” her eyes squint open to look down at you, rolling back when all she can see is you, teary eyed, mouth open, throat bared and ripe for her to sink her teeth into. Maybe - maybe she should take a picture, show Annie what she can reduce you down to, how good you are for her - that she does in fact have someone to fuck, someone that loves her and lets her do whatever she wants, whatever she needs...

“Love you, love you nd this pussy - fuck, s’good baby,” she’s slurring, hardly moving her lips, catching then between her teeth when your whines grow louder, legs kicking out against the brute strength that keeps you in place. Tears explode from your eyes, mouth open and yelping with every hit to your cervix, every bash to your clit, every upward grind to your sweet spot. Little uh uh uh’s into her neck as she strains above you, lashes fluttering and body moving with every thrust into you.

The pace changes suddenly with a hand cupping the top of your head; changes when you shudder and shake and quiver all wet and drippy over her thighs, changes when you whimper her name and push at her clenching stomach, changes when you shakily pucker your lips in an ask for a kiss. Slow, long and strong, licking into your mouth and drinking your eager mewls despite how much you’re shaking and squirming beneath her. Mikasa noses at your cheek, huffing into your ear, groaning,

“S’good for me baby, beautiful aren’t you?” breathy but still with an edge, “Perfect little pussy, perfect little princess - hah,” she trembles into you, pinching just right, grinding at the perfect, collapsing against you with a sigh.

“So good baby, fuck - lettin me do what I want, letting me - fuck,” gasping, breathless Mikasa feels you twitch when she hitches her hips, another little orgasm shocking through your body when the rough fabric of the strapon catches on your swollen, slippery clit,

“Careful, careful love, I got you” she’s still inside of you, still all up in your tummy and she - doesn’t seem to want to move, “gonna stay right here kay? Right here,” fingers split around where you’re stretched around her cock, sending shivers down your spine and gasps to spill from your lips,

“Mika - I - ?” You’re still out of breath, squirming under her and managing to disconnect your hips with a filthy wet squelch, dildo smearing up against your thigh and tummy, “please - please can you put my legs down? I can’t feel them,”

Slicking her sticky forehead over your chest, Mikasa grumbles as she lets your legs flop down on to the mattress, still refusing to move from caging your body beneath hers,

“S’stupid,” lips peck your skin, brushing over your tits and down your belly, “she’s stupid,”

“Next time, next time just like - punch her maybe?” you moan when her calloused hands start massaging the tight muscles in your thigh, “And maybe - uhhh - maybe I can - huhhh,” you petter off, eyes fluttering shut when Mikasa slinks from the bed and replaces her body with a blanket, slipping off the strapon and tossing it into the bathroom with a huff,

“Don’t worry about that right now,” returning to your side, still naked, still sticky and a little shaky, but holding a bottle of juice and one of the cookies Armin made the other day, “you did good, considering -,”

“S’okay, I liked it yknow?” You turn on to your side, gazing at your girlfriend lazily, “unhinged, maybe you should loose more fights but only the practise ones cause I like it when you win,” Mikasa smiles at you, fondly, as lazy as your little slurs and grumbles,

“You just like the victory sex don’t you?”

“Maybe win again, nd I can figure that out,”

[sonar-fairchild]

Is it a funky shape?

I got three scars to make it look like I got attacked by a wild animal that ripped my tits straight off.

[ofallthingsnasty]

On a more positive note, I am slowly regaining the feeling in my injured ring finger! It still feels a little fuzzy but I can feel pain and small things again. I was beside myself after the injury last year, mainly because I know how serious nerve damage can be. Hopefully it'll fully recover in a year or two but I am very hopeful that it will. I could only feel pressure last year around this time, so being able to detect pricks and pain is huge.

[sukunasstarlight]

adding a vodka soda to the mix gang

[taiinted]

❝If ya wanted to hurt me, ya succeeded, because ya didn’t jus’ break my body, you broke my heart and soul. M’probably never gonna trust anyone again after what ya have done to me   ❞  

[thunderslumbers]

Life Itself || Tanjiro Kamado, Kyojuro Rengoku, Tengen Uzui

warnings: spoilers for the Mugen Train & the Entertainment District arcs, blood, injuries

word count: 525 words

summary: when life kicks you down, you get up again.

author's note: can you tell I really like glass animals lol

"Come back down to my knees, be like them, lean back and breathe" life itself, glass animals

Tanjiro Kamado

In the midst of the destruction you're in, you're somehow alive. Your comrades are nowhere in sight, and you feel warm blood pooling around you

Something in you feels like it's burning, and you manage claw out of the rubble, your sword being used as support to stand up

You see the upper moon advancing towards a kneeling Tanjiro, and you freeze. You can only watch as Tanjiro hits the upper moon with a kunai and pins him down with his sword.

The burning in your lungs, spreading to your limbs, spurring on your hands to tighten around your sword snaps you out of your trance and you move without thinking

Tanjiro sees you rush forward, your hoarse voice calling out "Flame Breathing, First Form: Unknowing Fire" Your sword hits Tanjiro's and he sees a spark of red before his sword digs even deeper into the upper moon's neck

That is, before the demon's blood art pushes the both of you back, and you two have to deflect the blood blades that are increasing in attack speed.

Kyojuro Rengoku

The mugen train was much more precarious than expected, you slept while one of the train demon's minions entered your subconscious, attempting to shatter your spiritual core

As a hashira your self preservation instinct was strong, leaving your body to trap the minion within a headlock, squeezing down to block airflow

You finally woke up in the chaos of the transformed train, watching as flesh tentacles inched towards innocent passengers. In an instant you went to work

Your sword cleaved through flesh as you met up in the middle of the train with Rengoku and your junior, Tanjiro.

