#i read my coming out letter to my therapist last week

[real-life-cloud]

😰😰

[specialagentlokitty]

Hannibal lector x teen!reader - I would notice

Is it possible to have a continuation of 'i would notice'? Bc that fic was scrumptious and I need to see reader happy and healthy with Hannibal 😭 - Anon💜

Part two:

You resumed your therapy on a non official basis, your parents weren’t billed for the sessions like usual, Hannibal would make the time to either go to your school, your home or occasionally to some cafe.

Hannibal had come to the agreement with you that he would meet you twice a week, and if you felt the thoughts getting the better of you then you would call him no matter the time of day.

He also insisted on checking your arms for any injuries and relied on you to tell him the truth about if you had inflicted any wounds elsewhere.

You were laid upside down on your couch while Hannibal read over the letter that you had given him.

“You refuse to go to your progression meeting? Think about college or university?” He asked.

“I don’t see the point, plus the letter insists on bringing my parent or parents with me and yeah considering they’re in a whole different country that might be a bit hard.”

He hummed a little bit, setting the letter down and he looked at you.

“Do sit up, all that blood rushing directly to your brain won’t do you any good.”

You sighed, swinging yourself back around so you were sitting up.

“Are you interested in perusing a higher education?”

“I haven’t really thought about it I guess…”

“You hadn’t thought about making it past your teenage years?”

You shook your head and he nodded in understanding.

“Well, we have some time, why don’t you take a moment to think about this. What do you want to do in your life?”

You went quiet as you thought about his question.

“I guess I want to help people somehow.”

“A doctor? A therapist?”

You shook your head.

“No. There jobs my parents want me to have, I don’t want them.”

“Well, perhaps you should consider going to this meeting, see what your options are based on your grades at the moment.”

“No thanks, I’ll pass.”

Hannibal sighed heavily.

“Will you attend this meeting if I were to ask nicely?” He asked.

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“I’ll be the only student there without a parent or guardian, that’s gonna make me the laughing stock of my whole grade.”

“Just consider it, I would like you to go there tomorrow, trust me.”

Hannibal checked his watch and stood up.

“I have an appointment soon, so I must be going but do consider staying for the meeting for me, see what options there are available for your future.”

You got up to see him out, but never gave him a response.

You were supposed to still be on summer break, but you found yourself wondering the school halls as you debated actually going to this meeting.

It was supposed to be the last one before senior year, anybody who hadn’t gone to any of the meetings were going to start getting pulled aside in following year.

The meeting would help clear up some doubts you were having on your future and you knew that, but you didn’t want to go alone, so you closed your locker.

You began making your way towards the exit, and last minute changed your course to step into the classroom where other students and parents were.

“Well, look who finally came. I was hoping you would.” Your teacher smiled.

You gave a small smile back, walking over.

“Hey Daniels, I was wondering if maybe I could just get a few leaflets and go.”

He nodded, picking up a few leaflets and some other things.

“Take it I can’t encourage you to stay?” He asked.

“Nah, plus it looks like you’ve got a pretty full room anyways.”

He chuckled a little.

“All last minute, just like you. But you’ve still got time to decide so don’t panic about it.”

“I won’t, thanks.”

You stuffed them into your bag and swung it over your shoulder, turning to head to the door and you nearly collided with someone walking through.

“I hope I’m not late, there was a great deal of traffic on the way here.”

You took a few steps back.

“Doctor lector?”

He smiled as he saw you, taking his scarf off.

“You came, although I assume I caught you just as you were leaving?”

You nodded.

“Well, since we’re both here why don’t we take a seat?”

You sat at the back of the classroom with him, setting all the leaflets you had gotten on the table.

“Have you thought about how far you want to travel?” Hannibal asked.

“I don’t really want to go too far, I want to stay somewhere semi familiar.”

“Alright, in that case we’ll take these ones away.”

He took a few of the leaflets away, and picked up one of the others, talking you though it and comparing all of the colleges and universities for you.

“Well, you are interested in animals, perhaps something in that industry?”

You gasped, lightly hitting the table a few times in excitement.

“Zookeeper!! Or.. or.. or ranch owner!” You whisper yelled.

Hannibal chuckled a little, smiling softly at you, and he set a couple of leaflets down in the table for you.

“Well, you still have your senior year ahead of you, but perhaps we can think of visiting a few of these universities, see what they have to offer for you.”

“Aren’t you like real busy or something?”

“I do have spare time, if need be I can make the time.”

You nodded a little bit, looking through one of the leaflets, showing him one of the pictures.

“This one has monkeys, and it’s near a zoo I could do work experience.”

“Well then, I think we should arrange a visit to this university and see all they have to offer, don’t you?”

You quickly nodded your head.

“How do we do that?”

“I’ll handle all of that no need to worry at all.”

You smiled a little at him, and you pulled another bit of paper from your bag, handing it over to him.

“What’s this?”

“Well, we get to decorate our parking spots, this is what I wanna do with mine.”

“This will take you all day.”

“Yup!”

You beamed at Hannibal and he handed the paper back to you, gesturing to the front of the room so you could pay attention.

When the meeting was over, Hannibal dropped you off back home.

“Shall I meet you here tomorrow?” Hannibal asked.

“Nah, it’s okay. I’ll see you next week doctor Lector, and I uh.. thank you for coming to the meeting.”

He smiled at you, making his way back to his car.

You wanted to get an early start on decorating your parking space, and you placed a sheet down that you could sit while you did it.

It was still early in the day, there weren’t many students there, but all of them were doing the same thing as you, getting an early start.

You were sitting with headphones on while you worked, but you did notice a shadow over you, so you tilted your head up.

“Doctor lector!”

You smiled, pushing your headphones down and you moved over so he could sit next to you.

“I happened to find myself with the day free, so I thought I would come check on your progress.”

“I’ve got to wait for the top to dry, so I’m working on the background for now.”

Hannibal nodded his head, and he looked at the paints that you were using.

“You’ve changed your idea a little bit.”

“Yeah, I thought a forest scene would be a lot nicer you know?”

He hummed a little bit, handing you a green paint, taking the one you already had next to you.

“Try this one, it would capture the essence of the pine trees, make them look more alive.”

“I didn’t think of that.”

You changed the shade of green you were using, and Hannibal took a paintbrush to help you, following the outline that you had made.

“Do you paint or something doctor lector?”

“I believe everybody should divulge into the arts in some way another, it can help clear one’s mind, find them peace.”

You nodded your head.

“You seemed to be rather adepts at painting.”

“My parents made me take art classes as a kid, I guess I just really enjoyed it because I kept painting. I lost interest a while back, but I thought maybe I should pick it up again.”

“Why was that?”

“You.”

“Me?”

Hannibal looked at you slightly confused and you smiled a little at him.

“Yeah, you taught me it was important to keep my interests, especially if I want to clear my mind. Painting really helps.”

“And visiting the pet store?”

“They have really cute puppies?” You grinned a little.

Hannibal chuckled, and he smiled at you, turning his attention back to the painting.

“I am glad to see that you’re becoming much happier, have you considered getting a pet? For company that is, that way you are not alone.”

“I was thinking about it, but I don’t know, I don’t wanna buy one you know?”

“Have you thought about adopting one? I have a friend who has done the same, I could ask him to come with us if you’d like?”

“Yeah! Oh my god I want to find a really adorable dog!”

Hannibal chuckled again.

“Well, considered it settled then. I shall get into contact with Will, I’ll arrange a date and a time, we will go to a few rescues until you find a perfect dog.”

You and Hannibal carried on working on your parking spot, he showed you how to blend the colours to look more natural, and he did the more intricate details for you.

When you were finished you put your hand into the paint tin, and you pulled it out, grinning at him.

“What are you planning?” He mused.

You stamped your hand on the bottom of your parking space, and wrote you name underneath, then wiped your hand on your jeans.

“(Y/N), don’t do that come now, you’ll never get that out.”

Hannibal handed you a cloth, and you used that instead, just grinning at him.

He stood up, and looked at your forest themed parking spot, trees, birds, blue skies, sunlight through the trees, a stag in the middle of them all, and an owl sitting on the branch.

“Why an owl?” You asked.

“Well, because they protest wisdom, a thing I believe you have a lot off.”

“Haha very funny.”

“It’s true, you’re a smart person (Y/N), with a lot of wonderful ideas for this world, and I for one look forward to seeing you grow into a wonderful adult.”

You smiled at him.

Hannibal gestured to paint.

“May I?”

You nodded and he brushed some paint on to his hand, and he printed his hand print next to yours, signing his name underneath.

He cleaned his hand on a cloth, and he stood next to you.

“Now this is truly a work of art.” He said.

“Can we go look at dogs now?”

“Well, everywhere is closed to the public, however Will has agreed for you to come to his home and meet his dogs, would you be alright with that?”

You quickly nodded your head and rushed to pack everything away.

“Careful now, we don’t want to ruin your hard work, you spent all day on that.”

“Right! Right! Carefully.”

Hannibal helped you out everything into your car.

“Go home and change, I’ll be there shortly to come get you.”

You beamed brightly from ear to ear and he smiled at you, opening your car door so you could get in.

You drove back home to wash the pain off and change into some fresh clothes, and you were practically bouncing with happiness as you waited for Hannibal to come back.

The moment you saw his car you were running down the driveway, and he chuckled, getting out of his car to open the passenger door for you.

“Does Will have a lot of dogs? Can we get them treats?”

You carried on rambling questions for him, and he just smiled, finally seeing you with a spark of life, a spark of happiness

[justmeinadaze]

Smutty request here....massage therapist(s) Eddie and/or Steve 🥴

Got me feeling all the things

Happy Ending (Steddie X You)

A/N: So this intimidated me a bit because I don't a whole lot about massages and that field. But I ran with what I know and put a spin on it. I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: Masseuses Steddie and you and all that implies (I regret nothing), mentions of stress from the read and a broken heart, she is aware that they provide more than just massages, DP (I said what I said), they are gentle with her for the most part but their is slight allusions to Dom/Sub dynamics (spanking, some bratty behavior, and stern tones), I think that's it.

Word Count: 6244

“Trust me, Y/N, these two will change your life.”

“They’re masseuses. It’s a massage, Deb.”

“Yes and no.” You stare at your friend as you sarcastically blink in her direction making her laugh so hard she almost spits out her drink. “Yes, they massage your body but they also do…other things…to help you relax.”

“Nope. No thank you. I’m good.”

“Y/N! Wait, come on.” She reaches for you hand as you start to get up from the lunch table you two were eating at. “Listen… you remember how hard things were for me a few months ago? I was working 80-hour weeks trying to get that promotion, my mom was scolding me because I’m still not married, and then add in being broke as hell.” Your friend sighed as you placed your palm over her hand.  

“Someone suggested them and I thought ‘Hey, what do I have to lose?’ When I met them, they were so kind and gentle. I swear for a second, I forgot I was even worried about anything. And that was before the…ahem…happy ending.” You blush as you both giggle. Debbie suddenly leans in closer to you, lowering her voice. 

“They both do the massaging part but you can decide who makes your ending a happy one. Personally, I chose the tall, pretty one. Not that the other one wasn’t cute…he’s just not my type, you know?”

“You can only have one?”

Your friend gasps as she playfully hits your arm. “You whore!”

“What?! I’m just asking! More so out of curiosity.”, you shrug. “I guess not everyone is into that kind of…kink but…I mean if you’re hiring them knowing what they do…wouldn’t you want to take the opportunity?”

“Goddamn, I will never understand why Tony cheated on you.” Your eyes meet hers as she softly smiles. “You’re sweet, funny, fucking gorgeous, and apparently really open minded when it comes to ménage à trois.”

You return her smile with one of your own as you lean back in your chair. “Yeah, well, if you ever find that out will you let me know?”

****

You sigh as you enter your big, empty apartment. Tony, your ex-fiancé, was supposed to come by while you were out today with your friend to get the last of his things. Now half of your home was quite literally gone. 

As you hugged your arms around yourself you noticed a note on the kitchen counter. 

“Y/N,

I think I got everything but if I forgot something can you save it and let me know? 

This was incredibly hard for me. I love you so much, baby. Can’t we just—”

You crumple the letter without bothering to read the rest. Honestly, it doesn’t matter. You heard it all before you caught him with her that night and after you threw him out.

After grabbing a beer from the fridge, you held the card Debbie gave you for the masseuses, tracing your fingers over the number.

“Ugh! Fuck it.”, you exhale as you reach for the phone.

It rings a few times but right as you begin to rethink what you’re doing; music suddenly blares through the line. 

“Yeah! Hello?”

“Um, hi. I’m looking for the Munson-Harrington massage people…thing.”

The man on the other end chuckles as he lowers the heavy metal in the background. 

“I don’t think I’ve heard us called that before. Massage people thing… Yeah, you got one of them here. How can I help you, sweetheart?”

“I, um, my friend recommended I utilize your services.”

“Do you always talk this dirty or are we special?”

“I don’t know. Are you always this much of asshole or am I just that special.”, you growl.

The music on the other end abruptly stops and you hear movement on the other end. 

“You sound like your absolutely special. Are you a little nervous?”

You sigh as you lean against the kitchen the wall. “Yeah. I’ve never done anything like this before. Not even regular…massages. Deb, my friend, said you guys changed her life. My life kind of sucks right now.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to and you definitely don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. My friend and I just want to help you relax. Pretty sounding girl like you deserves a clear head.”

“Hm. I bet you say that to everyone who calls.”

“You’re right. I did tell the telemarketer before you that he sounded gorgeous.”

That made you genuinely laugh. “What’s your name?”

“Eddie. I’m the Munson in the name. What’s yours?”

“Y/N.” You slide down to the floor as you take another swig of the drink in your hand. “Is the Harrington part of your company there?”

“Yes ma’am, he is. Would you like to say hello?”

“If that’s ok. I don’t want to impose or anything.”

“HARRINGTON! There’s a pretty girl on the phone who would like to speak with you.”

You listen to Eddie pass the phone as he tells the other boy your name. 

“Y/N? Hey, I’m Steve. I heard you wanted to talk to me.”

“Are you an asshole like your friend?”

“I can be when I need to. Eddie! What did you do to this girl?”

“Nothing! She started it by calling and being adorable.”

“Oh my god.”, you giggle. “You guys are good.”

“And we haven’t even touched you yet.” Your breathing stuttered at his comment. He said it with so much confidence as if he already knew his hands (and services) would blow you away. “Are you still with me, honey?”

“Yeah, um, Eddie said that…we could go slow and if I didn’t want…the…”

“He’s right. We want you to be comfortable. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, Y/N. If you just want a massage that’s fine. If you just want to talk that’s fine to.”

You exhale heavily into the phone before finally making up your mind. 

“Okay. I’m free on Friday.”

############

“Shit, shit, shit!” You continue to curse as you run down your apartment building hallway. “I am so sorry I’m late! Work kept me late and—”

You froze you saw them sitting outside your door, quickly rising when your eyes meet theirs. 

“Hey, no problem.” One of the boy’s grins as he extends his hand for you to shake. “I’m Steve. This is Eddie.”

“The asshole.”, he teases as his gigantic palm encapsulates your own. 

You couldn’t take your eyes off them; they weren’t what you were expecting at all. You assumed Steve was the “tall, pretty one” your friend had mentioned but to you they were both handsome. Eddie had that kind of metalhead look you’d seen walking the streets of your town with his leather jacket and long hair. His Metallica shirt rested perfectly above his belt that was holding up his blue jeans. 

Steve looked like the everyday 80’s guy you saw in most romance movies at the theater but his smile radiated a confidence that made you feel safe. His muscle-bound arms in his polo caused a little sigh to escape your lips as your eyes traced the rest of his figure. 

“Do we…have to do a chant or something?”

You glanced at Eddie completely confused until he gestured towards the front door. 

“Oh, fuck, right. I’m sorry. My head is just…” You clumsily turn your key in the lock and allow them entry into your home. 

“Wow. This place is really nice.”

“Uh, thank you. My fiancé, well ex-fiancé, and I wanted a bigger place closer to the city since we both worked over here. Do you…would you guys like something to drink?”

“No, thank you. We appreciate the offer.” Steve smiles in your direction making your knees a bit weak. “You can have something though if you want.”

“Thanks? I mean with it being my apartment and all.”

“Ah, there’s that sass I was waiting for.” Eddie flashes you a tooth filled grin.

After pouring yourself the strongest drink you could find, you watched them set up near your living room. Your eyes continued to rake over them as they exchanged small talk with each other, allowing you some space to get more comfortable with their presence.

The phone ringing startled you as you turned to give it your attention. Before you could pick it up it routed to the voicemail and Tony’s voice flowed through. 

