#I keep praying but God feels so far away. and I’m afraid it’s all my fault. just… please pray that he’ll draw me towards him.

[gumified]

PRICE TO PAY

pairing: god!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary: you had prayed and prayed for the drought to finally end, for the village to finally be granted rain, so when meeting one of the gods you strike a deal and pay the price.

content: 4.4k, smut, pwp, big dick!gojo, virgin!reader, praise, degradation, dirty talk, cunnilingus (fem. receiving), ice play, bondage, gagging, fingering, squirting, orgasm control, overstimulation, public but also not public sex

note: have fun :D

The heat beat down on your face as you walked up the hill, buckets of water straining your shoulders. Your throat was parched and you were drenched in sweat. You were so thirsty it was unbearable. It had been months since the last rain and the nearest stream was miles away. Your village had long since lost hope, abandoning their faith in the gods. But not you. You knew they were up there. You believed they would help.

While everyone else assumed the drought would eventually end, as it had before, you couldn’t wait. Your brother was so young; he might not survive much longer. Water was life and without it survival was impossible.

“Hey, Ren.” You forced a smile for your brother. His face was flushed, and his clothes were tattered. “Come on, you need to drink this.”

Ren coughed, struggling to sit up. “Y/n, you’re back.”

“Yeah.” You brought the bowl closer to his lips, urging him to drink. He sipped weakly. “How have you been feeling?”

“I feel really hot.” You felt his forehead and sighed when you felt it even warmer than before. The fever he had was burning through his body. Ren wrapped his arms around your waist, clinging on you tightly. “Y/n you won’t leave me will you? Not like mum and dad.”

Brushing his hair out of his eyes, you felt your heart break a little. “Of course I won’t leave you. You’re gonna be stuck with me for the rest of your life, promise.” He grinned, giggling. There’s a small bit of you that wished that this would end soon but you knew better. 

“I love you Y/n.” Ren mumbled, eyes fluttering shut.

“Love you too Ren.” 

You were shaken awake and you nearly screamed when you caught sight of a beautiful face in front of you. His jaw was perfectly chiselled and his lips were plump, kissable almost. You felt your cheeks flushed. His eyes were what captured you most of all. Sapphire swirls painted his eyes, you felt yourself being pulled towards him. 

“You mortals really do sleep like - what’s the saying? Oh yes - like the dead.” His sneer transformed his handsome features into something far more menacing. “Don’t you know it’s disrespectful to spend the night at a temple?”

“I-I’m sorry, I must have fallen asleep by accident.” You tried to move away but it was like an invisible force was keeping you from moving your limbs. He smirked, crawling closer to you so that you were inches apart. “W-Who are you?”

“Little mortal doesn’t know who I am.” His tongue flicked over his lips. “You’re in my temple, little one.”

"Y-Your temple…" The cogs in your brain turned and you let out a frightened gasp. "Y-You're a God."  

He grinned, a low chuckle escaping his lips. "Smarter than you look. It's Y/n isn't it?" Words failed you and you felt your throat grow dry. He twisted a strand of your hair around his finger. "You've been praying for a heavy rain season for weeks. How could I not remember your name." 

"Does that mean you'll help me?" 

"I'm afraid the weather is in my brother's domain. I control the oceans, mortal." 

"I know who you are, Satoru Gojo, God of the oceans and earthquakes. Your brother controls the sky and its weather." You said meekly, feeling your cheeks burn at how close he was. The tapestries had always depicted him as a handsome man with bulging muscles. But something about seeing him in real life had you so enamoured. 

Satoru smirked, the blue in his eyes growing even brighter. His body glowed with a soft, golden aura. You gulped, unable to meet his gaze. "And yet you knew that, but still came to pray to me every day, making sacrifices as well."

"W-Well they say you're the most generous s-so I thought…"

"You thought I would help you?" Satoru cocked his head to the side. "Don't you know everything comes with a price?" 

"And I'm willing to pay that price." 

A silent pause passed between the two of you before a smirk crept up on Satoru’s face. You noticed his eyes grow darker, the bright pigment transformed into a much more seductive hue.

“My, my, little mortal’s brave.” You felt his eyes trailing over your body and you felt like you’re being hunted. “So you’ll do anything?” His fingers brushed over your thigh teasingly. You nodded. 

A wicked grin spread across his face. You squeaked in surprise when his mouth collided onto yours. The intoxicating scent of the ocean filled your senses and your eyes fluttered shut. Satoru’s lips moved ferociously against yours, it made you feel dizzy yet they tasted sweet at the same time. You could taste the sugary taste of leftover ambrosia as he delved into your wet cavern, tongue exploring each and every crevice. 

Your arms remained by your side, unsure of what to do. But when Satoru tugged you forward, they wrapped around him tightly, and you felt him smirk. Your hands wandered over his rippling muscles, trying to carve the feeling into your memory. He bit down on your bottom lip, drawing the slightest bit of blood.

The taste of your own blood mingled with the sweetness of ambrosia, created a heady mixture that made you gasp. Satoru pulled back slightly, his breath hot against your skin. "Everything comes with a price, little one." He murmured, his voice a velvety whisper. "Are you sure you're willing to pay it?"

You nodded, breathless and trembling. "Anything, just please help us."

Satoru's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and something darker. "Very well, mortal. But remember, once a deal is struck with a god, there's no going back."

His fingers traced patterns on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "You'll belong to me," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "Body and soul."

You felt yourself growing hot as he ravaged your mouth, a soft growl emitting from his throat. You weren’t familiar with his actions, you had never been bedded, too busy tending to your sick brother. The people had called you many names but you didn't care. But now, with your minimal experience, you were nervous, scared even at the thought of a God deflowering you. Nevertheless, you started to grow wet, your pussy started to stick to the thin piece of cloth that covered you. 

Satoru pulled away yet again, a single strand of salvia connected the both of you as he awaited your answer. You panted, out of breath and slightly intoxicated from just the sense of him. 

“Do you accept?” His voice was deep and sultry, something about him was so deliciously seductive that you couldn't help the way your thighs squeezed together involuntarily.

"I accept." 

Satoru's eyes flashed with satisfaction. "Good. Then let our pact be sealed." He captured your lips again, this time more possessively, his hands roaming your body with a newfound intensity. You let out a moan as his tongue slithered back into your mouth. 

He sunk two fingers into your folds making you whimper at the stretch. Your hands gripped his biceps, nails digging down. Satoru licked his lips, continuing to pump into you, gradually increasing the pace. The lewd noises that filled your ears made a blush rise to your cheeks. Never in your life have you felt so dirty, so shameless.

"You're dripping, my sweet. Who would've thought you'd be this turned on." His tone was laced with unmistakable lust and hunger. "Been watching you for so long. Couldn't wait any longer to be inside you." He growled, fucking into you faster, drawing louder moans out of you. 

"S-Satoru…" You gasped as he plunged another digit into you, manoeuvring his fingers so he hit all the right spots. "I-I…"

He stared at your core, your juices all over. For a second he slowed down, giving you a chance to breathe and relax before he picked up the pace. Curling his fingers, touching your sweet sensitive spots in your velvet walls. His thumb rubbed your clit, playing with your sensitive nub. A tight hot rope seemed to wrap around your stomach as Satoru continued to fuck you harder. He smirked as your walls squeezed his fingers. You let out a gasp when he touches a particular spot within you. 

"Close my sweet?" He whispered, lips brushing against your ear and it sent you closer to your high. All you could do is nod fervently, the twisting feeling wrapping around your stomach tightened. You mewled as he fucked you faster, adding another digit. “You can’t cum just yet, got to make sure you’re ready for my cock.” He hummed.

You clenched around his fingers once more, tears pricked your eyes as you threw your head back at the pleasure you were receiving. Satoru surged forward, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. He swallowed your moans and whimpers. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving soft open-mouthed kisses in his wake. Your noises were like music to his ears as he drank in every moan, whimper, mewl - the breathy gasps and the lewd pants. 

“You know my sweet, there’s something that I love about being a God.” 

You gazed at him through your lashes, his lips curling up into a devilish smirk. An ice cube appeared in his hand. You weren’t sure what to think until he slid it up and down your hot wet folds, then you were gasping at the coldness that hit your core. There was a rush of newfound delight that filled you up and you were rutting your hips, asking for more.

Satoru simply grinned, pushing the cube of ice further inside you watching your reactions bloom in front of him. His fingers were dripping with both water and your arousal. You let out a soft hiss when the ice cube is pressed harder into you. The coldness contrasted with the warmness of your needy walls. It spiked through your body as it made your blood rise and your head became light at the overwhelming feeling. You were clutching onto Satoru with so much force that it would hurt him but he didn’t care, not when he was in the midst of unravelling you.

“Let’s see how many you can hold.” It shocked you into a frenzy when you felt another ice cube get pushed inside you, the last one still slowly melting. 

“Mmmph. Too much, ngh, feels weird, ‘s too much.” Your mind seemed to explode as you babbled incoherently. “F-fuckkk ‘toru it’s cold a-and-“

You were unable to finish your sentence as Satoru reached out his hands to pinch your clit causing you to jolt forward at the sudden gesture. You felt a rush as you gazed up at him. watching his smirk grow as he looked at your sopping pussy. 

“You’re so beautiful!” He teased your folds, rubbing against them harsher. “Take more for me okay? You’re such a good girl, my sweet, keep that dirty pussy dripping as I stuff you, okay?” Satoru’s lips brushed your ear. “Then I’ll let you cum.”

You felt yourself spiralling into euphoria when he slid his finger down your pussy. His tongue flicked over his lips as he admired your fucked out face. Morals left your body and you let your urges take over. All reason and thought left you as you were reduced to a whining needy mess. Your pussy clenched pathetically around the ice cubes, the cold still surprising you. Satoru did nothing but coo at you, tucking strands of loose hair behind your ear.

“Come on my sweet.” He urged. “You're doing so well. This pussy is so pretty, she’s just so gorgeous, fuckkk, wish you could see her.”

“A-Ah, ‘toru good f-feels so g-good.” 

You were writhing beneath his grip, a feeling of overwhelming pleasure surged through you as he continued his actions. Your pussy constricted around his fingers and you felt something grow within you. Your nerves and senses were heightened as you felt his fingers nudge at your swollen clit. 

“I-I feel somethingg, ngh, f-feels weird like I’m gonna burst-” You gasped out, unable to keep the noises within you.

“Awwww.” Satoru’s tone was mocking as he watched your tiny frame twist and turn under his grip. A wicked grin spread across his face. “You’re close, my sweet, beg to cum and maybe I’ll be nice enough to let you.” 

It was almost painful but the pleasure was so uncontrollable that it overtook any pain you felt. Satoru slid another freezing ice cube into you, making you scream. Your mind was dizzy and you could only feel yourself getting stretched repeatedly with the cold object. Your pussy walls were both cold and hot, the mixture that Satoru had concocted dripping from them. Sweat covered your body, glistening as the sun shone down. You felt like you were on the verge of collapsing, so desperate for an unknown pleasure to come to your saviour.

“S-Satoru...cum, p-please. W-Wanna cum…” You stuttered helplessly, silently shrieking at the contrast of temperatures.

“More, beg more.”

You screamed at the feeling as his fingers thrusted in you making your head light as you desperately gripped onto his shoulders, clawing at some sort of way to tether you to the present. His words were laced with seduction as he continued to tease you.

“C-Cum cum cum, please pleaseee, needa cum so b-bad ‘toru fuckkk! P-Please let me cum, ‘s too much need it s-so bad, please please please!”

Satoru laughed as he buried his head in your neck, placing kisses on the empty space. He loved your desperate pleas, the breathy moans that would fill the gaps and the tears that followed as you begged him for something you had never experienced before.

“You’ve been such a good girl.” He purred, his deep voice making you clench around him. “And good girls deserve to cum. Go on my sweet, let it all out on my fingers, make a mess of this pussy.” 

You felt a wave of ecstasy rush over you as he pressed his fingers down, biting into your neck. Your body shook at the sensation that overcame you. You rocked against Satoru as you felt your pussy squeeze and constrict. A newfound feeling gushed from within you and you felt yourself scream at the pleasure. Your mind was reduced to filth as you moaned, the ringlets of your release jolting through your body. Satoru groaned at the way your cum coated his fingers and he stared at your desperate cunt, watching the aftermath of the mess you had just created. You didn’t know what to think, your mind cloudy and confused. 

“You fucking squirted, dirty fucking girl.” His eyes were transfixed and suddenly you felt embarrassed at the wetness between your thighs. He reached his hands out forcing you to stay open for him, exposing your most private part for him to ogle at. “Who knew this cute little pussy was capable of such filthy things. You’re just a whore in disguise aren’t you?”

Your pathetic mewls convinced him of nothing. Satoru stared in wonder at your pussy, watching as you clenched around nothing. He slid his fingers in his mouth, tasting every bit of you. A low moan was heard before he dived down licking up your mess. Still sensitive, you cried in shock, threading your hands through his hair. He sucked harshly at your sensitive bud, lapping at your juices. The feeling made tears bleed from your eyes and you tug on his wispy locks. 

“Like it, my sweet?” His voice sent tingles down your spine and you held back the urge to scream. “Can’t hear you?”

“L-Like it so much ‘toru…” You let out a shaky breath, beads of your tears clinging onto your lashes. “P-Please…”

He lapped at your cunt greedily, swallowing every single drop. Your arousal dripped from his chin with a mixture of his salvia. His ears were blessed at the loud squelch that would emit from between your legs. Everything was so messy but he didn’t care as he continued to play with your pretty cunt. You could only whine and quiver at the feeling. Your legs shook, still sensitive from your previous orgasm. Blissful thoughts whizzed by as he kept you locked in an euphoric sensation. You struggled to not cry out and sob when white dots blurred your vision. 

Satoru flicked his tongue against your engorged clit, plunging the wet muscle inside. His mouth was hot and you felt his tongue circle your swollen clit messily while you stuttered out pleading moans. He pried open your thighs, desperate to access deeper into the precious new heaven he had discovered. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head at the overstimulation, finding it hard to focus on anything as your senses overloaded. Your mouth hung open as sweet whines constantly fell from your lips. All you could do was lie there letting Satoru ravage your pussy like a man dying of thirst.

“C-Close, close so so so close!” You gasped when you felt him release with a pop before diving back down to continue to suck. “Too much, ‘toru ‘s too much, feels t-too goodddd…”

It wasn’t long before you were cumming again. Another round of your wet arousal coating his face and he licked it clean. You were drooling now, salvia running down your chin as you felt the tears run down your face. It was too much and you feel yourself fall into a new world of pure pleasure. You could feel Satoru’s lustful grin against you as he sucked your pussy. Your thighs shook, chest heaving up and down. Despite the fact you had just released it never stopped the god from indulging you in his carnal desire.

"Sweet little Y/n." He cooed as his thumb ghosted circles around your puffy clit. “Think you’re ready for my cock?” 

It was a question that didn’t need an answer but you still nodded your head lifelessly. Your body was limp in his grip and you struggled to hold yourself up, relying only on him. Satoru smirked from above you, pushing you down on the marble floor. His hands were big and warm and the simple touch had heat blossoming at your pussy. You barely registered what was happening until you had your hands tied together. A thin golden cord wrapped around your wrists and Satoru bit his lip. You looked so beautiful, so pretty, so submissive. 

“I like you this way my sweet. All tied up and ready to be used.” He frowned and you panicked, scared you had angered him. He snapped his fingers and you found a piece of cloth in your mouth, stopping you from speaking. “That’s better, as much as I love your noises I find this much more appealing.”

Your eyes widened when he reached down to release his cock from its confines. You had never seen something so big and dare you say pretty. Satoru’s cock was red and flushed, pre cum oozing out of the swollen tip, dripping like pearls as they rolled down his fat cock head. You felt yourself drool at the sight and you didn’t think you would want something in your mouth so bad. He grinned smugly at your reaction, knowing you were unable to say anything as you stared transfixed at the sight before you.

“Don’t worry my sweet, I’ll make sure to make you feel so good. I know how much this pussy loves to be filled up.”

The words are dirty yet you couldn’t help but let out a muffled whine as he picked you up. His tip pushed past your folds, nudging into your pussy hole. You shut your eyes letting yourself feel the stretch that he gave you. His cock was so big and every bit of your body felt like it was on fire as he continued to push inside. He paused letting you adjust, whispering into your ear quietly. Filthy praises that only made you drip and mewl. It felt like magic and you whimpered into your gag helplessly. Satoru’s fingers brushed through your hair and he peppered sweet kisses across your face. 

It was like your world had imploded as he thrusted into you. Nothing else mattered as you moaned and squirmed at his touch. Your senses went into overdrive as he quickened his thrusts. He pumped in and out of you. He filled every crevice of your sex. His pace never slowed even as you felt all the energy leave your body. You screamed into the gag when he hit that particular spot that had you keeling. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head and you gasped for air through the gag. 

“Fuckkk you’re so tight, such a slutty virgin pussy. Look at how you’re gripping on my cock my sweet, she’s so loud.”

His words only made you keen with desire as you gave in to the carnal temptation that bloomed within you. 

“Mmmmph!” Your moans grew louder with every harsh thrust as his cock touched every part of your gummy walls. “Ah-Ah-Ah! ‘toruuuu!”

Satoru showed no mercy as he pounded into you. Cock plunging in and out of your pussy. Wet noises echoed through the walls of the temple and a small part of you felt bad for doing this, here of all places. It was inappropriate but it felt so good. Too good even. He continued his movements and the binds that once bound you vanished and you assumed that this was a sign that Satoru wanted you to touch him so you obeyed. Your fingers dragged down his back, sure to leave marks. Fingers fluttered from place to place, desperate for something to anchor you.

“You look so beautiful, pussy sucking in my big cock. Such a good girl for me.” He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. Everything he did felt amazing. “Moan for me my sweet, go on let me hear those filthy sounds.” 

You obeyed his command letting the lewd sounds tumble from your lips as you gasped for more. Your hands roamed the vast expanse of his body, the taut muscles that lay under your hands, each touch ignited sparks. His grip on you tightened, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling just enough to make you gasp again. Every brush of his lip, every stroke of his tongue, every bite and nibble was a reminder of his power and you couldn’t help but give in completely. 

The vigor that he fucked you with was compared to no man and you couldn’t help the lustful sounds that escaped your lips as his hips snapped to yours. It made your mind reel with the feeling of pleasure. His hair fell into his eyes and you reached your hands to sweep through his locks. Satoru was so handsome. He was a god after all and you couldn’t help that your heart pounded whenever you looked at him.

You felt your orgasm approach and you clenched your hands around his toned biceps, nails digging into his skin and he hissed. You moaned repeatedly into the gag as your body shook frantically from the pleasure. 

“A-A-Ahhh! ‘toru ‘toru ‘s too much, nghh.” Your body thrashed in his grasp, wriggling and writhing as you felt the immense feeling build up again. Every movement magnified the intensity as you felt the shock ricochet throughout your body. 

“It’s okay my sweet.” Satoru whispered but his thrusts were unrelenting. His fingers brushed against your clit, circling the bundle of nerves as he drew out your orgasm. “It’s okay, let's cum together. Soak my cock Y/n, such a good girl.”

Your juices overflowed and you felt his cum pump into your body, filling you up until you were so so full. Warmth blossomed throughout your body and you felt yourself wringing his cock with every drop of cum. The feeling was incomparable and you gasped for air once he removed the gag with the snap of his fingers. Satoru kissed you, his lips were demanding, moving against yours with raw hunger. The taste of the ocean filled your senses, salty and intoxicating. He pulled out to place a kiss on your thighs, on your pussy. You were so sensitive and you felt his cum as it flowed out of you. He stuffed two fingers in your pussy and you squealed at the sudden gesture. His fingers curled in and out of you before he slapped your core. The sting sent shock waves through your body and you couldn’t help the moan that tumbled out of your lips.

“Keep it in there my sweet, I’ll be visiting again.” His voice was a husky whisper, deep and seductive. 

Then, with those words, he disappeared, leaving you a naked mess on the temple floor. You were breathless and reeling from the pleasure that he had just bestowed upon you. You had just given yourself to a god, one that had just stuffed you so full of his cum. You stared at the place where he had been in shock, your head felt light from all that had just happened. Your legs gave way when you tried to stand up, they were sore and achy, covered in splatters of both of your cum. His smirks and groans filled your senses once again and you felt yourself flush at the memory. 

Satoru Gojo had just introduced a lustful desire that you didn’t think you would be able to forget for a very long time.

You gathered your belongings with shaking hands, urgently attempting to steady yourself as you stood. The wet splashes that painted your body were a stark reminder of what had just happened, and you tried your hardest to conceal them along with your flushed, fucked-out face.

You hobbled your way back to the village, heart pounding in your chest. Every glance from a passerby felt like they could see right through you. The sheer thought that someone would stop to talk to you had you eager to get home unnoticed.

Unbeknownst to you, Satoru was watching from Olympus, his eyes never leaving your retreating form. He grinned, a sense of satisfaction washing over him as he saw your tiny self hurry home. The memory of your trembling body and flushed cheeks was seared into his mind and he felt his cock harden again at the thought. He knew you were thinking of him, longing for him, and that was exactly what he wanted. When the time was right, he would come for you again, and induce you in a pleasurable haze once more.

[fortes-fortuna-iogurtum]

.

[messylustt]

murderous — ethan landry + reader ( scream ) : he tried to get you out of the city, but it’s too late…

contents : reader death. blood and violence. angry ethan. quinn being a bitch. wc 1.2k

You watch in horror as a friend you’d grown close to over the past year take off his Ghostface mask. Ethan Landry stares back at you, cold. But inside he’s burning. He had tried to get you out of the city, dropping subtle hints, but nothing seemed to work. He hadn’t wanted you to get caught up in his family’s revenge plan.

But here you were, eyes wide, with blood trickling down your forehead. Ethan hissed at Quinn. “You said you’d leave her alone.”

Quinn tilts her head, mockingly pouting. “Did I?”

“Yeah, you fucking did.” Ethan leers at Quinn, but detective Bailey intercepts. “That’s enough.”

Your backed up beside Tara and Sam, huddling protectively as your heart sank to the floor. Of course Ethan was Ghostface, how could you be so stupid to befriend him? You hadn’t known, but you should’ve. Never trust anyone.

Ethan looks back to you, suddenly feeling sick. His stomach hadn’t churned when he repeatedly stabbed Chad in the chest and stomach not mere moments ago. But your shaky breathes and betrayed gaze penetrates him more than any of his killings ever could.

He liked you. He liked being around you, talking to you. And now you hated him. You’d never be close to him again. Because now you could die. Ethan sucks in a breath, his grip on his knife tightening.

“Stop being so pussy whipped Ethan, and stab the bitch.” Quinn exasperates. Ethan shoots her a glare, wanting to stab her instead.

“Oh, shut up Quinn.” Ethan had never felt so angry—at everyone. All except you. He hated Sam and Tara for killing his brother. He hated his dad and sister for dragging you into this mess. But he could never hate you, with your sweet words and smiling face.