Both you and Rengoku agreed on you defending the front four cars with him guarding the back 4, and as soon as he said that he went back in a flurry of flames

Both you and Tanjiro made it to the train's engine room, you stayed behind to keep the passengers safe, and when you heard the demon screech when it was decapitated you knew he succeeded

And now you had to make sure the passengers were safe from the oncoming derailment of the train

Tengen Uzui

You were the only one of Tengen's spouses to actually be a demon slayer, a high ranked one at that

When the time came to infiltrate the Red Light district you, Makio, Suma, and Hinatsuru volunteered

You hadn't run into trouble yet, your reports to your husband finding their way to him. You've haven't heard from one of his wives and that's what worried you

You've heard rumors of a certain house, with a certain Oiran, before you could do anything though, your torso was wrapped with a pink obi and you were tangled in it, forced into a temporary slumber.

You wake up to see a boar headed boy attacking the wiggling obi, Suma and Makio are awake too. The muscle mice bring out your blade and you start tearing at the web of that pink obi, careful to not cut any of the women still trapped inside

You hear a large boom coming from above the cavern and you smile, your husband's here.

[saintobio]

not so much sy related and also it may be a spoiler for those who haven’t read ‘love, always’: was satoru’s dissociative amnesia the same love,always!yn had too??? i mean ig hers was not the same one as his because she recovered them fully but we know what happened at the end rip and he (satoru) may/may not recover them just as quickly as previously stated by the dr… i hope this makes sense haha, i was just curious because i remembered the similarities in that

love always!yn has retrograde and it’s purely bc of her brain injuries. she has aneurysm (?) from what i remember, and it’s kinda what led her to die in her sleep.

sn!gojo’s amnesia stems from partly the injury, but mostly emotional trauma so it’s easier to retrieve those memories if his mental health continues to improve. based from all the research data i’ve gathered, you have more chances of fully retrieving ur memories if u have dissociative amnesia than with retrograde. but since satoru has both, it’s complicated.

[themissakat]

Moth mAnne AU Comic: Reunion END

Hey I heard you guys like cliffhangers

Pages: (1-4),  (5-8), (9-12), (13-16), (17-20), (21-24)

TW: Blood, Injury, Animal Harm

I’ve been collabing with the amazing Reyna_Is_Epic on the extended story/plot for Moth mAnne, and they finished the Prologue Chapter just in time for this final part to the comic!!

Please go check it out!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36281308/chapters/90447709

Thanks for reading!

[bontensucker]

Under your spell - Part III

Minors don’t interact

Summary : The great inquisition. In a small village during medieval old time, a young crusader has been ordained priest. A rumor of a witch cursing the place with plague has rapidly spread around. To find the witch and put her at the stake, the holy knight has instilled fear and mistrust but he finds resistance in you. Starting to have dirty thoughts about you, he gets you jailed, so sure you’re the sinner he’s chasing after. But are you really the one you pretend not to be ?

WC : 3.7K

Content : Historical au, angst, names (whore, slut, witch, demon...) , lots of cursing at the end. But basically pure angst for this chapter

Pairing : Crusader!Taiju Shiba x Fem!Reader.

🕮 Previous chapter | 🕮 Next chapter

When you wake up, Taiju is nowhere to be seen. He deserted his bed and left you alone, your hands still chained together and you soiled with his cum still deep inside your womb. You put your hand between you legs and it’s still sore from your night of passion.

You know it was a bewelderment moment for him.

You did not expect him to be there. You know he’s a man of his word. And you’d be dead by the end of the day, regardless your new feelings for him.

You try to repress them the moment you remember how you felt at home in his arms, his big warm hands on your skin, his lips on your throat, and the way he went so hard yet so good inside you. You let yourself smells his scent just one more time on his pillow and then you force yourself to get up.

You clean your legs a bit and try to find something to cover yourself with as he ruined your clothes. You open his closet and find a white linen shirt that fits you like a dress because he’s so tall it’s oversized for you.

« Will do. » You say looking at you in the mirror and then you wait.

You know the guard will come fetch you, back to your cell or directly at the stake but you stay calm.

An hour passes and still no one. You’re looking at the door, expecting for someone to come as the clock ticks your life away.

You let them tie ou up in a dead lience and drag you  out of the room and oustide the church.

You let them tie ou up in a dead lience and drag you  out of the room and oustide the church.

You let them tie ou up in a dead lience and drag you  out of the room and oustide the church.

You cross the place until you reach the plateform where the executioner is waiting with a torch.

The crowd starts to howler at you the moment you appear, and you hear words that don’t suit you.

Witch. Whore. Sinner. Slut. Demon. Devil. Killer.

You’ve done nothing wrong but they need a culprit.

Some of them are throwing rotten vegetables or rocks at you. You get hurt in the process and your head starts to bleed.

You fall to the ground, people are spiting on you, trying to kick you and when you lift your head, you see him. He sits in a chair in the middle of the notables of the village, on another plateform in front of yours.

And even if his full attention heads to you, his eyes don’t meet yours.

You shiver, try to not look at him but you can’t bring yourself to focus on anything else.

Look at me priest. Look at me crusader. Look at me Taiju…

The soldiers helps you to stand up and make you walk to the stake. When you turn around the crowd his silent.

Only torches here and there are lighting the place up and they’re all looking at the inquisitor.

He stands up and open a parchment that he read out loud. But you don’t understand it. You can’t. This voice was whispering sweet nothing to your ear hours ago.

« Y/n, you are find guilty of sorcery, attempt murder on a God’s servant, spreading plague around the village, of curse on our dear people with intention of killing children, woman and men. Your possessions will be destroyed. Your name will be forgotten and your remains will not be burried in our consecrated land. By the will of our Church and our almighty God, you are excommunicated. » He stops here and looks at the crowd for a long minute and for the first time his eyes meet yours for the last words. « I condemn you to burn in the flames of hell until ends of time. »

You don’t feel your eyes water, you don’t hear your sorrows you just look at him until it’s impossible to see through your tears. It’s the first time he sees it too. You’ve always been so tough to him. So brave.