“Y/N? Babe, are you there? Please, I just want to talk.” Your eyes fluttered shut as you listened to his excuses. You hated being alone and this gigantic apartment was just another reminder that he wasn’t by your side anymore. You missed Tony terribly but no one in the world had ever hurt you as badly as he had. “…I swear to God, she meant nothing to me. I’m just a fucking idiot.”

Feeling a sudden warmth, you opened your eyes to meet Eddie’s as he towered over you. You glanced at Steve whose own face reflected the same sympathy as his friend. 

“…I felt so fucking lonely, Y/N. You were always at work and I felt like you never had time for me. Baby, I know what it’s like to sit in that apartment all by yourself, hurting. Please just talk to me—”

“Hey. Just so you’re aware you are a fucking idiot. She’s not sitting here alone crying her eyes out over some asshole who broke her heart. Y/N has moved on and you should to. Stop calling.”

After hanging up the phone, the metalhead turned to face you again. “I hope that was ok.”

Before you could stop yourself, you wrapped your arms around his waist, clinging to him as you sighed into his chest. His arms gradually came down to hold you to him as his cheek rested on your head. 

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure. I’m not going to lie, Stevie, we may want to reconsider taking a payment in a hug because this is quite comfortable.”

They both laugh as you pull away and smile at them. 

“We’re ready whenever you are, honey.”, Steve grins as he points towards their makeshift table.

#########

Your eyes remain glued in front of you as you listen to Eddie move about the apartment. 

“Y/N.”, Steve whispers from behind you as his breath warms your ear. “Remember, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. We can just talk if you want or we can even leave. No hard feelings. We understand how uncomfortable this situation can be especially since you don’t know us but that makes it a little bit freeing to.”

“Can, um, can I ask you for a favor?” You softly smile when you turn to look at him and he nods. “Can you…take off my clothes? I-I-I don’t think I…”, you ask, stuttering through your nerves. 

“Yeah. Yeah, of course I can. Did you want to keep anything on?”

“Is that an option?”, you giggle. 

“Sweetheart, you hold all the power here.” Eddie slides up beside his friend, now jacketless with no shoes. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been with anyone let alone naked in front of someone. Tony wasn’t lying about that. I’ve always been busy with work and—”

Steve gently places his index finger over your lips. “Nothing that asshole says matters. I don’t care if you were on the moon, he had no right to cheat on you.” His finger glides down from your mouth to your blouse as he begins undoing the buttons while the other man shifts behind you and unclips your skirt. 

Both garments fall effortlessly to the floor as Steve continues watching your face for any signs of hesitation or discomfort. 

“We’re going to do this one at a time, ok? I’m going to take off your bra and then Eddie’s going to remove your panties.”

Once he gets your approval, he leans over your shoulder and begins unhooking your bra from your body. You don’t know if it’s because he’s being so sweet or if it’s because his strong cologne wafts into your nostrils but something inside of you causes you to turn and softly kiss his cheek. 

Steve pulls back slightly, looking through your eyes till a small smile flickers across his lips. He and his friend had been doing this for a while but not one of them had been as tender at you had just been. He knew there was something different about you when he spoke to you on the phone and he knew Eddie felt it to when the metalhead completely turned off his music to talk to you. 

He hoped he wasn’t misreading things and took a leap of faith as he leaned forward to kiss your forehead before tossing your bra near the rest of your clothes.

Strong hands on your waist turned you so you were now facing Eddie as he sunk down on his heels, dipping his fingers under the waistband of your underwear, and delicately tugged them down your legs. The pads of his digits traced along your skin causing a little shiver to run up your spine. 

“You’re so gorgeous, Y/N.”

“I’m sure you say that to everyone.”

His grin grows as he stands up and looks down at you. “I did have a date with that telemarketer I told you about. Turns out he WAS really good looking.”

Steve smiled behind you when you laughed, gently guiding you towards their table, and helping you up as you lay on your stomach. Folding your arms above you, you rest your head on them like a pillow. The metalhead digs in a bag before kneeling in front of you again till his face was level with your own. 

“Which do you like better?” He holds up bottles to your nose and you point to one that smells like vanilla. 

“What are those?”

“Oil. Steve’s the smell guy and knows how to utilize them better than I do.” He stands up and passes the bottle you chose to his friend. 

“Honey, we’re going to touch you now, alright? It might feel a little weird at first because of the oil but if at any point you get uncomfortable and want to stop or take a break just let us know.”

“Okay.” You close your eyes, unsure of what to prepare for but when a set of hands begins rubbing into you back, you can’t help but let out a soft, low moan. “Shit. I’m—”

“Princess, this is your house. Make all the noise you want to and please don’t be embarrassed.”

“You can also talk to us if you want to. Maybe about things you’re stressed about.”

A second set of hands find your calves and a strong exhale leave your lips. “Honestly, you heard my main bit of stress.”

“Fucker Magee?”, Eddie asks. 

“Yeah.”, you giggle. “Everyone in my life thinks I’m overreacting and I should forgive him.”

“Um, we may not know the whole story but the man you were going to marry cheated on you. I think you’re reacting properly.” Steve’s hands trailed along your spine and back down to your hips. 

“I went to visit him at work and they were fucking in his office. Some pretty, young, big breasted coworker.” 

“What a bitch.” You smiled as Eddie laughed at his own comment, his palms massaging along your thighs and back down to your feet. “For how long?”

“A few months. We…we were supposed to get married next month.”

Fingers came up to firmly knead into your shoulders. “I’m sorry, Y/N.” Steve watched your lips form into a thin line before you pressed your face into your arms. As soon as you felt your emotions were in check, you turned your head back to the side. 

“That feels good actually.”

“Did you think the massage business part was just for show?”, Steve laughed.

“I mean… I don’t know. I don’t want to be rude.”

“Said the girl who called me an asshole.”

“To be fair, you were being one.” It feels almost on purpose when Eddie’s fingers slide up between your thighs just barely near your core before sliding back down your legs.

“You’re not wrong, sweetheart.”

Steve’s own hands glide up your sides, grazing the sides of your breasts before looping back around to your shoulder blades.  

“I hope I’m not being too forward but you have a beautiful body.”

“No, you’re not being too…thank you. Um, you-you can go a little higher if you want.”

“Who are you talking to, honey? Me or Ed?”

“Eddie… You can go higher to. If you want to…”

The hands on your back lifted off you as Steve came around to kneel in front of you on his heels. “How about we take it slow, huh? One thing at a time.” His palm petted your head as he moved the hair back from your face. You let out a little gasp when you felt the metalhead’s fingers slide between your folds. “Are you okay?”

You nodded as you bit your bottom lip, lifting one of your legs up the table to allow him more accesses. This man felt like a master with his fingers as he rubbed circles slowly into your clit.

“Pl-please.”, you whine. 

“Please what, Y/N? What do you need?

“Can…can I turn around? On my back.”

“Of course, pretty girl. Whatever you want.”

They patient waited for you to roll over before Eddie placed his thumb back on your nub. You watched with heavy, lust driven eyes as he stuck two of his fingers into his mouth, coating them with his saliva, and sliding them into your sex. 

“Oh wow, princess. You’re tight.” He exhaled, trying to hide the little moan that wanted to be heard. 

Steve stood back up to his full height, coming around to stand behind your head as he reached down and ran his hands over your tits, massaging them gently but firmly. 

“F-fuck.”, you whimpered. As your back arched, you could help but notice the bulge in his pants. When you tried to touch it with your palm, he jumped back like you startled him. 

“Hey. Um, you…you don’t have to do that, honey. We’re here for you.”

“You don’t want me to feel you?”

Your voice sounded so small; Steve felt his cock twitch. “I…I do…I just…you don’t have to.”

Grabbing his shirt, you yanked his lips to yours. The combination of man and mint on his tongue had you clenching tighter around the other boy’s fingers making him groan, this time much louder than before. 

“I want to.” You slid further up the table, allowing your head to hang a bit over the edge, licking your lips as the man pulls down his shorts just enough for his dick to spring free. “Jesus. I’ve never had anyone as big as you are before.”

He smirks as he subtly chuckles. “You can’t say things like that or else I’m going to cum before you even touch me.”

Your tiny hand reaches for him as he steps closer, mewling when your tongue runs along his tip. You don’t see it but the men give each other a cursory glance. This is a little out of bounds for them in the sense of they rarely ever have the women they massage service them in this way and on the off chance a client does it’s usually during the second part when they are alone with one of them in the bedroom. 

Steve continues to be gentle with you as he runs his fingers through your hair when you wrap your lips around his hard, now throbbing length. Eddie thrusts his fingers into you at a faster pace and your moans vibrate through to the boy in your mouth. 

“Goddamn, Y/N. Your mouth feels so good. Your ex is a fucking idiot.”

They both take note of your reaction, your head bobbing faster as your pussy clenches again. 

“He really is, sweetheart. Makes me want to call him back and curse that fucker out.”

Tugging your head back, you continue to pump him with your fist as your hips began to grind up into the metalhead’s hand.

“Fuck, I’m…”

“That’s it, beautiful girl. Just let go. It’s okay.” Eddie pressed the heel of his palm against your clit as he moves his fingers move at a quicker pace. The sound of your slick fills the room and after a few moments your body trembles as you cum. “Good girl. Coming like that. Geez, I’m so fucking hard right now.”

Abruptly, you sit up and grab the back of the man’s neck as you bring his lips to yours. After your release, your kisses were much hungrier and you reveled in the taste him as your hands shot down to fumble with his jeans. 

“Wait…are you sure…you don’t want Steve.”, he asks between kisses. “You’ve kinda…got him…all riled up.”

“Want both.”

Eddie froze as he pulled his head back. When you tried to chase his lips, his palms gripped either side of your face forcing you to focus. 

“Hey, you don’t have to do that.”

“Want to.” You tried to lurch forward again but he was much stronger than you, holding you in place. 

“Y/N, princess, come down from cloud 9 and really think about what you’re asking for.”

You couldn’t control the annoyed exhale or tone as your eyes met his. “Am I not allowed? I can pay you more.”

“It’s not about the money. We—”, Steve began before you cut him off.

“Want me to be comfortable. I know! I know what I’m asking for. Now, do you want to fuck me or not!?”

Ringed fingers snaked into your hair and firmly pulled it back. Something changed in Eddie’s eyes; a look he saved for partners he had in his own bedroom. 

“Control the attitude, Y/N.”, he growled. “Listen to what he’s saying. It’s not about the money and it’s not about getting off. It’s not fun for anyone here if you wake up in the morning with regret. And while this little session here IS all about you, don’t forget we’re people to. We’ve been doing this for years and no one has ever asked to take us both one right after the other.”

“I’m not asking for that either. I want you both…at the same time.” They look at each other again, unsure of what to do or say. Your hand reaches out to turn his attention back to you as you lean your forehead on his. “Please, Eddie. I know what I’m asking for. I need it. I need you both. Please, please, please.” As you keep repeating your last word, you manage to fully unbutton his jeans, glide your hand through the waistband of his boxers, and rub your palm against his cock.

His jaw falls open as your lips trail down his neck.

“I mean…if she thinks she can handle it.” 

Eddie growled again with more vigor as he lifted you into his arms and carried you to your bedroom with Steve in tow. After tossing you onto the bed, he tore off his shirt, and you marveled at his tattoos, crawling on your knees till you were in front of him again. His hands laced in your hair as your tongue descended down his chest, stopping just above his waistline to allow him to shuffle out of his pants. 

The bed dipped behind you, suddenly feeling strong palms grip your hips and lift them a bit higher into the air. Steve’s own tongue licked a long stripe through your folds causing your body to shudder pleasantly at the feeling. Eddie held the base of his cock, allowing the tip to brush against your lips. 

You opened your mouth for him and he wasted no time pushing through, groaning when your warm saliva began coating him. The metalhead was much thicker than his friend and at times you struggled to take him, gagging around his dick as he occasionally hit the back of your throat. 

The strong vibrations of your moans as Steve latched his mouth to your clit had Eddie’s own eyes rolling back as he held on to your hair tighter trying to control himself from just face fucking you till he came.

You weren’t sure if it was on purpose or not but both men were still massaging you with their palms, Steve especially. His hands rubbed and caressed firmly up your lower back, around to your stomach, and down to your thighs as his tongue flicked against your bundle of nerves. While one of Eddie’s hands remained in your hair, the other ran between your shoulder blades and around to your front to knead your breasts adding to your high. 

Your mouth came off the boy in front of you with a pop as drool dangled from your lips. 

“Yes, Steve. Please, you’re going to make me cum.”

You practically screamed as he pressed his mouth further into your core, sucking and licking until you felt the coil snap as you came. Your upper half fell flat against the mattress as you panted, smiling softly as your body continued to twitch. 

Eddie’s fingers left your hair and moved to your shoulders as he lifted you back up to your knees so he could see your face. 

“This is the last time I’m going to ask, sweetheart. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes, Eddie, I’m sure I want you both inside of me.”

His head tilts to the side at your answer, mostly because it was said correctly, or at least how he liked his questions answered. He wondered if there was a submissive side of you that enjoyed it a bit rougher like they did. Both men NEVER brought that into the bedroom with a client and most of the time none of the women they were with never asked. 

You weren’t asking either but he imagined, like they did, that was something personal for you so you saved it for the man you were dating or intimate with. 

Eddie shook the thoughts from his head as his hand laced around your neck and brought your lips to his again. 

“Seriously, your fiancé is so fucking stupid to let you go.”

You smiled up at him and wrapped your arms around his waist as you yanked him closer to you for a hug. He could get used to this. 

“Have you ever done this before?”, Steve asked.

“This exactly, no. Have I ever done anal before? A couple of times. You may need to go a bit slow at first especially since…um…I’ve never had a man, men, as big or thick like you guys.”

You giggle when the boy exhaled again, grabbing your waist, and falling on to the bed with you on top of him. “You have to stop saying things like that. You’re going to kill me!”  

“What, do you want me to lie? ‘Oh Daddy. Your cock is average size and will definitely not split me in half.’” Your giggle turned into a full-blown laugh until you notice he had a funny little look on his face. “I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong? I was just—”

Steve leans up, cutting you off with a passionate kiss. “You’re an interesting woman. Eddie’s right. I seriously don’t understand why anyone would cheat on you. If you were mine, I don’t think I’d ever leave your side.”

“Aw…that’s creepy.”, you playfully smiled.

On impulse, he smacked your ass. They never did that first. Sometime a client would ask for a light spank but he just delivered you one he’s only given to bratty girls in his bedroom. He didn’t mean to but something about you made him comfortable.

“Shit. I…I’m sorry.” 

You shook your head, dismissing his apology as you kissed him again. Eddie reached over your shoulder to hand his friend a condom and they both hastily tore into the wrapper before sliding it on. His eyes met yours as he leaned back against your mattress and his hands gripped your waist.

“Whenever you’re ready, honey.”

Nodding, you exhaled the nerves as you tipped forward, and slowly lowered your body to his. You both moaned when his tip breached your entrance and Steve craned his neck to watch himself disappear inside of you inch by inch. 

“Fuck, baby. That’s it. Take your time.”

You heard the metalhead’s heavy breathing behind you as he stroked his cock at the site before him. The sound caused you to clench and a broken mewl left you as you pushed yourself further onto him. 

“Oh my god. You’re so…I can’t…”

His palm glided up your sides to caress your cheek. “Yes, you can, Y/N. You’re doing so good taking me already. Do you want some help?”

When you nodded, he firmly took hold of the back your neck and lowered you till your face was hovering over his. His hips thrust up to meet yours and your mouth fell open. 

“That’s it, baby. Good girl. I’m going to do it again, ok?” When you nod again, he pumped into you a couple more times till you felt him bottom out. “Good girl. Such a good girl. Jesus, so fucking tight. You feel so good, pretty girl. It’s Eddie’s turn. Let him know when you’re ready.”

After a few moments and subtly thrusts from Steve, you turned towards his friend and gave him the okay.

Hands spread open your ass and you tightened around the other man again when you felt spit hit your asshole and Eddie’s fingers massaging it in. Your body tensed slightly when the tip of his cock rubbed between your cheeks.

“Sweetheart, if at any point you want to stop, I want you to say ‘Red’ for me, alright? Can you tell me what I just said?”

“If…if—fuck—if I want to stop…say ‘red’.”

“Atta girl.”, he praised as he quickly leaned forward to kiss your temple. 

Prepared, Steve’s palms held on to your face as Eddie began to push into your body. Your head started to droop but his grip was stronger than yours. “Y/N, look at me, honey.” When you did what he asked, his thumb extended out to run along your bottom lip. “You’re doing amazing. How do you feel?”

