#like devastating love and missing home and grief | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spacecowboyhotch · 9 months

Text

The Bee and the Bear, Chapter 2: Back in the Beef

summary: carmy takes the first step to mending his relationship with you.

pairing: carmy berzatto x fem!reader (Bee)

contents: 18+/NSFW/eventual smut, grief, death of family member, explicit language, pining, longing

wc: 2.3k

an: back with part 2! i really love these two and the whole “will they, won’t they” vibes they give off. like obviously they’re in love and have been avoiding their whole lives, rippppp. let me know if i missed any warnings. thoughts/comments/reblogs are always appreciated!

series masterlist

chapter 1: And Then There Were 4 < |

Carmy usually doesn’t answer the phone– not because he doesn’t want to and not because he doesn’t care but because he’s busy. There’s always something to do. He’s always needed in the present, always necessary with each new step forward and that lends itself to be distant with those who aren’t right in front of you. But, when you call Carmy to let him know that The Beef is his, his phone is in his hand. He nearly drops it, watching as your contact name and an outdated picture of the two of you pop up on his screen.

He doesn’t decline the call, he watches it ring and ring until it goes to voicemail. And when your face disappears from the screen, his chest goes empty. The voicemail icon replaces the missed call notification on his phone and his hands grow clammy. He shoves his phone back into his coat pocket and fishes out a cigarette, lighting it quickly. After a few pulls he feels much more equipped to listen to your message.

This had to be about Mikey.

You’ve given up on him and stopped calling years ago when he failed to reciprocate your attempts at connection. Carmy’s sure that Mikey’s death is the only thing that could make you tolerate him after that. The ship he so desperately wanted to get on but ignored has sailed. But, maybe this call could be a lifeboat. Maybe through loss, he could get you back.

Were you calling to give him your condolences? To chew him out for not showing up to his brother’s funeral? He could take something like that from Sugar or Richie, even his mother– but not from you. From you, it would feel like a knife to the heart. He listens to the voicemail anyway.

Too much time has passed since he’s heard your voice. It's different and yet somehow all the same— a little deeper and less girlish— but still so smooth and sweet. You sound nervous and the beginning makes him chuckle under his breath in a white puff of air from the cold.

“Oh fuck, sorry. H-Hi, Carmen. It’s…it’s me. Nat and I just went through Mikey’s will and well…he left it to you. The Beef I mean, it’s yours. Sugar really needs you to come home to figure this out.”

Carmy goes breathless, eyes shutting as his mind starts to whirl. The restaurant he never got to work in is now his? Mikey had left him The Beef? Mikey had hardly ever trusted him with anything once he went away, and now is the time that he wants his skills? When he’s dead?

There’s a swell of emotions in his chest that make it tighten— grief, anger, devastation— and he’s about to hang up by smashing the phone into the ground when your voice plays again.

Your voice is softer this time, but infused with desperation and even some grit: “Just come home and help your fucking sister. Please, Carmy.”

He has no choice now. Not when you sound like that. He goes inside and quits his job. On the walk home he books a plane ticket and once inside he packs everything he can fit in a suitcase and calls around for storage units.

It’s time to go back to The Beef.

—

Carmy puts the ad out for a sous before he’s even finished packing. A day later when he gets a call from a chef named Sydney.

Sydney’s been waiting for something like this to roll around. She scours and picks through ads no matter the time of day: while she cases her route, in her ice-block of a mail truck on lunch, at 2 a.m. when she’s up writing recipe notes in her tiny black book. Before he’s even seen her resume he can feel that she’s the one but tells her to bring her resume to stag at the end of the week. He needs to feel the click in person before he just hires her on, especially with the shitshow he knows he’s about to put her through.

Mikey wasn’t wrong: The Beef is a mess. Nothing is clean, there’s no technique or nuisance, and the staff is rowdy and combative. Thank god for Sydney and her training, her tact. He’d be drowning otherwise. He was right about her, they’re perfect partners, finishing each other’s thoughts and movements, and ideas.