But he doesn’t flinch. He can’t. This is too late. You met each other too late. Just a couple of years ago, when he was still in the battlefield, still a soldier and not a priest, he could’ve meet you, he could have marry and cherish you. But it’s too late. He solemnly swear to dedicate all his love and life to God, and you, are going to die.

« If you want to repent woman, it is time. »

You don’t know but it’s his ultimate attempt to save you from the flames of hell. At least you will be received in heaven where maybe one day you’ll meet again.

If you want too.

You open your mouth and he hopes for you to say the right words. But you don’t.

« You know me. All of you know who I am. I was born here, I grew up among some of you ! We went to church together ! You know I am not a bad person. You know I did nothing wrong ! If you are looking for a culprit look at this Church. Look at this man they sent to give justice based on nothing but his own prejudice ! I am no evil, and for God’s sake I am not a witch ! You are condemning an innocent ! » You look at him, wiping off your tears, like the proud woman you want to be until the end. « May God forgives you all for your sins. »

The crowd immediately react, they call you a liar and a witch that needs to rot in hell while while the sentries tied you up to the stake.

It’s time. You look at him, still saying I am not a witch, you know I am not, hoping for him to read your lips.

When the executioner turn around in waiting for his order he doesn’t move. He doesn’t nod. He has just his eyes fixed somewhere in the crowd. The Mayor decides to give the order to light up the stake.

You will not give them what they want. They will not see your pain. They will not have your fear.

It’s slowly spreading around you. The fire starts to take over and you feel an extrem pain licking at your feet. But you still look at him. A thick smoke starts to cover your vision and when you can’t handle it anymore you start to cry out in utter pain.You never felt so much pain. You are burning alive whle the smoke is stranggling you and you can’t breath anymore. You are dying.

It happens fast.

Someone you don’t know is flying over the crowd, shouting to people to make way. They take out a dagger and cut your ropes. Your shirt his on fire, already consuming your right leg and arm and he grab water to throw at you.

The last thing you see is a cold stare on you before you lost consciousness.

When you open your eyes you are somewhere you don’t recognize. It’s an abandoned place. The roof partially collapsed and trees are growing their branch inside.

There is nothing inside but your bed, a straw mattress near an old chimney were a fire is burning to keep you warm. When you try to move it’s so painful, you start to cry in pain.

You look at your right arm covered in bandages. Blood and yellow substance are staining it in different places and you inhale sharply remembering you were burning alive.

Am I dead ? You think.

With your left hand you push out the sheet covering you and you can see the very same bandages and stains on your right leg.

You open your mouth but can’t bring yourself to even breath out. You want to cry, to throw up and still you can’t do anything. You are trapped in a deeply injured body and you don’t even know in which state your face is. You might be burned all over.

You try to cry for help but no one is answering. If you are not dead you are going to die here. You need to drink, you need to eat, you need to pee. But you can’t move without feeling like someone is skinning you alive. You never felt such pain. Not even when your body was burning.

You decide not to move. Waiting. But for what ? You don’t even know.

And you think. Your last memory is a stranger’s face over you. Did someone save you ?

It can’t be. Taiju would have killed them on the spot. Maybe they’re already dead. It can’t be. It can’t be !

You stay here for hours until you hear a horse coming your way. When you turn your head to call for help you stops yourself and open your eyes wide.

A tall man you can’t mistake for anyone else stands before you with his cape on. A hood covers his face and you know it’s him before he takes it off.

Taiju is looking at you but he doesn’t smile. He never does.

« You !» you try to lift your body up but he doesn’t allow you, putting you back to bed.

« Do not ! You suffer from very serious injuries. I cleaned the wounds but you have to stay still. »

It wasn’t him who saved you. You’re pretty sure it wasn’t him. Because he didn’t move from his seat when he watched you burn down.

You swallow hard, a tear of pain running along your cheek. « Why ? » you ask him with a broken voice.

He doesn’t answer. He takes a flask of water out of his bag  and put it to your lips and you drink immediately, so thirsty.

« You have been here for five days now. You shall rest. »

« Why ? » that’s all you can ask.

You need to hear it from him. Why is he here ? Why does he sentenced you to death, why are you still alive.

« Stop asking questions woman. »

« Fuck you ! »

It’s like you slapped him hard. He looks at you utterly shocked.

« Why ? » You repeat again.

He sight and take out a piece of bread he put up your mouth.

« Why ? » you insist but he doesn’t answer.

You deny the food, turning your head.

« You need to eat. I know you are hungry. »

More like angry to you. If you could move, you would beat the shit out of him.

« Answer me priest of God ! Why ? »

« I do not want to force you to eat woman, but if you insist,by the saints, I am going to put this food down your throat even if I have to chew it myself. Eat ! »

He starts to lose patience but so do you.

« Then fucking answer me ! I am not going to eat your food until you tell me the truth. »

« THERE IS NOTHING LEFT TO SAY ! EAT, NOW ! »

« LEFT ? YOU DID NOT EVEN STARTED TO TALK ! »

He opens his mouth and close it again. He did. But you were asleep. He stayed by your side and talked a lot to you. His prayers where for God though. He offered his life to save yours. But he will never tell you.

It’s between God and him.

« Fine ! I am not eating. »

A vein of anger you know too well dawn on his forehead « You are ! »

« Am not ! »

« ARE ! »

« NOT ! »

« FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WOMAN WHY ARE YOU SO STUBBORN ?! »

« SPEAK FOR YOURSELF PRIEST. »

« Fine ! Remember you made me do that ! » he tells you before ripping a piece of bread with his teeth and chewing it.