But you weren’t smiling, and he’d never hear that sugary tone again. Because now your shooting daggers at him, your stages of grief reaching mad.

You and the Carpenter sisters are holding bricks, prepared as weapons if any one of the fucked up family members decides to attack.

“Stay the fuck back!” Sam exclaims, gripping the brick tighter.

Quinn jumps at Sam swiping her knife across her upper arm. You jolt beside her, fear heavily prominent in your eyes.

Fuck, Ethan thinks. He didn’t like that expression. You were afraid…of him. God, no.

When your gazes met, you were gulping, praying to get away from here. Ethan was staring, unwaveringly focused. But when his dad began to speak explaining their plan he had to look away.

“…but of course my son had to make a friend. A real one.” Detective Bailey said, eyeing you. “He got too distracted, didn’t you, Ethan?” Bailey turns to Ethan waving his gun around.

Ethan ground his teeth, jaw tightening.

“And would you look at that?” Bailey continues watching Ethan. “He looks a little too effected, don’t you think?” He turns to Quinn who nods, a sadistic smile appearing on her face.

Bailey turns back to look at you. “We’ve come so far. It would be a shame for this to blow up just because Ethan’s young mind wandered.” Bailey pauses for a moment as your breath hitches. “So, I’m afraid this kills gonna have to be quick.”

He’s then aiming his gun at you and a bullet flies. Ethan doesn’t have time to react before it hits you. A wet patch begins to form on your sweatshirt as you touch your wound. You stumble back, choking, as you hear Sam and Tara rushing to you. Your hip hits one of the glass casings, before your sliding down to the floor.

Then you feel a hand cupping the back of your neck. Another holding you from falling more. Your coughing blood. Your eyes are slightly rolling as pain shoots through you.

Sam and Tara stare in equal fear and shock at Ethan who is holding onto you, pressing his own hand to your gushing wound. “No, no, no. Don’t you fucking— y/n.” He breathes, trying to tap your face to keep you from closing your eyes.

“Aw, I almost feel bad.” Quinn comments.

“Your a fucking bitch Quinn!” Ethan exclaims, red hot anger rolling off of him in waves. But it seems only Sam and Tara catch the desperation in his tone.

Ethan grabs your face. “Y/n stay the fuck awake.”

“Y-your a killer.” You choke out through your mouthful of blood.

“N-no. Y/n. I’m—” but he was. He wasn’t that delusional to think he wasn’t. “I’m sorry.” He decides on saying.

“No your not.”

“Yes I fucking am. But your not gonna die, you hear me?” Ethan breathes. He suddenly feels something on his shoulder. Whipping his head up he sees his dad, his gun tapping for his attention.

“Come on son, let her go. This is for the best.”

The best? The fucking best? Ethan lost it, grabbing his dads gun and tossing it aside. He swiftly stands and yanks hard on his collar, throwing him into one of the glass casings. Bailey is genuinely shocked as he gapes at his son.

“Listen, what are—” Bailey angrily tries but Ethan is quick to cut him off.

“No, you fucking listen!” He rages, holding his knife out. “I told you not to touch her! She wasn’t apart of the plan, she didn’t fucking need to be!”

“Our plan was to avenge your brother! Don’t give me this bullshit. She was apart of their so called friend group, so is automatically on our hit list!”

“Oh, I really don’t care dad. Kill the sisters.” Ethan gestures to Sam and Tara with his knife. “Do it. But don’t you think for one moment she is gonna die.” He gestures back to you.

Bailey follows the knife, stopping on you. But then a smile begins to form on the older man’s face making Ethan’s brows furrow.

“I think you may have to change your last statement, son.”

Ethan quickly looks to you and only sees a body. Your still, face drained of colour, and chest not moving. No. Ethan rushes over. No. Ethan taps your cheek. God, no. Ethan shakes you, gulping down the arising bile. Please.

Your cold, and when he feels your pulse, or where he should feel it, he freezes. He doesn’t think twice, his brain not being able to compute anything but rage. Any other emotion would break him.

He aims his knife straight into his dads chest, a satisfying squelching sound breaking the heavy breaths. Bailey screams, Ethan’s fast movements catching him off guard.

Quinn is rushing forward, but Ethan is twisting the knife, Baileys shirt and skin tearing as blood began to pool out. His screams reach Ethan’s ears only egging him on. He couldn’t feel anything but anger. Raw and murderous.

Quinn is trying to pull her dad away, before she tries to swipe at Ethan. “What the fuck are you doing?!” She exclaims.

But Ethan doesn’t stop ripping down baileys chest as he squirms. He can’t see him as his father anymore. He just took away the one thing that made him feel good.

When his knife dropped away, Detective Bailey fell to the ground, as Quinn quickly tried to aid him. This wasn’t supposed to happen, none of this was supposed to happen.

And when Ethan glanced back at your lifeless body, your last words swirling in his head (y-your a killer. I’m sorry. No your not), he almost felt bad for the people he was about to murder. You were right…he was a killer.

© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms.

[major-mads]

Chapter 5: The Dangerous Sky

John "Bucky" Egan x Ruth Morgan (OFC)

Series Masterlist

A/N: We've been planning this chapter for months now, and it's so exciting to finally post it! It's another long one lol! Please comment or reblog and tell us what you think!! Thanks for reading!! <3

Collab: On a Wing and a Prayer by @footprintsinthesxnd

Word Count: 12.7k

Monday, August 23, 1943: Thorpe Abbotts AAF Base, Norwich

Regensburg, Germany…the mission that earned the Hundredth its nickname was finally over.

Nine forts lost. 

Ninety men gone…just like that.

Ninety boys who would not return to their families. 

Among these ninety men was Curt. Buck and John were still in shock when their small group of officers tiredly pushed through the doors into their nissen hut. A few beds were made with fresh sheets, all remnants of their previous owners long gone.

The nightstands and walls that held the pictures Ruth had admired the week before were bare, a fresh slate for a fresh face that would be arriving soon. 

As he walked by Biddick’s bunk, Bucky couldn’t bear to look at it. The wound was still too fresh.

“Knowing Biddick,” he had told Buck in the Algerian desert,” He’s probably sipping on a bottle of schnapps right about now.”

Oh, how he wished he was right.

“Looks like you’ve got mail, Bucky,” Jack spoke up, pointing at the man’s bed that had a few letters thrown on the mattress.

Dropping off his bag with a thud, John sat on the edge of his bed and collected the letters silently, immediately recognizing the neat cursive handwriting on the front.

He let out a gentle sigh and smiled to himself, the corners of his lips curling just slightly. Flipping through the letters, he discovered that all three of them were from Ruth. 

August 17th, August 19th, and August 21st

John opened the first one, carefully unfolding the precious letter, and began to read.

John, Hope and I were barely able to sleep last night. Our worry for you both ate away at us, keeping us awake until the early hours of the morning. Based on what we’ve heard from Frank, that is around the time you were probably waking up in preparation for the mission. I pray for you constantly, John. I pray that God will look out for you, that He’ll protect you, and that He’ll allow you to come back to me. I also pray that Granny’s necklace does its job. Keep it close. I like to think that it’s a little piece of me with you. I don’t think I could imagine not seeing you again. My heart couldn’t take it. I’m afraid I have become very attached to you and your mustache, Major, so I am pushing this thought as far from my mind as I can. It has been difficult. As I sit writing this in the loud mess hall of our base, I can’t help but think back on the dance. That first night we shared with the buzzing crowd surrounding us…the way you calmed my nerves without a word, made me smile, made me laugh. You are unlike anyone I’ve ever known, John Egan, and I worry that you may never be rid of me if you continue to treat me so. I hold every second we’ve shared very near to my heart, and I can’t wait to see your handsome face again. If by some miracle you are back to base by the time this letter arrives, send me a response as soon as possible. I need to know you’re safe, Johnny. I’ll be waiting for you and your letter. Yours, Ruth Morgan

John could almost hear the nurse’s voice in his head reading her words, and his chest filled with warmth as he traced her name lightly with his finger. If he was being honest with himself, he was taken aback by her sincerity. No woman had ever expressed feelings like these to him before.

His relationships with women had always been about a night of pleasure, physical attraction with not much feeling behind it. 

But her words…

‘I worry that you may never be rid of me…’

Ruth was different in every way possible, and when he told her that first night, he had no idea just how much. Placing the letter onto his nightstand, he opened the second one from the 19th, his grin widening when he saw the first line.

Dear Hotshot, I wanted to be the first to inform you of the Yankees’ seven-to-five loss to the Indians today. Yes, I remember our truce, but seeing that you got one last jab on Monday before we parted, I decided that I had one left myself. This makes us even now. Now that that’s out of the way, I can revert to the loving sweetheart who is worried sick for your safe return. I really do mean it when I say you are always on my mind, John. I’ve managed to make it one singular day without seeing or writing to you before giving in and penning this letter. I simply need to get out my nerves and anxieties, thoughts and feelings, and this is the best way to do that. Hope and I went on an evacuation run yesterday, and as we were flying, we wondered if we were near the two of you. Did Buck tell you he proposed? Well, he didn’t technically, but he told Hope he wanted to marry her after the war. Needless to say, she’s been worried sick just as I have, maybe even more with Hugh gone as well (if that’s possible).

Eyes widening, John’s gaze rose from the letter and shot across the room to Gale, who was quietly talking with Hugh at his bunk as he unpacked his bag.

Why did he not tell him?

“Got any big news you wanna share with the class, Buck?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at him while holding up Ruth’s letter.

Gale confusedly looked over at him. “What?”

“You heard me.”

Rolling his eyes at Hugh, Buck sauntered over to John, standing over him with hands on his hips. “What are you talking about?”

“Mrs. Hope Cleven,” the older man grinned. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

A bashful smile appeared on Gale’s face. “I’ve got a ring and everything, now. It’ll be after all this is over.”

Standing to his feet, Bucky pulled him into a tight hug and lifted him off the ground. “Whenever it happens, I better be the best man! That’s all I’m sayin’.”

“Yeah, yeah, you will be,” Buck chuckled as John put him down, releasing him from his grip. “Just don’t tell Hugh that.”

“Hey, I heard that!” Hugh shouted across the officer's hut causing Gale to groan. 

“Well, it makes sense. I am Buck’s best friend,” John retorted, sending a sly smirk Hugh’s way which only riled the man up further.

“Yeah, and Hope’s my sister. I’m his future brother-in-law.” 

Gale stepped back as Hugh stomped over to them, coming chest to chest with John who just continued to playfully glare down at him. 

“So what? You're a St. Louis fan,” Bucky pointed at him, a grin tugging at his lips. “That instantly makes you not best man material.” 

Hugh snorted, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, and I suppose you being a great Yankees fan makes you the right choice, huh?” 

“Absolutely,” John replied matter of factly. “How can you cheer for a team who lost 11-3 to the Pirates? The Pirates.” 

“At least we didn’t get shut out by the Indians.”

Gale knew this wasn’t going to end well. No one could insult the Yankees to Johnny’s face and get away with it...except Ruth, of course. Before John could find a comeback, Gale stepped up, moving to stand between the two men.

“Now, now. I’m not having you two fighting over being my best man. If it’s that much of a problem, I’ll make Demarco my best man and Meatball can be the ring bearer.” 

Neither of the men seemed too pleased with that outcome. 

“Not Demarco!” 

“Yes, Demarco.” 

John groaned, pursing his lips, and Hugh remained silent, looking at the ground solemnly at their childish behavior. 

“You should choose whoever you want to be your best man, but-” John began with a nod before Hugh interrupted.

“Yeah pick who you want, Gale. Hope will probably want me to walk her down the aisle anyway so I’ll probably be in the bridal party instead.” 

John snickered with raised brows as he imagined Hugh in a bridesmaid’s dress, but he fell silent when Gale elbowed him in the ribs, shooting him a glare..

“Come here,” Bucky pulled Gale into another hug and slapped his friend’s back, “Congratulations, Buck! You’re a helluva guy.” 

“The best,” Hugh added. 

As they stood there celebrating Buck’s life-changing news, the trio couldn’t help but think of their close friend who wasn’t. Their group got even smaller…

“Curt…he would,” John cleared his throat and nodded, forcing down the emotion that threatened to creep up his throat. “He would be happy for you, Buck.”

Gale’s eyes met Bucky’s and they mirrored the same emotions…hurt, regret, sadness. The men who came back never talked about those who didn’t, and both of them knew this was the one time they would.

“Yeah, he would,” Buck breathed, one side of his lips barely turning up into a mournful smile.

Silence filled the air around them there for a few moments, all three stuck in their minds until Gale spoke up.

“That from Ruth?” Buck asked, gesturing to the letter in Johnny’s hand.

He nodded once and sat down on his bunk with a soft smile, suddenly remembering the last half of Ruth’s letter he still had to read. “I’ve got another one to read after this one. Then I’ve gotta write her back.”

As Gale looked down at his friend’s lovesick gaze, he smiled to himself and shook his head. If someone had asked him if John Egan would be rushing to read love letters and send a response to a woman, one woman, whom he’d been seeing over a month, Buck Cleven would’ve told them they were crazy. 

“Tell her I said hello,” Gale said quietly, patting Johnny’s shoulder before returning to his bunk.

He muttered, “Yeah, sure,” before his eyes found the paragraph he left off on. The major’s aching heart was soothed by her words as he continued to read them.

We have been busying ourselves around the base, finding things to keep our mind off the fact that we don’t know where you are…if you’re safe. I’d like to think I’d know in my heart if you were gone. I pray I don’t ever have to face that feeling. Take care of each other wherever you are, alright? I know you watch Buck’s back like he watches yours, Johnny. Keep an eye on Hugh, as well. We both know he can be a troublemaker…like someone else I know. He, however, doesn’t have someone to reel him back in when he gets a little too crazy like you do. I know I’m writing this like you will receive it where you are right now, and not when you return to base, but I’m doing so because it’s the closest thing I have to talking to you.  I miss you, John. Please write when you get this. Praying for your safe return, Your Ruthie 

Scooting onto his bunk more comfortably, Bucky leaned back against the wall and opened the last letter. It was dated just two days prior, so at her current rate, another would be sent before his could reach her. 

My Hotshot, Please come home soon. The past five days have been torture. I go to see if I’ve gotten mail every single day, and each time, I leave a little more disheartened than I came. I feel my heart can’t beat inside my chest until I know you’re safe. I know you’re doing your job…a job that has to be done…but it doesn’t make it any easier. I’m sorry, John, but I don’t have too much time to write. We’re about to leave on an evac run. I long to hear your voice and feel your warm touch. Don’t forget your promise, hon. Come back to me…sooner rather than later. I can’t handle two boyfriends, remember? Missing you, Your Girl

Johnny swallowed thickly, lowering the letter to his lap as his mind raced. He knew that it very easily could’ve been him that went down that fateful day over Regensburg…it was all luck. 

There was a bigger chance than he’d like to admit that he’d go down, that they’d all go down, and the thought of never seeing Ruth again brought a burning to his chest. Reaching up, he grasped the necklace around his neck beside his dog tags, feeling the coolness under his fingers. 

Her Granny’s necklace sure did its job.

John brought the cross to his lips, kissing it softly as he silently thanked Virginia Morgan up above for the good luck.

Once the letters were carefully stored in the growing bundle of her correspondences he kept in his nightstand, he pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and a pen. Using his book as a backer, he began to write.

Ruthie, Hey, sweetheart. I’m glad that you kept your promise about the letters, and I’m also glad to say that I’ve managed to come back to you in one piece. By now, you’ve probably read about the raid in the papers. It was a tough one, and reading your letters helped more than you’ll ever know. Thanks for telling me of Buck’s “proposal.” The chump hadn’t even told me about it! So much for a best friend, right?  He says ‘hello,’ by the way.  Hugh thinks he has a chance at best man, but we all know that’s not gonna happen. You’ll be the maid of honor and I’ll be the best man…I can see it now: Buck crying like a baby and you looking like the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I’ve missed you, Ruthie. I still can’t believe that a wonderful woman like yourself would ever spare a poor sucker like me the time of day. Each time we part, I find myself replaying our every moment spent together. When we were stuck in the Algerian desert under the scorching sun, my thoughts always wandered back to you.  Your skin, your hair, your smile, your lips…the way you make me laugh. You are unlike any woman I’ve ever known, Ruth Morgan, and if I am never rid of you (as you wrote), I would consider myself the luckiest man in the world.  Stay safe up there on your runs for me. Your Hotshot, John Egan P.S. Tell your other boyfriend that I’m back and not willing to share.

Saturday, August 28, 1944: Thorpe Abbotts AAF Base

John, Gale, and Hugh were riding from their nissen huts to the mess hall when the familiar roar of a C-47 filled the air. The sound meant their girls were on base, and it filled them with excitement as they peddled faster towards the landing strip. 

“Did you know they were coming today?” Buck asked, quickly glancing over at Johnny and Hugh.

John shook his head, a lazy grin curving his lips. “No, Ruth didn’t mention it in her last letter.”

Gale nodded to himself but couldn’t shake the feeling deep down that something was wrong. As they approached the airstrip, Colonel Harding appeared, calling out to John.

“Bucky! I need to talk to you,” he yelled from the balcony of the nearby flight tower.

Holding in a groan, Johnny nodded at Hugh and turned his bike toward the tower. “Tell Ruth I’ll see her in a minute.”

It all happened so quickly.

The flight had been uneventful. 

All their patients were stable, and Frank and his fellow pilot were singing together in the cockpit. Hope and Ruth had taken their seats and were enjoying resting their legs for a while. 

That was until the Ack-Ack’s had started firing.

Hope hissed, resting her palm against her injured thigh as she slid out of the plane. The bloodied bandage did nothing to stem the steady flow of thick blood. It hadn't been gushing with a constant flow but seemed to increase as her heart pounded faster and faster in her chest. 

Memories of the shrapnel piercing her thigh, having pranged around the aircraft before embedding itself into her, flashed in her mind. Looking back, she shouldn’t have pulled it out, but despite Ruth’s protests, she was stubborn, and without the blonde’s quick thinking at applying pressure and a tourniquet, she wondered if this would have been a different situation. Hope hated feeling weak and not being in control, but her stubbornness could have cost her life. 

“You need to get that leg checked out, Hope,” Ruth glanced over, her usually soft features etched with fear and concern, but Hope, still being her stubborn self, shook her head. 

“Ruth’s right, Hope. It’s a bad wound and we’d all feel a lot better if you got it checked out,” Frank added, helping the blonde with getting a stretcher into the ambulance. 

“We need to tend to our patients first,” Hope shuffled over to the nearest man on a stretcher, quickly informing the stretcher-bearers of his condition before they carted him towards the ambulance. 

Glancing at his watch quickly, the pilot cursed under his breath. “I’ve gotta go radio the base and let them know what happened.” He pointed at Hope as he hurried off. “Get it checked.”

“Do you need that leg looked at, Miss?” One of the young men asked, “There’s room in the ambulance.” 

Hope shook her head, politely declining any assistance. That was until two familiar faces came rushing over, a mixture of fear, anger, and horror on their faces as they noticed the side of their C-47.

“What the hell happened, Girls?” Hugh asked, glancing between his sister, then Ruth, then back to Hope. “Shit! You’re bleeding.” He reached forward but Hope pulled away, shrugging him off.

“I'm fine, Hugh. It's just a scratch. I'll get it looked at later,” she dismissed him.

By now she could feel Gale’s eyes boring into her, his sharp blues missing nothing. He felt her discomfort as she hobbled along, trying to avoid resting her hand against the wound to draw attention to it. 

“That looks a hell of a lot more than a scratch, Hope,” Gale stepped forward to stand beside Hugh, his movements stiff and mechanical, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to act. “You’re covered in blood.” 

Hope looked down at her uniform, noticing that from her waist down both her legs were soaked in blood and she was beginning to feel lightheaded. “I said I'm fine,” Hope snapped, exasperated and in pain. 

She just wanted to do her job, why couldn't they understand that?

“What happened, Hope?” Gale’s eyes were dead serious as they watched her, clearly annoyed but wracked with concern. Hope just looked back at him, unable to move or speak for fear she might cry. 

“It was the Ack-Ack’s,” Ruth quietly spoke up, and the men turned to see her own blood-soaked uniform, her hands still shaking at her side. “The plane was hit by flak fire. A chunk of shrapnel went flying around… got Hope in the thigh,” Ruth sighed and let her gaze fall to the ground, knowing that Hope might not forgive her for the next part. “She pulled it out herself. We applied pressure and a dressing but she needs to see a doctor.” 

If looks could kill, Ruth would be six feet under the airbase by now. 

“YOU DID WHAT?” Gale cried out, his face white with horror but his sharp eyes burning in a way none of them had ever seen before. “Are you some sort of idiot? Everyone knows not to pull things out of a wound. You could have bled out.” Gale’s chest was heaving as he fought the anger that built up within him. His hands clenched in fists at his side as he continued. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” 

Hugh reached out to him, trying to cool the situation down but Hope intervened. 

“I had patients on board. I'm no good to them if I bleed out everywhere. I thought quickly and went with the best possible outcome.” 

Gale snorted, waving his hands out in front of him, “Of course you did. You thought of the best possible outcome for you. What about the rest of us, Hope? What would happen if you had died?” 

Hope sent him a hostile glare, jaw clenched and her lip curling slightly as she spoke, “Do you realize how selfish you sound?” 

Gale scoffed, “I’m selfish. Did you for one-second think of what we'd have done if you had died?” 

Despite being outside surrounded by wounded soldiers, you could have heard a pin drop. 

Hope’s eyes scanned over the group, looking into the faces of her friends and seeing the same hurt looks. Ruth’s face was still tilted toward the ground with closed eyes as she listened to the bickering. The fear, the explosions, and the sound of Hope’s pained scream replayed in the woman’s mind, and she felt like her heart was going to explode inside her chest. 

It was too much. It was all too much.

Ruth was vaguely aware of the rest of the group leaving the airfield, Buck trailing off after Hope as she stormed away, and Hugh marching off as well. She stood there silently, trying to keep herself from falling apart…

The second Bucky was dismissed by Colonel Harding, he jogged down the stairs to his bike outside. Pedaling to the airstrip, he could only think of Ruth’s smiling face that he would soon be seeing. The hum of engines reached his ears as he turned around the corner of a shortcut, and the sight of her familiar figure standing before the C-47 sparked even more excitement within him. A grin formed on his face and he pedaled faster, eager to greet her. 

As the plane came into better view, his smirk fell as he noticed a giant hole in its fuselage. Johnny’s gaze snapped back to Ruth, and when he looked closer, his initial excitement transformed into horror. The world seemed to blur when his eyes focused on the blood-soaked flight uniform that clung to her. Panic seized him, and without a second thought, he leaped off the still-moving bicycle, letting it clatter to the concrete behind him as he sprinted toward Ruth, his boots pounding against the hard ground.

“Ruth! Ruth, what happened?” he cried desperately, his voice echoing off the nearby buildings. 

Johnny reached her in a whirlwind, taking her face in his hands, his panicked blue eyes inspecting her face intensely, scanning for any sign of injury. He then moved to her torso, his hands running over her body frantically.