Richie’s hovering, ignoring his responsibilities to fuck with Carmy when he says, “Still can’t believe you let her walk out like that.”

Carmy meets Richie’s playful gaze with a glare, “Cousin, do me a favor and shut the fuck up.”

“Let who walk out?” Sydney asks curiously, eyes trained on her prep.

“Bee,” Fak supplies, perched on the counter behind them.

“Shut up, Fak,” Carmy pleads.

Sydney glances over her shoulder at him, “And who are you again?”

“I’m Fak. The Fak. Well there are multiple Faks but—“

Carmy cuts him off quickly, not in the mood to hear another one of his rants, “He fixes things for us. By the way Fak, aren’t you suppose to be, I don’t know, fucking working?”

“You got it.”

Sydney tries to keep her voice nonchalant, hoping that Carmy won’t feel pressured by her when she asks, “Who’s Bee?”

“Childhood friend,” He says reluctantly. “Can we focus on prep?”

Sydney ducks her head, that regret from before surging inside of her, “Yes, chef.”

“Thank you, chef.”

For the first time since he’s arrived, Carmy’s grateful for the insanity of The Beef. For the way that Tina and Ebra and Marcus and Richie never stop talking a mile a minute because they distract him from thoughts of you. All the guilt and shame that comes with the way he treated everyone of course, but most of all you. He’d always gotten vibes from you, even before he did on his own, Richie and Mikey and Sugar were trying to get him to open his eyes. Somewhere along the way he convinced himself that freeing you of him was the best for everyone involved.

“Cousin.” Richie’s voice pulls him out of his robotic routine.

Carmy’s eyes dart to the kitchen’s entrance but his hands don’t stop, “Fuck, what is it?”

When Richie’s voice is that quiet and earnest there’s a problem. Your face popping around Richie’s arm is enough of an answer and Carmy’s heart drops into his stomach. This wasn’t how he hoped to see you again. He’s been crafting a text for days, trying to figure out the best way to ask you to talk. But talking about all of it sounds so daunting. The double-edged sword of picking and prodding at all your shared wounds in some hopes of healing.

You glare up at Richie, “Richie, where’s Sugar? Why are you bein’ a fucking weirdo?”

“Oh, another person. Ok, ok,” Sydney nods, before turning back to her prep.

“Bee– what’re you doing here?” Carmy’s voice breaks and he winces at the way it sounds. It's not that he’s disappointed to see you, he just never wants you around this place. He’s all too aware that that sounds too much like Mikey, but quickly pushes the thought into the back of his mind.

Sydney’s curiosity peaks again at the sight of you. What are the odds that the seemingly infamous Bee would show up after Carmy avoided talking about her? 100%. She waves her knife at you, “Hi, I’m Sydney. Carmy’s sous.”

You smile at the woman, eyes lingering on her beautiful, patterned scarf for a moment, “Hi Sydney, good to meet you. Since Richie’s not answering my questions, have you seen Sugar?”

“Sugar’s not here,” Richie says simply, leaning up against the wall as eyes flicker between you and Carmy.

“She’s not here,” You repeat, your face twisting with confusion.

Carmy wipes his hands on his apron, stepping over to you with eyes full of concern, “Why? What’s wrong? What’s up?”

The way he’s looking at you makes your heart flutter in your chest. Goddamn those fucking blue eyes, so soft and so sad. “Oh, it’s nothing, really. She just— she told me to drop this off to her. Why would she not be here?

Carmy groans, scrubbing his hand over his face. His fucking sister. Always having to step in, always having to meddle and get in her hands in places they don’t belong. She’d set you— both of you up.

“I’ll be right back, Syd.”

“Gotcha.”

“Come with me,” He murmurs. You realize a beat too late that he's talking to you, so he grabs your hand and pulls you back to Mikey’s office. To his office. He releases your hand quickly, “Uh, what is it?”