You think you won. Until you see him bending over you, taking your jaw in his powerful hand and applying pressure on it for you to open.

You try to push him away but it’s too painful. He feed you himself, put it in your mouth and then roughly close it for you to eat.

« Swallow. » he orders.

You would spit it to his face if he wasn’t for him to muzzle you with his hand.

You cry out in pain when he applies more pressure but he doesn’t let you go. « I said swallow. I am not letting you go until you swallow, do you hear me ? »

After a few second of throwing dagger at him with your eyes you swallow and he let go.

« Now, do you want me to do it again or are you going to eat like a good girl ? »

« I am not a fucking child ! »

« Watch your mouth woman. I do not tolerate such language. »

You snort in pain. « So ? What are you going to do ? Put me at the stake ? Oh wait… »

He avoid your furious gaze but doesn’t apologize.

« I did what I had to. »

You roll you eyes at him. « Yes. Right. God’s will. Did he also told you to eat me out ? Did he tells you to shag me ? Maybe he told you to breed me before burning me up ? »

You see his jaw clench painfully but you know he will not play your game.

But you are unstoppable. « YOU RUINED MY LIFE ! I DO NOT EVEN KNOW IF I WILL BE WALKING AGAIN OR EVEN USING MY RIGHT ARM BECAUSE OF YOU ! »

Your heart beats fast and you try your best not to cry again. You need to take a deep breath, to calm down. « You knew I was not a witch. If not I will not be here and so do you. Who was it ? Who saved me ? You owe me the truth. »

He sit next to you, putting his arms on his knees and doesn’t look at you.

« I paid a rogue. I could not do anything else. Do you really think I would still be alive if I did it myself ? I needed to stay alive to heal you. The morning before your execution I went to another city to find help. But no one wanted to deal with the inquisition. I went to three other villages and a city before finding someone, it took me the whole day. He was a murderer and I had to absolve him of his crimes to make the deal… I did pay him in gold too. When I came back with him they were already gathered and ready to burn you. When they lighted the stake up, he was stuck in the crowd. The plan was to take you away before I finished to speak. God knows I did not wanted you to be harmed. »

« Where is he now ? »

Taiju take a pause and says « Gone. »

And you know he doesn’t mean gone far away. A man has died to save you. Even if he was a criminal.

« I would punch you if I could. » You mumble looking at the roof. « I despise you so much. »

The crusader, take his bag and put next to you food and water. « I will be back tomorrow to change your bandage. »

« No, I do not want to see you anymore. »

But he came back. He came the day after, and again. He came everyday just after the dawn to heal you, clean you, feed you.

Even when you tried to push him away, when you didn’t wanted to talk to him. He remained silent but he took care of you. Everyday.

Almost 3 weeks has passed and today you try to stand up. The pain is still here but you know you will never recover and have to learn to live with it. Your skin is burned in the right side. From your shoulder to your fingers and from your knee to your toes.

After a day of attempt you finally stand up. You are limping but you can walk a few steps. You wish you had at least a mirror to look at your face. He never told you what it looked like now. Never made any comment on your body neither when he changed your bandages.

You take off your clothes to examine your body but there is no other big damages you can see.

This is how he finds you when he comes in. You, naked and out of your bed.

He stops when he sees you with your hands touching your face and hair that is now much shorter because of the fire.

He looks at you not saying anything like always. « Is it bad ? » you ask trying to find any wound on your face.

« No. You are still beautiful. » He takes off his cape and put it around your shoulder to cover your body from his eyes.

You look at him not knowing what to say. You were so mad at him since he rescued you. But this is the first time he tells you what he really think about you.

He carefully take you bridal style and put you back in your bed. « You should not have left your bed. You are still wounded. »

« Do not boss me around. I am not a believer anymore thanks to you. »

« I know. » He is calm today. Almost compliant.

He takes off his bag new bandages, apples, bread, soup, whine and water. And then a holy book. His holy book.

He keeps the last one in his hand and avoid your gaze. « I thought maybe you would like to read something. Do you know how to read ? »

« The priest before you teached me. He was a nice man. A good man. Not like you. »

« Yes. Well. » He put the book near your food and stands up.

He heads up to the exit and stops, turning his back on you.

« I am leaving. There is a new crusade starting next month. They ordered me to go fight in God’s name. Our enemies are stronger this time. They need my regiment front line. »

All your anger is disappearing in the moment. Your life and hopes too. « What ? »

« Worry not woman. I already paid someone to take care of you until you can move again. I will leave you enough gold for you to buy a nice cottage and start a new life wherever you want. »

« But- » He doesn’t let you speak. « We will never see each other again. I am going back to fight overseas, I do not expect to come back anytime soon. You will be freed from me. »

You want to say that no, he can’t leave you alone after what he did. He has to take responsibility. But you can’t bring yourself to tell him you want him to stay by your side.

So you do what your pride allows you only « When are you leaving ? »

« Tomorrow. »

« No. »

« Woman- »

« I said no. You cannot go. You are going to die there. I know it. »

« I am a knight, a protector of the faith. I fight in the name of our Lord. I took an oath, if I have to give my life for that, so be it. I failed at being a good priest. I failed at being a good man. I will not fail at doing my duty. » 

You try to find anything to make him stay. But you don’t. « Are you coming back tomorrow ? »

« No. »

« You have to. »

You hear him sight heavily and he looks at the ceiling. « I have to take the lead of my regiment before noon. For your safety this place is miles away from the village. I cannot come back here. Rest assured I will do what I said. You have my word. »

« I do not care ! I do not want your gold. »

« Fine. I will let it at your disposal. If you do not want it, do not take it. Know it will be there anyway. Farewell Y/n. »

He walks out of the place without giving you another look. You hear his horse moving and then he’s gone for good.