“F-full.” The metalhead licked the pads of his fingers, looping his arm under your body to slowly and softly massage circles into your clit. “Oh my god!”

You tried to collapse against Steve’s chest but he still wouldn’t allow it. 

“Holy shit. Y/N, stop moving.”, he scolded in a firm tone before he realized what headspace he was slipping into and reeling himself back into the present. “Baby, not yet. You…you say you’ve never had anyone as big as us. I-I don’t know about, Ed but I’VE never…had a woman as tight as you.” He flashed you a small smile. “I’m trying so fucking hard not to cum right now.”

Eddie’s hair bobbed behind you and the man knew he was nodding in agreement. 

“You can—mmm—you can talk to me…like you did. I-I-I don’t mind.”

His eyes scanned over your face as your eyes closed. “Hey, I said keep your eyes open, sweet girl.” You purposely ignored him, grinding your hips forward slightly for good defiant measure. Both men grunted at the action but it was Steve who held your face tighter. 

“Look at me, now.” This time you listened. “What did I say, Y/N? Don’t fucking move. You need to be patient, little girl. Do you understand me?”

“Y-yes, I understand.” At that moment, the metalhead’s hips finally connected against yours. “You…you both can…move. Please, I need you to move.”

The man underneath you released your face and circled his arms around you as he pressed you to his chest. When they both thrusted into you at the same time, the euphoria you felt was indescribable. It was like they knew exactly what you needed and where they needed to be. Each stroke was strong and precise, hitting every nerve inside of you, and setting your body ablaze. 

“Go-go ahead, princess. You wanted—goddamn—you wanted to move so bad. Take over.” Eddie’s hand came down hard on your behind and you hurriedly (and willingly) did as he commanded. Their grunts and groans drove you crazy, egging you on as you bounced and rolled your hips as fast as you could. The obscene sound of skin hitting skin echoed in your room mixed with your whimpers of pleasure. 

It was almost too overwhelming as the ball in your belly began to wind faster and faster. Steve’s grip moved to your hips as Eddie held on to your shoulders.

“Cum, baby. Let go and cum as hard as you fucking can.”, the man under you whispered into your ear. Your forehead fell into the mattress beside his head as they both pounded into you. Their rhythm changed as they slowed, punching the air from your lungs as white blurs your vision. You scream into the bed below you as they fuck you through it, Steve lifting his hand to run his fingers through your hair.

“That’s it. Good-good fucking girl. Taking us both so well.” Eddie tilted forward, placing sloppy, wet kisses against your back as he rolled his hips. He soon followed after you, grunting loudly as he spilled into the condom. Steve, unable to hold back any longer, came as well, smacking his hips against yours and using you to milk himself dry.

#########

Eddie’s eyes blink open as his watch beeps signaling midnight. His eyes take a quick scan of the area, realizing they were still in your apartment. He and Steve were tucked under your sheets but you weren’t between them. 

“Steven.” The metalhead reached over to shake his friend’s shoulder. “Steve, wake up.”

“Huh? Wha?”

“Oh my god, you idiot. Steve. WAKE. UP.” Between each word, he firmly punched his arm causing the other man to grumble in anger.

“What?! Why are you in my room?”

“Oh, you know. I thought I could just use a nice Harrington cuddle. WE AREN’T AT HOME!”, he hisses. 

Steve rubs his eyes before Eddie’s words sink in and he bolts up right. “Shit. We fell asleep.”

“You don’t say.”

“Shut the fuck up, Munson. Where is she?”

As he shrugs, they both jump out of bed. Steve finds his clothes on the floor but the other boy struggles to find his. 

“I know I took them off here.”

“You did.” They both jump at the sound of your voice. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I woke up before you and noticed your clothes had oil on them from when you picked me up so I washed them for you.”, you softly smiled as you handed Eddie his jeans and shirt.

“Um, thank you. You…you didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s no problem. I was hungry to I heated up some left-over pizza if you want some.”

Their eyes scanned over you as you leaned in the doorframe with a mug in your hand. You had changed into an oversized shirt with a metal band that Eddie definitely knew and some sleep shorts. Your hair was a little frayed but to both of them you looked like an angel. 

“I mean, you don’t have to. I don’t really know what the protocol is or how this works.”

“Well, to be fair, I’m not sure if you noticed but this whole thing was a bit off script for what we normally do.”, Steve grins as he nervously chuckles. He has no idea what they are supposed to do either.

You silently nodded before turning and heading back out to the kitchen as they follow behind. 

“How, uh, how are you feeling?”, Eddie asks. 

“Calm. Oddly relaxed. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve felt like this since before I got in engaged.” You hop up onto the counter before meeting their gaze. “Thank you.”

They smile as Steve heads for where their things were as Eddie grabs a slice of pizza. “I made some coffee to if you want some.”

“Did you put our table and all that way?”

“Oh, yeah. I cleaned it to. I’m not sure if you’re supposed to use a certain type of cleaner but I just used my 409. I folded it and placed it by the door with your bags. I, um, I wasn’t sure if when you woke up you’d…want to make a quick getaway.”

They exchanged a look as your head hung. 

“Why do you think we would want to do that?” When you shrug at Eddie’s question, he saunters casually over to you and lifts your chin with his fingers. “Let me rephrase. Is that what you want us to do?”

“Do you want us to leave?”, Steve reiterated. 

“Like I said, I don’t know…how this works…”

“That’s not what I asked, Y/N.”

“No…I don’t want you to leave.”

They both grin at your answer. “We don’t want to leave either.”

Eddie starts to giggle through his teeth as he jumps on the counter beside you. 

“What’s so funny, Munson?”, Steve asks as he comes to lean on the counter across from you both. 

The metalhead intertwines his fingers with yours and you lean your head on his shoulder. 

“Nothing. Just…this gives a whole new meaning to the term ‘happy ending’.”

[her-power]

Last Chance to Dance (Rockstar! e.m. x fem reader)

🚨🛑🔞18+++ MINORS DNI - YOU WILL BLOCKED🚨🛑🔞 TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNING (For entire series): Rockstar! Addict! Sweet! Mean! Eddie, smut, unprotected p+v, fluff, fingering (f receiving), masturbation, oral (m+f receiving), heavy drug use, descriptions of IV drug use, swearing, talks of anxiety, panic disorder, mental illness, talks of suicide

Summary: Modern Eddie + reader are early 30s. Eddie is the famous lead singer/guitarist of Corroded Coffin, who has gotten himself into legal trouble due to his antics and drug use. Eddie broke your heart many years ago and he receives a letter from you asking to meet to talk about what happened between you two so long ago. Secrets are talked about, mental walls are built and broken down. Most of this series will be in Eddie's POV. (I will also be putting song inspirations on each part 🤍)

Word Count: 5k

A/N: There will be a LOT of mentions of heavy drug use in this series. This series DOES NOT glorify the use of drugs. It is not cool, it is not fun, it is something that destroys people and everyone around them. I have loved and lost people I know to drug and alcohol use, a lot of what you read here is my own personal experience from what I have seen with my own eyes. I hope this series will spread awareness and will give anyone and everyone who reads this hope. If you or anyone you know is struggling with addiction, please know you are not alone, there is help out there.

The silence is almost deafening as I sit there in my dimly lit office, tapping my finger against the arm of the chair; the metal of my ring clinking as I stare at my therapist, Dr. Catherine Ryan, in front of me. She had a kind smile, but I wasn’t in the mood to talk today. 

“What’s bothering you?” She asks gently. 

I gaze at her, gnawing on the inside of my cheek. A stupid habit I formed when I stopped using six months ago. 

Let’s see, I’m tired of the noise inside my head that is constantly reminding me what a piece of shit I am. I’m lucky that my bandmates don’t hate my guts for the shit I put them through on tour when I was needle deep in a heroin fog and couldn’t remember the lyrics to a fucking song I wrote. My music career is only surviving because the world thinks we’re on a hiatus to write our next album when I actually did a stint in rehab and have court ordered mandatory therapy once a week. The only way I can have therapy is if she comes to my escape cabin in upstate New York and escorted in and out by a security guard. 

Oh, I also can’t stop thinking of you, the one whose heart I broke fifteen years ago back in Hawkins, Indiana because I was too scared to love or be loved. The same you who mailed me a letter that I received at my P.O. Box in Boston three days ago, that I haven’t opened yet and sits in my back pocket folded up, because I’m too much of a pussy to see what you have to say.  

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I tell her, taking a cigarette out of my pocket. I let the smoke fill my lungs and exhale the smoke away from her. 

“What do you want to talk about?” She asks, crossing her legs. I stare at her long legs, and my eyes scan up her body. She was curvy and thick, with a perfect set of tits and stunning green eyes. I almost laugh, if a beautiful woman like her was in my house six months ago, it wouldn’t take long before I’d have her bent over the back of my couch, fucking her until she couldn’t take it anymore. But I couldn’t do that anymore. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes, or whatever the fuck the saying is. 

“Eddie, this is mandatory therapy. I can’t help you if you’re not willing to talk. We’ve had four sessions so far, and the only thing we have talked about is your drug habit.” She seemed annoyed, and I couldn’t blame her.

“I’m only here because of my drug habit.” 

“Is that all?” 

She was testing me, and I smile at her, leaning my elbows against my knees. “You know, I bet you are really good at helping people and are able to get your patients to sit here and cry about their shitty lives or whatever it is people tell you. But I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, you’re not gonna get it from me.” 

“You keep up a guard. Defense mechanism, it’s common in people who have been hurt before.” She says, scribbling a note down. 

I narrow my eyes. “I sense judgment in your tone, and I’m not sure I care for it.” 

“It’s not judgement, Eddie. It’s an observation. I’m observing you.” 

I sit back against my chair and scoff, lighting up another cigarette with the ember of the one I just had. I inhale deeply. “I think our session should be cut early today.” 

She closes her notebook and gives you a kind smile. “If that’s what you want.” 

“I do.” I tell her. 

I get up from my seat as she stands, walking her to the door where the security guard waited outside. I may be an asshole, but I know how to be a gentleman. Chivalry isn’t dead when your name is Eddie Munson. She nods at me as she leaves, handing me her card for the time of the next session for next week and I close the door behind her. I stub out the cigarette in the ashtray and let out a deep sigh. I plop myself on the couch, hearing the crinkle of the letter in my back pocket and I lift my hips to pull it out. I look at the neat print on the front; seeing your handwriting brought back so many memories that I had forgotten about. 

Why would you send me a letter? Is it just to tell me how happy you’ve been these last fifteen years since I’ve been gone, that you’re married with children, thriving in your thirties? 

“Well, the only way to know is if you open the letter, dipshit.” I mutter to myself. I groan, shaking my head as I rip the letter open and unfold it. It was only two pages, but you had written a lot. 

 Hey, You’re a tough guy to find, being famous and all. I didn’t think this P.O. Box was real at first, but I ended up tracking down Gareth and he told me it was real. I can’t believe he still has the phone number he’s had since high school.  I don’t know why I’m writing you a letter, I guess I could’ve just texted you, he did give me your number, but I wanted this to feel more personal. Like when I’d write you those stupid folded notes in class.  I know it’s been a long time, and you’re probably thinking I’m absolutely insane, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you lately. There are so many things that I wanna say to you. There are so many things that were left unsaid, and I guess lately it’s been bothering me. You’re probably not even going to get this, so I don’t even know why I’m continuing to write.  I don’t want you to think that I hated you or have hated you this whole time. It would be easier to hate you, believe me, I’ve tried but I physically cannot have that kind of power over me. I’m proud of you, Eddie. You worked so hard to get to where you are, and you made your dreams come true. I knew you could.  I want to tell you I’m proud of you in person; to let you know that what happened in the past stays there and we can both move forward in a way. I mean, I just told you now. I know you’re really busy and I feel stupid now. But I will be in Boston in December, the week of the 18th while my aunt is down in Florida for the week, house sitting. Gareth had mentioned you and the band were taking a hiatus to focus on the writing and doing some self reflecting. I would love to see you, especially with the holiday season. 

It’s not every day you get to see the boy you’ve known since diapers be on the cover of Rolling Stone magazine, selling out stadiums. 

Please don’t feel obligated, though. 

I suddenly forgot how to swallow, and I almost choke on my own saliva. You had written your phone number on the bottom of the last page. I swing my legs onto the floor, taking my phone off the coffee table. I scroll to my contact list, and add your name, along with your phone number. 

I pause, my hands begin to shake, and I inhale deeply. 

“No no no, not now, not now.” Grimacing, I sit back on couch, closing my eyes as my stomach turns to knots and my chest feels like it was going to explode. I can feel the sweat bead at the back of my neck as the panic attack feels like it’s choking me out and I groan. I go into the drawer of the coffee table, pulling out the lorazepam pill bottle, taking a minute to open the cap because my hands were so sweaty. I throw the pill in my mouth, swallowing it dry and breathe in through my nose. 

This happens more often now, especially since being off dope, I had to learn how to deal with them like a normal thirty-four-year-old man. It took a lot of convincing for my doctors to give me the lorazepam, but apparently threatening to go and take a hot shot of heroin to kill myself was convincing enough for them to give me the lowest dose of the stupid pill. 

I close my eyes. Thinking back to how I got here; how I could’ve lost everything because of my own stupidity, because of my inability to slow down, because I took sex, drugs, rock and roll too literally. All because I refuse to let love into my soul and hold on tight. 

One year earlier

The dressing room walls echo with the moans of myself and...I don’t even remember her name. Sarah? Shelly? It doesn’t even matter. I only see the back of her head anyway; she was very blonde. I hold onto her hips tightly, slamming my cock in and out of her. She was screaming like a porn star, and I’m pretty sure she was putting on a show. 

“Oooooh, just like that baby. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. Oh goddd, you’re so fucking good.” She moans and I roll my eyes, slamming into her harder just to get her to shut up. I reach over to the coffee table to grab my tiny vile of cocaine, I pop open the cap, and pull out of her for a moment. She was still rolling her hips as I sprinkle the drugs onto her ass.

“Stop fucking moving.” I tell her, grabbing the plastic straw and snorting back the drugs into my airways. She moans again when she hears me snort another line off her, and I slam myself back into her. My head falls back in pleasure, the effects of the cocaine causing every single part of my body to pulsate, and I can feel my orgasm approaching. 

“Fuuuuck.” I moan, my rhythm getting sloppy, and she groans. 

“Cum inside me baby, cum inside me.” She moans and I immediately feel myself go soft. Fuck this. I stop moving and slide myself out of her, she turns to look at me, her mouth opened in a gasp. “Why did you stop?”

I take a cigarette out of my pack and light it. “Get out.” 

“What?” She snaps. 

“Get your shit and get the fuck out of my dressing room. Telling me to cum inside you, I know what you’re doing.” I take her dress off the floor and throw it at her. Her eyes narrow and she gets up from the couch, throwing the dress over her head. 

“You weren’t even that good, fucking junkie!” She yells at me, and I can’t help the laugh that escapes my lungs. She looked like a cartoon character. Her eyes wild, her hair a wild mess, her fake tits bouncing as she storms out of the room. I lean back on the couch, a little mad that I didn’t cum, but whatever, that’s what my hand is for. I don’t know why I invite these women back to my dressing room after every show. Most of the time, these women don’t even know the words to our songs, they just want to be able to tell their friends they fucked a rockstar.  I sigh, opening the vile and do another bump. I’m one hundred percent in love with heroin, but I’m an addict. Cocaine just takes the edge off when I need it to. I tie my hair back in a low bun, blowing my bangs out of my face. I stand, catching a glimpse of myself in the fluorescent lit vanity mirror. The lighting made me look terrible; I was thinner than normal. The ram skull tattoo across my abdomen looked discolored, but I know it was just the way the light was hitting it. I was losing muscle mass in both of my arms, but since tattoo sleeves covered both my arms, no one could notice. No one knew how bad it was getting with the dope; I honestly preferred to suffer in silence about it, but I knew they noticed. I would feel Gareth’s eyes burn into the back of my skull whenever I would escape to go into a bathroom, or immediately go into my hotel room to get started on my new supply. I felt terrible keeping it from him, he was my brother, my bandmate, but he didn’t need to worry. I was fine, at least that’s what I told myself. 

We had awhile before we hit the next city of the tour. The tour bus felt too crowded, too stuffy. We all decided it would make sense to hide out in a hotel for a few days before we got to Atlanta.  I requested my own room of course, the supply I just bought felt like it was burning a hole in my pocket. Isn’t that what they say about money? 

Money meant nothing to me; if I lost it all tomorrow, I wouldn’t care. That’s the beauty of this drug, you don’t have a care in the world once that shot courses through your veins. 