You ignore the sweat that slicks your palms, trying not to think about whose it is, “Some paperwork that you’d need for the restaurant? I think it’s the deed, y’know switching it from Mikey to you. You’ll need it for like inspection or taxes or—“

He takes the envelope from your hands, his fingers brushing your own, “Thank you, thank you.”

“Yeah, of course.”

He does that thing he always does, squinting at you for a moment that shows he’s turning a thought over and over in his head.

You smile awkwardly at him, though that familiar look on his face endears him to you, “What?”

“Do you wanna hang out tomorrow night?” He asks in a mumbled rush.

He speaks so quickly that you almost don’t understand him, except that you’ve been waiting for him to ask you that question since you were 18.

“What?”

He shrugs, running a hand through his messy hair, “Hang out, do you want to like do something?”

“With me?”

He raises a brow like he doesn’t know what you mean, “Yeah, you could come to my apartment? I could cook.”

“Oh. Um, yeah, sure. It’s been a while.”

He laughs, nodding a few times, “Yeah it has.”

You chuckle, licking your lips, “I imagine this is what Sugar wanted.”

His eyes track your mouth before he can stop himself but he forces his gaze back up, “Yeah, she’s smart like that.”

“She is. I’ll let her know her plan worked,” You tease.

He laughs again— a short, bright sound, “Cool, cool. So, I’ll text you my address?”

“Yeah, that’d be great. Should I bring anything?”

“Some wine, maybe?”

“Any kind?”

“Anything you want, Bee.”

And god the way he says your name. The way he’s looking at you again with those stupidly pretty blue eyes. You never stood a chance.

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

He sighs in relief now that the hard part is done, his smile widening at the thought of you sitting at his kitchen table, “Heard.”

You snort, shaking your head at his stupid chef talk, “Heard.”

The two of you are too wrapped up in each other, floating in your bubble of awkward bliss to have heard that Sydney’s knife stopped chopping, or that Richie stopped fucking with someone else. Too occupied to hear their steps get closer and closer to the office, or that the tips of their heads are peaking around the corner. That is until you playfully push his shoulder, pushing his body in a way that brings them into his peripheral vision.

Carmy’s eyes go wide for a moment, his head tilting in inquiry as he looks at Sydney and Richie, “You two joinin’ forces, huh?”

Sydney gives you a sheepish smile, her eyes full of regret, “We were just— we were um—“

“Good to meet you, Sydney. Richie,” You say as you snake between the two of them.

Richie dips to press a kiss to your temple, “See you, sweetheart.”

Carmy returns to his station without a word to either of them even when they join him back in the kitchen. For a while there’s silence again– though this time it is clearly awkward, full of things unsaid.

Breaking the silence, Richie does his best impression of Carmy, “Hang out, do you want to like do something?”

Carmy points the knife at him, scowling, “Oh, fuck you Richie! Why don’t you fuck off.”

Sydney tries to hold in her laughter and fails, giggling, “She must be down pretty for that to have worked.”

Carmy’s brows raise so high it’s comical, “Oh, really?”

“I’m fuckin’ with you, Carm.”

“Yeah, fuck you, fuck the both of you,” He says through a laugh.

Richie does fuck off, going back out to the front of house to do his job for once. It leaves Sydney and Carmy in the hustle and bustle of prep again.

She bumps his shoulder with her own, “You deserve it, Carmy.”

His mouth twitches as he glances over at her and when their eyes meet, he knows she’s being genuine. “Thanks, Syd. Can we like, maybe never talk about this again?”

“Totally, yeah. For sure. Absolutely,” She agrees easily and they both laugh, deep in their bellies.