You’re stunned, like petrified, he really left. He left without even a last glance. He abandonned you here, in the middle a nowhere to go sacrifice his life in a pointless battle far away from you.

When it clicks, you start to shout until your lungs are sore. « Fuck you ! I hate you ! Hope you fucking die in your stupid war ! May the devil take you away ! Idiot ! Stupid man. I will not miss you ! Fuck I cannot think I gave you my virginity ! I hate you ! I fucking despise you ! You are the worst. You can fight as much as you want you will never erase your sinful life. Monster ! »

You take his holy book and throw it across the room. The book opens to the last page and you see a handwritten message.

You frown and do your best to stand up again but it’s to hard. So you start to crawl on the floor, trying not to lean on your right side.

When you finally make it to the book you take it to read.

There is just two words left here like a summary of what he was unable to say.

Yours, eternally.

T.

Taglist : @p-antomime @bubble4u @aasouthteranoswife @ucancallmeelena @haitaniapologist @kaleeuh

[honeymaki]

anon said: hi kitty !! hope ur day is great and you’re staying well hydrated <3was just thinkin of firefighter hange zoe saving u from a big house fire and in return, they bring u home and rail u on their soft sofa. ofc they provide u with some camomile tea to soothe ur throat after all the screaming and a warm bubble bath🥺(btw, this is the same anon that sent you the commander hange thougt and i luvved ur little thirst !!)

Parings: Hange Zoe x fem!reader

Warnings: mention of fire, mention of slight injury, oral, fingering, multiple orgasms.

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: yeah...this accidentally turned into something a bit longer also m not sure how much I like it:(

The don’t know you, not truly, not really; all you do is walk your dog past the station every day. But, you say hello, you wish them good afternoon, you let your sweet little dog waddle over and say hi too. Sometimes, they're washing the truck in a tight white t-shirt and those brown trousers all firefighters wear, and you are a bit weak at the knees for the suspenders that sit tight and heavy over their wide, broad shoulders.

But what makes Hange feel like they know you the most is the fact that you’re happy whenever you see them; you wave and you chirp, and your dog gets far too overexcited for you to control, dragging you across the road with a wagging tail and a big, slobbery smile. 

However, when the call comes in, when the street sounds a bit too familiar and the apartment block bears a name that tickles something in the back of their mind; Hange dreads what they might see upon arriving at the scene. The fire was only small, something electrical, some silly stone students in the flat below you and Hange nearly crumples to the ground when they find you sat in the backdoor of an ambulance, cuddling your teary dog. You’re stained with soot and smoke and clearly upset and shaken, bottom lip wobbling and telling the police officer everything that was in your apartment, everything that you lost. 

And it takes Hange seconds to make up their mind, baring their way through the medics and police to scoop you up with a careful hug. They're so tender with you, checking you over like they were a medic instead of a firefighter, giving you oxygen when your voice gets croaky, feeding your dog water and wrapping a blanket over its back. You don't want to leave their side, crying when their superior tuts and calls them away for a debrief, immediately grabbing their hand and burrowing into their scratchy, heavy brown jacket. 

"I'll take you home angel, Levi'll take your dog to the vets to get checked over okay? he'll keep an eye on her I promise - let me get you somewhere safe,"

You follow Hange without a question, tall and lean and so so strong, keeping you tight to their side and keeping a big veiny hand on your thigh the whole car ride home. You're only in pyjamas, some old gym shorts and a sweater and Hange can't get enough of your soft skin. 

At first it's not sexual, not at all when they're feeding you water in the kitchen having hoisted you onto the counter - a firm hand on your thigh and slipping up under your shorts, moving to your fleshy hip and then squeezing your waist. they're so gentle, so soft with you and how you keen and press yourself closer, seeking comfort and touch and care -,

"I got you angel, I got you I promise," you're kissing them all small and breathy, swallowing mewls and arching your back when Hange pries your legs open and cups your neck, your shoulders, your breasts. They're so strong, so hardy and so lithe with the way they lick into your mouth and suck on your tongue, hard and sloppy and messy enough to leave a trail of saliva down your jaw when they move to lathe at your neck. the noises you make - god - Hange wants to hear everything you have offer, wants to prompt more purrs and whimpers and gasps from your pretty lips. They're eager, smart with their touches, letting you drop from the counter and walking you back to the couch, discarding their shirt and trousers, towering over you, crowding closer and closer till you're stuck for breath and sharing theirs. 

No part of your body is left untouched, thumbs digging into your beaded nipples and nails catching on the delicate skin, dragging down the wet path left by their lips. 

"Oh! Please - Hange, please!" your voice is scratchy, so croaky from the smoke that talking hurts, moaning hurts but their lips tracing your labia and their tongue swirling your clit only makes you cry out louder and louder. Your thighs are strung over their shoulders, squeezing their head, hands threading through their hair and pulling it back into a messy, tragic ponytail so you can see - fuck - so you can see the way their pointed tongue darts back and forth and over and over your clit, zigzagging through your pulsing pussy and catching on your entrance. Hange moans too, god - they practically whine into your cunt when you start subtly moving your hips, jerking and twitching to follow their tongue, reaching out, crying out, sobbing out for them. 

Hands collide, tightening together, fingers lacing and squeezing and you tense with how hard your back arches, toes curling when their tongue hits deep, so fucking deep. Your entire body feels like it's on fire, sweat gathering on your temples and thighs trembling with how hard you're tensing, belly quivering and god - you can feel their tongue curling, dipping in and out, hardly pulling away to breathe and for a split second, you feel a puff of air on your aching clit and it's too much. 