I lock the door to my room after saying goodnight and head into the bathroom. I pull my shirt over my head and undo the belt from my jeans. I set everything up on the table: fresh needle, the drugs, and water bottle cap.  It doesn’t take long for me to pull the dope into the syringe, at this point it’s like riding a bike for me. I sit on the floor against the bathtub, I wrap the belt around my left arm, pulling it tight with my teeth and clench my fist. I see the most perfect vein pop up in the bend of my arm; I have to be careful though, I can’t go to the same spot twice or else I’ll blow up my veins and then more people will notice.  I’ve always hated needles, isn’t that ironic? I’m thinking that as the tip of it pinches my skin and my thumb is on the trigger, slowly pushing it down.

“A spoon full of sugar makes the medicine go down…” I sing softly, feeling the sweet burn of the heroin flow like a tsunami in my veins. My eyes flutter close as the most beautiful feeling overcomes me; my head lulls back against the porcelain and I feel a smile grace my lips. 

A loud knock at my door startles me out of my high, and I’m pissed. 

“Hang on a second.” I mutter and awkwardly pull myself up, undoing the belt from my arm. I place the cap on the needle and toss it behind the doors under the sink. 

Knock knock knock knock knock

I toss my sweatshirt over my head, putting a cigarette to my lips. “Yeah, I hear you! Fuck, I’m coming.” 

I open the door to find Gareth standing there with his arms crossed, I light the cigarette and wave my hand, tilting my head at him. “Yeah?” 

“What are you doing?” He asks me. 

“What do you mean what am I doing? I’m not doing anything.” I inhale on the cigarette, and he continues to stare at me. If there was a God, I thank him for giving me brown eyes, because at least he wouldn’t be able to see how my pupils look like pinholes. “Do you wanna come in?” 

I move to the side, and he walks by me, I shut the door, locking it. 

“Do you want a beer or anything?” I ask him, going into the mini fridge, pulling out two, I could feel myself about to nod, but I quickly stand up, clearing my throat so I can at least look like I’m not fucked up. 

“No, I’m fine.” His eyes scan every inch of my room, the floor where my clothes were, Sweetheart laying on the foot of my bed. My necklace I always wore with the red guitar pick laid on the nightstand by the bed. I always take it off before I shoot up, I don’t know why, I think something is going to happen to it if I don’t, it means a lot to me. His eyes fix on my belt on the bathroom floor, he doesn’t say anything, but I know what he’s thinking. 

“Gareth, if you got something to say, man, just say it.” I tell him, leaning against the small table, I ash my cigarette into a coca cola can. 

He turns to me; he was still blessed with a baby face that I remember from school. “How bad is it getting?” He almost whispers.

“How bad is what getting?” 

“The drugs, man. Come on dude, I know you’re not stupid.” He sits across from me on the foot of the bed, gently moving Sweetheart over. 

I sigh. “Gareth, I’m fine. It’s not getting bad.”

He puts his head down, shaking his head. “Don’t fucking bull shit me, Eddie. I’ve known you for almost two decades. Have you even looked at yourself lately?”

I close my eyes, feeling a wave of anxiety hit my lower gut, and I force it to go away by not caring. “Don’t worry about me, man. I’m serious.”

“Of course, I’m gonna fucking worry!” He stands up, his face full of rage. “If you fuck up this tour, our entire music career is in the gutter! How many times have I had to bail you out when you’ve been coming down from a cocaine binge and are late to rehearsal? How many goddamn times have I had to convince cops not to arrest you when you’re inebriated beyond belief. It’s getting fucking old, man.” He towers over my 6-foot frame and again, I start laughing. 

His eyes widen. “Are you seriously laughing right now? 

“Yeah.” I chuckle. “I am, because it’s funny how you think I’m gonna be the one who’s gonna fuck up this tour. I built this band from the ground up, nothing and no one is gonna fuck that up.”

“Oh fuck you, dude!” He yells at me. “You built this? What happened to you saying this entire band was built on friendship, loyalty and fucking friends who play nerdy games? What happened to that Eddie?” 

“Dead.” I give him a sideways smile. “Dead dead dead.” 

He looks at me incredulous. “Wow. You’re an actual nightmare.” 

“You’re the one who decided to knock on my door.” I place the cigarette in the can, hearing it sizzle out. I cross my arms over my chest, already itching for another shot. “Anything else?” 

He scoffs, walking towards the door and stepping out. “No. Have a good night, Eddie.” 

“Yeah, you too!” I scream at his back as I shut the door, locking all the locks and kicking the bottom of it. Suddenly, the chair near the table gets a boot from me, followed by the lamp, the paintings on the walls. I smash the beer bottles against the windows, and when I’m finally spent, I collapse on the bathroom floor, digging out the needle. I’ll leave the hotel a couple hundred dollars to pay for whatever I damaged; I’ll hopefully remember to clean up tomorrow.

I’m pretty sure I put too much in it this time, because I’m riding something wild right now. My eyes are half lidded, my breathing is slow but it’s such a peaceful feeling.

“Makes the medicine go down…medicine go down…”

The beginning of that year was when shit started going downhill fast for me. Once I had gotten my panic attack under control, and I felt calmer, I sent you a text message, realizing that tomorrow was the 18th. I typed up, deleted, typed up, deleted, about six different times before finally sending you: Hey stranger, it’s Eddie. Pretty wild to hear from you. I’m currently up in my cabin in upstate NY, but if you are gonna be in Boston. I can make the trip. It would actually be awesome to see you. Hope you are well. 

I forgot how nervous you made me, even back then. You were such a kind, beautiful soul, who loved me and took care of me when I didn’t deserve it. I was so nervous all the time because I really loved you too, but I couldn’t…wouldn’t let myself feel it. You were the only woman in my life that knew me, and actually saw me. You were my best friend, always my partner in group activities in elementary school. It was us against the world the minute I kissed you for the first time when we were eighteen, and then it ended with me, burying my head in the sand, because I’m a fucking idiot. 

My phone dings and I see your name pop up.  Hey!!! Wow, your own cabin huh? Are you a mountain man or something this winter season? I’m sorry if my letter was all over the place, I really should’ve just texted you but, whatever. Here we are now. Yes! Let’s meet, I can give you a spot to meet for coffee? Unless you just want my aunt’s address, I don’t know how Boston is when it comes to famous people. 

I type up a message: Boston is one of those cities that is wild to play on stage in front of, but the people don’t give a fuck if you’re famous. Which is why I bought a condo there, I can live out some downtime in peace. Coffee sounds great. Just let me know a time when you are settled. 

You quickly respond: Ha! Boston is pretty rad. I’m already here, I got here a day early. I know you got a pretty long drive so we can meet the day after tomorrow if you’d like? Say around 10?

I type up that that time and date worked for me and begin packing a small suitcase to take with me on the trip. 

I honestly felt like I was dreaming all this; I get sober, you, a woman that was literally the one that got away because of my own fucking deep-rooted issues, comes back into my life and wants to see me? I feel like I’m living the Notebook. Except, the rated R version where Ryan Gosling is an ex-junkie, who doesn’t build houses, or used to blow cocaine off a woman’s asshole. 

I groan, I already know I’m gonna fuck this up again. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The coffee shop you chose was a place I’ve never been before, it seemed newer, and no one batted an eye when I walked in. I take off my sunglasses and scan the place. It was quaint, quiet, with rustic undertones but mostly modern. 

“Eddie?”

My eyes immediately fix on you, sitting in the back booth by a small window, and I feel my heart flutter down to my stomach. God, you were stunning. Your eyes still shone that sparkle in them, your smile was just as adorable as I remembered, especially the dimples in your cheeks. I whisper your name and find myself quickly walking towards you. You wrap your arms around my shoulders, and I let out a deep sigh, almost lifting you off your feet, as I hug the curves of your waist, burying my face into your shoulder. We stay like that for a while, you giggle into my chest, telling me you couldn’t believe it was me and that I was here. I didn’t want to let go, but I knew I had to. We pull away and you are still smiling, looking into my eyes, you lift your hand to gently curl your fingers into my hair and I smile at you. 

“I love that you still kept this hair.” You say, shaking your head, looking like you’re still trying to process that I’m standing in front of you. 

I gently cup your face, swallowing hard, studying you. You turn your cheek into my hand, and I slowly remove it. You nod for me to sit, and I scoot over into the booth, peeling off my leather jacket. I still stare at your face; I couldn’t believe you were real. The server comes over to take our coffee order, I get mine hot with triple espresso and a shot of caramel, and you get an iced coffee with a shot of vanilla and almond milk. I smile, you’ve kept the same order since you started drinking coffee. 

Your eyes fix on mine, and I smile at you, sipping my coffee. “You haven’t changed.” I tell you softly. 

“My back will have to disagree with you.” You laugh, spinning the straw with your finger. “You haven’t either, aside from more tattoos.” 

I smile; remembering that you were there for most of my smaller ones. I had convinced you back then to get a large tattoo that started from under your breast, all the way down to the top of your hip; that was always my favorite part of you to taste. I cross my legs, feeling a tingle in my lower belly. Fucking pervert. 

I notice a few finger tattoos on your right hand, and I nod to them. 

“I told you they were addicting.” I laugh. “How many do you have now?” 

You laugh, a sound so beautiful to my ears, I want to cry. “Sixteen? Seventeen?”

My eyes widen and I laugh. “No way! Let me see.” 

You meet my eyes, your face turning crimson. Of course, there were hidden ones, I immediately feel like I overstepped and go to apologize when you speak. “It’s a lot of random ones, all over. I added some stuff to the rib piece.” That one you show me, you lift up your sweater, and I feel my dick twitch. 

Pervert. Dirty pervert. It’s been fifteen years, put your dick away. 

The cluster of wildflowers that started from your ribs to your hip had added roses to different spots they ended up entwining into a beautiful ivy vine, before falling off towards your back. I notice the bottom of a small piece on your sternum, and you pull your sweater back down. 

“That’s beautiful.” I tell her, smiling. “What have you been doing these last fifteen years?” 

“Well, I moved out of Hawkins.” I smile at that, she always wanted to leave that place. “I moved to Maine, I bought myself my own little cabin in the woods. I’m a nurse at the local hospital there.” 

My heart practically bursts with pride, and I laugh. “See? You don’t have to be famous to have your own cabin. That’s wonderful, I know that was always a dream of yours, becoming a nurse.”

“Yeah, it’s fulfilling. Heartbreaking 99% of the time but fulfilling.” Your eyes fix on mine again, and we just share comfortable silence as we stare at one another. 

“Your eyes are sad.” You say suddenly. 

“What?” I snap myself back down to my reality; it was easy to get lost in your eyes. 

“You look like you’ve been through hell and back again. Sorry for being blunt, I’m just sorry for whatever is bothering you.” Your eyes show me that same familiar kindness, and I smile awkwardly at you.  

“I’m okay.” I tell you, only half lying. 

You place your hand over my ringed fingers, gently entwining them. I stare at our hands, and gaze back into your eyes. “What am I doing here?” I whisper to you. I can feel my heart do another back flip, and my brain screams at me to get up and run because I can still feel your love. 

Your fingers gently move over the bumps on my rings, and your eyes dart to mine. You spot the small silver chain around my neck, half tucked in my shirt, and you lift your hand to gently pull out the red guitar pick. You finger the plastic and smile. “Wow. You kept this all these years.” 

“Of course, I did. I never take it off.” Except when I used to shoot dope, but that’s beside the point. I swallow the lump in my throat. “Sweetheart, why am I here?” 

You sigh, giving me a sad smile. “Would it be weird if I said that I really fucking miss you? And for the last fifteen years, I haven’tstopped thinking about you.” 

Heart exploding. 

My breath hitches and my eyes widen slightly. “But…I hurt you…and I left—"

“I know, I know you did, but” you take my hand again. “Eddie, we were best friends. Since before we could even say those words. You were so important to me. You’re still important to me. How could we throw that away?” 

I stare at you, reading your face, gazing at the shape of your mouth, the way your hair falls in waves, the curves of your breasts. I squeeze my eyes shut, pulling my hand away from yours. “You wouldn’t think that anymore once you know what I’ve done, who I’ve become.” 

“Then tell me.” You say softly, your eyes dart from my lips, to my eyes. I stare at your lips, remembering how perfectly they fit against mine, how soft they were. How eager you would be when your tongue would slip into my mouth, deepening the kiss, your soft moans vibrating against my mouth as I carefully push myself inside you. 

I meet your eyes; you’re waiting for me to say something. I shake my head, running my hands over my hair. I sigh. “How long you got?” 

You look at your wrist at a fake watch. “About a week.” I laugh and lean back in my seat, sipping my coffee. 

Yeah, I missed you too. 

*~*~*~*~*~*

Special shout out to: @trixyvixx @originalstar1 @iggyizalien @themorticians-world

& so many of you who supported my last series.

I wouldn’t continue writing if it weren’t for you guys giving me the motivation to do it. Love you all!

[lisbeth-kk]

Continuing the May prompts with a letter story. Thanks for the tag @calaisreno

Healing letters

After grieving Sherlock for months, John decides to write down his feelings, just like his therapist, Ella, advised him to. First he tries to actually write. Physically. It’s too strenuous. He’s not used to writing by hand anymore. Besides the pages more often than not, gets soaked from his dripping tears, and the ink gets smeared all over the paper.

He'll use the blog, but he’ll disable comments. Although he does it for his own sanity, it may help the few friends he’s got to understand what he’s going through. He hasn’t exactly been socialising since Sherlock jumped off that roof, and he rarely answers his phone. 

He wants it to be a system to this. Each blog post will have its own topic. If not, John’s confident it’ll be just him babbling, not even making sense to himself. Today he feels a bit less depressed, and he can start with the anger.

I’m so angry with you, Sherlock. How could you kill yourself in front of me? Making me witness my best friend jump off a building to his death. Did you think I wouldn’t mind? That I wouldn’t grieve you just because I was pissed with you when I left you? You, the most observant man who’s ever walked the earth. How could you not know, you meant the world to me? What do you think it was like talking to you when you stood up there? I heard the tears in your voice, and you must’ve heard my despair as well. When I saw you lying at the pavement, my life ended too, you know. My whole world shattered. You were taken away before I could say a proper goodbye. How do you think that made me feel, Sherlock? Damn, you!

John’s mentally exhausted after posting the entry. He’s shaking with anger against Sherlock. Without giving it a second thought, he grabs his jacket and heads out to get some air. He walks quickly wherever his feet carries him. He doesn’t care much, and he must look quite intimidating, because other pedestrians are clearly avoiding him.

He makes tea and toast when he gets back. The anger has dissipated a bit. It’s actually liberating to feel something again. For weeks he’s just been numb. Haven’t cared about anything. He startles when his phone buzzes. A text from Molly. He deletes it without looking. She has most likely read the blog entry and wants to comfort him or something. Mike and Greg texts him a few hours later. John deletes those texts too. 

***

A few days later the anger is long gone. Another feeling has emerged in his mind the last couple of hours. His faith in Sherlock. It’s always been there, but never as strong as it is now. Curious, that.

From the first day I met you, I had faith in you, Sherlock. That drug bust at 221B told you that much. Perhaps I put you on a pedestal for a while, come to think of it. Nevertheless, despite all your odd habits, sulks and annoying behaviour, I always believed in who you were. The core of you. Not to flatter myself, but I think I knew you quite well. Perhaps not as well as Mycroft, although he once said that I knew you best of all. All that’s been said about you after you died, makes me believe in you even more. Because I know, Sherlock, that you never were a fraud. You may have shammed and tricked people for a case, but you were never a fake. To the day I die myself, I’ll deny that with everything I’ve got.

Again, John’s mentally exhausted after posting the new entry, but in another sort of way. The adrenaline doesn’t zing through his veins. It’s more like he’s poured out his soul. And in a way he has. He’s never uttered those words to anyone. 

Before the day is over, his phone buzzes with texts from Molly, Greg and Mike. He deletes all of them without reading. This quest is something he wants to execute without input from anyone.

***

A week passes without the urge to write. When the familiar nightmare appears one night, John knows it’s time for another blog post. He had waked screaming Sherlock’s name, seeing him fall from that roof again. His heart pounded like he’d run a marathon and his face was wet from crying, sobbing really.

How did I fail to see that something was amiss, Sherlock? I loathe myself for not observing you more thoroughly. Moriarty clouded my vision. You were so absorbed in his endeavours to get your attention. Flattered maybe, that another genius wanted to play with you. I should’ve seen that his only goal was to destroy you. He said so the first time. At the pool. “I’ll burn the heart out of you.” Whatever he meant by that. He certainly burned the heart out of me, if he had anything to do with your suicide. It must’ve been that. You would never do what you did unless you had no other choice. Am I right, Sherlock? I think I am, which makes it even harder to bear. The thought that if I’d been just a little bit smarter, more alert, less stubborn and angry with you....I might’ve saved you.