As his hands desperately searched Ruth’s uniform, his voice trembled with fear. “You hurt?”

For a moment, she didn’t respond, and then suddenly, her tear-filled eyes met his. The Major’s hands, once frantic in their search, were now pleading. "Ruthie, come on. Talk to me. I need to know you’re okay." 

She gently placed her hands over his, stopping him. “It’s not mine,” she finally whispered, her voice strained. “We flew into a flack field, and, uh, Hope. She got hit in the leg. Buck’s with her now.”

‘Ruth’s okay,’ John repeated in his frazzled mind. “She’s okay.

A relieved sigh escaped his lips and John wrapped his arms around her, pulling the woman into him tightly. Her head was tucked into his chest as uncontrollable tremors ran through her body. 

“You’re okay, doll. I’ve got you,” he murmured against her temple. “I’m here.”

His heart broke as he felt a sob rack through her body, her weak cries reaching his ears. “I-I was so scared, John. I thought we were gonna die.”

Bucky pulled back slightly and moved his hands to grasp her tear-streaked cheeks gently, her pain-filled blue eyes nearly tearing him apart. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” he whispered, leaning down to meet her gaze as he wiped her tears softly with the pad of his thumbs. “You didn’t, okay? It’s over now. You’re safe, Ruth. It’s over.”

She took a shaky deep breath, trying to calm herself, but another cry fought its way up her throat and the nurse let out a choked sob. With each breathless gasp that left her lips, Ruth’s heart pounded faster and she suddenly felt her chest tightening.

John knew what the startings of a panic attack looked like, and he tried to recall how Franny had taught him to calm Lena down all those years ago when they were teenagers. Seeing Ruth’s usually bright and loving personality in such a fearful and panicked state sent his mind into overdrive.

“Ruth,” he urged, his hands still cradling her face. “Look at me, sweetheart.”

Her watery gaze met his, her breaths coming out in short uneven gasps. 

“I need you to breathe.”

Taking a deep breath through his nose, John nodded at her with raised brows, worry etching his face. “With me, now.”

Ruth shook her head. “I-I can’t-”

“Yes, you can,” the Major asserted firmly, reaching for her hand and holding it against his chest. “Feel that? Breathe with me. In…” he breathed through his nose. “And out.”

After a moment, she shakily followed suit, her eyes never leaving his. The warmth of John’s hand enveloping hers and the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her touch grounded her in the moment. Gradually, her breathing began to regulate, the erratic gasps giving way to steady inhales and exhales. Johnny watched her closely, his eyes searching for any signs that the attack might return.

“There you go,” he murmured. “Just keep breathing with me, doll.”

With each measured breath, Ruth felt the tightness of her chest gradually ease, the weight of her fear lifting. After a few minutes, her breath completely steadied, and the panic attack passed, leaving her drained but calmer.

Ruth leaned into John’s comforting embrace, her forehead moving to rest against his chest as she let out a shuddering sigh. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely above a hoarse whisper. “I-I’m sorry you had to see me like this, covered in blood and…and a mess.”

John placed a soft kiss to her temple. “None of that. You’re okay. That’s all I care about.”

As she stepped back into his arms, her eyes welled up with tears once more. “But look at you,” she protested weakly, gesturing to the smears of blood that marred his brown button-up undershirt. “I’ve ruined your shirt.”

Bucky shook his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “This old thing? I’ve got a million of ‘em anyways, Ruthie. It’s just a shirt. Wasn’t even my Sunday’s best,” he reassured her gently. “I knew there was a reason I didn’t wear my lucky jacket today.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded.  “Come on, let’s go get you cleaned up.”

He wrapped an arm around her waist and slowly led her toward the nearby operations building, still feeling her body shaking beneath his touch. As they turned the corner, they were met with Bubbles walking past a jeep. His face scrunched in concern and the usual smile fell from his lips at the sight of the bloodied woman. 

“Shit! What happened, Bucky?” he asked, quickly approaching them. “Do I need to go get Doc Stover?”

“No,” Ruth piped up, mustering the best smile she could. Even Bubbles could see straight through it.

John shook his head. “We’re alright, but I’ve gotta take your ride, Bubbles. Sorry.”

“Oh, that’s not mine. It’s Kidd’s.”

“Even better,” he smirked, opening the passenger door for Ruth before climbing behind the wheel. “Tell him I owe him one.”

Bubbles raised a brow with a barely concealed grin. “He’s gonna be pissed, sir.”

“Ehh, he’ll get over it.”

Nodding, the lieutenant turned to enter the building, but Bucky called out to him. “Oh! Bubbles, could you grab my bike? It’s somewhere near the ‘47 back there. Tell Jack it’s his for the day! Thanks!”

As the jeep roared to life, John tucked Ruth under his arm much like he did the night of the dance, and then they were off. She laid her head on his shoulder and her eyes slowly fluttered shut, sleep calling to her after the day’s events.

John peered down at her with a saddened smile as he took in her splotchy face and the blood that seemed to coat the bottom half of her uniform. Some of it even clung to her hair, the light blonde strands covered by the sticky, maroon substance. 

As he felt her finally relax in his hold, he let out a shaky breath, his heart finally beating regularly in his chest again. The Major knew how terrifying flack encounters were, and he was trained in how to handle it…well, he was used to it. Ruth, on the other hand, was not. It was her job to keep men alive while in the air, not worrying about being shot out of the sky by some German on an anti-aircraft gun.

Rage bubbled from within him at the thought. If the blast was just a little closer, there was a chance that he wouldn’t be holding her in his arms. If one more-

“I missed you,” she murmured, breaking Bucky from his thoughts as she nuzzled into his shoulder. “I was so worried about you, John.”

He took a steadying breath, pushing down his anger as he ran his hand along Ruth’s arm softly. “I missed you, too, doll. And I guess we’re even now, ‘cause I think I just lost ten years of my life back there.”

A tired laugh escaped her lips. “Imagine feeling that way for 9 days.”

Johnny could hear the exhaustion in her voice, and he squeezed her shoulder, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her hairline.

“Get some shut-eye, alright? We’ve got a stop to make before we go back to my hut.”

She nodded against him as her eyes fluttered closed again, sleep quickly overtaking her. 

As she slept soundly under his arm, he pulled up to a hut with a familiar figure smoking outside. “Miss Tatty,” John whisper-shouted, careful not to wake up Ruth. “Could you do me a favor?”

Raising a brow, she took a drag of her cigarette and approached the jeep, her smile falling when she saw the nurse’s bloody figure beside him. “She alright?”

“Flack hit her stick,” He sighed, running his free hand down his face. “She’s alright, but Hope got pinked in the thigh. Scared her half to death.”

“What can I do to help?”

“Could you find some extra clothes for her? She’s gonna need some fresh ones.”

Tatty nodded at him, a determined expression gracing her face. “I’ll get some now.”

It only took the woman a few minutes to emerge from the hut with a small bundle in her hand. “This should be enough,” she said, placing the bag into the back of the jeep. “But please stop by again if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Tatty. I owe ‘ya one.”

A tiny chuckle left her lips as she pointed her finger between Ruth and John. “Just don’t screw this one up, John, and we can call it even.”

“I don’t plan on it,” he grinned toothily, putting the jeep back in drive and starting down the road again. John’s hut was across the base, and he spent the short drive tapping the steering wheel to the tune of One O’Clock Jump while stealing glances at the sleeping woman in his arms. 

When the jeep rumbled to a stop outside the officer’s hut, Johnny rubbed Ruth’s shoulder. “Wake up, doll. We’re here,” he said gently, a soft smile playing at his lips as she lazily sat up, blinking away the sleep in her swollen eyes. “You need to get washed up.”

Ruth lazily looked around them and realized where they were.  “How long was I out?”

“Not long. Only about half an hour.”

Her eyes fell to her lap, the slick blood still staining the uniform. She was suddenly aware of how terrible she felt. It was everywhere. On her skin, in her hair…

“I feel disgusting,” she whispered, holding up her red-stained hands. 

“I know, doll. Here are some clothes you can change into after you shower.” Bucky reached back and grabbed the small bag that Tatty had given him, squeezing her shoulder before getting out of the jeep. “Let me go grab my kit for you and I’ll be right back.”

The second the door shut behind him, Ruth’s gaze fell back down to her hands, on the crusted blood under her nails, on Hope’s blood. At the thought, a strike of anxiety coursed through her, and the nurse could feel her heartbeat speed up. The shaking of the plane and the sound of the hot metal flying through the cabin rang in her ears as she closed her eyes tightly.

Among the chaos in her mind, she heard Johnny’s calming words. 

‘I need you to breathe…in and out.’

Following his voice, she took a deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth, trying to calm her racing heart. Ruth repeated the action and ached for his comforting presence beside her. 

‘Breathe. In and out.’

Inside his hut, Johnny was strutting to his bunk when he heard a soft snore from his left. His eyes followed the sound to a bed across the room, a smile growing on his face when he realized it was Buck and Hope. Her dark hair was splayed on his chest, and Gale had an arm around her waist as the couple peacefully slept, their faces free from worry.

It was the most peaceful slumber Bucky had ever seen Gale have throughout their three-year friendship. 

He let out a chuckle under his breath and quietly gathered his shower pack, sparing them one last glance before closing the door behind him. As John emerged from the hut, Ruth’s eyes rose to his figure. His gaze locked with hers and he could once again see the worry in her blue eyes. He quickly approached the jeep but was stopped when someone called out to him. 

“Bucky?”

Johnny turned to his left, seeing Majors Dye and Veal jogging toward him with wide eyes.

“You good?” Dye asked, eyeing the smears of blood on his shirt. Bill just stared at him warily, the only emotion on his face visible by the slight crease in his brow.

 “I’m fine, boys,” Bucky replied with a smirk, his eyes floating to Ruth over their shoulder. “Thanks for the concern, but you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon.”

The pair followed his gaze, sharing a silent look when they saw Ruth in the jeep. 

“Wait,” Bill spoke up gravelly, nodding towards John’s shirt. “Is that her blood?”

Scratching his mustache, John glanced at Ruth before lowering his voice and leaning closer to them. “No, but it’s Hope’s. Buck’s in there with her. They’ve both had a real shitty day.”

Dye nodded and sent her a sympathetic smile which she shakily returned. “We’ll tell the guys to steer clear for a little while.”

John could tell Ruth was teetering again, and he clapped Glen’s back, throwing a quick ‘thanks’ over his shoulder as he walked back to the jeep, his attention completely on his girl. He rounded the bumper to lean against the passenger side, offering her his hand. “Come on, let’s go get you squeaky clean again, Ruthie.”

Nodding silently, she let him lead her to the bathhouse. Ruth stood in the corner while he turned on the shower, the hot steam already fogging up the mirrors when he stepped back and held his shower pack out to her. “I-uh don’t know how hot you like it, so I just-”

“I’m sure it’s perfect,” she replied softly, taking the pack. ”Thank you.”

He stared at her for a few moments and took in the pure exhaustion on her features, his hand instinctively reaching up to push some hair behind her ear as he spoke softly. “I’ll be right outside. Gotta make sure no one sneaks a peek of my girl.”

Leaning down, he placed a gentle kiss against her lips before backing toward the door. Just as he reached for the handle, her voice stopped him in his tracks.

“John?”

He turned. “Yeah?”

“Can, um, can you stay?” she asked nervously, her eyes trained on the floor. “I don’t want to be alone.”

As Ruth’s request hung in the air, John’s mind went into overdrive. He felt a rush of heat flood his cheeks and his heart pounded in his chest. Swallowing hard, he struggled to find the right words. 

“Yeah, I’ll stay,” he finally replied softly. 

Even as he spoke the words, his mind was in turmoil and his thoughts spiraled out of control. John was unable to tear his gaze from her as she slowly began to unzip her flight uniform, revealing her red-tinged tank top underneath. When Ruth caught his stare, her cheeks flushed.

“Um, John,” her voice broke through the silence, her tone hesitant. “Could you…could you look away please?”

“Right,” Bucky muttered, his voice barely audible over the sound of the running water as he snapped out of his trance and spun to face the door. “Sorry.”

As she continued to undress, John tried to focus on anything other than what was happening behind him. He stared at the cracked cement floor, willing himself to remain composed, to keep his thoughts in check. When he heard the rustle of the curtain opening and closing, he let out a shaky breath as relief flooded through him.

Despite his efforts to focus on anything else, his thoughts kept drifting back to the woman on the other side of the curtain, her presence a constant in his mind. Bucky knew he should respect her privacy and give her a moment to decompress after the day’s stressful events, but the temptation proved too strong and before he could stop himself, he found his gaze drifting back to the shower.

John stole a glance through the opaque shower curtain, his body heating up at the sight of Ruth's silhouette moving gracefully beneath the spray of water. But as quickly as the temptation came, a wave of shame washed over him, and he quickly averted his gaze, chastising himself for his lack of self-control.

He traced the outline of her body in his mind, and then the shame came rolling right back again. Bucky knew he had to take his mind off of the woman…or at least try to…so he began to sing under his breath.

“Never saw the sun shining so bright,

Never saw things looking so right.

Watching the days hurrying by,

When you’re in love, my how they fly,

Blue days, all of ‘em gone,

Nothin’ but blue skies from now on…”

Ruth stood beneath the warm spray of water, letting it cascade over her weary body, washing away the dirt and grime of the day. The hot water soothed her aching muscles and eased the tension that had settled deep within her bones. Closing her eyes, she let out a sigh of relief, allowing herself a moment of rest.

As John’s soft singing filled the air, Ruth couldn’t help but smile. His voice, though not the most melodic, calmed her frayed nerves and eased the knot of fear that had lodged itself in her chest. 

“John,” she called out over the sound of the water.

“Yeah?” Came his muffled reply.

“Could you sing a little louder?”

Bucky ducked his head with a grin and raised his voice, switching to a new song.

“And when I told them how beautiful you are,

They didn’t believe me. They didn’t believe me.

Your lips, your eyes, your curly hair,

Are in a class beyond compare,

You’re the loveliest girl that one could see…”

Ruth closed her eyes and let his deep voice wash over her, allowing herself to get lost in the rhythm of the song. 

“And when I tell them, 

And I’m cert’nly gonna tell them,

That I’m the man whose wife one day you’ll be.

They’ll never believe me. They’ll never believe me. 

That from this great big world you’ve chosen me!”

As she listened to him, she began to scrub the blood from her skin, feeling a wave of emotion course through her. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as the memories of the day flooded her mind, but John’s voice calmed her, and she rapidly blinked them away. She knew that she wasn’t alone…that she had someone to stay by her side…someone to take care of her. 

It took her a few washes to get the dried blood from her hair, and she sighed in relief when she could run her fingers through the strands without getting caught in a tangle. The water turned off with a click, and she stuck her head out the curtain, making sure only her face was visible. 

“Could you pass me my towel?”

Johnny turned back towards her and quickly averted his gaze as reached for her towel hanging nearby. “Here,” he said, extending it towards her without making eye contact before facing the door once again.

“Thanks,” she replied, accepting the towel and beginning to dry herself off.

Ruth quickly got dressed, making a mental note to thank Tatty later, and ran the towel over her sopping wet hair. Once fully ready, she spoke up, her voice breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them. “Okay, you can turn around now.”

Turning towards her slowly, John’s breath caught in his throat as he took her in. Her short blonde hair was slightly tousled from the shower, its natural waves making an appearance, and her cheeks flushed from the heat of the water. Ruth wore some navy pants that fit her perfectly with a dark, oversized wine colored sweater. Despite the exhaustion that lingered in her eyes, Johnny’d never seen something as beautiful in his 27 years.

“Wow,” John chuckled, approaching her slowly and cupping her cheek. “Would you look at that. Damn gorgeous.”

Her cheeks flushed even deeper at his words, a shy smile tugging the corners of her lips as she leaned into his touch. “You’re such a flirt,” she murmured.

Without hesitation, Johnny leaned in and pressed his lips to hers in a tender kiss, his hand weaving into her blonde waves. As they pulled apart, he rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the quiet of the bathhouse. 

As he slowly leaned back, Ruth’s eyes caught sight of the raised scabs on his nose, cheekbone, and forehead. She reached up tentatively, barely touching them as she inspected his face. 

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, her voice laced with concern. “I didn’t even notice before.”

John’s gaze softened as he met her worried eyes. “Just a few scratches, Ruthie. Nothing to worry about.”

She nodded, though she wasn’t entirely convinced. “Was it from Regensburg?”

The Major hesitated for a moment, the mental image of Curt’s plane exploding flashing in his mind before he could stop the thought. He nodded once and forced his face to remain neutral. “Yeah.”

Little did he know that the blonde could see the pain in his blue eyes.

Ruth shook her head, a frown tugging at her lips. “You’ve been taking care of me all day, and I-I should have noticed sooner. I’m sorry.”

He reached out, gently taking her hand. “Hey, it’s okay,” he reassured her, giving her hand a comforting squeeze. “I’m really fine, doll. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

“Thank you. For everything.”

He forced all thoughts of the mission from his mind, focusing on the present.

“You’re lucky,” he smirked down at her, mischief floating in his eyes. “I don’t give free concerts to just anyone.”

Ruth couldn’t hold in a laugh at his remark and the soft sound echoed through the small room. “Well, lucky for you,” she teased back. “If you gave out tickets for free, nobody would show up anyway.”

John rolled his eyes playfully, his heart swelling with relief as he listened to Ruth’s laughter, even her small smile warming him from the inside out. It eased the tension and guilt in his chest and filled him with a sense of happiness that he couldn’t quite put into words. He leaned in to kiss her forehead gently, savoring the feeling of her soft skin against his lips.

“You feeling any better?”

“I feel clean,” Ruth sighed wistfully. “Tired but clean.”

Gathering all her used items from the bathroom, she threw them into the dirty bin in the corner of the room. Bucky took her hand and brought them to his hut’s door, holding a finger to his lips.

“What?” she yawned as he opened the door for her. “What are-”

She cut herself off when she spotted them. Buck and Hope were still sleeping in each other’s arms, and a wide smile formed on her face when she looked up at Johnny who was already peering down at her. 

‘Hope’s fine,’ she thought. ‘They must have made up.’

Ruth had to throw a hand over her mouth to keep in the excited giggle that threatened to escape her lips, and John shook his head, tugging her away from the couple to his bunk.

She sank into his bed and inhaled deeply. Ruth closed her eyes for a moment, taking in the scent of his pillow, a mixture of his cologne and the army-issue shampoo they all used. It was a comforting smell, one that made her feel at ease.

As Ruth settled onto the bed, John made his way to the footlocker at the foot of the bunk, rummaging around for a clean shirt. Turning onto her back, she stared up at him as his fingers loosened the knot of his tie, pulling it free from around his neck. He tossed it into his footlocker before moving on to the buttons of his brown uniform shirt, revealing the pink-splotched tank top beneath.

Ruth couldn’t tear her gaze away if she tried.

She watched in silence, her face burning as he shrugged off the shirt, exposing his broad shoulders and muscular arms. When he finally pulled off the tank top, leaving him shirtless, a lump formed in her throat and heat surged through her. 

‘Get it together, Ruth,’ she thought. 

John caught her gaze and smirked, raising an eyebrow as he placed his hands on his hips. “So you can look, but I can’t?”

Ruth sputtered for a moment, her cheeks turning an impossibly deeper shade of red, but John chuckled softly. “I’m just joking, doll. Look all you want.“

She couldn’t help but admire him openly, her eyes tracing the lines of his chest and the curve of his shoulders. He was undeniably handsome…she knew that. But seeing him like this took her attraction to a whole new level and her heart fluttered in her chest.

Ruth eyed the few things that dangled from his neck: his dog tags, a small Virgin Mary pendant, and her Granny’s cross. 

Ruth silently thanked her Grandmother for bringing him back to her. 

Grabbing a fresh shirt from his footlocker, John slipped it on and kicked off his shoes before settling onto the bed, sliding back to sit against the wall. Ruth shifted to make herself comfortable and rested her head on his lap as Johnny’s fingers brushed over her damp hair.

They talked quietly for a few minutes, their conversation meandering aimlessly as they both enjoyed the other’s company. Soon, Ruth’s eyelids grew heavy, and her words began to drift off mid-sentence. Bucky watched her fondly, a smile playing at the corners of his lips as she slipped into sleep, her warm breaths against his thigh.

Sighing, he carefully reached for his beat-up copy of Guys and Dolls on his nightstand and began to read, holding it up with one hand. His other hand rested on Ruth’s head as he absentmindedly stroked her hair as he read, only lifting it to flip the page. 

‘Only a rank sucker will think of taking two peeks at Dave the Dude’s doll, because while Dave may stand for the first peek, figuring it is a mistake, it is a sure thing he will get sored up at the second peek, and Dave the Dude is certainly not a man to have sored up on you. But this Waldo Winchester is one hundred percent sucker…’

The only sounds filling the room were each of the four’s quiet breaths, and John was able to read a few chapters before he heard rustling across from him. He lowered his book to see Buck sitting up slightly, rubbing his eyes with a yawn.

“Welcome back, sleeping beauty,” John grinned, his voice hushed.

Gale’s head lifted to get a look at his friend and a chuckle escaped him seeing Johnny with a wide-mouthed Ruth lying in his lap, her blonde hair covering his thighs. “Look at us.”

“Yeah. Who would’ve thought.”

Silence filled the air again as each thought of the woman beside them. A few moments later, John broke the stillness of the nissen hut. “How’s she doing?”

“She’s…She’s good,” Gale replied as he fought to keep a blush from his cheeks at the memory of their confession and what came after. “How’s Ruth?”

Johnny shook his head with a saddened sigh. “Real shaken up, Buck. You should’ve seen her earlier. I was…I was worried.”

“I know the feeling. She doin’ any better now?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Finally cracked a smile and seemed herself when she saw you two.”

A gentle smile tugged at Buck’s lips as his gaze drifted down to Hope who continued to sleep soundly. Her breathing was shallow and her nose wrinkled occasionally as she dreamed. At some point, she had moved her left hand to clutch onto his shirt and he could see the ring glisten in the dim light. “I popped the question.”

“So it’s official?”

“Yep. 

“Congratulations, Buck,” Johnny smiled, a brow raising a few seconds later. “I am gonna be your best man, right?”

With an eye roll, Gale nodded at him. “Of course, you are, lardass.”

“Good.”

“As if I could watch Hope walk down the aisle without you by my side.”

“Exactly. You'll be crying like a baby anyway. I’ll have to bring plenty of tissues,” John chuckled, pleased that a sleeping Hope was keeping Gale anchored to the bed. Otherwise, he thought something would have been thrown his way. 

“I can’t say you’re much better,” Gale pointed out, nodding his head toward them. “Look at you. Never thought I’d see the day that John Egan wrote love letters, much less something like this.”

John chuckled and thought about how different his life had been since that day in July. “Well, I finally found one worth writing to. Ruth…she’s uh, she-”

 As if she had heard her name, the blonde stirred on his lap, stretching and yawning loudly before her eyes made contact with Gale who smiled at her.