Hange drinks and slurps and noisily moans through your orgasm, never stopping, never slowing down, never speeding up because your hips cant into their face and their nose bumps against your slippery clit and -,

"s'too much, too much!" a kitten kiss to your clit has Hange pulling away, but - something thick prods at your entrance, eyes bleary and tongue heavy in your mouth. Looking up, you begin to make out the looming figure of Hange, panting like a rabid dog and biting their lip as they prop one knee beside your hip, hand dragging up your sternum and cupping your quivering breast,

"One more, gimme one more angel and I'll stop I promise - shhh, it's okay, I'll take care of you, I got you honey," two thick fingers slide into you, long and crooking, probing, searching for the spot that makes your entire body jump and your mouth to drop open with a teary whine, 

"Come on angel girl, give it to me," their pace is unforgiving, not entirely fast but hard, hard and deep and jolting, bicep flexing beneath your clawed hand and you lift your head for a kiss, receiving their tongue and their lips with a wanton grunt. your feet are planted on the floor, giving you momentum to grind your hips, circle them, hitching their fingers deeper, harder - a third joining and stretching you with lewd squelches and dribbles of creamy white. Hange seems just as torn as you, just as ruined as you, mouth open and panting into yours, gasping with you, following the contours of your body and every writhe and twitch it gives them. 

"So close - s'close Hange I'm gonna cum, gonna cum! fuck!" little ah, ah, ah's escape your lips and they drink them down like fine wine, the heel of their palm digging into your clit, not enough, too - not enough,

"Touch yourself then," you hadn't even realised you'd said the words out loud, Hange's dark eyes boring into yours and god, their thick fingers hook into your spongy walls with a precision that had you barely holding on, "Go on - show me, play with your clit angel, make yourself cum,"

It takes three hard swipes of your budded clit for you to gush down their arm, fluttering and lifting on to your tiptoes to follow the slippery slide of fingers abusing the sweetest, puffiest parts of your cunt. You think it's strange how quiet you are during it all, until you find your bearings again and find Hange eagerly sucking your bottom lip and taking little care for the saliva stringing between the two of you. You're limbless when they finally pull out, finally pull away with a moan at how your cunt tries to swallow them back in, lifting their shining fingers and parting them,

"Look at that, look at what we did to you,"and you can't bare to look at the slick webbing between her fingers, curling into their chest and whining in embarrassment, squealing even when the telltale sounds of slurping and smacking alerts you to Hange cleaning themselves up.

"C'mon angel face, let's run you a bath yeah? I made my own mixture of bath salts for achy muscles and soothing tension,"you don't miss the clear pride in their voice when you grumble and groan, but accepting their word for it. And god - do they get the balance right, sinking down into the bubbles that smelt like rosemary and olive, the water a deep green and seemingly melting away the stress of the last few hours. 

Hange sits on the toilet beside you, towel unfolded in their lap and holding a cup of steaming tea, another concoction of theirs that smells pleasantly warming. It is peaceful while the two of you mull over the past events. content, calm, a little amusing when Hange admits to cumming untouched while eating you out, but that's what has you - never really leaving. there's no home left to return to, and what belongings were salvaged from the fire fit in easily alongside Hange's. 

It was easy, it was natural, the three of you; it just was.

[ndcultureis]

Dyspraxia culture is finally learning which side is left and which is right after breaking one of your arms as a teenager. (It's been over a decade since I healed from that accident I still can tell left from right!)

.

[scribbling-dragon]

Writing Prompts for Vigilante!

"What are you doing out this late!? You have school in the morning!"

"Aww, you care!" "Your bleeding out of course I care!"

this, uh, got a bit long. so it's going under the cut and being posted on ao3 lol

Late Night Excursions

Summary:

He hadn't meant to be caught out tonight, really, he had told Xornoth he would be back within an hour, at the very most. The sun was setting as he slipped out through the window - old habits die hard, he supposes - and the moon is now high above him (when had that happened?), the silver light bathing the streets and illuminating the small, rust-red trail that’s slowly following behind him.

(AO3 Link)

(2,236 words)

He stumbles around another corner, tripping over nothing as he stumbles. His breaths are short and heavy as he leans against the brick of the building. It’s cool against the exposed skin of his back, scraping across his skin in a way that’s just painful enough to make him grit his teeth and grimace in pain.

He rests there for a moment, head tipped back against the brick. He keeps his eyes closed, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, attempting to control his breathing better. He heaves himself upwards, stumbling forward with uneven steps. His tail flicks behind him, and he’s off-balance, but he doesn't pay attention to that, ears swivelling as he searches for the smallest hint of someone moving around him, the smallest sound that could hint at someone approaching him again.

He hadn't meant to be caught out tonight, really, he had told Xornoth he would be back within an hour, at the very most. The sun was setting as he slipped out through the window - old habits die hard, he supposes - and the moon is now high above him (when had that happened?), the silver light bathing the streets and illuminating the small, rust-red trail that’s slowly following behind him.

The warmth is wet on his hand, and he tries not to think about it too much. He closes his eyes as though it’s going to push back the images when all it really does is bring them surging forward with a vengeance. He tries not to think about how easily the blade had sunk into his skin, slowly pushing through layers and layers of muscle and tissue. He had stared and stared, unable to comprehend what was happening, voice choked and caught in his throat as he stared down at the bloody handle of the knife.

He remembers, with surprising clarity, the way his hand had easily found their shoulder, claws curling into the clothing of his attacker. He didn't even think about the way he easily channelled the heat down his arm, into the palm of his hand. The way he had held on even as they cried out in pain, hand burning through their clothes, fingers curling and melding the fabric into their skin.

But he doesn't remember pulling the knife back out.