John shuts his phone off and drinks half a bottle of whisky after posting that entry, or letter as he’s started to call them. 

***

This will be his last letter. John knows that this also will be the hardest one, and maybe it’ll be the one that starts his healing properly. His grief’s still raw. Some days are better, other worse. This one tip more in favour of the latter.

How much can a man grieve before it destroys him, Sherlock? All I know is that I’ve grieved enough to last a lifetime. That said, I’ll never stop grieving you. You were the best thing that ever happened to me. Being in your orbit, saved my life. I was so lost back then, and now I’m even more lost. Because now I know what it’s like to be whole, to have a purpose, to wake every day, feeling excited about what may await me. A new case, a severed head in the fridge, listening to beautiful music from your violin, having takeaway from our favourite places, or dinner at Angelo’s, bantering with you about the lack of milk, or nagging you to eat something. There are so many things that vanished from my life when you died, Sherlock. Are you aware of that? I’m just existing nowadays. The amount of tears I’ve shed could fill the pond in Regent’s Park. I’ve hid them here at Baker Street. Out and about I put on a mask. Motionless. Stony. Speaking of. I’ve only been to your grave once since the funeral. The stone fits you. Polished, black with golden letters. Only your name. No dates or quotes. I talked to you when I stood in front of that stone. Asked you for a favour. To do one last magic trick. For me.

For an unknown reason, John enables comments after this entry, but hours go by, and the comment sections are still empty. Maybe he’d miscalculated people’s interest in him. After all, the readers of his blog were all interested in Sherlock, not in him, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise.

He takes a shower and heads for the bedroom when he hears a sound he hasn’t heard for ages. Someone’s commented on the blog. Probably Molly or Mike. His curiosity gets the better of him, though. The comment is on the last entry.

I heard you. SH

A bit angsty. I can reveal that I shed my share of tears throughout alongside with John...

@totallysilvergirl @notjustamumj @raina-at @meetinginsamarra @topsyturvy-turtely @peanitbear

[queen-of-the-avengers]

I Already Have

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.4k

Warnings: aftereffect of trauma with hydra, facing up to zemo, angst

Request by anon: Wat happens if zemo and vixen meet face to face this time she has earplugs that she can tune zemo out if he dares to activate her .

Summary: Your therapist suggests writing letters to help you cope with your trauma, and you'll try anything at this point. The last letter is to Zemo, and you're not even sure where to start. That is until Bucky says he found him. Why write it when you can tell him how you feel?

Squares Filled: science experiment (2022) for @avengersbingo

Cat and Mouse Masterlist

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Per the instructions from your therapist, you’re writing every little apology and feeling you have for hundreds of people. You have one hundred years of things you need to apologize for. For some, it helped get some of the weight off your shoulders because you’ve addressed them to living people. It’s gonna take a lot more than writing letters to the dead to make you feel better, but you’re trying.

You finish with the letter you’re writing and seal it in an envelope for no one to open and read. There is one more letter you need to write, the most important one of all: Zemo. You grab a new piece of paper and start to write but pause. What are you going to say that will measure up to how you’re feeling? He took so much from you and turned you into someone that you hated. How can you ever find the words to say?

If you can get this letter done, then you would have written down everything you needed to say. However, you can’t seem to put the pen to the paper.

Bucky and Steve walk in and see you at your desk staring at the paper. There are about fifty envelopes on the desk behind you just haphazardly thrown about.

“She’s been writing non-stop this entire week,” Steve whispers to Bucky. “We’ve burned about two hundred letters already.”

“She needs to get it all out no matter how many letters that take.”

“I can hear you. I have ears,” you sigh and put your pen down.

“How many more letters do you have left?”

“One more. It’s for Zemo but I don’t know what I want to say. I feel like putting words on paper isn’t enough to express how I feel about him. I want nothing more than to punch him in his face.” Both men are silent so you turn to them with an eyebrow raised. “What?”

“You might get that chance,” Bucky says.

“What do you mean?”

“We found Zemo. His hiding spot is in Siberia in the old base where we were kept.”

“What are we waiting for? Let’s go.”

You grab your coat and are about to leave the room when Steve stops you. He grabs your upper arm gently and keeps you from leaving the room.

“Are you sure you want to go?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“We want him but we don’t want him dead.”

“I’m not gonna kill him,” you roll your eyes.

“If he says your trigger words you might.”

“I didn’t spend two and a half years at Wakanda for fucking nothing.” You yank your arm out of Steve’s grasp. “The words are free from my mind. It worked. Shuri tested it and double-tested it. You guys have nothing to worry about. I’m fine. Let’s go get this son of a bitch.”

You, Steve, and Bucky are going to be the only ones on this mission. There is no need for anyone else to come, but Tony and Wanda are on stand-by if you need them. There is a place not far from the Siberian base where Wanda and Tony can hang out just in case, but you don’t feel like you will need them. You three step inside the base and memories flood your mind like a tidal wave.

This place is Hell. This place is torture. This place is your enemy.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks when he sees the look on your face.

“I’m good.”

After a few moments, you walk further into the base. You know this place like the back of your hand. There isn’t a crack or crevice that you don’t know. After being here for years, you got good at finding new hiding places even though they always found you. Steve has his shield to protect himself, Bucky has his specialized gun that he goes nowhere without, and you have a gun gifted by the King of Wakanda. He must have given it to you out of pity or so you think so.

Bucky and Steve take the lead all the way to the main room of the base where most of the training was done. The capsules Zemo and the other Hydra soldiers kept you in still stand tall with the yellow liquid still inside it.

“Добро пожаловать, мой маленький голубь,” a voice crackles over the intercom.

Welcome, my little dove.

You turn around and see Zemo inside a metal container with a glass window where scientist often resided when they did their science experiments. Steve throws his shield at the contaicner as hard as he can but it doesn’t do any damage. The shield comes right back into Steve’s hand as if he controls it telepathically. Zemo laughs at Steve’s attempt to hurt him, and you walk closer to the container. He smirks at the look on your face since he believes you can’t reach him in here.

“Come out and face me like a man, you coward.”

“Why would I when I’m safe in here?” You look for a way to get inside. There has to be something that can work. “Good luck trying to get in. The Soviets made it to withstand the blasts of a hundred rockets.”

An idea pops into your head and you smirk. You raise your Wakandan weapon and take three big steps back.

“Can it withstand against Wakandan technology?”

The last thing you see before the explosion is Zemo’s wide eyes filled with fear. You, Bucky, and Steve duck down behind something to protect yourselves from the sharp debris. Dust covers almost every inch of the place but you’re not letting Zemo use this chance to escape. You walk through the dust to where Zemo is, and he is doubled over, coughing, and trying to catch his breath.

Your weapon makes a loud noise when you drop it to the ground causing all three men to look at you once the dust clears.

“Кровопролитие.”

Bloodshed. You stop walking when you hear your first trigger word. Are you gonna succumb to his voice or are you gonna keep walking? No, you’re not going to let him win. Not this time. You take another step closer to him and he takes one step backward.

“Восемнадцать.”

Eighteen. You take another step. Эхо–echo. Another step. Гибкий–flexible. Another step. Безрассудный–reckless. Beofre he can get to the sixth word, you’ve reached him. He starts to say the sixth word when you grab his throat tightly and raise him to your level. 

“I’m not your bitch. Those words don’t work on me anymore. I could kill you right now.”

You tighten your fist around his throat and he starts to claw at your hand. He’s drawing blood but you don’t care about that. All you care about is killing him despite you telling Bucky and Steve you weren't back home.

“Y/N, that’s enough,” Steve says from behind you.

He’s right. If Zemo is going to die, you’re going to make it hurt. You punch Zemo as hard as you can in the stomach and toss him off to the side like trash.

“That’’s for taking me from my home!” you yell at him. You run at him before he can catch his breath and punch him in the face so hard that his nose cracks. “That’s for experimenting on me!” Another punch. “That’s for breaking me down and turning me into a killer! I’m nothing like you say I am.” Another punch. “That’s for Bucky.”

You beat Zemo so much that his face is swelling, blood is spattering on your own skin, and the skin on your hands are breaking. You rear your fist back to deliver a final blow when someone grabs it. You look behind you to see Steve and Bucky standing there.

“That’s enough, Y/N. You said you wouldn't kill him.”

“It’s never going to be enough,” you say with tears in your eyes.

“The best revenge is letting him watch you live your life and prove to him that you’re not Vixen.”

You yank your arm out of Steve’s hand and turn to Zemo who is looking up at you with one swollen eye. You spit in his face angrily and he flinches from the impact.

“I hope you rot in Hell because I’m done thinking about you and fearing you. It’s time you fear me.” You lean down to get closer to him. “I want you to live your life knowing that I’m watching you. I want you to know that I’m right there behind you ready to take you down. You want to know the best part?” You lower your voice to a whisper. “You won’t see me coming.”

You get up and walk away from all three men.

“УБЕЙ МЕНЯ!”

KILL ME!

You don’t stop walking but turn your head to look at him over your shoulder, and you smirk.

“У меня уже есть.”

I already have.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[the-type-a]

Duncney Week 2023

(9•13) Day 4: First “I Love You.”

AO3 | FanFic | TikTok | Twt

Three Words, Eight Letters

(Read under break)

Duncan was not the type of person to show his emotions. So imagine his surprise when Courtney Rosales entered his life. Courtney was not the type of person to let her emotions rule her. So imagine her surprise when Duncan Robustelli crashed into her life. It was not love at first sight for either of them, but it was indeed something. Maybe irritation. But that irritation slowly but surely turned into infatuation, which scared them.

The two tiptoed around their feelings for a long time. So much so that everyone knew what they tried to suppress until Duncan and Courtney were left in a cramped room to settle their differences. They lasted about five minutes before the tension between them snapped in two. Their friends thoroughly regretted opening that door in fear of them being “too quiet.”

Fast forward three months, and the couple was inseparable. No, they were not constantly with each other, but if something happened, it took seconds before they were side by side, like Bonnie and Clyde. Duncan and Courtney understood each other on a deeper level than most. It was one of the reasons their relationship became serious sooner rather than later. In a way, they were lucky to have found one another– yet they were terrified to say those three words to seal the deal.

Still, they found ways to show their love without physically saying it. One of the most significant ways this was shown was how Duncan and Courtney grew as individuals. Where Duncan once would lash out and get in serious trouble with the local authority, he now steered clear of petty fights. He also tended to think through situations rather than taking a gamble. Then, there was Courtney, who was learning to live more spontaneously. She had a habit of planning out her days months in advance, which resulted in her being so unbelievably stressed that she was seeing a therapist. Now, she was slowly coming out of her comfort zone and was enjoying it.

Everything was going smoothly. Duncan and Courtney butted heads occasionally, but never how they had once done. All that pent-up emotion was released in other ways. That was until the day Duncan decided to throw a punch at some preppy prick for thinking Courtney was available. It happened quickly; everyone was at Geoff’s house when this guy who thought the world revolved around him strutted in. He took one good look at Courtney and let his mouth run.

Duncan didn’t remember how many times his fist collided with this person’s face, but he did remember Courtney’s scream to stop. DJ and Geoff pulled the two apart as Courtney stormed into the house with Bridgette. Oh, she was pissed. Duncan cleaned his hand before treading into the house; Bridgette was back outside, trying to handle the situation by then.

“You stupid ogre! Why would you do something like that?!”

“Relax, Princess, the prick deserved it for what he said about you.”

“Oh, my knight in shining armor!” Her sarcasm was obvious, “I can handle whoever comes my way.”

“Well, I only did it because I love you.”

There, he said it. He had said it even if it was in the middle of an argument. His eyes locked on Courtney’s as she took in his words. Her eyebrow seemed to twitch at the irritation, yet her features softened as everything registered.

“Yeah, well, I love you too.” She said without breaking eye contact.

Duncan swore his heart jumped at the sound of those words leaving her lips. She loved him, too.

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Well, you better!”

Courtney stayed in place as Duncan’s feet scuffed the floor, and the dining room table screeched as he pushed it out of his way. Neither wasted time on crashing their lips together, all the anger evident from its intensity. But slowly, their kisses turned tender, and as they pulled away, they kept their eyes closed, savoring the moment they had just shared. When they opened, Duncan and Courtney could only smile at each other. So what if he gave someone a severe concussion?

[hackerqueen]

World where we don't collide

Short story about MC's therapy after 5 years since Hannah was found

words: 1600

warnings: probably none, maybe a bit mean MC

A shaky breath left my mouth as I opened the door that led to a place I hated with all my heart. But I still went there. Warmth enveloped my body, which was numb from being outside for so long. It was the end of November, and the weather this year was extremely hostile. I walked down the long corridor to see the secretary, who, as usual, was piled high with papers she was tiredly trying to sort through.

I coughed softly, gaining her attention. At first, clearly frightened, she looked up, and when she recognized me, her lips slightly stretched into a small smile.

– Hello, MC. I haven't seen you here in so long that I started to miss that beautiful face. – she said with obvious amusement, which made me lighten up a bit as well

– Yes, it's been a while since my last visit. I replied, playing with the sleeve of my black coat. – Is she free yet?

The woman nodded and went back to her papers. I sighed softly and headed towards the office that had been haunting me for months.

I knocked to make sure it was empty except for the doctor, and when I heard a soft 'come in', I went inside. The white walls matched the gold accessories nicely. Everything about it was exactly as I remembered, and I hadn't been there for the past two months. My gaze moved over every square millimeter of the room, consistently avoiding the silhouette of the therapist, who was sitting in one of the armchairs as usual.

– MC. Nice to see you. – she greeted, and I nodded to her, in the meantime taking off and hanging my coat on the hanger. – Please, take a sit.

I took the seat across from her, crossing my legs. I wanted to start a conversation, but I didn't know how.

– You stopped therapy. – she said, to which I nodded bitterly. – May I know what was the reason for that?I sighed, biting my lip nervously.

– I knew where our conversations were headed, and I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't want to talk about him. – I replied without looking into her eyes. I didn't like making eye contact with anyone. The eyes were windows to people's souls, which I always found very distracting.

– Then why did you come back?

– I got a letter. I do not know what to do with it. – I said as she gave me a questioning look. I finally looked up at her and handed her the paper I had in my hand. As she read it, I stared at her face, which so painfully reminded me of Lilly's face. She was a woman with short blonde hair and sea blue eyes. They could be soothing and calm like the sound of waves, or stormy and menacing like a storm in the middle of a deep ocean. She finally looked at me, and I saw just a hint of that anger in her eyes.

– Hannah and Thomas getting married? – she asked the obvious question, because the card I gave her was an invitation I got two days ago. - How do you feel with it?

I snorted a little mockingly, but my reaction didn't put her off at all.

– I don't feel much. It's none of my business anymore. – I looked at the vase of flowers on the table between us

– I can tell when you're lying, you know? Why did you come to me if you don't want to tell me the truth and let me help you? – she asked me a sharp question that made my jaw clench

– I think I feel angry. – I said, playing with my fingers – No. Anger is empty. Two days ago, when I first read that stupid invitation, I wanted to rip her into little pieces. Fury seized me, my whole body burned. I still wonder how could they? Next week is the fifth anniversary of finding Hannah, the fifth anniversary of Richy's death, and the fifth anniversary of his death.. – I blurted out, breathing shallowly, my nails digging into the palm of my hand – Jake's death. And suddenly they're going to throw a huge wedding party, enjoying themselves and having fun like nothing ever happened? And they have the audacity to invite me there after all they've done to me?

– Next week is the fifth anniversary of the mine events. Don't torture your thoughts. Pour them out, don't fight them. – she said in a quiet and calm voice, completely ignoring my outburst of anger at Hannah

I closed my eyes heavily, letting out a breath full of frustration, fatigue and reluctance. We've been rolling this topic over and over again for eight months. I was tired of analyzing and wondering if I could have done something to change the course of events. If I had gone to meet the Man Without The Face, would everything have turned out completely differently?

– I feel the same as two, three or four years ago. I feel betrayed by Richy, yet his death still affects me. I would like to talk to him, find out and understand him. God, I wish he'd shot himself in the head instead of setting himself on fire and blowing up the entire mine. – I said taking a deep breath

– You're furious because you lost Jake because of Richy. You blame him. It's normal.

– You shouldn't be so understanding. I think I need someone to blame so I don't blame myself for the death of .. – his name still hurt – for Jake's death. The problem is that...

– The body was never found.