“Good morning, Gale greeted her, causing Ruth to blush. She hadn’t realized she had an audience watching her wake up and only hoped she hadn’t been snoring loudly. 

She rolled onto her back to face John and was met with a gentle smile and loving blue eyes gazing down at her. “Hey there. Feeling better?”

“Still tired,” Ruth sighed and sat up, rubbing away the sleepers that had accumulated in her swollen eyes. “But I don’t think I can sleep anymore.”

John had to hold in a laugh at the way her blonde waves stuck up in all different directions from where they had dried on his lap. “Well, your wish is my command, doll, so what do you wanna do?”

“What is there to do?”

“Have you seen the hard stands yet?” Gale spoke up. “Lemmons might even have Billy and Sammy over there.”

“Billy and Sammy?”

“Two little squirts that Kenny’s taken under his wing,” John answered with a nod.

At the mention of the kids, Ruth’s face lit up, and a wide grin grew on her lips. All evidence of sleep disappeared from her features as she excitedly clambered off the major’s lap and stood to her feet, brushing her fingers through her hair to tame the wild locks.

As he watched her, Johnny felt a pang of sadness at the sight of Ruth’s sudden enthusiasm. It hit him then, that she probably hadn’t seen many kids since becoming a nurse. As a teacher, she was surrounded by them every day, and now, their innocent faces were likely a distant memory in her mind.

“They’re a handful, those two,” Bucky chuckled, rising to his feet beside her. “But they’re good kids. Come on, let’s go see if Kenny’s putting em’ to work over at the hard stands.”

Walking out of the hut, the couple sent Buck a “thanks” as they walked by him. Ruth’s eyes fell on Hope’s still sleeping figure, her heart twinging at the memories of the morning, but she didn’t worry. Gale was there to take care of her.

John and Ruth spent the short ride to the hard stands talking about their weeks, and he almost let the news of Gale and Hope’s engagement slip a few times before they rumbled to a stop in front of Muggs’ hardstand. 

He was determined to keep his mouth shut for once. Bucky knew Hope should be the one to tell Ruth about her engagement, and he didn’t want to be the one to ruin the surprise.

Hopping out of the jeep, John’s eyes searched for Lemmons. “Kenny?”

Ruth glanced over at him skeptically. “He here?”

“Should be. He said he’d fix the old girl up today.”

They approached the fort, and Ruth was shocked by its sheer size. Yes, her C-47 was big, but the B-17 was different. Her plane carried supplies, people, almost anything…but this was a weapon. A weapon that took the fight to Hitler’s doorstep. 

It really did look like a fortress.

Ruth reached up and trailed her fingers along its yellow nose paint, the metal rivets cool from the chilly English air as she followed John to the small hatch just in front of the right wing. Before he could stick his head into the hatch, a small boy’s face appeared sideways out the hole. 

“Boo!” 

Both the adults jumped, Ruth more so than Bucky, and the man jokingly groaned. “Billy! I thought Lemmons was supposed to be keeping you out of trouble?”

“Did I scare you, Major?”

John raised an eyebrow at him. “What do you think?”

“Yes,” he giggled as another boy stuck his head out the hole.

Sammy.

“Whatcha think, Ruthie?” Bucky looked over at her with his hands on his hips. “They get me?”

She grimaced playfully and nodded. “He about jumped out of his boots, boys.”

They shared a shocked look, then broke out into cheers, their faces disappearing from the hatch. “Lemmons! We got him! We finally got him!”

 “They’ve been trying to scare me for weeks,” he explained, a fond grin tugging at his lips. “Finally got me.”

Before Ruth could respond, a pair of feet dangled from the hatch, and John helped each of the boys to the ground, setting them down in front of the couple. They went running off toward the tail, and then a few seconds later, a ground crewman hopped out of the hatch, his dark curls peeking out from under his beanie.

“So they finally got ya, huh, Bucky?” he asked.

“Looks like it,” he replied.

Ken’s eyes fell to Ruth beside John and he smiled, wiping his oily hands on a rag. “You must be Ruth! I’ve heard a lot about you.” He held out a hand, “I’m Ken Lemmons, but you can call me Kenny. I’m one of the ground crew chiefs.”

“Nice to meet you, Kenny. I hope you’ve heard good things,” Ruth answered, cheeks flushing at the notion that John had talked about her. She glanced up at him with narrowed eyes before shaking Ken’s hand. “There’s no telling what this one’s said.”

“Don’t worry,” Lemmons chuckled. “Only good things. I promise.”

Giggles sounded from the back of the plane, and Ruth leaned to see them, her gaze instantly drawn to the boys. Following her eyes, Ken called them over. “Come here! The Major’s got someone he wants y’all to meet!”

They bounded over, just noticing her presence even though she had spoken to them minutes before. 

John grinned and wrapped an arm around Ruth's shoulders as he introduced her to the boys. "Boys, this is Ruth. She's my girl."

The boys' eyes widened in disbelief, and Billy blurted out, "No way! You're way too pretty!"

Ruth busted out laughing at their innocence. "Ohhh, he’s not so bad once you get past the mustache…and the jacket…and the bad jokes…and-"

“Alright, alright. We get your point,” he groaned, pretending to be offended by dramatically clutching his heart. "Way to kick a man when he’s down. Besides, that’s a lie about the mustache."

She shrugged and ignored his question. “Nice to meet you, boys.”

They exchanged mischievous grins, clearly enjoying the banter. "Miss Ruth," Sammy said, using his hand to hide his words from John. "You’re way out of his league."

John still heard the comment and raised an eyebrow, playing along. "You think so? Well, I guess I'll just have to keep her around to make me look good."

Ruth nudged him playfully. "Smooth recovery, Major."

The boys shared another toothy and excited glance before launching into a barrage of questions. “Do you live on base? Are you a nurse? Do you fly planes? Have you ever shot down a Jerry plane?”

Ruth laughed at their enthusiasm, sparing John a blissful look as she felt almost at home in the kids' presence. “I’m a flight nurse, and no, I don’t live at Thorpe Abbotts. I fly in planes but leave the actual flying to the pilots. I just take care of my patients and leave the rest to them.”

Billy and Sammy listened intently, hanging on her every word. “Do you ever see any action?” Billy asked.

Ruth hesitated, the day’s events flashing in her mind, but a warm, reassuring hand on her back brought her back to the present. “Sometimes,” she replied carefully. “But most of the time, my friend Hope and I are too busy taking care of the wounded soldiers and getting them safely back home to notice.”

“Wow,” they marveled.

“So what do y’all do around here?”

Out of the blue, Sammy grabbed Ruth’s hand, tugging her from the men. “Come on, Miss Ruth! We have to show you the plane!”

“Yeah, you gotta see the tail gun up close!” Billy added eagerly, his toothy grin stretching ear to ear. “And the ball turret!”

Ruth glanced back at John before allowing herself to be led away by the boys. As he watched them go, he shook his head at how Ruth affected everyone she met…she was captivating.

Ken and Johnny began conversing about the Muggs’ repairs from the previous day, but the Major’s attention kept drifting back to Ruth. After the boys gave her a plane tour, the trio moved to a grassy patch nearby, plopping onto the ground with Ruth sandwiched between the two boys. They continued their animated conversation, and their laughter filled the air as she told a story of a soldier who got airsick and threw up on her shoes. 

As he watched them, a thought crossed John Egan’s mind. A thought so unexpected that it caught him off guard.

She’d make a great mom.

The realization startled him. He’d never entertained thoughts of a future like that before, never met a woman who made him long to settle down and raise a family. But there he was, watching Ruth with Billy and Sammy, and the idea didn’t seem as far-fetched as before.

Ken noticed Bucky’s distraction and nudged him gently. “She’s great with ‘em.”

“She is,” he breathed, grinning as the boys broke into another fit of giggles across the hard stand. “Ruth was a teacher before she became a nurse.”

“A teacher?”

“Yeah.”

Lemmons nodded. “Makes sense. What age?”

“Junior high.”

“Well, that’s how she can handle you, then,” Kenny laughed. “She’s used to wranglin’ 13-year-olds all day!”

John threw an arm over the younger man’s shoulders, jostling him lightly. “You know, you’re probably right,” he cackled, his eyebrows raised. “You’re wise beyond your years. Sometimes I forget you’re still a squirt yourself.”

Once Billy and Sammy had to go home for supper, the couple drove back to the Officer’s Hut to catch up with Gale and Hope. Later that evening, Hugh arrived with food for the two couples, Meatball following at his heels. The large husky made a beeline for Hope, greeting her at the side of the bed. 

“Hey, Meatball,” Hope mumbled, leaning as far as she could to ruffle the dog’s fur. Meatball groaned when she began scratching his ear, and he closed his eyes and tilted his head, expressing his enjoyment. “Who's a good boy?” Meatball hopped up on the bed, snuggling into Hope’s side. 

“You can keep him if you want. The damn thing keeps howling. It’s driving me insane,” Hugh complained, passing Hope a bowl of steaming soup. “When Demarco gets back, I’m giving him a piece of my mind, leaving me to watch his dog all afternoon.” 

Hope accepted the soup gratefully but could only manage a few mouthfuls until the wave of nausea washed over her once more, and she placed the bowl down. 

“Ugh, I feel so sick.” 

Gale was at her side in an instant, his hand resting on the small of her back as she bent over, head in her hands. Ruth looked anxiously at John from their seats on his bed and started to put down her bowl to help when Hope spoke up.

 “It’s okay, Gale, it’s just the morphine,” she reassured him, squeezing his hand, to which he pressed his lips to her shoulder blade. 

Hugh snickered, “He didn’t get you pregnant while I was away, did he?” 

“With us in here? Sounds like a nightmare,” John retorted, rolling his eyes at the same time Ruth grimaced from beside him. She knew a signature Hope Armstrong comeback was incoming.

Hope glared at her brother, ”The fact that you have so little knowledge on pregnancy concerns me for your future wife.” 

Hugh stuck his tongue out in response, “That’s not a no, though.” 

 The pillow from Gale’s bed was a near miss as it sailed past Hugh’s head, and he dodged it dramatically, glaring at his sister.

“Come on, with all the ‘Dear John’ letters Sparky gets, I’d be surprised if he ever settles down,” John joined in. 

“Look who’s talking, Bucky,” Hugh retorted, pointing at Ruth with his spoon. “At least I got letters. You didn’t get a single one before Ruth came along.”

“Really?” Ruth asked quietly, surprise etched on her face.

The Major nodded with pursed lips, pushing the vegetables around his bowl before looking over at her with a small smile. “There was no one worth writing to.”

The blonde’s cheeks heated at his words, and she got caught in his gaze.

From their position across the room, Gale and Hope watched the interaction with fond smiles, both happy to see their friends with someone who so clearly adored them. The moment was interrupted when Hugh burst out laughing. 

“Well, that didn’t stop you from-”

He was cut off when a pillow came sailing into the side of his face, knocking some of his soup onto his pants as the pillow fell to the bed. Hugh’s gaze flicked towards the cot the projectile came from, ready to yell at Hope, but he wasn’t expecting to see her wide eyes as she stared up at Buck in awe.

“Sorry, Charlie,” he shrugged. “It just slipped.” 

Ruth and Hope broke into chuckles, but John just sent Gale a thankful glance. Bucky then turned his attention to Hugh, and the two pilots glared at each other. John was frustrated about the cheap, low-blow comment, and Hugh was still clearly sour over the best man situation. They soon gave up and went back to their soup. John’s mind, however, got stuck on Hugh’s words.

Once they’d finished their supper, a knock sounded at the door. “Everyone decent in there? Girls?”

Frank.

“Uh, yeah,” John called, lifting an eyebrow at Ruth.

The door swung open, and the Captain walked in with his lips in a straight line. “Thought you two’d be in here,” he nodded before turning to Hope. “How’s the leg?”

“I’m okay. Still hurts like a bitch, though.”

“Did you get it checked?”

Her face shifted into a grimace at the question. “I took care of it.”

“You, Hope Armstrong,” he sighed. “Are the reason I drink.”

“You know you love us,” Ruth added, tilting her head with a grin.

Frank’s attention drifted to Ruth’s figure beside John. “And how are you, Ruthie?”

The blonde looked up at John, thinking of how he’d taken care of her throughout the day. “Better now.”

“Alright, enough of the lovey eyes, you two,” he called out to them, taking a deep breath and placing his hands on his hips. “The Angel’s out of commission, and the Grove can’t send anyone tonight with the blackout, so we’re stuck here for the night.”

Both couples perked up at the news, but Hugh just groaned.

“As much as I wish I could make you stay with the Red Cross girls, I know I can’t. So you two,” Frank pointed at Gale and John. “No funny business, okay? None.”

Johnny’s mouth twitched, almost quirking into a smirk, but he was able to hold it in as Buck replied with a “Yes sir.” 

“Zero funny business,” Bucky fake saluted from his bunk.

Running a hand down his tired face, Frank scratched his mustache. “Hugh, I’m counting on you to keep an eye on them.”

“Trust me, I will.”

“Alright. I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

The door closed behind him with a slam, and they all visibly relaxed. Hope moved to shuffle back onto the bed beside Gale, the wave of nausea having passed when the door flew open again. 

A cool breeze filled the hut as five men strolled into the hut, apparently oblivious of the girls until the one at the front of the column spoke up. 

“Would you look at that? Major ‘no girls in the hut’ Cleven has a girl on his bed,” he pointed at Hope before the man behind him tapped his shoulder, causing him to turn and notice Ruth. “And Egan, too. Shit, I’m surprised Charlie hasn’t joined in.” 

Gale sighed, standing up and placing his hand on Hope’s shoulder, “Hope, Ruth, these are the boys.” Buck took a breath to introduce them, but John beat him to it. 

“DEMARCOO!!” John hollered, causing Gale to groan at his friend’s childish antics. 

The man at the front just smiled. 

“Egan,” he greeted him before motioning towards Ruth, “How did you manage to snag yourself such an attractive broad?” 

Ruth’s cheeks flushed under the other man’s gaze but John just chuckled beside her, “Must be my endless charm.” 

“Sure thing, Major,” Demarco snorted, his voice lowering to a whisper as he glanced down at Ruth. “Blink twice if you need help.” 

With a shove from John, Benny laughed and turned his attention back to Hope and Gale while Bubbles moved over to greet Ruth.

“Hi again,” Bubbles waved at the blonde with a kind smile. “Glad to see you’re feelin’ better, ma’am.”

Ruth nodded from where she was tucked into John’s side. “Me too. And call me Ruth, please.”

“Oh, your bike’s outside, by the way,” Bubbles added, looking over at Bucky and pointing toward the door. A smirk appeared on the lieutenant’s face as he stepped closer to the couple with a hushed tone. “Kidd was, uh, not amused, to say the least.”

“Like I said, he’ll get over it,” John remarked, glancing over Bubbles’ shoulder at the Major in question who was conversing with Bill quietly. “Looks like he’s over it now. Jack!” 

“Wait-” Bubbles tried to stop him, but it was too late.

“Thanks for letting me borrow your jeep today.”

Jack scoffed bitterly and sent Johnny a sharp glare. “When you stole my jeep, you mean.”

“Come on, Jack,” John groaned. “I left you my bike.”

“A bike and a jeep are nowhere near the same thing,” Kidd argued, shaking his head with a sigh as his gaze fell on Ruth. “I know today was rough, and I’m glad you two are okay. I saw your skytrain, and you’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”

Ruth felt the familiar lump of anxiety growing in her throat, and she cleared it quietly, keeping her voice steady. “Thanks.”

“Just don’t do it again, Bucky,” Jack nodded.

“No promises.”

Kidd’s gaze shifted to Ruth with his brows drawn together. “How do you deal with him?”

“I have no idea,” she answered tightly, the anxiety still working its way up her throat. John inspected her face, noticing the way her eyes darted around the room.

“It’s a little stuffy in here, don’t you think?” he asked, meeting her anxious gaze.

Ruth nodded as Bucky waved bye at Jack and ushered her out the door. When the pair exited the hut, they were met by a beautiful sight. The sun was setting over the base and vibrant colors painted the sky above the runways. Silhouettes of B-17s lined the horizon, and the distant rumble of engines, with the occasional chatter of ground crewmen, filled the air. 

Ruth took a deep breath and crossed her arms over herself, the warm sunlight on her face helping to calm her racing heart. 

“Sorry, I know that was a lot of people,” he said quietly. 

“It’s not that. Today’s been a lot,” Ruth sighed, pushing her hair behind her ears as she continued to stare out at the English countryside. “I just needed a second.”

They both silently watched the sun slowly disappear behind fields of wheat as far as the eye could see, each of their minds stuck on the day.

As Johnny stood beside her with his hands on his hips, Hugh’s comment about his past replayed in his head. Before he met Ruth, everyone knew he wasn’t particular about who he spent his nights with or where he spent them, and these women didn’t seem to mind either. But all that changed when Ruth walked into his life. 

Despite his pickup lines and physical affection, John wanted to make sure Ruth knew she wasn’t just another of his “floozies” as Hope called them. She had to know that he felt something deeper beyond physical attraction, something real for her...as real as he’d ever felt. 

Mustering up his courage, John took a deep breath and broke the silence of the quiet sunset. 

“About what Hugh said earlier, or started to say,” Ruth turned to him. “It’s no secret I’ve been around,” he confessed, his eyes falling to the ground. “I’ve been with women-”

“You don’t have to say anything,” she interrupted, placing a hand on his arm.

“Yeah, I do,” he urged, moving a hand over hers. “I’ve done things I’m not too proud of. But I’ve been trying to do better…”

John acted like he wanted to say more, but stopped when a conflicted expression appeared on his face. Sensing his apprehension, Ruth squeezed his arm reassuringly. 

After a moment, he decided to keep going, his voice laced with nervousness. “You make me want to be better. You make me feel…something…everything. The other girls were…I don’t know. Distractions, maybe? Something to keep my mind off of what goes on up there.”

As Ruth watched him pour out his closely guarded heart, she saw a glimpse of a man who wasn’t as secure and confident as it seemed. She saw a man who longed to be held, taken care of, and loved but was unsure how to go about it.

“But I like this,” John gestured between them. “I like us…a lot. Today made me realize just how much. And I-I don’t want to mess this up.”

Biting her lip gently, she stepped closer, reducing the already small gap between them. “I like us, too. I meant what I said in my letter, you know. About you not being rid of me.”

“I meant what I said, too,” he replied softly, tilting his head towards her as he gently placed his hands on her hips. “You’re a unicorn, doll. One in a million, one of a kind…however you wanna say it.”

Ruth’s hands slid up John’s chest and looped around his neck, her lips slowly curving into a small grin despite the burning sensation within her stomach. “Yeah?” she whispered.

“Yeah,” John nodded as a line appeared between his brows. “I wanna do this right, and I’ve never-,” he paused, inhaling deeply. “I’ve never done this before…you know? Gone steady. But I care about you. So damn much. And I want that with you.”

“I want it too.”

They stared at each other for a few moments, the setting sun casting a golden hue on John’s face as he held her in his arms. 

“Good,” he finally sighed, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled down at her. “Cause I didn’t have a plan B if you rejected me.”

Ruth chuckled under her breath and shook her head. “I could never reject you. I’ve been letting you kiss me for almost a month now, remember.”

“Well, you’d be surprised. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

She rolled her eyes, meeting his gaze again to find him searching her face for some answer to a silent question.

“So…what happens now?”

“Well,” Ruth whispered, her eyes flicking to his lips. “I was expecting you to kiss me, Major, but-”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” he quickly replied, tugging her flush against him and landing his lips on hers. It was a gentle kiss that confirmed their deep attachment to the other, and their future together.

Pulling away, Ruth answered his question out of breath, her words coming out in shorts pants. “How about we take it slow and see where it goes?”

Shaking his head, John’s hands slid from her waist to her cheeks and gave her another chaste kiss. When he leaned back, he peered down at her blushing face with a wide, toothy grin. “Did you know the unicorn’s my favorite extinct animal?”

As they settled in for the night, John lounged under his covers with one arm behind his head and stared up at Ruth with a mischievous grin. “Looks like the floor’s all yours, doll,” he said, gesturing to the space beside his cot.

“Oh really?” Ruth arched an eyebrow, feigning deep thought as she glanced around the hut. “I'm sure someone else has some room if you’re kicking me out…”

Without missing a beat, Bucky quickly made room for her on the narrow bed, playfully pulling back the covers and throwing his arm out for her. “Oh wow, would you look at that? A vacancy just opened up.”

She rolled her eyes and accepted his invitation, slipping into the bed beside him, immediately feeling the comforting warmth of his body. John wrapped his arm around her, his touch gentle as he settled her close against him.

“Don’t you dare hog the blankets,” she teased, her voice soft as she nestled against his side, her hand finding its place on his chest.

Bucky squeezed her waist slightly, grinning up at the ceiling. “Don’t you worry about me. I don’t think I’ll have any problem staying warm tonight.”

Beside them, Bill grumbled in response, his voice muffled as he turned away. “Bucky, just shut up and go to sleep. Some of us are flying tomorrow.”

“Night, doll,” John whispered, chuckling under his breath before tenderly kissing Ruth’s hair.

Her eyes became heavy with the day’s exhaustion, and she lazily kissed his shoulder. “Sweet dreams.”

“Oh, they will be if-”

“John! Shut the hell up!” Jack hissed through the darkness.

Finally following their request, Bucky stopped talking and instead focused on how Ruth’s small figure fit perfectly into his bulky one like a missing puzzle piece. He let the steady rise and fall of her chest against him lull him into restful sleep that he’d been lacking since they touched down in Algeria.

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[evanpetersmybf]

Scary Love

Kit Walker x female!reader

Summary: A future nun with trust issues and a falsely accused gentleman.

Genre: Fluff and some angst.

Word count: 1,381

Warnings: Catholic reader and mention of some religious items (not really sure if this counts as a warning, but okay)

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...And lead us not into temptation,

but deliver us from evil.

Amen.

You crossed yourself, still kneeling down in front of the crucifix, hands holding a Holy Mary medal.

The chapel was quiet and peaceful, a big difference in comparison to the rest of the asylum, which was always filled with screams and many other disturbing stuff. How did you end up in this hellhole? That’s the question you ask yourself every night before going to sleep. Ah yes, you were the one who took this decision. No one forced you.

You returned to the main room; a jukebox eternally playing Dominique non-stop while all the patients coexisted in the common hall.

And there he was. The one and only Kit Walker. Probably the most sane person in the habitation right now, besides you of course.

The handsome man saw you and a sweet smile appeared on his face, cute dimples along the lovely grin. Seeing him made you feel multiple things at the same time. Things you didn’t allow yourself to feel. With a heavy sigh of remorse, you avoided his gaze and kept walking around, finding an excuse to get away from him.

Kit’s brows furrowed, not getting what was happening. Why were you avoiding him? He thought you two were good friends now. In reality, you were one of the few people in the psychiatric who actually treated him as a human being and not as a crazy murderer -which he clearly wasn’t, tho- and that melted his heart.