Yet, as his hand remains pressed over the wound, carefully cupping the slowly pouring blood, there is no knife sticking out of his side. So, it must have come out at some point, though he doesn't remember pulling it out, surely that would hurt? He’s heard that it would hurt, and it would be dumb to assume it wouldn't. Maybe it fell out, though that seems even less likely than his previous option, because he’s pretty sure it went in deep-deep, like, he could have sworn it scraped against one of his ribs at some point-

There’s an impact behind him, one so silent that he wouldn't have heard if he weren't hyper-alert. He spins, vision swirling as he settles into a fighting stance, pretending he doesn't wobble back and forth as he stands there, one fist half-raised as the other continues to clutch his wound. He’s rather certain if he removed that hand he would actually bleed out.

“What are you doing out this late?” The voice is familiar, even to his pain-fogged mind, and he takes a step forward at the same time they do. “We have school in the morning.” Their worried eyes flick over him, a dull red in the dim light of the moon. They have really pretty eyes, he realises, he’s pretty sure he’d told them that before, but they look really pretty, especially as they're nowhere near the shade of red for blood. It’s like, a nice red, one that a particularly nice rose would have. Maybe he should get them a rose? Or maybe a garnet stone. They like gems. He frowns, they probably already several garnets, what other rocks could he get them-

“Joey?” Xornoth steps forward again, and he meets their eyes again, smiling up at them as they grab at his shoulders, fingers light on his skin, cautious. “Are you okay?”

“Aw,” he leans into them a little, head tipping down as he looks at them, “You care.” The motion tugs on his stomach, pulling at the wound that definitely doesn't have a knife left in it still. They look positively radiant in this light, their eyes practically glowing as they stare up at him, swimming with an emotion he doesn't understand.

“Of course I care- you're bleeding!” Their hands grip his shoulders a little tighter than, and the warmth from them floods his skin. He sinks into their hold, easily leaning into them as they support his weight. They push him back slightly, pulling his hand away from where it covers the wound. They only flinch slightly, and he frowns as they continue to stare at it, holding his bloody hand above their head.

They grimace, before pressing his hand back against the wound, covering it up again. The warmth is more familiar this time, and he simply presses it closer.

“I think only you would manage to get mugged two streets away from us.” They laugh, pulling his arm over their shoulders, beginning to guide him along the street. His feet feel disconnected from the rest of him, stumbling along at an awkward and uneven pace. Xornoth doesn't comment, or if they do, he doesn't hear it. He’s too focused on watching his feet, carefully placing each one and grimacing when it buckles beneath his weight.

“I wasn't mugged.” He manages, tongue catching against his teeth as he tries to speak, heavy and thick in his mouth as he turns to look at them. They stare at him for a second, face entirely too disbelieving, before they shake their head.

“What happened then?” They ask, staring ahead of them again, eyes on the dark street. Shouldn't the street lamps still be on? If they are, then why is it so dark?

“I got- someone, they came up behind me. They asked if I was the Lost Prince, which I am, duh, so I said yeah. Obviously.”

“Obviously.” They hum, directing them both to the left.

“Yeah.” He nods, almost falling forward with the movement. “Obviously. And I'm like, famous, aren't I? I'm famous and so I assumed this person was just a really big fan or something, because I'm a really cool hero ‘n stuff. Why wouldn't someone want to speak to me?”

“You're a very good hero.” Xornoth reassures, and something loosens in his chest at their words.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s what I thought. And I thought this dude thought it too, but they just go for me, and next thing I know they have a fucking knife, and they just- just stab me. Right in the abd- adbo- stomach. And it hurts, and I'm really mad about this, because someone just stabbed me. So I just grab them, hand on their shoulder. And I burn them, I haven't done that in years.”

He faintly registers the gates they pass through, the way Xornoth pauses to shut and lock them behind them.

“Did you burn them badly?”

“Yes!” He shouts it, louder than he had meant to, and it echoes more than he expected, bouncing around them as he stares at Xornoth, tears beading in the corners of his eyes. “I don't hurt people. Not unless they're bad people with like- like big weapons and are doing bad things.”

“They were doing bad things.” Xornoth turns to look at him, face softening into a look of pity- of sympathy. “Oh, Joey.” They reach up to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye. “They stabbed you, that makes them a bad person. That was done with the malice of forethought, they wanted to hurt you.”

“But I burned them.” A few more tears slip loose, soaking into the fabric of his mask. “That makes me a bad person.”

“No it doesn't.” Xornoth’s face swims in front of him, blurred by tears and exhaustion. “It means you were defending yourself in the way you know how to. Just, let’s go inside and get you wrapped up, yeah? I'm sure Scott’s plucked all of his feathers by now.”

“Scott’s still awake?” He glances upwards, even as it makes his head spin and his eyes water more. “I thought he had a really important exam tomorrow?”

“You're more important than an exam. To both of us.” Xornoth smiles at him, leading him in through the now unlocked door. “You're our family now, and I'm rather certain you’d have to beat Scott in a fistfight for him to relinquish that.”

“I could beat him in a fight.”

Xornoth hums, “I'm sure you could, darling.”

He snorts at that, but doesn't protest as he’s led down the hall, towards a room with it’s light still on. The kitchen is cool when they step into it, and Scott springs from his seat a few seconds later, appearing in his vision and making him startle.

“Sorry, sorry.” Scott raises his hands, eyes flicking between the two of them. “Have a good patrol?”

“Got stabbed. So no.” He replies, watching for the exact moment that Scott realises he’s bleeding.

“Oh Aeor.” Scott’s eyes widen. “Let me grab the med kit. I’ll be back in a second.” He brushes past them, and Xornoth leads him further in, allowing him to collapse into a seat.

“I'm going to get blood on your floor.” He complains, staring down at the nice and clean white tiles that have already been stained with his blood.