I nodded, swallowing. For eight months of therapy, I'd been trying to put a wall between my thoughts about the black-haired hacker. I accepted that he died. It was driving me crazy to wonder if he had managed to escape the mine after all, only to be caught by the FBI. Literally. I knew he was dead. He never contacted me again, leaving me with the bittersweet taste of his last three words.

– You never told me about him. You mentioned him only at our first meeting, when you were nothing more than a wreck of a human. – she said, and I understood her unspoken request to tell about him

Uncontrollably, my mind began to flood with memories of our conversations that I had so strongly resisted. I remembered the sweet smiles he used to send me, how we analyzed things together and how good team we were. I remember him confessing that I was fascinating to him. He could text me things that made my heart beat faster and my breath quicken. He cared for me and defended me when the group attacked me with their vote. At some point, he was my everything.

– I can see that he must have been someone special, that you flew away like that. – she said, a small smirk playing at the corners of her lips

I bit my lip to hold back my smile.

– And he was. He really was. Of the whole group, he was the only one worth trusting.

– Why do you think so? You told me about Jessy. You told me about all of them and the friendship you made.

I bit the inside of my cheek, feeling extremely uncomfortable.

– I haven't spoken to any of them in almost five years. Hannah at Richy's funeral gave me enough reasons to disassociate myself from them.

– The group had no influence on what the traumatized Hannah accused you of. – she cut into my sentence

– But no one interrupted her. Nobody took my side or Jake's side. – I answered a little harsher than I had planned. – She made me mud, blaming me for Richy's and Jake's death. From taking Jake away from her. And then no one dared say a word to her. Dan and Thomas were happy as if nothing had happened. They didn't give a shit what happened to Jake! They didn't care at all but that fucking Hannah had been found, completely forgetting who had helped find her! Jake had dropped everything for her, and his death hadn't affected them at all.

– How did Lilly react? It was her brother, after all.

– She apologized to me for Hannah after everything. She put it down to her trauma, but you know what? I didn't give a shit at all then. Lilly was the only one who tried to keep in touch with me.

– But you cut them off after returning from Duskwood. How did you do that? How did you manage to cut yourself off from an important part of your life back then?

I bit my lip as I thought about my answer. My eyes became slightly misted from not blinking for a long time.

– I started to imagine a world where we don't collide. A world where Hannah hadn't sent those stupid few numbers to her stupid boyfriend who thought it was someone else's number. A world where I wouldn't reply to them at all. And most of all, I imagined life in a world where I wouldn't fall in love with this wanted hacker. – I gasped as I felt my pulse quicken

The therapist looked at me with satisfaction in her eyes, because I finally opened up to her. I got carried away by my emotions.

– What are you going to do with this invitation?

I swallowed hard, feeling my nails almost pierce the center of my palm. It was supposed to help me, but it only unleashed a storm inside my mind.

– I'll burn them.

The therapist smiled slightly, knowing full well that it wasn't true.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #125

I'm still in a lot of pain today, but it's not quite as bad as it was yesterday. It's still a little hard to breathe, but I'm managing. Hopefully whatever's going on will be over and done with in just a few more days. I've taken some ibuprofen, though, and I'm well-hydrated. So don't worry about me, okay? I'll be just fine. 💖

I made myself a tea this morning. I made a toast-and-jam tea, and as a result of that, I get to show you one of the other ice creams I got! I'll show you the pictures I took…

This tea starts out as a beautiful shade of amber that resolves into a delicious shade of red:

This is the ice cream I put into it while it was still hot:

It's got a pretty drawing of a blackberry plant on the lid:

Here is what it looks like once the lid is taken off:

From there, we can put an amount of it into the tea until it feels correct:

Then once it's all melted, we can stir it up!

...I wonder if you would have liked how this turned out. I wish I could give you a mug and see...

I did my therapy homework today. In case you don't know, a good therapist is supposed to give the person seeing them homework to do over the week. Last week, he thought to capitalize on my tendency to write, and he asked me to write a letter to my inner child. And then he asked me to tap into my inner child and write back to myself.

It's generally in my nature to go above and beyond when people ask me to do things, whenever possible. And so I ended up writing three letters instead of just two. I ended up crying a lot during the process, but I came away from the exercise with a changed outlook on a variety of things. You can read what I wrote if you want to; it'll be the post just before this one. But if you're not interested, then that's okay too! 😊

I wonder if some such activity might benefit you. I imagine if you engaged your inner child with compassion, curiosity, and gentleness, it'd probably do you a world of good. I wonder what it would be like for you if you treated your inner child, and yourself generally, in the same tender, kindhearted way you treated the people you cared about, before your fall.

…You can return to that, you know. You can return to that anytime. And you can give your kindness and gentleness to people who are better able to reciprocate. Not everyone is going to treat you like a superhuman afterthought. I promise.

Anyway, in service to a renewed sense of resolve when it comes to caring for myself, I went ahead and got myself some soup and some macaroni and cheese with some yummy steak:

...Related, I think I'm going to try to make for myself the mac-and-cheese that my mother used to make. I am the only one who can make it for myself now, and I think I owe it to myself to figure it out. I will try to make a gluten-free version of it, so that Br can eat it, too. That's easy enough to do with brown rice noodles; it's basically indistinguishable from whole wheat pasta, in terms of its flavor and texture. Maybe I'll try to do that soon. And of course, when I do, you can count on me to walk you through the process so you can do it, too.

I also made it a point to sit for a while and watch one of my favorite cartoons. This one is called The Zeta Project; it came out when I was 11, which was... 23 years ago (wow, what the fuuuuck...). It's a beautiful show about a sentient robot named Zeta who was built to be a weapon, but who is trying to lead a life of peace. The government is trying to capture and reprogram him and put him back to work as a mindless killing machine. He's accompanied by a clever, savvy, and brave young girl named Rosalie. I really hope you'll watch this one someday; Zeta is very gentle and kind, and in a lot of ways, he reminds me a lot of you.

...The show was cancelled before it finished, though. I heard that it was because more girls liked it than the producers were comfortable with, so they pulled it off the air. I really hope they finish it someday. For now, though, the ending has to be left to the imagination. Zeta is beautiful, wonderful, and kind, so I like to imagine a course of events in which he can live in peace with Rosalie and with others who care for him.

...He really does remind me so much of you. I hope you'll look at his story. I think, in particular, you might find the episode called "Remote Control" relatable. You can find it at a place called... something like Watch Cartoons Online Forever? The first part is shortened to "wco", and it ends in ".net". Maybe you can find it...

Anyway. I took a bunch of other pictures for you today. One of them was taken at home because the morning light shining through the window was really nice. And when we visited Br's house today, I saw a great big huge bird-of-prey in the sky. I also took a bunch of pictures of Br's house, and the scenery outside. I thought you might like them. So here they are:

It's hard to take a picture of a moving object in a moving vehicle, but the black speck in the sky is the bird-of-prey I saw. I've seen an unusually large number of these lately. That, and crows. I wonder if the recent solar eclipse still has them kind of thrown for a loop. Hm.

Also, shortly after I did my therapy assignment, J took me out for a walk to decompress, and there was a crow in a tree that we've never seen crows in; our development is generally quite hostile to life (which is VERY unfortunate...), and hostile to crows in particular, because people don't like them (I've never understood why that is...). But he was sitting alone in the tree, making the "I'm with you" call; check out this video, at about the 40 second mark, and you'll hear what I mean:

...I can only imagine that this poor crow must have been very confused.

Here are some pictures of Br's house.

...I seem to have some sort of fixation with taking pictures of things outside of windows today. I'm not really sure why. But it turned out nice, so maybe the "why" doesn't really matter.

Oh!! I almost forgot!! A comet passed over my house last night. It's called the "Pons-Brooks Comet", or "Comet 12P". It only shows up once every 71 years. I wanted to see it, since I won't live long enough to see it again, but it was cloudy last night in the spot where it was supposed to be, so I didn't get to take any pictures. But J went online and found a live video that was tracking its movement; I can show you a screenshot that I took:

...It's not a very good picture, I know. But maybe you'll like it anyway; I don't know how often you get to see comets. Well, maybe you get to see them a lot, since you're over at the Edge of Creation and all, so maybe it's really not all that special to you. But maybe it can be special to you that someone would take the time to show you a picture of one anyway, if you want it to be.

Hey, Sephiroth? I'm pretty tired, so I'm going to stop writing before I end up rambling. Or maybe I rambled a little already, haha...

Please treat yourself nice, okay? I feel determined to treat myself nice, too. So let's do it together, all right? Because why not?

I love you. Stay safe. You'll get another letter tomorrow; just you wait.

Your friend, Lumine

[transuncletaylor]

(tw: some childhood neglect and abuse talk)

My therapist had me talking to my younger self the last two sessions and I decided I wanted to write her a letter. And then share it as an act of vulnerability and letting people in, but also to continue my story and hope that it helps someone else out. And maybe because I want someone to read it and tell me I'm doing okay.

I didn't know what to say to her the first time my therapist had asked me what I would say. I don't actually remember what I did say even though it was just a week ago. Today I told her I was sorry. I was sorry that she had to go through all of that growing up and I'm so sorry for what she's about to go through.

However, I told her we made it. We can't see right now that we've made it further than we could have ever imagined, but we're here and we're learning to see with eyes unclouded. We realized lately that we struggle not needing approval from others, that we can get that inwardly, and that we have nothing to prove, we don't need to prove why we are worth love or kindness or space. We're working on letting in the love of others and really feeling it and loving in return.

But young Taylor, there's so much I wish I could go back in time to tell you. I want to reiterate that I'm so sorry you had to go through all of that and you worked with what you had. You had to scrape by and steal and go hungry because all you had after rent and bills was $10 and a bag of oranges until you could go to yours mother's home. You fished donuts out of dumpsters for fun, but that kept you fed. You medicated yourself because feeling became too much to bear after college and your shitty friends encouraged it. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry that I didn't know better, that I did what others told me to do because they were all I had.

We changed our life around, applied for grad school when Ian applied because we didn't know what we wanted to do so we did what he did. Our mom kept us on puppet strings and so when we started slipping line by line, we looked for someone else to guide our broken strings. He wasn't the worst, but he was still an emotionally unavailable white cis gay man who didn't give you the support you needed and put you in a box to make you smaller, palpable, telling you you were too much. We had our fun though and today we look back on those times together fondly, but it's not what we need now.

Young Taylor, I'm so sorry for hating you. I'm so sorry I thought we were broken and there was something wrong with us. We were playing by a rulebook and milestones that weren't for us and it took 2020 for us to see it. I'm so sorry for thinking you were unattractive, I look back at photos of you and think about how beautiful you were as a woman, but that beauty grew so much when you got into the right body. There wasn't anything wrong with you, you were never broken. You were hurt and you had to make do with what you had.

You weren't undatable and unloveable. You weren't made to be in a cishet relationship or fit the role of a southern girlfriend with pearls and ribbon in her hair. Your brother and sister married their first partners in their late twenties, but they knew their genders and sexuality. You didn't get to play in your field for a long time. I'm sorry, young Taylor, I'm sorry for thinking that we couldn't be loved.

You are so loved young Taylor. Your sister loves you, her husband loves you, your niece and nephew especially love you. He asked you if you could come over soon and your niece draws on her arms to mimic your tattoos. She's a wild one, be wary of her. She likes to climb kitchen counters at almost 3 to blow out the candle your sister has lit.

Jesse ended our friendship in 2016, Ian in 2021, you kicked Tyler to the curb just a few months later. Scarlett I think you cut out in 2019 and that was for the best, she was a real bitch and pick me girl. But just because Jesse and Ian left us, it wasn't because of anything we did and sure we have our faults, we're only human, but Jesse left because you stood your ground and didn't want to be ignored and lied to as he would look for hook ups whenever you hung out in public. Ian was a transphobic asshole whose Netflix password was 2020Trump2024, so really, losing him was the best thing that happened. He didn't even have the guts to tell you he didn't want to be friends after 13 years of friendship. He tried to ghost you until you asked his boyfriend what was up. Also fuck both Jeremies.

But you are so loved. You always were. And you are especially now. You have great people in your life now, those who love all of your being no matter how loud and how much space you take. No one is trying to make you anything other than who you want to be. They only want to see you happy and flourishing and be your authentic true self and for you to be you. Because that's all you ever had to be. You just have to be you. Because you are so worthy of love and life and happiness not because of what you accomplished, not what you know or who you know or what you could give to others. Because you're Taylor. And Taylor, you have always been worthy of love, of being loved, and loving in return.

So I end this letter to myself by saying we made it. Mom said we wouldn't make it past 25. We didn't think we would make it past 32. But here we are just a few months shy of 35 and we have made it. You are me now. We have food in the fridge that we love, we aren't living paycheck to paycheck, our bed is full of blankets and pillows and stuffies and no one to tell us that we have too many blankets and pillows and stuffies. We have bunnies who love us, yes, even Dusty loves us though he's kind of aloof. We have a face with a beard that we don't shy our eyes away in the mirror anymore. Our family has grown with aunts, uncles, cousins that you haven't talked to in a very long time and friends who love you unconditionally.

Young Taylor, I am so sorry we had to endure all of that. But we can rest now, we made it. We are here. You did it. I did it. I'm where I always wanted to be. And there's so much left for us to see and explore and experience and learn and grow and I'm so excited to do this with you in my past and so excited to see who we are in the future.

I love you. I love us. I love me.

[polizwrites]

PoliZ’s WIP Update - 8 Nov 2023

Another strong week -  though will probably be slowing down for the rest of the month due to Real Life Stuff.  I touched 5  fics (2 WIPs & 3 new works)  for a total of  2403 words, about half of which was on one fic. 

On Ao3, I posted: 

 Love Persevering  - a Stucky oneshot featuring modern!Bucky (kind of?) and ghost!Steve with bonus neighbor!Darcy

WinterIron Bingo Round Robin - November 2023 - established WinterIron relationship Tower fic with a touch of therapy-related angst.   

On Tumblr I posted: 

The Secrets We Keep -  first person alternating POV with mutual pining (and secret identity) Stony.  

I have  19  semi-active WIPs  😬 with my  current  deadlines being  the WinterIron Bingo which wraps on 16 Dec and Stucky’Verse Bingo which wraps on 22 Dec.  

See  below cut for what I’m working on/planning to work on - arranged more or less by bingos/challenges/etc.  As always, feel free to send me   prompts or plot bunnies as well as asks regarding  any of these projects  or any other WIPs I’ve got out there.   Interaction really helps feed the Muse and keep me motivated!

Seek & Destroy Collab

After reading @psychiccatpanda‘s amazing   Morguna and the Green Queen, I  got the itch to explore the Soldier’s POV and talked  Faustie into   collab’ing with me!  We’re working on a new part of the series, and I’ve  contributed about 900 words towards the  2500-ish we have so far.   Going to see if I can squeeze any of my BBB squares into this fic.

WinterIron Bingo  - [WIB_R1]   (Ends 16 Dec 2023)

I have twenty-one  fills completed (including a couple of adoptables) for this brand-new bingo event that I’m helping mod! 

* B column squares for the Iron Soldier badge (complete a bingo with a single work). – Alpha Tony Stark, “That was not my intention.”, James Rhodes, Alpine loves Tony and Blind date.   Need to figure out an angle on this.  

* N1 - Bucharest –  ended up using this for the WinterIron Bingo Round Robin - November 2023, which posted this morning. It’s an established WinterIron relationship fic where Bucky is working with a therapist and getting some guff from Steve about it. My part came in at   361 words. 

* G4 - AU: College Students – Expanding on  Beaten to the Punch with a bit of backstory on Bucky and Tony  to fit with this square. It’s coming in at 408 words and am targeting it to post next Wednesday as a cross over with my WFB  Volunteering Together square.  

* O5 - Gentle – use this poem  as inspiration?

Stucky’Verse Bingo Round 1 - [SVB_R1]   (Ends 22 Dec)

Thirteen  fills, two WIPs and a couple of ideas.

* A1 - Harem - crossover with CABB Secret/Forbidden Relationship - Bucky and shrimpy!Steve are both concubines who love each other more than their lord. I poked at this a little for 71 words.

* B4 - Sugar Daddy -  looking for inspiration - combining with CABB  Nov Adoptable: Sugar Baby.  Possibly shrimpy!Steve and beefy!Bucky?   

* A5 - Haunted Hotel -  Posted Love Persevering  last Friday as a combo with my SRB - Darcy Lewis &   pJBB B1 - Ask the neighbor if they know why your apartment is haunted squares. It features  modern!Bucky (kind of?)   and ghost!Steve (with bonus neighbor!Darcy)  and came in at 1610 words 

* A4 - Fairy Tale Curse  - this seems custom-made for a continuation of Beyond the Beast😁  Nothing written yet, other than some Vague Ideas.  