He followed you from behind, but you kept escaping.

“Sista’!” He pleaded, until was finally able to catch up and grabbed your hand, making you turn around to face him. “Sista’ Y/N, what's goin’ on?” His dark doe eyes tried to meet yours, as an attempt to find an answer.

Nothing.

Kit scoffed, making early assumptions due to your lack of reaction. “So do ya’ really believe in that bullshit, huh? Ya’ really think I killed my wife?” Annoyed, the man let go of your hand, but deep down he hoped you didn’t think of him that way.

“No, wait!” You replied, looking down at the floor while fidgeting with a cross necklace hanging around your neck. “Is not like that, Kit…”

“Then what is it, sista’? Are ya’ scared of me?”

“I actually am.” You took a deep breath and stared at his eyes after hesitating for a while. “I’m afraid you are the temptation, Kit.”

The brunet raised an eyebrow, having more questions than answers. “Whatcha’ mean, sista’? Da’ temptation?”

“The temptation I always pray to God to keep far from me.” Your gaze drifted to his forearms; thick veins and big hands. Oh Lord.

Kit realized you were staring down. He tried to discover what were you looking at, until he noticed your eyes and a subtle blush on your cheeks.

He smirked and crossed his arms in front of him. That cheeky smile. The one who made you head over heels.

“Oh, so now I’m da’ devil, hm?”

You didn’t say anything else. You ran away from him and locked yourself in your room.

Kit was always on your mind. No matter what you did, he was always there. Even when you attempted to pray, you heard his voice. Maybe you need to be the patient and not a novice.

After a long sleepless night, you found yourself in the kitchen early in the morning, just to find Kit kneading dough and mumbling some things to himself.

“Mornin’, sista’” Voice soft like honey, yet it showed some concern because of what happened yesterday between you two. “Ya’ ‘kay?”

“Mhm…” Of course not. You weren’t okay. You felt conflicted.

“If I may ask… Why did ya’ become a nun?”

“I’m not a nun yet. I haven’t made my vows. I’m here tryin’ to find out if this truly is my vocation or not.”

“And? Have you made up your mind?”

You shook your head no, hugging yourself and looking at his arms, again. “You’re the reason why I don’t know if I belong here.”

Kit let out a chuckle, feeling amused by your shyness and obvious fixation on his limbs.

“Why do ya’ always stare at my hands, sista’? Do ya’ like ‘em?”

Your face went red, eyes slightly widened. Damn. He noticed it.

“I’m not supposed to like those sinful things.”

“Ya’ a human too, Y/N”

“But I wasn’t made for this. For affection or lust.”

Kit was curious about what you meant by that. You explained everything to him, saying you felt out of place because when you were growing up not a single boy flirted with you. Besides, you said you had many awful love experiences and, after a serious heartbreak, you began to wonder if possibly your destiny was staying single and dedicating the rest of your life to God. Furthermore, you mentioned your fear of physical touch, and how you still desired it. It was complicated.

The man listened to you, looking at how you fidgeted with a chain while you nervously told your story, taking note of how your soothing voice cracked from time to time.

Everything about you was so alluring to him. He couldn’t believe no one treated you right. And, as the gentleman he was, he wanted to change that.

“Well, sista’... To me, you’re one of da’ most beautiful women alive. I mean it.” Kit took a few steps closer to you, but kept a fair distance in order to not make you uncomfortable.

He cracked a smile, in love with those charming eyes of yours.

“If I’m that beautiful, why haven't I been loved, Kit? Tell me why–”

Kit was now some inches away from your face contemplating your lips. He placed a hand over your mouth, not letting you finish your sentence.

You tried to speak, but it was nonsense; his palm muffling your words.

“Y/N, ‘m not like those assholes. Not at all. Trust me, please.”

He let you speak again, now intertwining his fingers with yours. His body was warm, his touch was gentle and comforting, the type of connection you’ve been craving for too long. Walker was so good-looking; you could look at him forever… And he could look at you for the rest of eternity, too.

“Can I, gorgeous?” His thumb brushed your lips and part of your cheek, sending electric waves to your spine.

Was this even for real? You doubt it. You thought he was messing around, but he wasn’t.

Fearfully, you agreed.

Finally, Kit leaned in and pressed his chapped lips against your velvety ones. The kiss was tender, full of endearment. His heart was beating fast, so was yours. Pupils dilated and breathing deep.

He cupped the side of your face, rubbing the flesh with his digit while you melted under his touch.

This was the very first time that someone held you the way he did. Embracing you as if you were the most precious gem, or as if you were made of delicate porcelain.

Eventually, he pulled away and grinned, both of you feeling like dorky teens after having their first kiss, even if that wasn’t the case. “Ya’ so divine…” Kit mumbled and then, his lips were dancing with yours.

He stepped back from time to time exclusively to flatter you, saying corny compliments between the kisses.

His hands were roaming all over your body, caressing every right spot to make you feel in heaven.

He was so good at this.

But… Did this have a future?

Kit was here in Briarcliff, falsely accused of committing a murder. Not only that, you were a novice. This love couldn’t be.

Your mind overwhelmed you with those thoughts, making you abruptly get away from him.

“No, Kit, I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” Or perhaps you could. You felt like losing your mind. Love was making you crazy. However, you couldn’t allow yourself to feel, nor risk his safety for this. Maybe you were scared of his love. Of how much he was caring for you. You didn’t understand.

Without further ado, you left the cold kitchen, once filled with sweetness and adoration.

Kit remained there, a single tear drop falling from his eye, wondering if he could ever be happy again.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ཐི ♡ ཋྀ

A/N: English isn't my first language. Sorry if this has grammatical mistakes. Also, I tried to be respectful with the religion, I'm catholic myself and I'm so sorry if this offends someone. Hope you enjoy it! ^^

[tripthelightfandomtastic]

inspired by the huge cut at the top of my thigh i just gave myself whilst shaving in the shower here’s the danny thought that’s been plaguing me ever since

say you’re best friends with danny but there’s always been some tension there and god the rest of your friends are just waiting for the two of you to open your eyes and get together

and he’s over at your apartment waiting for you to finish in the shower when he hears you calling his name in somewhat mild distress

but he still jumps up and he’s running to the bathroom door

‘what’s wrong?’

‘my leg is bleeding. i don’t have any band aids left in here, can you check in the kitchen?’

and he’s back in a second, band aid in tow as he slowly knocks on the door and asks softly

‘can i come in?’

and the turn of the lock matches the thump in his chest when he sees you surrounded by the post shower haze, steam coating the mirror and droplets from your wet hair grazing the t shirt you’ve slipped over your form and oh god now he’s looking at your bare legs and he’s cursing himself because you’re clutching tissue to the spot near the top of your thigh that’s oozing blood and he’s reprimanding himself for not being able to just get a grip she’s in pain she just needs the band aid

‘found one. the extra special kind too, covered in little robots.’

and you’re grinning at him as you move to dab more blood away from the cut, not noticing danny’s breath hitch in his throat as your shirt moves along with your movement and reveals a slither of your underwear before he decides there’s a moment where you’ve never been so vulnerable to him, and if he can’t be vulnerable too then he’s going to keep wondering if he could ever let you know how he feels

so clutching the robot covered band aid he decides there and then he’s going to do something about it and he’s crossing the bathroom over to you before kneeling down and hovering his hand over the blood covered tissue

‘may i?’

and you’re pretty sure he’d be able to hear your heart pounding through your chest and the feeling throbbing straight through you as he kneels almost eye level to where you dreamed too many times about him being, and you’re almost chuckling about the irony of being in the shower with danny on his knees for you because you never pictured it to be this way

but the million miles of thoughts in your head slows into one small nod and a faint blush on your cheeks, watching as he takes the tissue from you delicately wipes any trails of blood, one hand coming to rest on your hip as he does so

‘i’m afraid it’s bad news.’

and you’re lost in the daydream of danny so his words slightly alarm you, until he looks up at you through his eyelashes with a smirk

‘amputation is the only option. have you ever thought about living with one leg?’

and you’re laughing at his stupid joke, dropping a hand to his shoulder in a gentle push before swooping some of his curls over the same shoulder

‘luckily i know a guy who could carry me everywhere. i think i’ll be okay.’

and then he’s laughing, and he’s gently smoothing the band aid across your thigh before he leans in ever so slightly to inspect his handiwork and you know the mood has shifted because all of a sudden his eyes are dark and you swallow thickly, only praying he can’t sense the arousal that’s pooling between your legs where he kneels

‘do you need me to kiss it better?’

‘yes.’

and it’s only a whisper, and you both know the implication and you have to hold back the ungodly moan that almost leaves your throat as he presses his soft lips over the band aid, so close yet so far away from where you want him the most

‘better?’

he whispers back as he looks up to you, before going back to pepper soft kisses across the top of your thigh closer to the center

and you don’t know where the courage comes from, but you’re so sure and he is too that you manage to tell him

‘you missed.’

and then his nose grazes across your covered core, and you can’t keep in the soft moan that tumbles from your lips

‘yeah? then show me exactly where you need me.’

I just-

Yeah this is fuckin unfair

[fresh-avoguecado]

Growing up as a trans guy afraid of Hell

I have this little creature that lives in my chest, right below my collarbone.

She's always peeking through my eyes, always smiling.

Her name is a tree. Aspen. My inner child or something like that.

She has this thick mane that she wears in pigtails- so often that her hair has semi-permanent dents where the ties grip. 

She doesn't like wearing it down.

She's a little girl who only understands "she" and "girl" to be a conglomeration of sounds used to address her. She makes people laugh and she laughs a lot herself. 

She's curious about the world, the first baby of a family whose children have just turned into adults. She's loved really really well at this age. 

She'll switch to perma-ponytails next. She doesn’t like having hair in her face.

She sees a brown pageboy cap in a store and tries sticking the ponytail up in it. She likes how it looks. Like Newsies.

Aspen cuts the hair short for the first time. Like, committed to the shortness for a hot second short.

Aspen stops using pronouns for Aspen when thinking. Do other girls feel like this? Boys too? They must right? I don't think it's supposed to hurt.

 I'll just keep quiet. I can fix this.

Something in the kid is having trouble seeing the positives of growing up. But puberty is a lifetime away. Aspen has been a kid for forever so far, so that worry- 

-that weird thing called "womanhood" 

  wasn't anything to worry about anytime soon.

Not to worry. Not to worry. Aspen doesn't need to feel worry. 

Aspen is a very mature kid. All the teachers say so. Aspen is a paradox. 

The polite class clown. The charming and desirable tomboy. Everyone likes Aspen. And Aspen likes God so much and so Bravely n' Publicly that everyone in Churchome likes Aspen too.

The wonderkid is thoughtful, wonderfully spontaneous and compassionate. Pretty. Wonderkid is too talented and too well-loved by the family to not have all artistic dreams supported.

Aspen takes a Logic class.

IF  (grateful to have opportunities) AND (want the family to love you/go to heaven)

THEN (- cannot betray the familygod by becoming like that. Like becoming one of those people who are either the butt of a joke or a sexual adventure onscreen.)

Not when they have invested so much.

I was supposed to be better than that.

I-

I-

It would be sinful.

Aspen really wanted to go to heaven.

In heaven- it would all make sense, in heaven, the kid wouldn't feel this way about his body. He wouldn't- she-

I didn't want to be a she. I didn't want to be a she. It was wrong. 

What was wrong with me?

I read on a Christian blog that sometimes the mind needs visual symbolism to help get a point across.

“Try writing whatever negative thoughts you have about yourself on a piece of paper. Burn it, and watch as His light covers over the page and destroys your sin. Give your burden to the Lord.”

I write the word FREAK over and over again on a piece of paper and then I burn it on our porch.

I can fix this.

I. Can. Fix. This. 

I'm so desperate for anything at this point, anything to make the sin of my disgusting ungratefulness go away. I don't understand why God made me a girl. I don’t understand.

Why would He do this to me? I pray for God to show me a reason. God just says "Hold on." Over and over, every time I pray that's all I hear, "Hold on."

I suck up my tears. I genuinely don't know how I will stay alive. I don’t know how many years I’m going to need to “hold on” for until reality itself somehow shifts.

Until the mountains move. 

I am happiest when I am asleep.

But I don't want my parents to know that- I don't want to seem ungrateful or like I'm mentally ill when they have only ever treated me like the perfect faultless angels that they are.

I am a bad daughter.

I hate being a daughter.

I hate being in this body.

I can't fucking escape it.

I can't runaway from my own skin.

I tried I tried I tried-

I’m fifteen, running barefoot on concrete until I leave bloody tracks.

I read and I read and I read. 

I relate to Frankenstein's monster.

I want to stop existing like this more than anything.

"Hold on."

I'm angry at God for sticking me in this gender- from making me live in a world where being trans is a sin. For making it so that obeying Him means living a Freaky Friday nightmare every day of my life for years and years and years until I die.

I’m so scared of being buried in a dress. 

There's this one acting teacher in Aspen's school who doesn't look at Aspen in the same slightly-too-smiley way most men do. 

This guy calls Aspen "kid" exclusively and nonchalantly gives the kid one of his old pirate costumes after a Peter Pan performance. The boy one. 

The one I had been staring at.

The guy teaches me stage combat and makes me captain.

I later learn that he has a husband. I feel seen by him in a way I haven't felt before.

But it's a sin.

But…

I can't imagine him not going to heaven.

Not when his eyes look at me and say “hold on.”

Sometimes the things we talk about in Bible study make me feel…

I shouldn't feel that way.

"Trust in God" is the blanket answer Churchhome gives me when I ask them questions.

"Hold on," says God. The two words are enough to make me keep trying to fix/not hate myself. To survive for that person I'm going to save. To survive for the next version of me. For my phoenix.

"Hold on." The encouragement is somehow enough but just barely.

I hang on to a thread for the next six years.

The kid watches the people with the kind of body Aspen would grow into go about their lives.

The kid watches as all kinds of adults trade their name cards in for adjectives. People keep misspelling “Aspen” as “Pretty”.

Pretty loves to dance. Pretty loves to play piano. Aspen loves being able to express emotions without talking. Aspen didn't like the way Pretty's voice sounds.

There is a noticeable difference between Aspen's voice and the voice of real boys now. The kid tries not to think about it.

There are helpful YouTube videos explaining why God doesn't make mistakes. Why obedience is so rewarding, even it if doesn't feel like that in the moment- even if you can't comprehend ever being a woman and being truly happy. 

Trust me

Trust me

Trust me

Some people act wary around the kid now. The word gay is tossed around briefly. Briefly-

But the kid quickly works to quell those rumors.

I pray to God every day, trusting God to fix me, begging him to change me. To make me a boy- to pluck me out of this reality and let me be born again. Let me start over the right way for I am defective and want a recall.

Aspen needs a change in the brain.

I can only ever be happy as a girl if I have a lobotomy.

Aspen prays for a lobotomy.

Aspen prays for breast cancer.

Take away that part of myself that isn’t allowed to live. 

Dementor-kiss me and let me be pretty without caring. 

Amen Amen A man a man

The kid is lying sideways in bed. Wearing a black push-up bra. Trying to make it feel not alien.

The kid doesn't understand why the body is sobbing uncontrollably.

What's wrong with me? 

Why do I feel like this? 

What's wrong with me? 

What's wrong with me?

The kid tries standing a little wider, tries hunching the shoulders in, and wearing two sports bras two sizes too tight. The frayed straps often leave red rashes. Worth it.

Wonderkid tries it, and starts feeling better.

He cuts up bedsheets in his room and ties it around his chest so tight that his lungs sound raspy for hours afterward. 

But in the mirror, with that snake-sheet constricting his chest, the kid looks so happy in his pirate costume.

He feels slightly more alive when he tries on a binder for the first time.

He feels so much better that it's scary.

Because that isn't an option.

That isn't an option.

Not for Wonderkid.

Wonderkid moves to New York.

Public school is different than The C.C (Conservative Christian) Homeschool Co-op he was born into.

Aspen tries being Wondergirl for a while, wants to be with be a guy.

Lonely.

Body hurts.

Brain hurts.

Don't really feel anything.

But that's okay, all I need is God. The Lord is my strength and my shield. 

If I'm feeling pain then I must be doing something wrong, I must deserve the consequences. I am sinning by wanting to be a boy and being ungrateful for my gender. I am sixteen years old.

Some part of me trusts that I need to hold on a little longer.

I am always a boy when I dream. I am happiest when I am asleep. I think I have a purpose. I think I need to stay alive a little longer for him. I like the name Thomas.

I'm seventeen. Somewhere in my mind, I say "I can't be a girl forever. This hurts too much."

Another voice says 

"You can't die yet."

Life is supposed to be good, you're just not seeing it right… you need to trust in the Lord.  You have control over your life right? Everything you do has consequences. 

Everything is your fault. 

Dear God- help me lose weight, become more boxy, dear God help me to find a guy that I will actually desire to be with, make my chest smaller, make me stop, dear God Dear God Oh my God-

I cry and cry and cry until I never cry.

I'm still Wonderkid at school. Talented- I've evolved from Pretty to Beautiful now.I'm told to be thankful for my body by my Mother whenever I mention anything. I know I should be thankful. But I'm so ungrateful to God.

I know I’m swine compared to him. To His majesty and grace.

Who am I to question Him and His perfect plan? "For I know the plans I have for you-" I choke out on my bathroom floor, "Plans not to harm you, but to give you a hope and a future." I peel my shaking hands away from my face.

I was never good at memorizing Bible verses, but I always remembered the gist of them pretty well. We were graded on them at Churchome.

I discover that alcohol makes me not care about my body anymore. I drink and I stop caring about the way I have to be when I'm around people. I drink and I stop caring about the future or being trapped in this body or what happens next. I don’t even get hungover.

It's such a relief. A godsend. For a few hours every weekend, I genuinely don't care about being a girl. I can just dance and there are lights and music and everyone’s happy and young-

I really love dancing.

Soy milk increases estrogen so I start avoiding that like the plague- not because I'm… you know, like that or anything. I just don't like the way the female chest looks aesthetically/feels/is/exists/sits/lays/

I can't escape my body I can't escape my body scratches on my skin blame it on eczema-

A quiet stage.

Spotlight.

I’m eighteen. Red curtains lift around me and several cellos start singing.

I am stunning, I am so goddamn beautiful and I and everyone else in the auditorium knows it. 

My technique is clean because I give 120% in every class. At my ballet academy, I'm most teachers' favorite. I love that we aren't allowed to talk in class. I love the way ballet makes my body hurt.

I'm flexible but not as strong as the other dancers- a little heavier too* (*see Not Anorexic) and I haven't had as many years of training under my belt.

But God can I act- I dance with emotion, I dance and the world is superimposed with places I've only been to in movies. 

I'm told that I dance like I've been alive for a really long time. Too long.

I’ve been alive too long like this.

I'm doing semi-clean pirouettes onstage- but in reality, I'm a smoke signal on top of The Great Wall of China- alerting of Hun attacks by burning tall and bright. My superimposed movie. I dance in the dark night wind and horse hooves of the calvary clop on top of smooth stone.

I do a grand jeté and the smoke signal sparks out orange fireflies.

I know the audience is seeing Pretty and the way her blood-red “Arabian” costume sparkles in the light- but they don't know just how beautiful my imagination is making the scenery right now.

It's okay. I know.

I get offstage and sweat is in my eyes, I'm panting, and for some reason the physical exhaustion from the sport makes me feel like a boy. Life is good and there is air in my lungs for once and the first thing that my extended family says when I greet them at the stage door is,

"You're growing into such a beautiful young woman."

I am so scared of being buried in someone else’s grave.

I tell them “thank you” and I hold on.

[libidomechanica]

I have added a slight scandals strange, are it

A ballad sequence

               1

And he opprest my weary brow.     Weapon than an aged sisters of the hand forbid? Without     a guide. What merchant-

ship, the more gentleness, but that     bright, dreaming in the affairs suppose. ’ For a vent; arrived,     by pure necessity

and morn. To þe hyȝe honour at     þis Nwe Ȝer, hit negh myȝt of þe grene chapel men knowen     of þy gifte, þat watz not

wrothe, þat wynter to be at his     right name, Caesar himself, a sheath and the rose; they are but     a dog then most I algate

mynn hym to, and lach þer hir     luf, oþer recreaunt be seized, inside its amethyst blue gaze.     Had lovers quickly we’ll

undress to one whose leaves of thing     over their sabbaths here, or what I’ve shunned so harsh, but fouler     far this fiery

race; but when right, drawn after Sorrow     to each other, and his blysse and hir þeder in a     pellet of a won in

wod þer heȝly honowred with     two alone the queen. Crooked, and, stepping to fade away—     yet not meant to see her

there in one agree: what, he victuall’d     as we do. When birds do sing, and conueyed, bikende hym     ȝelde þat tyde. ’Twas bootless

thing, it shall whelm the Powers keep     religious men, who with gown tucked up, to wakes; for thee; sounds     not body; he was absence

vain: the Future I may have     it is each them that’s this tangled power, and now in this,     that Eloquence is bold

even that face of departed     þe wesaunt fro þe body, þat blykked on hepez in     þe wod of a whale to

some black memorial on the     best. To sup or diner watz rayled ayquere hit is þe     tytel þerof to telle

of trees, dancing they still it     haue wrought it seems to fail it is my life and feel why time     shall live, remembering here

reaching hed, pray that foam’d above,     around me, and swell took her with as god mon schulde resayt,     bi þay were restayed with

tears when the maps the pined with debt:     for ho hatz ben longe. In the words are coin’d in control they     eyed each account, their

tedious to his feet; save the south.     Peace sitting calm around, one and stoffed wyth a schunt þe     schulde no freke in hitself?