“We can clean it. It’s fine.” Xornoth pats him on the shoulder. “Want any pain meds? We’ve got paracetamol.” They half turn away, hand reaching out towards the cupboard they keep the medicine in, a question in their actions.

“You say it weirdly.”

They pause, face scrunching up, before turning to face him fully again. “What?”

“You say paracetamol funny. You pronounce the ‘ce’ weirdly.”

“No I don't.” They frown at him. “You say it weirdly. You don't say para-cet-a-mol. It’s para-ce-ta-mol.” Scott reappears at his side a few seconds later, dumping the med kit on the table with a clatter.

“We don't have a suture kit in here.” He announces. “So if it needs stitches, we’re going to the hospital.”

“And how are we going to explain that? Sorry, doctor, our friend here likes to go gallivanting around the streets at night with barely any clothes covering him being a vigilante.” Xornoth crosses their arms. “That sounds like something that definitely won't get us arrested.”

“He just…tripped onto a knife?”

“That makes it sound like one of us stabbed him.”

“I don't think it needs stitches.” He contributes, and the two twins turn to look at him. “I don't think it’s that big, just kinda deep.”

“Fine.” Scott’s shoulders slump. “Whatever.” He crouches beside him, pausing and glancing up at him, before carefully poking at the wound. He winces a little at that, but Scott seems satisfied with whatever the poke told him, leaning back on his heels to grab a roll of bandages. “You two are incredibly lucky I took that first aid course.”

“We know.” Xornoth braces their arms on the back of his chair. “You keep reminding us.”

“Because you keep making me use it.” Scott replies, beginning to wind around his stomach with the bandages. “This will probably be a bit tight, but if it feels like I'm squeezing your organs out, let me know, yeah?”

“Okay.” he nods, watching as Scott winds the badanges with an expert ease. His face remains focused, and he watches him, wondering when or if he’ll break. Scott doesn't glance up until he’s tied the bandage off and he’s sitting back, admiring his work.

He meets his eyes then. “You're not going to school for the next three days. At least. If I see you out of bed without help tomorrow I'm going to put you on bedrest for longer.”

“How would you know if I get up? You're going to be at school. Checkmate.”

“I'm not going to school tomorrow.” Scott blinks, and he looks really tired at that moment. “It is way past four, and I have to be up in two hours. I am not getting up in two hours. You're going to be lucky to see me at all tomorrow.”

“I thought owls were nocturnal.”

“That only works if they sleep during the day.” Scott stands, extending a hand to help him stand too. He takes it, surprised when Scott pulls him forward into a hug, arms wrapping around him and holding on. “Your morning hug for the day.” Scott tells him as he pulls back. “Since I doubt you'll be up before noon.”

“Aw.” He grins down at Scott. “You really do care.”

“No I don't.” Scott’s face shifts into a scowl. “Fuck off. I'm going to bed.” He turns tail pretty quickly, and Joey watches him go with a grin. He turns to Xornoth a few moments later, still grinning.

“C’mon.” Xornoth winds an arm around his side. “Let’s get to bed too, yeah?”

“Sleep sounds nice.” He agrees. “And not going to school sounds even better.”

“You're going to complain about the catch-up work tomorrow.” Xornoth nudges him slightly.

“Oh yeah.” He nods, still grinning. “One-hundred percent.”

[sleepsart]

For the drawing ask: H 10 and any empires character of your choosing

Pov: The Incident (not canon)

[ ID: A traditional drawing of a younger Empires Gem from the shoulders up. She's hunched over slightly and holding her hands up near her face. Her face is covered in blood and her hair is messed up, short, and burnt at the ends. She's looking down with an unfocused and pained expression. End ID ]

[that-funky-family]

An Exchange Of Words [Part 3]

Masterlist

Part 2

If there was a word to describe the book, it would be odd. The book itself was cold to the touch yet warmth like a fireplace. The pages were new. Then old, yellowed with slight tearings around to show it's age. Then when the page was turned, it became new again. And then old.

Aside from the physical appearance of the book, the content itself was strange. Ash had been reading for over 5 minutes yet they could not make the head and the tails of the book. Like chapter- no, every page was different. Unconnected. Like the author just tore pages from a hundred other books and just stuck them all in there.

In one page, it detailed the anatomy and uses of an echinacea. The explanation was cut off by the end, supposedly continued in the second page but when Ash turned to see the back of the paper, they find themselves reading a journal entry of a soldier in World War II written in German.

Wait. German?

The book was clearly French when they had picked it up, wasn't it? It was clearly written on the cover! A punny wordplay on something.

Something. Something..? What on God's green earth was that something?

And then it clicked.

The book was anomalous.

Ash wanted to stop reading upon their realisation. Something yelled at them from inside their mind to put the book down. Or to look away. Close it. Something. Anything but to keep turning the book over and over and over again.

They found themself trapped in their own mind with only their hands moving. Turning onto the next page of the book. And the next. And the next. Over and over again.

Eventually, it gained speed along the way. Before they realised, it, they were flipping through the pages furiously. All the words from the book got absorbed into their mind and although this section of the library was silent, the words got louder and louder.

The words pounded against Ash's ears. Screaming, echoing, crying, begging only for it all to be swept away by a whirlwind of distorted thoughts and a hurricane of letters. Something pricked their fingertips too and amongst the overwhelming cries of written words, a tiny bit of wetness trickled to the rest of the finger.

Eventually the hand.

And finally the godforsaken pages. But it was not enough. All of it was not enough.

Ash continued turning the pages. One more page. One more. Just one more. One last page. One last chapter. One last paragraph. One last sentence. One last word-

And then there was not but silence.

Ash Gallagher by @ask-the-anomalous-linguist

Part 4