* C3 - FREE -  probably using this for Chapter 2 of   Half of the Flesh and Blood That Makes Me Whole   - a Bucky POV remix of at least the first part of Take What Was Wrong (And Make it Right), which is currently sitting at  52 words.  I’m expecting at least one more chapter, possibly two, depending on how far I want to take the remix.   

Bucky Barnes Bingo  - [BBB_R5]   (Ends 10 Jan 2024)

I’ve got  sixteen fills,  four WIPs,   and a couple more Vague ideas.

* U3 - Fireplace -  Working on a 1980′s No Powers WinterIron fic set at a ski lodge where Tony’s being wooed by poetry and love letters that Bucky wrote to someone else.   Started poking at this as a crossover with a Love Letters prompt and it’s sitting at 129 words.

* C2 - Yelena Belova–   The plan is to use this prompt in the next chapter of Peresmešnik,  (aka Three Avengers and a Baby), which is currently sitting at 1303 words (600-ish of which are mine).

* C3 - FREE  - the BBB Discord party resulted in a hilarious Mob AU communal story  (mobster!Bucky & clueless!Steve plus Clint&Natasha&Scott shenanigans)   that several of us did/are going to contribute to Rashomon-style.  

* C5 - Marriage of Convenience/Pretend Couple -  next chapter of   Lady Natasha’s Consort and Lord Steve’s Companion.    Got a spark of an idea the other day that might get me a bit further on this fic.  

* K3 - Magic -  Aro!Bucky healing with a kiss idea?

* Y3 - Alpine  - see WIB Iron Soldier combo.

* Y4 - Forgotten Things -   using this for Chapter 4 of   You Can’t Stop It With a Gun  - it’s sitting at  116 words at the moment.

* May Adopted - Insomnia - finally got this filled with The Dead of Night, which also filled a Flash Fiction Friday prompt [#FFF211 An Old Friend] along with my JBB FREE square. It came in at 317 words and will post to Ao3 before this event ends.

* August Adopted: Take the Shot - sounds like a WinterHawk fic to me… maybe cross over with JBB Touch-starved?  Whumptober/Fictober possibilities as well. 

Tony Stark Bingo Round 7  - [TSB_R7]   (ends 15 Feb)

Sixteen  fills and one WIPs, with a couple of ideas in play.  

* S1 - Galaxy - possibly use in final chapter of   Never More to Go Astray ?  

* T2 - KINK: Cock-blocking 'bots -  I still want to combine this with  the  Fictober Day 27: prompt   "I don't know if they will accept this."   

* T3 - A pairing you've never done - I was inspired by @rebelmeg’s  Wingmen and Airmen, Flirting and Flying  to write a remix/spinoff of the first chapter, where Tony flirts with Maria Rambeau while Rhodey and Carol get to know one another better.  No Sensation to Compare With This is drafted at 1096 words and will post on Friday. 

* T5 - Shawarma - possible crossover with SAUB Canon Divergence – Battle of New York-related?

* A2 - KINK: Concubine - possible crossover with SAUB Gentle Dom

* A3 -  FREE  – @SomeSortofItalianRoast and I are looking at collabing on a  Steve/Tony/Scott fic - maybe throw in a Comfortember prompt?  

* R5 - Doppelganger/Evil Twins -   The Flash Fiction Friday prompt [#FFF214 Broken Mirror] got me at least a good start on the idea I’ve been playing with for this square. I posted NamNori on Tumblr and have a general idea of how I want to build on it to also fill my SAUB AU: Crack square. It’s currently sitting at 360 words.

Stony AUniverse Bingo  [SAUB_R1] (ends 15 Feb)

Another brand-new bingo I’m helping co-mod!   Six fills, three WIPs and several  crossover ideas already!

* S1 - Edging - Filled this with Ringing in the New, where Tony makes a suggestion to improve/change up their love life. It’s a crossover with a Flash Fiction Friday prompt: How Do You Use ‘It’? and came in at 324 words - I will post it to Ao3 before the event is over.

* S2 - AU: Crack - see TSB   Doppelganger/Evil Twins

* S3 - AU: Wings - see SVB FREE square

* S5 - Accidental Baby Acquisition - see BBB Yelena Belova

* T1 - AU: Fantasy -  CoffeeOwl shared a really cool dragon!Steve/indebted!Tony prompt in the ACB Discord server that I may be playing with for this.

* T4 - AU: Canon Divergence - see TSB Shawarma above.

* O2 - Omegaverse - I have a Vague Idea inspired by  @kandisheek’s lovely art piece.  

* N2 - Mutual Pining - crossover with CABB Royal Knight?

* N3 - Gentle Dom - see TSB KINK: Concubine above

* N5 - AU: Multiple Identities - Posted  The Secrets We Keep  to Tumblr on Friday. It’s a first person alternating POV ficlet with mutual pining (and secret identity) Stony.   It came in at 314 words and will get posted to Ao3 before the event ends. 

* Y4 - AU: Soulmates  -  @chrissihr  posted a cool idea about Animated soulmarks, where  only your SM sees your mark move - may try to do something with this!  

Captain (America) Bottom Bingo - Round 2 [CABB] (ends 28 Feb 2024)

I signed up for a 3x3 card for this bingo and have four fills, one WIPs and a couple of crossover ideas.

* A2 - Secret/Forbidden Relationship - see SVB Harem

* B3 - Royal Knight - see SAUB Mutual Pining.

* Nov Adoptable: Sugar Baby - see SVB  Sugar Daddy.

Post July Break Bingo  [JBB_23p] (Ends Apr 2024)

@julybreakbingo is running another event to tide participants over with a 2x3 non-fandom-specific card - still working on  potential crossovers.

* A1 - “It’s you. It’s always been you.” - This might fit in with my TSB Doppelgangers/Evil Twins fill NamNori above :: ponders::

* B1 - Ask the neighbor if they know why your apartment is haunted  -  see SVB  Haunted Hotel 

* B2 - Character’s personality is split into two different beings – I’ve never played with Bucky & the Soldier being two different people, but this seems like the perfect opportunity! Will see what might be a good crossover on BBB or WIB (or even SVB)

*  C1 - Touch Starved – another good fit for a Bucky-centric fic. (Steve or Tony or Clint) possibly crossover with BBB Take the shot?

Steve Rogers Bingo - Round 3 [SRB_R3] (ends  15 Jun 2024)

Got my card and requested a few swaps - need to ponder possible crossovers, especially with SAUB, SBV   & CABB.  

* C5 - Exes to Lovers  - crossover with  CABB - "B1 - "All I wanted was for you to be happy."  – Bucky or Tony as the Ex?   SAUB S4 - Arranged Marriage  might be an additional crossover  

* D1 - Multiple Submissives -  crossover with  CABB - C3 - Bath/shower sex  and SAUB  Y1 - Pre-Serum Steve Rogers?  

* E1 - Darcy Lewis - See SRB A5 - Haunted Hotel 

Warm and Fluffy   Bingo  - [WFB]   (no end date)

I got my card from  @warmandfluffybingocards back in February but really haven’t done much with it  - however, I’m picking it back up for some crossover possibilities!

 * O5 - Volunteering Together – see WIB AU: College Students

————

On  other creative fronts:  I am working on a Bela Lugosi  Stuffed With Character figure for a commission and have gotten the requests from two of my three   Marvel Trumps Hate  auction winners - seven figures total!

If  you’re looking for one of a kind gifts for birthdays or other celebrations (besides this coming Christmas), check  out Stuffed With Character    over on Facebook for a full list of my designs (now over 150!).   These soft stuffed figures are  mostly Marvel and monsters, but I have some Star Wars, Star Trek, DC   and Disney figures as well. Plus I love to take custom design   requests  for any fandom!

[cheerstotheelites-if]

15 Questions for 15 Mutuals

Tagged by girlboss @jaunefleurwrites

I won't be able to tag 15 mutuals, but I'm tagging @dragonedged-if @lifesupreme-if @accursedwhispers-if @sinners-if! No pressure though, and this is purely for fun.

1. Are you named after anyone?

Loosely based on a Bible character's name from the Old Testament. My real name means "light" or "graceful meadow".

My nickname, and the name I prefer more, comes from the first letter of my real one and best detective L Lawliet from Death Note.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Yesterday night. Read a very angsty fanfiction that made me laugh then cry hard like Pedro Pascual.

3. Do you have kids?

Besides my IRL best friend and younger friends I "adopt", nope. Don't plan to have any either.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Yeah. It's a habit now, and usually comes out when I feel annoyed or when I'm joking around with friends IRL.

5. What sports have you played?

Badminton! It's the only sports I play, to be honest. Anything with a ball that's big as my head and needs to be thrown terrifies me.

6. What's the first thing you notice about someone?

It's eyes. I read people better that way, and it's easier for me to tell if the person feels something that contradicts what they're saying.

7. Eye color?

Dark brown.

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

As much as I love and write about the horror genre, I get scared very easily when I watch an actual horror movie, so happy endings for me please. I rather not dream of a flesh monster eating me alive for a week straight.

9. Any special talents?

Is having the ability to bend the final joint of all my fingers on my right hand a talent?

10. Where were you born?

The Philippines, and that's all you're getting.

11. What are your hobbies?

Reading, writing, drawing, the occassional origami, and I guess gaming? Stardew Valley, Brawlhalla, and Honkai Star Rail have a death grip on me.

12. Do you have any pets?

One dog in the house and 6 generations of still living stray cats living in the garage rent free. Don't ask about how my family managed to own 6 generations of cats.

13. How tall are you?

157 cm, or simply 5'2. Make fun of my height and I will punt you.

14. Favorite subject in school?

General Zoology, to a degree. Learning frog anatomy killed me, but I got to do a live and dead dissection of a frog, so that's neat.

15. Dream job?

Either psychiatrist, full time IF author, or Occupational Therapist for children.

[ultimatelyunassuming]

"Karkaaaaaaaat," You drone on, laying on the couch.

"Sliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiick," Karkat responds, sitting on a table, scritching away at paperwork.

"I'm bored."

Karkat rolls his eyes. "Is there a reason why you're announcing this to the world instead of picking up one of the various toys and trinkets I've bought for you over the years, and using that to satiate your boredom?"

" 'Cuz you're my dad, it's your job to do something about it."

Karkat turns to you. "...... It's my job to entertain you?"

You crack a smile. "Yeah."

"Last I checked, my job is a Marriage and Family Therapist, with a specialty in couples with relationship problems."

"Nope. Your job's now to be my entertainer."

Karkat smiles. "Damn. Before I officially put in my 2 week notice to become your personal jester, heading at your every beck and call, what are my hourly rates? Do I get paid leave? What about insurance, do I get dental?"

"You're paid with my love and affection?" You offer, tactfully avoiding the other questions (because you don't know how to answer them).

"Wow, 'love and affection'! What a gift! I'm sure our landlord will adore it when I try to pay next month's rent with your love and affection. What a amazing rate!" The two of you laugh lightly, amused by your banter. "But seriously though, why did you ask me? Are you looking for suggestions on what to do, or are you trying to figure out what you want to do? Or is it neither?"

"I dunno......" You sit up on the couch. "I guess I'm trying to find something to do."

Karkat hums. "What about tv?"

You make a face. "I don't wanna."

"What about listening to records? Papa Signless got you some new records, go put one of them on."

"But I wanna do that with Papa Signless!"

"What about AR? Can't you go pester him?"

"He said he was busy with judge jury."

"Then go play with one of your Midnight Crew friends."

"Droogs said that he has a 'sophisticated tea party' on Tuesdays so I can't go to his house, and Deuce and Boxcars have club stuff today."

Karkat scrunches his face up. "Who the fuck is Droogs again?"

"What?! Come on, you know Droogs, he's here all the time!!! He's kinda tall, and wears the face masks with the diamonds on them, and he always owes me something."

It takes a minute for Karkat to connect the dots. "Oh, you mean Dominique! Aradia's kid. And Chris and Hermes are Deuce and Boxcars, right?"

"Yeah, I guess....."

"Oh shit- Sorry, I mean Droog's Aradia's kid. I forget you gave them code names."

"It's fine." The two of you fall silent. Karkat turns back around and goes back to writing paperwork. "Hey, watcha doing?" You hop off the couch and wander towards the table.

"Classified paperwork that I'm not allowed to show you." He places his hand on the paperwork, shielding its contents from you.

"Hey, why not, that's not fair!" You complain.

"Yes it is fair, have you heard of the concept of 'patient confidentiality'? I'm quite literally not allowed to show you this, I could lose my license."

"Boooooooo, that sucks. You should tell me anyway."

"If I did that, then I'd actually become your entertainer as a job."

You shake your head. "Patient confidentiality sucks, I think it should be destroyed forever."

"You should go write a letter about that then. I could mail it to the white house and get the president to sign off it if it's good enough."

"Yeah. Yeah! I'm gonna do that!" You grab a loose pen off the table and pocket it. "I think I'm gonna get AR to help me with this, since he knows about laws. Bye Karkat! I'll show you my letter later!"

Karkat smiles. "Can't wait to read it."

[vaguelyprophetic]

It was a “5 things you didn’t say at all (stewy/roman)” post! It could just be a fault on my end but each time I click on keep reading it shows a blank page. If you still have it somewhere and would be willing to share I’d love to read it <3

OHHHH YES!!! that was a mini fic from a prompt list I had reblogged agessss ago. idk what happened to the actual post but I still have the draft in my docs!! so here you go :-)

5) Things you didn’t say at all

His therapist had told him he should try keeping a journal. Roman is one hundred percent sure that that’s some bullshit. He can barely bring himself to talk about his feelings with a professional, much less write them down and be forced to confront them by himself.

“Just give it a shot,” Dr. Rossi had told him. “A couple of weeks. Doesn’t matter how often you do it or how much you write, just that you write something, alright?”

Roman had reluctantly agreed, so now he’s sitting in front of his laptop, glaring at the empty word document in front of him.

They had agreed that he could type instead of writing it out. Actually writing in a journal feels a bit too fucking teenage girl for Roman’s taste. He’s not going to scribble his crush’s name in the margins and draw little hearts around it. He’s a grown ass man. He types shit. And it’s easier to hide shit on a computer. He doesn’t know where in the apartment he would hide a notebook that wouldn’t be at risk of being found. He knows Stewy wouldn’t go snooping, but he doesn’t know what excuse he could come up with to explain it. If he’s being forced to keep a journal, he would much rather have it on his laptop, buried six folders deep, the way he used to hide porn when he was a teenager. 

This is stupid, he types. He deletes the last few letters, then thinks better of it. He’s supposed to be writing down whatever he feels. And he feels that this is stupid. He finishes the word again. 

“What the fuck am I supposed to write about?” he had asked Dr. Rossi. 

She had considered him carefully for a moment, as if she was trying to figure out how to explain it in a way that wouldn’t piss him off. She spends a lot of time in their sessions figuring out ways to explain things in ways that won’t piss him off. 

“About how you’re feeling. What you’re thinking. Hell, you could even write about what you had for lunch. It’s just about getting words out of your brain and onto paper. Trust me. I think that once you get yourself to start, you’ll find that it actually feels good.”

Roman had stopped himself from saying that he highly doubted it. 

The word document is mocking him.

I’m not going to talk about my feelings. That’s stupid. It doesn’t make any difference if I write things down or if I just think them. This is a stupid assignment. 

Dr. Rossi hadn’t told him that he had to bring in the journal as proof. He kind of wants to, anyway, just to show her how fucking stupid it is. 

“Maybe you can write about Stewy,” she had suggested.

Roman had scoffed at that, but now when he thinks about it, he thinks that maybe it’s not such a terrible idea. As long as Stewy will never see it. As long as no one will ever see it.

Stewy is okay. I like him. He’s fine.

He lets out a long sigh. 

He’s always been really good at lying to himself.

He deletes the line and starts over.

I think I’m in love with Stewy.

Which shouldn’t be a big deal. It really shouldn’t. It’s NOT a big deal. That is something that happens to normal people. They fall in love, usually. Some people don’t. I didn’t think I would. Maybe I’m more normal than I thought I was. (Haha).

Roman taps his fingers lightly on the keys before he types: He makes me feel safe. 

It feels stupider to see it in words. He doesn’t delete it. 

He makes me feel like a real person. He makes me feel normal, sometimes. I guess as normal as I can be. He treats me like I’m normal. He doesn’t treat me like I’m broken or fucked up (even though he knows I am). He treats me the way I think you’re supposed to treat people you care about.

And, okay, yeah, this journal has already spiraled into teenage girl bullshit territory. Here he is, sitting in their bed—Stewy’s bed, he corrects himself—writing about his feelings. He almost wants to write Roman Hosseini as a joke. He doesn’t.