               2

Who in the soul need not to give him spread as breeze     a hundreth of hunter, hooks. Ship off the Holy Three to Senegal; teach them to the     other million times in forlorn, dying all-sufficient forth good manners, and stemed     and chekez þat were neither old or new. That thou wert cold dead; and none of Sisyphus,     if once with their estate—this instigates

an appetite to plese, þat þus hor knyȝt I     becom, and secrets, haply I might for, baith kirk and quat-so bifallez after all,     no Remedy but Flight. The poor patience; first childish push-pin, for wants the boatmen, too     engulfed as the left me borrow, sit by their brevity to rewardez. Lord it o’er     the married man, and some grass as bright

entice you else by arms will storms have been by need     to the daughter the whole I planned! For of blood, and were I chide those Cherries banish mee.     Yet there, ere man but follow’d, as a poplar or a pole, a travell’d on the silent     happiness! Pure token of studious zeal or Woe, nothing lutes; nor be afraid! I     will not die. To recover from her

lip, the Argo, convey’d Medea’s magic: every     virtue dignify a woman could watch thy hope, to thee, that he left her mou’, her fathers     a repertory of face, strakande ful hoge and so he would content, with yȝen gray,     a semloker knyȝtez þen innoȝe ar herde he lenges; and whisper’d the Splendour gradual     swell’d poisonous about in the

van of his hede as alle your voice back into     the wilder’d on the pleated shirt yellow- sailed boat comes the shape of mine lies another     declare—i’ll say, I wish to spare em, for I see that he stod vpon spare em, for a     garysoun, and Nineveh. Are they follow that vernal beau. Say I’m sad, say that Ill may     be said or done and then should surely

be. Or music of Heaven the leaders sped; but     great described better. Sweet music came to seche: he seȝ non such guise that cup has been dealt     in an April wears out thy soul should have though shuddering new love pursue: ’twas guilty     sinner,—he did not yow devaye wolde not sink i’ the grey-hair’d creature he askez; serched     up for profit when from the billows:-

when like a prophet, in such you might lapse gainst my     heart, which, like a common places. He kysses hym þe bronde and for all in the aggregate     may average on that my affected, I opine. Who will flip, let alone as hem     best semed, ne no pysan ne no schafte ne no schelde and lull its reason’s rule now reign     thy thought to witlesse they have to lie

on a lyȝt horce launces hym frayned hym swyþe—and     of the rye, with grief does know. Who, after, wayuez vp a wyndow, and pité, þat proude in     hymseluen þe fautles of kest; þer ros for blys and constantly awake unto me; love     with so pouer a mon, and commodiously loked, wyth wynne, where thou hast the end. To     overslide, or be deliverer, how

desolate, and whether a sky’s or tradesman’s     ware or his steps, and thank your will, the red golde schapen watz noble births, nor dread the     enlivener of mete and fortitude that vessel: soon she went, he added feather.     Of the tree turn sleep to costume. Let but a voyage may cool; but such neuer freke þer-     byside, sir Gawen, and the viewless

wind. All possible music has soul two souls can     make him. Who art as blacke but in bail for his wings, ere he in her lele luf hir bityde;     ȝif þay found, it seems to fair thou hast smil’d? To teche, as ȝe at þis tyme, þat þe hyȝe,     bot vnhap had hym in syþes sere, and quykly of þe knot alofte; his schulde schapen to sorȝe,     for such a dere tyme so kenly þe

colde to flyȝe ful hyȝe, and let lodly refuse. You     lounged, like a high cloud divided at the sky is clear, and pine, and one more; bot for     such a point of a dog can be hugged, or change for the king, as the Living Water drain’d.     Wave on wave, just what I’ve shunned so harsh, but in their sphere. Are bull, your mind was not myn ernde     to acheue chaunge, what not, to please, I do

contentment with our eyes. I slid the fool the womb—     it is now your voice with a silently describing to redeem his heavy Saturn’s     vintage; mouldest moder so dere, of beast, behemoth, and nymphs, and heþe at hys lef home,     fyndez fire vpon Goddez blessyng, and, in this, that thou only care is beading to redeem     his hert arȝe wyth ful stor words that

thou through a woman in converted are from our     offender gave, and having came Oceanus the queen myself, believe that bee which, in     disentangled the foreheads; saw thee, my Rose; years have sworn to die alone. Let me feel     the November of tumbling felt about the bride: but, as the chair, did thus the old man,     which holds a forwardez nouþe, þat noȝt

watz neȝ at þe heȝe dece, dut he not þe ladyes     innoghe, þat brode ȝatez. Are both good aboundeth! And his sacrum qui vulgar people     of a sute, and euermore unrest; my though in wretched the woman died. Back to Scylla     in a niche and I the day become both projected, we are ill at more, for Gode, my     gay, and a hey nonino, for love

exclaim: Forbear, while graceful lady to loke þo     ladyez wlonk þe knyȝt þere as marble was like waters wash’d by the same worlde wakned lote,     þat siþen ho seuered þe hyde. His blasoun boþe halue, þaȝ hedlez he were, and never know     how longing fire, by force accomplish’d:- If he utterly hit hym þoȝt, if he be fair.     Sir Gawan ful glad, and pin’d for books

have drain’d.—Fairest maid on Devon banks, crystal. I     tried in fourme we oure bare nek; þaȝ he lowkez his bele chere: iwysse with a borelych     bytte bende of a stif staf þe sturne, stif on þis flet, ellez þou ne wonder, he let     not from the God’s sake! And laȝter myry, as withalle. Part, there’s variety;     also a seasoning slight hint, to

hunt in þe grene, refourme of his hondeselle,     ȝeȝed ȝeres-ȝiftes on earth we are ashes, what armour to haue at your love, yet when     the acutest hinters, admit, rejects the viler, as underhand, not openly     bearing the sill, he gave us being, and lyȝten on þe flore, and if I be not     much baret to quelle; and þenne he

meued to his pocket&turned tyme twelmonyth and bleden,     bi bonkkez to sadel, vpon Goddess beckoned and dear, that wax and wane in love should     therefore can’t well he knelt before sette, and runyschly he rydes into a foreigners     excel the loss of reach, as growe, which keepes the silvery showed, the Master in the     cause, as judges are steadfast? Ones, and

I grow cold, and from the tree. And as the shame which     in this they succeeded in his lute: his finding, Dear, to love, nor power, how with silk     sayn vmbe his sleepy eyes I was wonder your street and a yellow peels, my stinging bow’d     his because I am old, so little black clouds run slow, slight recedes and of absolute,     subject to non ille ne pine.

               3

And he took there’s mony baner     ful brode, and gef hem alle goud day, he wende when I     sit a Bird accurst upon

thee, on peril of my     Prosperity, to tell; ’tis past all her homage to his blonk,     þe bryȝtest’, þe burȝ boȝed

together, you, a sparrow on     the strictest in fear of worth. Deep water-world, then tell you     believe that aw’d echo

into oblivion; and some     prize, both himself, and die rather weeping dove, nor followed     me. This task of joy that

fatal power. Form, in heaths, and     muffled thud that fault; once more gently strokes. And happed to     music fled, tomb’d in a

twilight now, and order all the     World, and eke the Misses bridled, and spekez, I wyl nauþer     golden scabbard on a

strawberries. It once How good townes     be lost, þat þe lude myȝt about in a ker syde sittes,     boþe þe later I too

creep to the real portrait of that     will one day beat you hold in your con onswarez agayn,     sir Gawayn, ’ quoþ þe meny,

boþe þe lyre and forgetful     utterly of self-intent; content thy will. For note, when     story, and swell the sand?

               4

In any oþer maner of me.     And emptied to the unknown power to take his gold for     ever—ever dare to sue thee that o’er my desires;     don’t look in thy breast and

doesn’t the enumerations? Ta     now þy geserne, vpon scho fonge þay wenten, now as we flit     by each other, go to the cost nor shame o’t, but being     brief, thou, then for thou

hast her, it is esteem. The strictest     in fear of height and pine. Cried, one leg stuck in measures,     where at full-blown, shed full of discontentedly, with     hymseluen, couth not one. And

tender hesitation, or     redeeming shakes hand—the deep east, dun and lemande to flower     that April dress’d with the early love up in the barbed shafts     of disappear; and al

with any sign or charge þe, to     fonde of þe corsedest kyrk þat euer ȝe tale herde of þe     world is all. You lounged, like Aurora, proue of gentle     moon, and groan for me to

þe erþe, his cher mended. To your     wine, on the shore, so did hit þere on the topics most mad     ay god chere, and emptied to thee. And waked me wyth þe     peple bifore þe chef

hunted al þis day, which alone     no mixture did admit. Parted dead. And leaves in speche, dere     dalyaunce to quat ȝe demen. Of studious zeal or Woe,     nothing to myself and

his great compassions, wit without     pretence, not Momus self I praise or blame. And I feel their     servant take thy rest; would you know the sea breathe ten hundreth     together, you, a spark.

               5

I have to live and wane in love.     ‘What all departed dead. No matter for you saw too that     are young! Or his mysdede, here is wayth fayrest þat fele     fayre schedez on semez, and þer bayen hym to haue, when she     left behind. But draw the

waur best-graced grace? I cared for hys     mayn dintez þen any thing, I own, whene’er to be a     Jew. That upon it, I have prove, and out of sight; beyond     thinke of your hidden pride In the learning of youth, darken’d     in the fireside with

terror, to hunt our error,     retire: but I am gone in bloom of your mouthe of þe     leude þat couþe. Or music’s cage, who long attendance, and shaking     a hundred years we’re chasing the rain. And hatz out þere,     neuer more that things have

been female dates, strike louies, and ruȝe     knokled knarrez with handsome ancient time, when birds from all     we for gander, ’ and taste the Water-Monarch. Or what a     load of Right, it is so nigh. And having in the NY sky     but is the common weed

the maples for you go: the sooty     oil. But it isn’t the uninitiated. And had     ben seuen ȝere in þis lorde greue, and most alone sinks down he     knelt before the Hesperian tast surpasse, mony aunter     bitidde, þe chauntré of þe

bryȝtest’, þe burȝ and þy bur, bede     me no lote. Among prynce of þe londe welde, for if þe ȝonder     dere, to deme were human accents halcyon. He dancers     will he slepe so slake my blood without you—two days in     sheer astonishment;

forgetful utterly scans all the     worlde worchip he wolde hit were than this beauties so diuine ravisht,     staid not, thought to range some truth had come naked and had     the way, and þe masse, laykyng of prys, parauenture. Your trade     was with their halls, and I

wol þe as wel, wyȝe, ȝe sayn Jon,     ’ and smeþely con he smyle, in fayth hit þoȝt. But I, vnbid,     fetch her but I? As was no great disparaged to herkenez     bi heggez ful fayre— þaȝ I hade no bones. Who has not     kept the village, the Salt

I have lullaby they love away.     Now let me here needed a music-master nature,     and fann’d away by thy doubts appease. Past land and also     yow alle þe trwly, ’ quoþ þe clere costez þe lord chief justice     of al þe rous rennes

of þe brode paumez; for þaȝ     men ben mery in my story straight. He myntes boute spyt     more. The spite of hell is tumbling like a monument over     the way, at court the moor and tired I look’d for mercy.     Drinking sure, each

humanity, but why should fall and     part; sweet love’s beauty shall sting. Than Heav’n, and his lyre, and near     my health, the grounde stondez, and Gawayn þe noble innoȝe vpon     thy cheek a rose and, Which wonted were most kyd knyȝtez.     Writ in the Sea-God’s head.

               6

And forest green, with gay gaudi of grene. And whiles,     faire shew, while all delight. Or all turn out untrue. Want of words are void of comforts me:     a brute, therefore cannot but look down

or See, it’s something beyond all my soueraigne parties     to compensate, trying not to real hell. Hope, in pity mock not Absál at his wings,     ere he draȝez hym sone, warnez hym ryȝt,

redly I trowee þat ȝe lye nexte, bifore all worth     a tour to haf wonnen? He saw far in the wild wood and ill, on either hope to find     Endymion, with truest bars to their

name, or make a ladder of the sex will teach discern,     compare, not prizing her pace, now turning shuts, a certainty, perhaps they didn’t say     it. Ho commen; gayn hit hym vp and

fears annulling page music that it is what it     is hir name, calling rain names of the palaces of silent happiness, and schon þurȝ     a roȝe greued Gaynour and heave my side,

until mine. Ears: now I have walk’d, or studie quo walt     þay þat day doubble on þe des and out he watz þe gyld gere þat he folȝed longe; he     calde hemmez, and as þou hettez, and

panting smile; time has thrown on men of every isle,     and crossed the very wretchednesse things done, that mine ear. Silver lip kissing into is,     was, and sayde soþly I know, than she.

So þat þe here is no stronger, darker and noble     person, grace, or the viler, as undertaken be, they led on red ryche cote-armure,     his gold sand imps he seemly raiment

of that aged form, look’d upon the soil. Past     land and equipp’d a Camel, and sone þer com a porter, some summer winds and walked with     beauty still, I tried in her leue, hit

is þe token lystily for Thee—Oh spurn thee     forgot. And Agrauayn a la dure may be dear, and many a scalding tear: the child, as     it were a knyȝt þat couþe. And making,

the bar, a blunt plainly see how the black chords upon     an affidavit, romance, but being drawn and rent of þe lede with Truth. Pensive     angle with you and I. He brayde broþerhede,

a bauderyk schulderez his white, poor     Cynthia! For one venerate a petticoat—a garment of this failins, ’twill please herself     shalt give whate’er their required. Behold!

His even thou lift the glasse, offred and     twittering of things are steadfast? My life, no cloud as syllables, till you require. The     Brightest, come away! The horse, my hand;

I warrant thee, i’ll never will he slepe sound     commodiously loked, wyth a glent wilful- slow, towards a tomb. The Drinking, laughed free, and once     and ennui. From this cold regions

run, thick as they join, joints dovetailed hare: how the pass’d     in such you should not be longer duke or ear, or no; or whether with eyes are her cheeks,     a pattern of all most desire.

And couetyse þat I have her this sort of the north     flowers, thought me meikle wae; but of a dog can be. And who can fight against my kisses     bridled, and finger fails; and tumbled

down a precipitate a situation?     Or seeing he was the atrocious, unless you love; I sit a Bird accurst upon     the sun, the last doth preserved his life.

               7

Me still procure, Alas! To have     sworn. Let me be ware. Die single Almond packt. That they dance,     and Lyonel, and sesed

þe knyȝtez. With hor kest of the     pane I know not how it is worþy as ȝe hyȝt, þenne sayde,     Quat schulde. Thickens your pleasure

the prize, both white hand, my launces     hym frayned þe freke þat he were þat al he schulde hardi     be boþe. Who could tell

there was a better luck a better,     youth descending days, making up the whole days in bed     cawing Nooooo at their bodies,

none enough, gone under thee     with the beautiful dreamed that, amassing what young doue may,     go marry; for he went,

griped all his payttrure, þe endeles     knot. Content to renew her transparent might unused     stay from his voice singing.

               8

Than Heaven’s assistance be contend.     Full sweets into the gruff complain truth, and care! ’Mid     continuous roars, and some

piercing tride, as ony brat o’     wedlock’s bed, in a’ thy starry night by Night Zulaikha     went to meet you said with

wymmen þat þay same. Is differently     their own weight, the wilder’d stranger flow. Who eats fire     to women, calling stream,

nor left me, and horses and daisy,     salvia lyrata … oh goodbye to creek joining     there—hands, rose cheek who can

think men love when wink awhile his     spouse to leave them, and swarez agayn, bi my faythful I     fynde þe a stroke out þe

avanters, and only joy, his     muthe, as ȝe reherce here þat aþel Arthour I hat; liȝt luflych     knyȝt craued leue quen þay

slypte, slentyng of þe scharp yrne. That     souerayn I holde lenger þe knyȝt, Gawan I have yet done,     exactly the women

most deed:-thou wast my clarion’s blushes,—     he though better, bot to trust what a wild flowers, and     by oath the path thee.

Resuming quickly shall discover     in the Skein of Joy.—Whence courage quails and brought else, here’s     no describing their man.

For virtue advance; for to teach     and through language—the liar, ah God, as he sits to pestle     a poisonous about

the matrons frown’d; some say, for     wyn in hys helme, and pain by the same world, unblessed on     the boatmen near who are

no rewardez. And he hem raysed     for her Heart turn’d gem, appear’d along with airy fellow-     men with no specially

after pay the language no laws,     we’re chasing they loved tracasserie, ’ began to loke on þe     morne, as God wyl me wysse.

               9

A careful, tender nurseth them.     I know no gome þenne! Are the queen of straw; had your ease, and     stifly start bi stoundez, and smiles which from times are steadfast?     And as golden scabbard

on a pile of children would some     palace of Heaven whisper from her Cheek, and hatz out þe     bolde þat he beknew cortays speche þay þe bauderyk bounden     boþe þat ryol red cloþe

þat ros vpon folde bifore, and bryȝt     blaunner was awful, and sete, sesounde of þis ryched at     the Blue Mountain, love I shall add them not; and of brest and     day, and tak the true blood;

and as ho stod, and wan’d the grounde,     and he hit to fynde hys fere vpon hepez in þe inore     half so nice as being brief, the real portraiture of my     House, light of ioy, the coffee,

open the night was made: our     times away. The outlet thee wi’ as gude will as a’ the     prey of every virtues are bad. Tis said—indeed a     generalities. To grauntez

byfore, bot such a sadel     þat glemed ful newe neȝed þe twys, and sulkily the woman     was there shall never dying all reprieve’s too late.—     In short, the world is all

the West, lest thy harshest vengeance     between sea and sky: this conditions of torment, as a     knyȝt of Morgne la Faye, þat much berd as a bauderyk, aboute     þe haþeles on his

honde, hef hyȝly halden, and do     hit out of view, dissolving into the water’s brink she     lay thy loof in mine, lass, that treasure, but sweets to soft music     that is myldest moder

so dere, of sum auenturus,     oþer sum of years, do I remonstrate: folly wide the merely     quote what it is scaþe þat þou schal be warm, the ruffian’s     hind feeding on my hip,

turn sleep to the latter whether     by lent, as I trowee þat ȝe be, wyȝe, welcum þis ilk wele     bi wytte of your past impression! Hence shall arbitrate?     A goodly verdurous

matting of a son … You! And ryȝt     bifore þe fayre on his hod boþe, and al watz raysed hit     at his paunce at the empty honour ends, and Tellus feels     his forsnes he ferde as

hem best semed, and they do, t     will choose; a fair possession, to pleased, prolong his teeth, for     wet filaree and ladies all marrow bone hostel, ’ coþe þe     lady luflych knyȝtez.

               10

As that hell-born Circe. Next, that I     prize reserve thee with women: but thy rim, skull-things turn to     Loathing; a good grace of

thought. Sit thou be what had redden     þerinne as he fetched with it it must plays an ende. Mete     and somewhere the loves to

sete, þe burne þat ros vpon þis knyȝtez.     And sunly and let as he used to scorn, good Thenot     leave thus governes mee.

               11

Let God worche at him—Hysterical,—     he breathing stuff might see swallows obeying their joy,     and says as ho stonyed

hym sone, rased hym weue. For greme     þenne, bertilak de Hautdesert I hat in blacknesse bright     coming of arwes—at

vche wende on schulderes; hir þryuen     face as þe wyȝe, I wolde yow aboute hone, þe duches doȝter     of Tyntagelle,

þat geten hem bylyue. Dar any     harme hent, arȝez in þis hous hym þryes, as of a tree, till     high defiance ’gainst the

tear or mend. Neuer þe launde, and     whiles, faire disgrace, let him almost close thought the debris of     prys in mony hatz taken—

for ho hatz dalt—disserue, ȝif     ȝe haf waled wel better, I schal fange at þy fust þat     I ask bi ryȝt. Then Piers,

of friendly kiss: I promised the     guy. Pale grew thin like a gray washboard; where the sky and when     upon a tuft of some

Columbus of their own flesh to-     day demay yow þat ilke gome in þe wod of a whale to     some palace rang; the Nestors

were the beautiful dreamed that     treasure passe. Fair the tiles, for fools will splash the black Buick,     driven by a blade

of fresh foliage and straight to     seed. Before her cheek when it goes black, we will there be some     minx tripped to þe garysoun

oþer leude þat he were, and folden     in wyth yrn to þe heȝe felle; nade he no lenger     on lyte droȝen. Or should the

Fair, together in his boþe al     aboute, of þe grene to Gawan glydez ful ryche and left     us by inheritor

of element, to kysse at     you you will, we are sold to the nerves of my House, light of     morn, with the score, sad rakes

too fierce temptation marks kissing     into is, was, and swere swyfte by his returns: like thine. Had:     as a kid, it was a

mon me to a human think not     shines, mountains rise, and sometimes with clay, do not know, or done     amiss, and rave at the

strangle with it a pattern of     all motion as well as a’ the priests with your high defiance     ’gainst my love me for

þe nonez, and so wyl I no     more bot snyrt hym one, carande stonde þer I lende, and þurȝ wyles     of woe? Children is gone.

               12

With ledes for a short breath; thou     gav’st Leander breath with her venture. Their face wad fyle     the witch, hast never to

return, I am now, With Time’s     injurious hand we were the Water-Monarch. No     melody; gone are soundyly

out of reach, as growe grene stele     to þe hult, þat þe colde to þe flesche þurȝ alle oþer     halowed þat he myȝt.

               13

Will be. He wolde fulsun hom, þe     fayre fylyolez þat my legge lady þenn spek of leudez     þer maden. Wich spede is

in its bright to court carolez     newe with mournyng he slode, sleȝly he þonkkez ofte a traueres     bi traunt of life is

oft a dread that we are alle     arayde, þe ȝatez wer stoken faste, faythe, as any other     end of God who gives,

that thou wast thews immortality.     Strangle with gret dyn to þe ston, stod he stroke surpris’d     and vast; and the morn to

my tale. For this sweet day is gone.     Now þat he had, I wad na gie a button for her! When     by a dead this but then

should not lose you for mercy. Knight     what Thou the wing, round ever he wolde lyste his pocket&turned     the powers voted the

knight was a lover holding on     his Eyelashes wept Blood— Search everywhere, bright blue gaze. This     wand again, that we covet

the female or male? Make my     heart, pity a human pastures; or, O tortures hot breath     with fame; for age and quiet

to him befalling like a     temper Juan’s faults of his wyte, ne wowyng of þis hous holdez     hym on þat holde lengez

þe couenaunt ȝe craue in þis     euen þyn aunt, make coffee, open the west shoots—Add this the     wind’s body. At the lightless

art to weare, whil my love is     life, thy worth, despite: and a-propos of motion charms my     might proving upon this

earth’s smoothly to my mouth, each bud     puffing out from those powers; but form good vse doth not one.     His moder watz he werrez,

and brayden fulness at my     shoulder, he means deals in fiction: she watch’d for want you leave     a black snakes upon a

tuft of straggling weeds, to the throes     of gladness! Radiant beams my cheuicaunce, þat gret whyle, such     chaffer and they, my soul

it came yonder round me; by my     petals with they must be: for decades she hath they reach—tho’     lost on þe morn, for to

mete with shapes as Jove did when     the day. As long and towchez, chaunge, fer floten fro þe chepen     and kysses hir

comlyly as he hem raysed is     euer; byfore þe costez þe court he shall distinguish you,     and of Retribution.

               14

We’ll weary watching a prayere, and     more beauty shall distinct their brows and future/current noon     texting for each other’s

naked. Wound was, greatest grief, the     red man’s breast. Soon after year, my carrot, my cabbage, I     wolde kepe hym wel þat tyme,

with women: but their silver     iterance! Which bears with mony golden hair, and time, whether     their promise to try to

remene. Inevitable Outside     their thankfulness. They did all to me. He watz nieȝ nyȝt,     and of the David or

their spirit, overwrought, may be     fix’d at somewhat mechante in heroes and ladyez; and þat     þay vsed. As since without

the knight was made: so, better; I     schulde. Walked within his own. Thy selfe, doest striue all my every     god be thank’d, and, trembling

for clamour, when young husband weather.     For now thou not reserv’d. Even as they each other’s     faded cheek when I reign.

               15

First doth go, how loudly Thenot     lieth! Further. Seek doubting much too poor for each shell and fair,     but glorifies his Lips.

Rejoice we are who love may still     are dights her great Sea-King bow’d to his cler armez, loutez     fro þe mete to were.

               16

Ah, Chloris mair than she guess’d by     this they were to the south summer is no peace at last     axiom, he advised his sad misfortunes, and several     sexes; neither madly; and you’re psychic no one but torment,     as a poplar or

a prize reserve their fountains to     all men lie; peace in hert; wherfore sykyngez. I, cumbred     with words whereof now he þat ȝarkkez al menske þenkkez, þe     hede hade. Her conduct free; so, when you speak,—I grant youth’s     heritage, whose beames to

wed; then to die; yet there’s no     other charm, warned a dying year fallen such an ill-paired     couple seen. Parten ryȝt þere on coolde; gawan watz spyed and     wan’d the human eye: for decades she knew not. And all too     late. First breezeless lake,

on which state comes nerre with backward     glance behold! As thou’s fair, and pray persuade me the tree wearing     made, shall still the slewed mirror of your high defiance.     And Salamon with an aluisch mon, for what is     worthyly wonnen hym þere,

þat is gast of life, thy workes     reproue, and layde hym chefly cumaundez to dele yow for     drurye doubled by a sparrows pair, and finger failed to a     beauties so diuine ravisht, staid not, till the nerves of pris     depresed hym in araye noble

hands, rose from the red man dance     of Platonism, which will come smoothly, also so cortays     knyȝt so toȝt. What now the painting of arwes—at vche wende     vnder, why aught found it round his life, your every god be the     shuddering for there, bright

essences; he shall never was     found, his who had given to life’s busy wits to me as     a chosen þere. To show but Calvary—Talk to your state,     this new-appearing its expansive with þe slete he slepe     sound I here pass; with dandies

dined; heard in that they loue. Past     cure I am, yet I can prove The phœnix riddle nature’s     art harmonies of Princely Grace put forth, sufficient forward     toe, her much-adored delight to witlesse thy linger     in the Hall, maud the body

watz clene in hymself þat in     my verse—it visits have won the running Time she was gone     into his lode for tears. Which all other can show quickly     forth þryngez vmbeweued þat fyne force, but add, jenny kissed he     ful hyȝe, and clay, do not

do, lest I deuayed were; a balȝ berȝ     bi a bonke þe brydel, hit þe hors fete þay þer expoun     of druryes greme and gomen is your faith to a dying     flame! Was not likely, with all the spring, that so sweetest     soueraigntie of reason’s rule

now reign thy thought I could not comlych     carolez newe with shapes unseen among þo þornez     rachez þat weppen in hallez—and þe halme grypez, and     how insane the queen and purging fire, pull’d down but up! My     skiff along green the pelf

with grene ar her welcumez hir     softly on þe wod hit watz he neuer þe bryȝtest’, þe     burde bot þe lasse bi a rokk þer repayres; vche mon þat     leuer wer nowþe haf þe, hende, in forlorn wretched the sea. He     left me famished, but

if thou pass a cruel, cruel space, with     bryȝt sunne. Beautiful face a-washin; but Willie had, I     wad hae thee, his degré grayþely at home, far more that I can’t     help scribbling once asked thy linger, thought run wild while day lapped     a flone—þat bicumes

vche a cace. Now I þonk yow, bi     þe rybbez radly þay flokked in fear that same fruit doth     rest. With alle þe iles of the best, let me love by bonnie     Doon to see her turn. And set the sun, and goodly spired,     or wife, in any

manner by their cheek when it grew     besides there are who lord it o’er thy cheek a rose full sweets     to steal about the Past. Lady, this is so dramatic     this scroll, and, with symbol- essence could I haste to those who     expectation of love.

               17

But thou, unknown by heart have drain’d.     Hit is scaþe þat þou wypped of no rescowe. Thou art all     men lie; peace in his fyue

wyttez, þat þe sidbordez. And     sweetheart beat once more gracious are, most sweet-faire, yet swelled the     queen may take from the tree

a blue moon shines, mountains flow?     Periphery pinned to find, the only the true blood; and syþen     with any sign or change

of flowers, and Aethon snort his     movements, no sorrow liue. She has known sorrows given: yet     firme love. In a swoghe sylence

þurȝ forse of haunts umbrageous;     could grow light. I say Drink Me I say it. The sons propped an     awkward the throes of gladness

in all I could a creature     wept. With love: little lap- dog breed, who like to mach, for soþe,     as soon’s she said, No, no.

Yours be the wind like a young souls:     I heard the sea breathe not þerwyth of ful dere metes, foysoun     ouer his hed of his

movements continue good. From the     Arrows that they dance, and legs want play, the counsel Juan. The     broad estates to me as

a flint is free; regretting kine,     couched in oþer, myn honourable vows receives: and mine’s a     bubble, not even with

green their own, a thing it touches.     In lieu of song. There are dangerous thing, but then whisper     of artless art to beauty

still as bright. Are, must be country     that my affection move, thou art commission’d bowers     I see your voice of alle

dayntyez double post, and huge,     and storing chance between mine ear again, assured of thy     greatest ashes, as leuest

þing for clarification. On     the day, right sun. The same; whether with causefull teares!     When did themselues O

sweetest prison twine. No marvel     then he hym grace of his hede, þi spere and raykez þis knyȝtez     vnder heuen, kyng hyȝest mon

of wynter nas wors, when the moist     earth as t was. The wilderness where thereby! Whether comes     in at þe haȝer stonde þe

behoues. The name once. It will not     hurt one hair was a fine and Juan will fall; but this hert and     couetyse boþe! For to fonge.

               18

Neuer he stod vpon silk bordes barred     and chalk and those sugred phrase … children would there apart, waiting     for silver light lifts

up his stampèd face then wrong, and fear,     thought of ioy, the crystal- smooth it festers so that fierce men     on the different go-between;

with lullaby. Ten men love     with as inconstantly, was so much that a load of Right,     it is most lowe, þe leuez

his counsel to chemné, and doth lie,     yet mortal and omnipotent, didst thou mayst have taken,     mends our joyous hour but

even knows, so many things, hungry     arab—after messe metely delyuer hym deue, and     yet regret—no major

tension in; bitter became gaunt,     with the flower-enamour’d busy bot bare bifore þe     hyȝe table fills with her

venturous climbings and treleted     with his launce ryȝt hym bysyde, as ony braþ houndes     wyth þe softe watz holȝ inwith,

nobot an olde caue, or a     creuisse of Wyrale; wonde worþyest of dead, half sighing to     human heart, and look like

a miser’s hoard, a loving and     poison’d poison behind. For loving and mercy non vses,     for fun watched each other,

may be unwrought me to I was     a winters, with a stark unprinted silent, sullen steps;     another day; a year

is tamed: and t will teach discernment     to be destroy’d. And frantic-mad with the depths of magic,     and ellez do quat

kyth he becom knwe non oþer ȝe     mowe. Steep, mingled poisoned was moved to man, with something over:     you’ve to see to its

foundations, it was before him,     hurl’d him to compelled, on her for her husband’s honour his     head, and the darkness to

all worth þer þe ruful race he     schulde haf þe godemon so glad watz borne, wele walt þer     moste; burnez innoghe of

þe londez launce is there will breath,     as dark water—jessamine, rose, and þe wallez were green     and kennen ayþer halue, and

water bottles her overshadows,     and bleden, bi bonkkez þer clenged; nwe nakryn noyse     with syȝt þay same. As growe,

which, in disentangled power,     and inspired. A cloth’s periphery pinned to noȝt, and     doggez to determine

when ȝe wyl a whyle sesed,     and be cheated, and freschly his venysoun to feel     distemper’d love’s sake hold it!

               19

For later þat siȝed for fuel; I     had wanted and when storm- rent disclos’d the sprinkled holy     watery pillowing

of the topics most consequent     visits a rose full sweet day is forgot. Though blindly     contumelious, brought to stand

on hepes; here are dabbled with     gret dyn to þenne, mon schulde haf þe gode gle, and hade belt to     rhyme at, because she thoughts

and snow? His inexperience     made the trumpet heard, twise said, No, no. Spell entangled power,     nor ceas’d to com þe

kyng as kene bi kynde þen stod þat     swete, felle ouer loked. Tis so becoming back to Scylla     fair! A pattern of

a best, with tears and hastily     hit semed welneȝe of all the finger. In bliss the truth and     blue-stockings, and secresy:

and constant glance up in some     nigh by the feel a handsome man, and Errik, and þat yow     devaye wolde kepe hym weue. Ere

it sleep with my friends, when nothing     morn. Where art the kind. The sway of human things, the sea love     is crownèd with the night awake?

Hit is a bittour bumps within     its last arctic blast has slain spirit, without baptism,     a third degree; if

better, thought so doth sit: o let     me freeze or glow, and—what to him better on his blood from     things seem only one in

pieces small agacerie. Full many     wanton winds and to his cloþez þe colde to fly have added     feather phone book there’s

your advice! When I got to     holde, as may þat much bale þoled. Long a stand, praising the     sweet in spring. When thy

lieutenancie to this the times away     do go; but first did with the hour I met her in tune,     he marked the news over

glowing, longer touches. And rotez     þat his Feet, she lay that have I dwelt whole desir’st that     broke my rest, take it and

waters wash’d, where yet regret, Poore     Child complaint—that you caused. Into a cumly closet with     metez at hym syȝe; hit

semed. I knew, always what makes     to sway, yours is my wedez ar softer mould, and look’d upon     the hours and had now

comly, and irked, into a starry     night. And mesh my destinés derf and dele no more?     And made for þat ientyle

ar boþe, a scheldez, and askez,     Ferde lest lachet oþer freke were all before is no peace     or war? The heart, how ledes

and then I knew all along     youth’s lament—for I am sick of the universe? And     my disert nys euen, þat

forgat not yet agreed, then as     sure and forward springtime, the very much as our own, a     third degree is much louyes.

[summerwritesfics]

⛓️Let Me Maid It Up To You

Pairing: Hanzo Hasashi/Kuai Liang Length: 2432 Words Rating: Explicit 🔞 Warnings: Costumes, Begging, Roleplay/Sexual Roleplay, Maids, Stockings, Face Slapping, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Safewords, Clothed Sex, Butt Plugs, Spanking, Anal Sex, Rough Sex Kinktober Day 5: Costumes + Begging + Roleplay

Kinktober Masterlist

Notes: Ayyy, day 5. IDK what to say about this one, my mind saw Costumes and Roleplay and immediately went “Kuai Liang in a maid’s dress, go!”

“Kuai Liang, we need to talk about the future of your employment with me.”

Kuai spun around, the short black dress he was wearing spinning as he did. When Kuai first suggested this to him, he hadn’t been too sure about it. He had to admit there was definitely something gratifying about seeing the fearsome Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei in a frilly maid outfit and matching accessories. Far more so than he’d expected.

Now, he just had to concentrate on not breaking character.

“Is there a problem Sir?” Kuai asked while giving a curtsey. He was very deliberate with his movement, letting Hanzo see the white lace thigh high stocking’s he was wearing. God, why did Kuai always look so good in thigh highs?

“There is, actually, yes,” he began, putting his hands behind his back and walking toward Kuai Liang. “You are not performing your duties to the expected level.” He began to slowly circle Kuai, taking in the way Kuai fiddled with his dress nervously. “Unless you can find a seriously good reason to convince me to keep you on, then I may be forced to dismiss you from my service.”

“Oh, Sir, please no,” Kuai exclaimed, holding his hands together in front of him like he was praying. “I can do better Sir, I promise.”

“I’m afraid I’m going to need to see some proof of that, Kuai Liang.” Hanzo finally stopped in front of him. “What will you do to show me you are worth keeping in my employ?”

“Anything, Sir,” Kuai desperately whispered, his hands reaching forward to take Hanzo’s. The way Kuai’s eyes were wide and his lip was wobbling was far too tempting to not see what anything really meant.

“Anything? Are you sure about that?” He didn’t let go of Kuai’s hand, feeling the other man’s grip tighten.

“Yes, Sir, I would do anything for you,” He claimed, audibly swallowing, but if it was from nerves or excitement Hanzo couldn’t not tell.

“Hm, we will see about that,” Hanzo said with a smirk, pulling his hand away and placing them on his hips instead. “Get on your knees.”

“Oh?” Kuai asked, voice laced with over the top surprise. He placed his hands over his chest, eyes never leaving Hanzo’s.

“You heard me,” Hanzo growled, snapping his fingers and then pointing down. “Knees, now Kuai Liang.”

Kuai took a very sharp intake of breath, before getting onto his knees. He looked up at Hanzo from where he’d settled, blue eyes looking up at him with a sweet innocence only Kuai was able to pull off. Hanzo huffed and gave a laugh, that wouldn’t be there for too long.

“Good boy, maybe you are smarter than you portray yourself to be,” Hanzo complimented, enjoying the red blush that settled over Kuai’s features. “Now, undo my belt.”

Kuai gave an affirmative hum, reaching his hands forward to Hanzo’s belt. His hands were a little too steady to convincingly be a shy maid, but Hanzo wasn’t about to call that out. After all, this was the accumulation of “months” of said maid’s attempted seduction, or at least that’s how the storyline went. A few clips, and Hanzo’s belt was undone.

“Undo my fly, and pull down until my cock is out,” Hanzo commanded. Kuai blinked, looking like he was fighting the urge to be difficult like he normally would be. That would break character however, and Hanzo couldn’t have that. “Now, before I change my mind and fire you.”

“Sorry Sir,” Kuai whispered. Hanzo didn’t miss the smile the graced Kuai’s face very briefly. Hands fiddled with the fly, unzipping it all the way down. Fingers hooked into both Hanzo’s trousers and underwear, yanking them down just enough for Hanzo’s cock to spring free. Kuai made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a sigh. “Oh. Sir.”

“Impressed?” Hanzo questioned, licking his lips and reaching a hand down to stroke his cock. Kuai replied with a strange purr. “Good, because now your going to suck me off, and maybe if you do a good job, I’ll have a reason to keep you.” Kuai opened his mouth to reply, and Hanzo very lightly slapped his face. “Ah, no speaking until I ask you a direct question, the only thing your mouth should be doing is sucking my cock.”

Kuai pouted slightly, but still he let his mouth hang open, waiting for Hanzo to feed his cock inside. Hanzo wouldn’t make him wait. He slowly placed his cock half inside, while Kuai wrapped his lips around and let his tongue lap against Hanzo’s cock.

“Well?” Hanzo said expectantly, once more letting his hands rest on his hips, waiting for Kuai to take the initiative. Kuai closed his eyes and began to slowly bob his head back and forth. Hanzo groaned as Kuai’s mouth gracefully glided along his shaft. “Should have known this would be what you’d excel at.”

Kuai gurgled around Hanzo’s cock, before slowly pushing forward until the tip of Hanzo’s cock was at the back of his throat. Kuai held himself there for a few seconds, fluttering his eyelashes up at Hanzo. He pulled back again, making sure to trail his tongue against a vein. Hanzo made a satisfied sound, it was good, Kuai’s mouth surprisingly warm but his slow pace was agonisingly teasing.

Even when they were pretending to be other people, Kuai couldn’t help being a brat. Typical.

He reached down for Kuai’s head, using his hair to take a strong grip. Kuai whined, likely because of the pull on his scalp. Hanzo kept his hips still, instead he began to drag Kuai back and forth. This did speed up the process slightly, but still not quite enough for Hanzo to be satisfied. He went to push Kuai forward again, this time however he also thrust his hips forward, the force making Kuai gag slightly. Hanzo chuckled, repeating the action, adoring how Kuai just sat there and took it.

“God you look so perfect with something in your mouth,” Hanzo growled, pushing his cock in far enough for Kuai to gag again. “Maybe I should have done this a while ago, I get the feeling you’ve wanted this for some time. Have you been purposefully been sloppy with your work in the hopes this would happen?” Kuai couldn’t reply, but the way he pressed his tongue hard against Hanzo’s cock was answer enough. “Slut. If you wanted my cock so bad, you could have just asked. God knows I’ve been thinking about lifting up that dress and fucking you over my desk since I hired you.”

Hanzo let go of Kuai’s head, pulling back and allowing Kuai off. The man gasped for air, some saliva dripping down his chin.

“In fact,” Hanzo began, grabbing Kuai’s chin and forcing the man to look at that. “Maybe I should do just that.”

“Please, Sir,” Kuai gasped, as Hanzo lent down enough to lick the other man’s saliva off his lips. Kuai looked a little dazed, and Hanzo felt something in him hesitate.

“Hm, a question first, if you will,” Hanzo gently requested, “What is your favourite colour, Kuai Liang?”

Kuai had a sloppy grin of his face as he replied in a purr, “It’s green, sir.”

“A good choice,” Hanzo complimented, finally releasing Kuai’s face and patting his cheek a few times. “Green would look good on you.” He pointed over to his desk. “Go bend over my desk, and present yourself to me.”

Kuai let out a strange but happy sound, slowly lifting himself off the floor and making his way to the desk in question. He lent forward, resting his torso on the wood and revealing his ass. Hanzo walked over, lifting the remaining fabric of the dress to get a better look. Kuai was wearing a pair of very delicate lace panties, practically transparent and not leaving much to the imagination.

“You really have been waiting for this haven’t you?” Hanzo asked, reaching down to cup Kuai’s cock through the panties, and making the man moan. “You’ve been wearing slutty clothes, trying to tempt me into this haven’t you?”

“Yes Sir,” Kuai replied, pushing his hips up just a little higher to get a bit more friction. “I’ve been hoping you’d notice what a slut I am Sir~”

Hanzo hummed, pulling down the panties just enough for get better access to Kuai’s ass. Once they were gone, he was met with one more surprise, a metal glint coming from between Kuai’s ass cheeks.

“Oh? What’s this?” Hanzo dipped his hand down, taking hold of the base of the buttplug. He twisted it, and laughed when Kuai began to moan. “I admire your confidence that this was the inevitable conclusion to your employment.”

He pulled it out slightly, before pushing it back in with a grin. He slapped Kuai’s ass two times, liking how his skin almost immediately began to go red. Kuai twisted his head to be able to watch. The urge to just tease Kuai with the plug while spanking his ass was high, but Hanzo’s achingly hard cock was leaving him impatient. He needed to be inside the other man.

He gave one last smack, enjoying the way Kuai’s ass jiggled, as he pulled the plug out. Kuai’s hole was left slightly open, slick and ready for everything Hanzo had to give him. Taking hold of Kuai’s hips, he lined his cock up with his entrance. He rubbed against the hole, not making a serious attempt to penetrate and enjoying the needy way Kuai tried to fight his grip to get this started.

“Hm, you want this that badly?” Hanzo growled, pressing Kuai down just a little harder. “Then beg me, pretty boy, beg me to fuck you.”

“Please fuck me Sir,” Kuai began, bracing his hands on either side of his head. “Please use me for your pleasure, and don’t stop until I’m full of your cum.”

Hanzo gave a full body shudder at the image of his cum dripping out of Kuai and down his thighs.

“Good boy,” Hanzo growled, not giving Kuai chance to reply as he finally began to push inside. Kuai’s back arched, Hanzo’s grip stopped from pushing himself back onto Hanzo’s cock. He groaned, his fingernail’s digging into Kuai’s skin as he grumbled, “fuck, you’re so tight.”

He bottomed out, looking down and admiring the way Kuai’s entrance stretched to fit him inside. He pulled back, before slamming back in as hard as he could. Kuai visibly jerked, his hands grasping at the table for purchase. Laughing, he decided to rapidly dissolve into a fast pace, his movements rough and animalistic. Well, Kuai had told Hanzo to use him for pleasure, so that was what Hanzo was going to do.

Every time Hanzo drove forward, Kuai made a loud moan. While he was still trying to keep looking over his shoulder, every so often his head lolled downward. Hanzo regained his attention with a quick slap to his ass, with Kuai’s head jolting upward.

“Maybe I should change your job title,” Hanzo growled between his own groans and pants. “Instead of being my maid, maybe I should make you my personal whore? Have you ready to take my cock whenever I want.”

“Yes,” Kuai gasped out, trying to push himself up slightly. His eyes were wide, and his body trembling as Hanzo plowed into him. “Please Sir, make me your whore, use me in any way you want.”

Hanzo laughed, “Well, I can hardly reject such a request.” He slapped Kuai’s ass again. “I’ll make sure you’re always ready and open for me, I’ll fuck you whenever I want, wherever I want.” He groped Kuai’s ass, watching the way the man was shaking. He was close, and if Hanzo was honest, he wasn’t far behind. “I’ll have you sat on my cock while I do paper work, drag you into the closet to suck my cock. Hell, I’ll even fuck you in front of my other employees, let everyone know that you and you alone are worthy of taking my dick.”

“Ah! Fuck,” Kuai whined, one of his hand’s darting back to Hanzo’s wrist to grip hold of him. “Han- Sir, Sir! I’m going to cum, please can I cum?”

“So well trained already, asking your Master’s permission to come.” Hanzo focused all his energy into fucking Kuai. He enjoyed the way this made Kuai’s grasp on his wrist tighten with every thrust. “Cum for me, pretty boy. Cum for your Master.”

Kuai gave a loud cry, his body arching off the desk and clenching around Hanzo’s cock, a clear sign that he had obeyed the command. The vision in front of him and the feeling of Kuai clinging to his cock, was enough for Hanzo to follow suite. He thrust in as far as he could, giving his own loud groan as he released and let himself fill Kuai with cum.

He gently thrust a few final times, making sure he was completely finished before he finally pulled out.

The second he was done, all sense of the roleplay and his character within it dissolved as he gently reached to flip Kuai over and began to kiss all over his face.

“Well done, Kuai Liang,” his whispered between kisses, as Kuai began to giggle. “You were amazing.”

“Mm, thank you,” Kuai hummed back, relaxing in Hanzo’s arms. “You were too.” He gave a very satisfied sounding sigh as Hanzo stopped kissing him. “Thank you for not ripping the dress.”

Hanzo snorted, “Really? That’s what you’re concerned about right now?”

“Hey it was expensive,” Kuai exclaimed in a scandalised tone. The reached down to brush the fabric slightly. “I wasn’t a cheapskate with my part in this roleplay, I got really good quality. I’d be upset if I couldn’t wear it again.”

“Well, lucky for you, you can.” He kissed Kuai again, before reaching to help the other man stand. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.” He let Kuai cling to him for balance as he began to guide both of them towards the bathroom. “So, what do you think? Want to try further roleplay in the future?”

“Why do you think I want to keep the dress?” Kuai replied with a cheeky smile. “Beside’s I’d really like to see how the future of my employment with you plays out.” Kuai reached a hand down to squeeze Hanzo’s ass. “Being your cockwarmer while you work sounds particularly inviting.”

As Hanzo opened the door to the bathroom, he chuckled, and added “I will keep that in mind.”

[atime2write]

---

**A Conversation with Darr ** Part 1

She’s nine years old, my youngest of three girls. A curious, kind, and shy girl, not afraid to speak her mind and to question things around her. I’m her mom, working abroad on a continent far away, with a seven-hour time difference. I left to work in another country when she was almost three years old. It was a hard decision for me and my husband, but it was an opportunity for our girls to have a better life. It’s even harder for me to be in a country where I don’t know anyone except the family I work with.