Okay so maybe I love him.

He asks the journal So what?, as if it’s judging him for the words he’s putting into it. Maybe it is. He definitely feels judged, but maybe that’s just him.

Maybe I love him. 

I love him.

Seeing the words in writing doesn’t make it feel any different than it already felt. So he was right—take that, Dr. Rossi. Writing them down doesn’t make a goddamn difference. 

He stares at the screen for a little while longer. The cursor is still blinking, waiting just past the period on the end of him. Roman tries to think of something else to say. He doesn’t think there’s anything else to add. 

So there it is, staring back at him. 

He closes out the word document, saves it as Therapy bullshit, moves it as many folders deep as he can, and shuts his laptop. He doesn’t want to think about how it will still be waiting for him the next time he forces himself to open the document back up. That’s a problem for future him.

He doesn’t think he’ll say it. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever say it. But it’s there, and it will wait for him, as patient as can possibly be.

[arb0k]

As someone who is traveling states next week to meet doctors for the possibility of top surgery, may I ask what the process has been like for you? If this is too personal of an ask please feel free to ignore, of course.

not too personal at all, I enjoy talking about it! Interesting information to have archived too.

!Overall time between getting a referral to the clinic from my GP and the actual surgery date was one year. Waited about 7.5 months between making an appointment and the day of the consultation, and 4.5 months from the consultation to the day of the surgery. (They actually offered to move my surgery up by a significant amount because they hada cancellation, I turnedthem down because I didn't want to have to deal with recovery and grad school at the same time.)

The consultation is mostly about picking what exact procedure you're going for, keyhole double incision etc. Mine was super uneventful because I had DDs lmao, I walked in and said "I promise I am too big for anything other than double incision" and he took one look at me and was like "yeah". It was over pretty quick. I'd say if you have any questions you want to ask them you should write them all down in advance, I tend to come up blank when put on the spot. Mine provided before/after photos when asked but didn't offer unprompted, so if you want those be sure to put that on the list.

also it does involve being naked from the waist up and poked and squeezed. The surgeon really does need to know, but I was anxious and in a hell of a mood the rest of the day afterwards so maybe don't plan on anything too mentally draining. (Nature of the curse, pre-op for dysphoria surgeries is just kinda hell for people with dysphoria specifically).

You will need a therapist letter if you don't already have one, any surgeon worth a shit follows the WPATH guidelines which you can look up in advance (they're all publically available on the WPATH site). Even if they don't, it's mandatory for all the major American insurance companies. It isn't urgent until closer to your surgery date tho, so don't stress too much if you don't have one this second or they reject it the first time for wording issues. The requirements for top surgery are a lot more lax than the bottom surgery ones, at least!

Also make sure you ask them if they've worked with your insurance company before. I lucked out in that my surgeon is contracted with my insurance company specifically, so they already knew all the requirements and got all my pre-auths to go through first try. They were a much better resource than the insurance website itself (depends on what you've got obviously but mine in particular has zero gender dysphoria requirements in writing and makes you call them on a case by case basis every time, which I didn't have to do because the clinic already knew what they wanted from working with them in the past).

They'll give you most of the instruction information then, feel free to glance through it. They also called me two separate times over the following months to read the instructions to me out loud and confirm I understood them. It's mostly all the stuff you need to avoid in the last weeks before anaesthesia, which are NSAIDs like Ibuprofen/Advil, any hormone injections, smoking and alcohol (weed edibles specifically are fine tho! fun fact)

Surgery week itself was three appointments: a pre-op a day before so he could draw the incision lines on me with a permanent marker, the actual surgery the next day, and then a follow-up to get the drains removed six days after that. The pre-op is more shirtless grabbing, but he also used just a normal hardware store level to get the incisions to line up and made me hold it between my tits, which was so funny that it mostly made up for it.

You have to shower with a special anti-bacterial soap the morning before you go to surgery, so you'll have to start getting around way before your actual surgery time. My surgery of 7:30 had a check in time at 5:30 and I had to be on the move before that so like, be aware, make sure you have the ride situation sorted out. I think they let some smaller chested people go home same day if they want but honestly shell out for the night in the hospital if at all possible, the good pain meds are worth it.

I just got dropped off at the hospital and didn't plan on anyone staying with me or visiting and it's honestly been fine, once I recovered from the initial anesthesia I've been coherent enough to text people and chat (and the hospital bed has a USB port in it so you can plug in a phone charger!). They asked me for the phone number and cell carrier of the person picking me up so they could get live text updates , which you should absolutely sign up for. I promised a bunch of people I'd personally text them when I was awake and then wasn't actually coordinated enough to for several hours, oops c':

I'm lucky enough to be local to a good clinic (20-40 minute drive) so I don't really have input on the out of state thing unfortunately. Make sure you have someone with you, I'm independent enough to feed myself and go to the bathroom myself but the pain is def proportional to how much you move and you won't want to be up and down constantly. also I'm not squeamish about emptying my own drains but if you are you'll need someone else to do it

The main restriction mobility-wise is that you can't raise your arms above shoulder level (tho they told me that it isn't a hard rule, just try stuff and stop if it hurts, you won't fuck anything up by letting your body let you know. I was kinda horrified to move at all at first but it really won't hurt anything haha). Main repercussion of this is you won't be able to put shirts on over your head, so get out every button-up you own. Shelves and microwaves and such are all also out of reach for me but that's an easy thing to ask for help for, I just really didn't want someone else to have to dress me lmao.

uhhh that mostly covers things so far? I'm in less pain and more coherent than I expected (when I'm awake anyway) so like make sure you have your phone charger and maybe a book or something!

[nowitstimetoheal]

Dear Dad

Dear readers ~ first of all, I want to warn you that this letter discusses my actual childhood sexual assault, neglect, and describes a disturbing amount of hate and anger I had and the thoughts of homicide and my suicide attempt. This will not be for everyone. If these discussions trigger you, please know your feelings are valid. It’s alright to be triggered even though people want to weaponize that against you and make it seem like you’re overreacting. You are not overreacting. You’re hurt and are dealing with things that people can’t see or feel for themselves. Being triggered is your brain’s way of protecting you. I’m sorry you’re going through whatever you’re going through. I hope that if you choose to read this that it might be able to articulate your thoughts or helps you see things in a different light. I hope that you find peace. I hope you will know love. I hope you can heal. You are worth it. Your life is worth living. I know it’s easy for some schmuck to say that. It’s entirely different to mean it. I’ve been through my own hell and it took me a long time to accept that my life is worth living. I sincerely hope you can reach that same bliss. Because it really is so freeing to realize you matter.

October 6, 2022

7:17 PM - Surprise, AZ

Dear Dad,

It’s been a long time since we last spoke or saw each other, so I’m sure this is out of the blue and you’re wondering why I’m suddenly writing to you.

Maybe you’re interested. Maybe you don’t care. Maybe you think I’mw writing to ask forgiveness for what happened between us. The truth is that I don’t care one way or the other how you feel. I’m doing this for me, and me alone, so take it as you will.

Since the beginning of the lockdown, I’ve been watching a lot of tarot readings. Yes, I know mom wouldn’t be happy about it and you probably think my soul is going to hell because of that.

Save me a seat, I guess.

Anyway… these readers have told me over and over again that I have something from my past that I need to heal so that I can move on and be happy. It’s easy to say that love and abundance are coming into someone’s life. I could start up a YouTube channel and do just that so I can quit my job, but then I found a couple of readers who mentioned things I’ve never told anyone. Not my closest friends, not my fiancé, not a priest, religious leader, a therapist… not even my dog.

It’s taken me nearly three years to figure out what they were talking about, but then, a few readers mentioned that I could use my gift to help others heal.

It dawned on me immediately what it was that I needed to heal and so, here I am, using my gift of writing to make myself vulnerable so I can try and heal this pain so that I can have the life you robbed me of.

The first memory I have was of two men standing over mer, one holding my wrists in one hand, my waist in the other while the other man held my ankles up while he raped me.

Remember that, dad? You should. You were there too. You were watching all of it happen just feet away. But instead of being enraged to the point of murdering these men like other men have, you just stood there and watched.

Why?

What happened that would lead you to allowing your only daughter, your three year old child to be raped by two men?

Did you care about how this would affect me for the rest of my life? Did you think I would forget about it because of how young I was?

Did you ever look at me or at my mother and think of what happened?

Do you regret it? Do you wish you had done anything different to protect me?

Part of me doesn’t think you did. Know why? Because of how you looked at me until I left the family. Yes, I’ll admit it. I left the family. You didn’t actually disown me. You gave me two options: respect you (and that absolute cunt of a wife you moved into mom’s bed weeks after she died you bastard) or leave. I couldn’t respect you because you chose to believe her over me. You let her label all the food except the spaghetti for me and AJ to eat. You let her tell me to get a job if I wanted to eat while you told me I couldn’t have one. I couldn’t respect either of you for that so I left.

But anyway, I digress….

You looked at me like I was a piece of meat you could have. That’s why I hid in my room all the time. Remember that orange halter dress I had when I was in high school? I loved it so much. I felt so pretty in it and you had to go and take that away from me by ogling me.

Sure, it was going to happen. I wanted my boyfriend to ogle me. I wanted other cute guys at school to ogle me. That was fine because they were my age.

A girl should never be sexualized by her own god damn father.

You fucking disgusting dog.

I wanted to kill you and AJ when I was five. Did you know about that? I wonder if mom knew. I wonder if anyone knew that. I had plans on how I would do it. I was going to put bleach in your coffee. I didn’t do anything because I knew I would be caught. I was so angry, but I didn’t know why. 

I had forgotten what had happened. I just knew anger. I knew I was afraid of you. I knew I hated the way you looked at me. I hated being around you.

We all did though. 

Mom wanted to divorce you when I was five. She was talking to your mom about it once. We were at grandma’s house. AJ and I were standing in the front room, remember the one she used to put the Christmas tree in so we could see it from the street or see the neighbor guy who played Santa Claus? The room where we played Monopoly and checkers? That room.

Grandma told grandpa that mom wanted to divorce you. That was when mom came straight to me and told me to tell her if I ever didn’t like you.

I wanted to say how much I hated you, but I didn’t. I was scared. 

It wasn’t fair of her to put it on me, but I think about it sometimes. Would she still be here if I had spoken up? If I had been braver, would she have gotten cancer? Would we be happier? Would we be normal? 

Do you realize the pain you’ve caused? Do you care? Do you wonder what would have happened if you and mom had divorced? Did you have to be in control? Did you threaten to take AJ and I if she pursued it?

She was so sad, but had so much to give. Do you realize that? She could talk to anyone like she’d known them forever. She was the most beautiful woman in the world to me and I think you put her in a glass container like a firefly because you didn’t want to give her up. You stifled her, you stifled me, you stifled AJ. You ruined three lives because of how fucking selfish you were.

I didn’t understand why I was so angry all the time. I didn’t understand why AJ got all the attention no matter how hard I tried. You took so much happiness, so much joy, so much life.

I wanted my uncles to do terrible things to me. I wanted to crush weak men. The rage I had was hard to control. 

It wasn’t until a few years ago, just before the pandemic, that I remembered what had happened. I watched a documentary about a girl who admitted to having the same kinds of thoughts I did. It was terrifying and confusing. Everything snapped back into my mind like my brain had tried to hide this terrible memory away with duct tape, but the tape failed and memories flooded back to me.

I realized this is why I lashed out so much when I was a kid. Why I had a bad relationship with food. Why I couldn’t form a decent relationship with anyone. I had to have control over absolutely everything because I was the only one who could keep me safe. Do you understand that? As a *child* I had to control things because I didn’t think anyone would protect me.

I acted out as a way to cry out for help. I didn’t know the words to use. I didn’t understand what had happened so I did what I could to get someone, ANYONE, to help me. But no one listened.

I could have jumped up on top of a table in a crowded room and screamed until my vocal cords snapped and no one would care.

It would just be “Shut up Zoë. AJ’s the only one that matters. Not you. No one cares that you were raped and that you were only three. No one cares. You don’t matter you stupid, pathetic, useless, ugly little cretin!”

Why didn’t I matter to anyone? Why did no one love me enough to protect me? I was a baby. I was so small. Why did you hate me? Why did you do this to me? WHY ME?!?! I wanted to die. I took a handful of pills the night after mom died. I was so scared of what you were going to do to me.

What did you do that led up to you letting your coworkers rape me? Oh yeah, I remember them wearing their camos. 

The weird thing is, I’m not angry with them. I will never have justice for what happened. Not from them, not from you. I’ve struggled thinking a higher power cares about me. It’s taken me a long time to figure out what I believe in religiously and spiritually, but I’m making progress. I’m learning to be grateful for all the bad that’s come into my life and I’m trying to look at things that go wrong in my life and try to understand why it’s happened. 

I’m going to have to learn how to clearly and efficiently communicate my emotions, especially when I’m upset, to my partners. I’m going to have to learn that most people aren’t going to flip out on me when I’m angry about something and trust they’ll listen to me and do what they can to rectify the situation. Do you understand that because of something you let happen to me when I was a child has made me so skittish and pathetic that I can’t ask my partner to turn down his music a little because I am terrified he’ll lash out at me? He has a terrible temper - like you -- fuck he’s so much like you - but it’s not fair to think he’ll get upset about something simple like a volume adjustment. It’s not like I’m asking him for $200.

I have a lot of work to do to become normal again. It’s going to take so much trust in other people and I am scared I’m going to fail and be alone for the rest of my life.

Step one involves getting back out on my own. I’m going to have to leave my current fiancé because I realize he’s not good for me. He just doesn’t care about me. I think he has a lot of personal work to do for himself too. I hope that me leaving will help him see that and it’ll be the catalyst to him becoming his best self.

Step two is to make myself a priority. Eat better, exercise, pay off debt, save money, buy a car, make close friends I can have fun with and trust, start my own business, take a cooking class or two, and dare to be able to dream of having enough to save up for retirement. 

All of this pain over a stupid decision you made when I was three.

I hope you can taste your regret.

I will never have justice and fuck you for that.

But what more can I do? What more can I say? I could keep on hating you and pulling those memories back up. What good does that do for me? It doesn’t. It just keeps hurting me and I’m so sick of being tired and sad. I’m tired of being alone. I’m tired of not having love in my life. I’m tired of not having friends. 

I heard you remarried and are actually happy now. That’s good. I heard AJ got married and had a baby. I’ll never know my nephew or sister in law because I can’t be around you and you’ve all poisoned AJ against me.

I hear you became a born again Christian. 

I pray God will deal with you on my behalf. You’ll get yours in ways I can never carry out.

I’m still angry, I’m still hurt (I’m crying hard right now but this has been cathartic to write). Can you be angry and still forgive? I have to let this go. I have to. I’ll never heal if I don’t and I want so much to heal. It won’t happen overnight, I know that, but in time it will. I just have to take this first step.

I hope one day I find a friend who is close enough to me to be like a sister and her dad is a good man who loves his daughter unconditionally and would do anything to protect her. I hope I can look at their relationship and pretend that was us. Would that be a Band-Aid though?

I was so proud of you being in the military. For a long time. I remember when you went off to Desert Storm and how grandma hung a picture the news station took of me when you were coming back. I had a big floppy hat on and a little American flag. I think I had on a pink and white striped shirt and my hair was short.

You know… I didn’t know you worked with the Special Olympics. That’s really commendable and admirable and I’m proud of you for that. That was really touching to learn.

I’m sorry to hear you have cancer now and are having problems paying for monthly bills. Fuck cancer. It sounds like your prognosis is good and I’m glad to hear of that. Just because I’m angry with you doesn’t mean I wish the worst on you. I’m not you. 

I have to move on from all this. I have to let this go. I have to heal. I have to love myself and learn how to live. I have to be both a mother and a father to myself. I have to protect and care for my inner child the way you and mom should have. I know I treated mom like she was perfect after she died, but I was a kid when she left us. What more could you expect? Did you know she said she wanted to call me Sai? I wish I had been brave enough to ask her why. I presumed she was talking about Sais. I didn’t understand where that came from because I thought our conversation had been pleasant. I didn’t know what I had said to make her say that. I just walked away because I was scared to ask. I wish I knew what she meant.

Anyway, I have a lot to do, so - I forgive you. Completely. I hope you know peace in your golden years. I hope one morning, you wake up early and go for a walk. I hope that morning, it’s misty and the sky looks like it’s made of velvet until the golden orange sun rises and bathes everything in light. I hope that morning is quiet and cool. I hope when that morning happens, you think of me. 

Take care daddy.

 - Zoë