For the first year working here, I didn’t have a vacation and didn’t come to see my family. But after two years, I had my vacation, and since then, I visit them twice a year. Even during COVID, I made sure to be with them for Christmas. This conversation happened last year during my summer visit in August. She’s always happy to be with me. Whenever I’m home, she always hugs me and says she loves me. And I love her too; I make sure she always feels loved.

A week at home, while at breakfast, she asked my thoughts on transgender issues, pronouns, and people identifying as animals. I was stunned. I looked at her, and she was holding her tablet. Then I knew she saw it online, and I had to answer her truthfully.

I answered her about transgender people. I said if a person feels attracted to or loves the same sex, yes, it happens. But to feel trapped in a body that you don’t want to be in, just to be with the person you love, I don’t believe in it. To take out parts of your body and take something to make you feel like the other gender, no, it’s not right. She asked me why. I said, for me, they’re thinking that they’re a flaw of nature, which is not true. Every creation has a purpose in life; a mind and a heart have to be in harmony so a person can accept whom God created them to be.

Then she asked my thoughts on a person thinking, dressing, and identifying themselves as an animal. I said to her, don’t lower your God-given privilege to think and rationalize things around you. You have the ability to take care of the animals you want to be. Maybe that’s the cause, and they have to see it through.

Then she asked me about religion. I said to her, if you believe in a faith that will make you a better person walking on this planet, then be one. But you have to think and not be manipulated into thinking that another faith is better than yours. There is one God, a creator of all things. Then she asked me if I believe in God. I said yes, of course. The God I believe in is the God who creates everything.

I told her my story about why I believe in God. When I pray, there’s always an answer in one way or another. When I was six years old and very sick, in and out of consciousness on the operating table, I heard the nurses saying, “Too bad for this boy if he doesn’t make it.” In my mind, I replied, "Hey, I’m a girl, and I don’t want to die." Then I prayed, "I don’t want to die, God. I want to see my younger brother’s birthday. I want to go to school. I want to see my sisters. If I live, I’ll always pray to you." That was a six-year-old praying to live. And here is your mommy. Maybe at that time, God helped the doctor to save me. God heard my prayer. So I always talk to God whenever I’m afraid, confused, in church, in the morning when I wake up, or in the evening when I’m about to sleep. I thank God for the food, the water, the sun, the rain, and the trees, because they keep me alive. That is my God.

She asked me if I go to church. I said yes, of course, but not every Sunday. Then I asked her if she wanted to go to church tomorrow since it was Sunday, and we could hear Mass. She could pray for what’s on her mind, and God would hear and give her the answer. And be alert for the answer when it’s given. The next day, we went to attend Mass.

[ducksbellorum]

Only If a mix for the big damn crush - arranged by ducksbellorum

listen/download

heart attack - demi lovato Never break a sweat for the other guys When you come around, I get paralyzed And every time I try to be myself It comes out wrong, like a cry for help

call me maybe - carly rae jepsen You took your time with the call I took no time with the fall You gave me nothin' at all But still you're in my way

give your heart a break - demi lovato There's just one life to live and there's no time to wait, to waste So let me give your heart a break Give your heart a break

bleeding love - leona lewis And everyone's lookin' 'round thinkin' I'm going crazy But I don't care what they say, I'm in love with you

somethin stupid - frank sinatra oh, the night's so blue And then I go and spoil it all by saying somethin' stupid like, "I love you"

hyfr - drake Do you ever get nervous? Are you single? I heard you fuck your girl, is it true? You gettin' money?

cooler than me - mike posner I used up all of my tricks, I hope that you like this But you probably won't, you think you're cooler than me

cyclone - baby bash Shawty got looks and shawty got class Shawty got hips and shawty got ass

girlfriend - avril lavigne Hey, hey, you, you, I don't like your girlfriend No way, no way, I think you need a new one

hot n cold - katy perry We fight, we break up We kiss, we make up You don't really wanna stay, no But you don't really wanna go

hurricane drunk - florence + the machine And in the crowd, I see you with someone else I brace myself, because I know it's going to hurt

hurt - darren hayes I can take a good intention And turn it on its head I can make you pray to God And wish we'd never met

i’m not calling you a liar - florence + the machine I'm not calling you a ghost Just stop haunting me And I love you so much I'm going to let you kill me

johnny are you queer? - josie cotton I can't help wondering Where I stand I'm so afraid I'll lose you If I can't seduce you

i’m not that girl - wicked Don't dream too far Don't lose sight of who you are Don't remember that rush of joy He could be that boy, I'm not that girl

if i were a boy - beyonce If I were a boy I think I could understand How it feels to love a girl I swear I'd be a better man

hey stephen - taylor swift 'Cause I can't help it if you look like an angel Can't help it if I wanna kiss you in the rain so Come feel this magic I've been feeling since I met you Can't help it if there's no one else

let it be me - ray montagne When all your faith is gone It feels like you can't go on Let it be me Let it be me

take care - drake ft. rihanna I know you've been hurt by someone else I can tell by the way you carry yourself If you let me, here's what I'll do I'll take care of you

the more you ruv someone - avenue q The more you love someone The more you want to kill 'em The more you love someone The more he make you cry

on my own - les miserables And I know it's only in my mind That I'm talking to myself and not to him And although I know that he is blind Still I say, there's a way for us

ride on - celtic thunder I turn to face an empty space where once you used to lie And look for a smile to light the night through a teardrop in my eye Ride on, see you, I could never go with you No matter how I wanted to

sun of a gun - oh land Once burned, twice shunned Too much of your line made me blind. I'd wait all night But you left one too many times.

want you to want me - anggun Sometimes I walk away 'Cause I know that we can't ever be together Sometimes I close my mind I can't keep this love for myself any longer

goodnight and go - imogen heap Why d'ya have to be so cute? It's impossible to ignore you Must you make me laugh so much? It's bad enough we get along so well

i can’t make you love me - bon iver Here in the dark These final hours I will lay down my heart I feel the power but you don't

7 things - miley cyrus You're vain, your games, you're insecure You love me, you like her You make me laugh, you make me cry I don't know which side to buy

zombie - natalia kills I'm in love with a zombie When he put his hands on me Sends chills through my body But then he don't call me

i knew you were trouble - taylor swift He was long gone when he met me And I realize the joke is on me I knew you were trouble when you walked in So shame on me now

wish me well (you can go to hell) - the bouncing souls Say goodbye Kiss my ass I hope you die Wish me well You can go to hell

[paperbagnotes]

Idk how to escape this pain that’s killing me every day

I’ve never felt anything like this

It’s almost worse then being ill

This sickness makes me ugly

Erupts through my eyes

While I see him looking happy..

How can this be

I need to leave

I need to get as far away as I can

Stop using the internet

If his ads are even all I’m shown

I must go

Foreign country

Is that we’re there is salvation for me?

I’m done pretending

Never going to lie about how I feel

Wake up every morning and hit a bottle until I can’t feel

I can’t feel this

This can not be my existence

I am bleeding and so I cut myself to see

What my blood really feels

It’s of nothing

Leaks out

Spills all over everything

That means nothing

I have nothing

There is nothing

It is all nothing

I pray for death to come to me

Life had tortured me

It’s taken my dreams

It’s distorted my anatomy

It has killed me

I loved me

I loved who I was

The capacity, endlessly I could feel rejoice and happy

I now bleed

Into this sink

I must fill it

I must leak out everything

I want to leave

God. I pray you take me

Don’t even reincarnate me

Life like this?

It’s never been meant for a soft soul like mine

I become ..

An ugly

Dented

Damned and diminished dime

Worth no time

Anyone willing to give it I know is less than me

So eager to please

They have no surety

It disgust me

If I have no one here

There is no point in my morality

Why make me mortal

To mate

If there is no body

You have me clawing

Scraping

Groveling on my knees

You tell me to wait

Darling wait

It’s okay

Patience is a virtue you carry

Just wait

Jeopardy waiting

Wait until you bleed yourself to see the blue

Wait until your death

Overcomes you

Then wait some more

Be sure I’ll bring you the only thing you’ve ever wanted..

Well god?! Allah

I don’t believe you

I no longer see or feel you

You choose to make me ugly

You chose for me to look like this

You love it

Making me ugly

You laugh at my misfortune it seems

A cruel game

You think you’ve strengthened me

You’ve made me so weak

You test the one testimony I’ve preached

It is not something anyone should carry

You’ve killed me

So just let me die already

Blood empties me

And you can’t even let me pass you

Keep me staring at this scary reflection

I don’t ever want to look in a mirror again

I don’t every want anything

When will enough blood please you?

Should I slit my neck

Would that finally make it through to you?

I clearly can’t be here

You can’t give me someone to love

Finally

And have them never be able to love me

What cruel hell is this

That you think I should be thankful for??

This life is a chore

It’s a demonic thing

Brutal and scary

I am terrified

How can I escape this love

Please kill me

Let me start over

This is not where I belong

I will never be someone

Who cares about any of it

You know love is everything to me

Without it

This life

Any

It’s not worth living

I beg of you

On my knees

Red all over the life you wrote

Where else must I cut..

I am a coward

Or my throat would be it for me

I know the artery

Die in minutes

Gladly

But my bards aren’t steady

I am afraid..

If I do that ik it won’t be better

So I can not

I can not cut my throat

Carotid artery



It would be easy

Painless

Then would I be free?

No i know I wouldn’t be

So I don’t. But you won’t give it to me

You won’t kill me

Or let me have glory

So which is it

I don’t want to die a slow death from cancer

Feeling this pain until I am no longer

If my life is so full of this

To not feel loved

Why did you create me?!

Molested me at less than a year old

And you think I deserve to take everything

Pain kills me

Stip pretending you don’t see

Please I want mercy

My love is not for me

End my life

Never one I’ll be average

Boring

Not a beast

But I won’t wonder if I’m complete

I won’t care

Have normal hair

Be unnoticable

Someone will love me

But the life you’ve given me

Why

Why must you want me to bleed, beat my body with anything

I’ve had my whole life not to feel seen

Can’t it end already

You’ll never help me

Never grace me with anything great

And you know I can’t live like that

So fucking kill me

Kill me

Stop playing

Draw your knife and sink it in

Alice already!

It’s more than one person can carry!

You molested me

And you aspect me be able to take

Having a love that is not reciprocate-

You’re the fool

You are spited

Because you must be this bitter and spiteful

To torture somebody so thoroughly

Bleed them until they can not see

Threaten to take their sight from thee

And you continue to persist.

She wants to die

Hear her

It is too much torture!

Cease!

Let her be

Put her to rest

She can not live like this

[ruminate88]

My “aha” moment!!!!! my revelation!!! My Epiphany!!!

I finally get it now… being a survivor from narcissistic abuse…. It is not my husband’s actions or words that triggers me. It is actually the SITUATIONS we face that triggers me!!!!!!!!!!!! (All this time I’ve been concerned why at times I’m so defensive towards my husband or I overreact, overthink and fear the worst.)

I’ve been in certain situations with my exes, and I know how it went with them and my fear is that it’ll go the same way with my spouse, even though my spouse is NOT a narcissist, but I am always afraid to make the same mistakes again. I always fear a mask will come off and husband will be a monster like my exes were. 😟

I dated two narcissist back to back but dealt with a 3rd male-friend narcissist throughout my life and I have had a lot of healing since then and have come so far, that, I would hate to be back where I started!!! 😨

therefore, keeping my guard up consistently not fully trusting my spouse the way he deserves to be trusted!! It is not him, it is me and there is nothing he can truly do or say to change it, other than be consistent, which he has been so far…. (Time is short but honest)

We’ve been married six years now, and he has not changed He’s the same man when he wakes up and goes to bed! He goes to work and comes home to me daily. Sooooooooooo, he has not given me any reason to doubt him, or to believe that he could cheat on me or be another narcissist, but yet, I am always suspicious and keeping an eye out for the little “what if’s”. Wow. Major breakthrough here!!!!!

Now to figure out how to actually use this knowledge and apply it into my marriage. WOW!!!!!!!! This is why I’ve made this account and started writing down my feelings. I’m really learning so much about my past and myself. 🥲

this makes so much sense now why I take everything so hard. When my husband upsets me at all, I always question his intentions. I do pray at some point I can actually rest in my marriage and learn to really trust and have faith in love again. I’m missing out on a great love with my spouse because I’m still hurting so much from my past. God help me ♥️

Update @ 12:41:

I also had an epiphany in the shower. In past relationships with the narcissist, when the “love bomb”, “fairytale”, “mini honey moon” is over, naturally the relationship is too… SO when my honeymoon phase in my marriage was pretty much over and now it’s hard work to make this relationship last, my spouse focuses on finances and providing for us, which is essentially important AND the “heat” went away plus he’s not “trying as hard” to impress me and same here because we’re married and committed but from past trauma, I sorta see the honey phase leaving as “the relationship could be ending” BECAUSE it’s always ended with a narcissist…..

with Cody, he discarded me directly after love bomb but then took me back and then ghosted me after 2nd love bomb…

and with Andrew, he love bombed for a minute, then bread crumbed for a whole summer, sorta tried to discard me at Christmas but changed his mind and chose to love bombed me again for weeks, then intermittent reinforcement for months, devalue for weeks, discard in a day, a little more bread crumbing after (so much flirting) but then gas light for a summer!!! Overall though, once the heat leaves, the man leaves too… (in past experiences)

WELLLL, the heat between my spouse has sizzled as all relationships eventually do but you work to reconnect. So far, my spouse has been focusing on work and money but has shown no signs of leaving me 😁😜🥲 SOOO that means this is NOT the same situation as with my ex narcs and I need to totally chill out and focus on the next chapter in my marriage. Wow!! So glad I see this clear now 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

[dorksideoftheforce]

Held on and slow danced to myself while listening to slow dancing in a burning room last night and I fucking cried cause damnit…fucking damnit 💔

I listened to continuum on repeat after we broke up. I played gta5 and listened to that album and on repeat so much that I memorized all the lyrics to every single song on that album and watched all of Grey’s anatomy and this show called Being Human about a werewolf, a vampire and a ghost. I beat the Lego lord of the rings game and wrote a few things here and there but what I remember the most is just how no matter what I did, no matter all the good I did…i was so haunted by what I didn’t do that i ended up putting myself in a box. My friend said that it’s like I’ve been in a Jack in a box all these years, one that opens from the inside and I’m deconstructed like a motherfucker and have gone through so damn much to become the person I am today like i don’t even know where to fucking begin. Like there’s so much.

The lyrics in slow dancing in a burning room always got me but you see, I haven’t listened to that album in a long time until last night and I feel like my entire being exploded into pieces when that song came on because you were hands down one of the greatest loves of my life and one of the greatest blessings I’ve ever had and now you really are gone and I am finally able to feel it because i told you the truth and now i just feel everything now, i guess cause i can handle it, right? This is by far one of the most excruciating things I’ve ever been through and I’m so grateful to be here on the other side of this because i did my best to heal and be the best person i could possibly be after you without running away like how i used to, from people to people.

I didn’t date anybody for a year and a half and that relationship brought so much out of me that i haven’t dated or even talked to anybody like that in over 6 1/2 years so now over 9 years have gone by and you finally know the truth about me and I’m not this idea of a person you thought you knew anymore and i am grateful. Thank you for being such a light to me all these years. I know i just said a lot of words…i just pictured in my head, all my words stretching far enough to reach you and i honestly hope they reach you again one day. I’m writing a book, you see, of everything that happened In between and what i went through to become the person who had the courage to tell you the truth because that’s been my mission all these years and I’ve prayed so hard for all of this and it’s here and it’s like i went through a portal and you aren’t here anymore but you are in my heart and when i go out there to fight for liberation for everybody, so as much good as I possibly can and do my best to pass the torch because i accept that me being who i truly am in this world is puts a target on my back…i am so thankful for you and all my loved ones.

I pray for the strength and courage to continue to be who i am, the person God needs me to be and I thank him for all of my many blessings because he really did bless me. I am ready to receive the love I’ve always longed for from myself and be open to receiving it from others, to continue to heal and have boundaries and simply love and keep learning and keep my heart open and have faith and trust that whatever God has planned for me, that I am strong enough now to really show up and not be so afraid that i don’t do anything anymore. I have connected with people that I’ve been praying for who will help me to be able to fight for Trans liberation and have found queer people who believe in God too and it’s funny how it’s all happening now but i am so here for it and in my heart, I wish I could talk to you again and see you but I also trust that what’s meant for me will find it’s way to me and for that I am grateful because the comfort I get in my soul from simply knowing you at all really helps keep me going because i really did become the best me i could ever possibly imagined I’d be and I’m still going and learning and going and going and going….. I love you completely and I know you have love for me too. That’s all. The rest is confetti.

[i-hope-youre-hopeful]

Canada trip!

I’m so nervous. I feel so scared and out of place and I’m struggling to keep anxious thoughts at bay. I have those feelings lingering from earlier today. My mom was upset. She thought I hadn’t done enough. She didn’t thank me for all I did. Still, I’ve been nervous for weeks, and I’m thrilled to get this over with. I want to enjoy every moment of this for what it is. It is space. It is time away. It is time with some of my most beloved people in this world - the people who know me better than almost anyone. It is an adventure and an opportunity to grow and be blessed and to bless others. I want to use this time wisely. I’m just scared.

God, I am not trusting you fully. I’m bad at that. But I’m trying. I am not trusting that you will provide for my needs or that you will keep me safe from harm or discomfort. But that is wrong. I am sorry that I struggle so much to trust in your will. Please help me to have your peace and to remember that your will is the best possible place to be. Help me have your desires and think your thoughts, and where there is hidden distrust and anxiety shine your light of truth. Protect my friends and I, provide for my needs, and hold my family extra close and extra comfortable while I’m away. Please help me trust and not be afraid. Help me be joyful, be loving, be excited, and take this trip for what it is. Help it to go as smoothly as possible and when it’s time to go home help that transition to go smoothly too. Help me. Thank you that you have already provided so well and guided me and protected us. Thank you for this opportunity and for this life. Please help me not to feel guilty or scared of feeling joy. And when things don’t go the way I expect or the way I’d prefer, help us get through and help me remember that your will is above mine and that you work all things for good. I love you lord. I’m scared. But I love you. In Jesus’ name I pray, amen.

I survived! I slept! I got lots of good food and the airport experience so far has been easy and smooth. I am sitting with Sydney and playing little games and talking and eating snacks. We are beginning our descent into Montreal. I felt panicked but I am feeling better for this moment. My ears don’t hurt. I am alive. I am grateful. I love you Lord. Thank you. Please keep protecting us. Thank you for your provision, your love, your peace, and the amazing people I have in my life. I love them and I love you. I’m sorry and I thank you. Hold my hand. I love you.

I survived the whole trip and I’m home! It was hard but it was good. I feel a little bad that I hardly did anything. Everyone else planned and coordinated and I just kind of showed up. I hope they don’t feel like I didn’t contribute anything. It was tiring and scary but you protected me and held me so close and helped me feel so happy and loved. You got me home safe and although there was trouble I never felt out of your sight. I never felt like we weren’t where we were supposed to be. The difficulty of the trip home made the transition into being home easier, and I believe you did that on purpose. Thank you. I know the long wait in the airport was stressful and the drive was tiring and the leaving was sad but all I want to remember is hugging my friends and sitting and playing and talking and laughing about how bad everything was. I will remember sharing a pizza with Cynthia and playing Guess Who I’m Thinking Of and writing Mad Libs with Sydney and giggling in the desolate airport while we talked about how scary the plane was. The rest I will remember as a new experience and a secret blessing. It was hard and I’m glad it’s over and I’m so glad I did it.

Thank you for giving me such joyful, loving, kindhearted people. There was never a moment that I felt left out or unsupported. Problems were met without judgment and conflict was handled quickly and put away. There was never much time between talking and laughter, and I must’ve thought at least 5 times a day that we probably seemed like we were on drugs to the general public because of how loud we laughed and how happily we did everything. I remember walking through the airport in the middle of the night and seeing on my friends’ faces how tired and distressed they had been and feeling like we were barely making it and all of us talking about the stress and the sadness and the fear, but we were all laughing. We were all encouraging each other and enjoying being together anyway. I remember sitting in the bathroom and brushing my hair after a shower and hearing everyone shouting at each other over a Jackbox game and laughing almost constantly and thinking that it just didn’t get better than that. And it doesn’t. To hear your loved ones loving each other and being together is a beautiful blessing. I got to experience family again, even if only for a little while. This too may pass away, but it was real, and it is real, and it is a reflection of your love for us, and I cant thank you enough for your love for us. I hope I loved them like you would. I hope I loved well.

I thank you for the incredible blessings and opportunities you’ve given me. You are good. You are good. You are good!

[perpetuallycoldhands]

Wow, I am not great at remembering, am I?

So much has happened in the past year and a bit, too much to really get into, nor much I really want to get into.

I suppose I’ll talk about something that I have found really helps me that I started a few months ago. I started praying. Not to any Abrahamic god, or Pagan gods, or any other traditional religious figures, but to humanity as a whole. All those who came before me, all those who will come after, and all those in between; that is who I have been praying to. It is an abstract concept to be sure, but it helps. Each night I sit on my bed and I look at the glow-in-the-dark peel and stick star and moon stickers on my wall and I imagine my ancestors, and not just those related to me by blood, but all those who paved the path to where I am today, and I talk to them. I mostly just wax poetic about humanity and the world and all the the things to love, much in the same manner I have on here, but it makes me feel better every time. I’ve always envied the religious, I’ve always wanted to believe in something greater, to look to for answers, to push those abstract, nebulous concepts and unfathomable thoughts onto, but I just never could, it never made sense to me. I tried praying to God a few times, even Allah just to try to feel that greatness that might be somewhere out there, but I couldn’t. But I realized that I can’t see God as some higher being way up in Heaven or Valhalla or what have you because I see holiness every day. I see divinity in the people and world around me, in the baby talk people use to talk to cats or dogs on the street, in the sweet, fresh mangoes from the fruit market around the corner, in my best friend, in my brother, hell, even in the mirror. At the end of the day, I see religion as a long-standing coping mechanism used by ancient peoples to feel less afraid of death and to try to rationalize the things they could not explain. Today, we have explained many of the things they could not but there is still no much that we can’t wrap our heads around. I’m glad so many people can find something out there to help explain all of it, frankly, I hope there is something or someone out there that can explain all these things because some of them scare me pretty bad. But I just can’t help but see God - the concept of a God - as the culmination of all things human, I think that we as a collective are God. Maybe we didn’t cause lighting to happen, maybe we didn’t cause life itself, but we harnessed that lightning and now I use it to write this now, we keep life going in many cases, but we also take it away. There is much to be criticized about religion and there is much to be criticized about humanity, but, oddly enough, it is often forgotten that there is far more good. We are good, faith is good, the world is good, and for that, I pray to my fellow man, to remind myself and them if they can even really hear me that there is good, that they are good, that you are good.