–

You drive home with a lightness in your step, one you are pointedly trying to ignore because this is nothing but two friends seeing each other after being apart for some while. You have a partner to go home, a life to go home to. And Carmy’s never given you any indication that this was more than friendship. He wouldn’t have left you out in the cold if it was more…right? He wouldn’t do this to you if he loved you like that, would he? It doesn’t matter how many times you try to rationalize what has and hasn’t happened between you and Carmy– it never makes it hurt less.

That night a wave of nostalgia washes over you as you lay in your childhood bedroom, thinking about Carmy. You feel 16 again, staring up at the faded purple paint covered in droves of flowers. As you close your eyes, you answer some of those questions that popped into your mind at the thought of calling him.

He is the machine you thought he’d become. But his eyes are just as deep, but sadder. His laugh is the same, a little awkward but just as genuine. The flush in his cheeks proves that his heart still beats. He is that boy you fell in love with all those years ago, even as the man he’s become.

He’s your Carmy. Your Bear. It makes you ache.

| > chapter 3: Like a Bear to a Hive

18+ carmy taglist: @treefingers, @mrsdominickstark, @princess-of-fanfics, @whore-for-murdock, @xxxstormyninixxx, @dreamingwithlens, @thecraziestcrayon, @jam1esl0v4, @lilylovelyxo, @jadeittic, @jotarokuj0, @bunnysthngs, @gcidrvsh, @mistalli, @luvr-bunnyy, @s3xymoonman, @salinaiacono6

If you ask to be added to the taglist but didn’t verify you’re 18+ you will not be added!

#carmy x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x fem!reader #carmen berzatto x fem!reader #carmy x you #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto fic #the bear fanfiction #the bee and the bear #arson writes the bear #not sfw

402 notes · View notes

emeritusemeritus · 8 months

Text

Turn back the hands of time. [Weasley twins x Reader]

Title: Turn back the hands of time.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader, (George Weasley x Reader later)

Timeline: Set six months after Fred’s Death.

Summary: What if you got the gift of time just to relive a moment with your deceased beloved one more time?

Warnings: Fred does the big sleep. Death. Grief, tears, emotional trauma. Use of a time turner (setting my own rules here). Mentions of marriage and kids. So much pain. McGonagall being a queen. Reader is implied Gryffindor.

I apologise, this one hurts. 🥀

The six months that had passed since the love of your life died had been the most intolerable, excruciating months of your life. Nothing brought you comfort anymore; every single thing in your life was attached to memories of him, bittersweet and painful memories you were forced to relive each and everyday by simply existing. Each day from the second you woke you were reminded of the painful fact that you had to carry on living whilst he couldn't. There was no future for you anymore, no more dreams of small weddings and long honeymoons, no blessings of little ones or fantasies of being an author, holed up in a small little cabin hidden away in the forest like you'd always planned with Fred.

He would aparate into the shop each day and you would have a home office with a big, fancy writing desk placed directly in front of a large window to view the scenery around you as you wrote. After closing the shop and settling up for the night, Fred would return home and you'd cook together, spending evenings on the decking under twinkling lights as you appreciated your simple life. You'd had it all planned out in fine detail, the future you were no longer destined to have.

George was naturally devastated too, utterly broken by the loss of his twin brother. You two, being the closest people to Fred, had found just a smidge of comfort in each other initially but over time Fred's loss had built a wedge between you both, each of you only serving as a reminder of what you had both lost.

You'd not only lost your soulmate but also your best friend along the way and the family that had taken you in and loved you as one of their own.

You'd pulled away from them all the same week of Fred's funeral, finding it unfathomably hard to be around them all, the missing piece constantly highlighted in the sea of familiar red hair.

A good day for you these days meant accomplishing something as mundane as showering or eating some sort of meal. You knew you'd lost weight, the clothes you always wore hung off your body now the same way Fred's clothes used to. But you couldn't seem to stomach anything, the lingering pain and grief creating a sickness in you that couldn't be soothed.

The pain never truly ever left you but it did come in waves. Most the time is was like a background noise, a constant humming that ran through you like a curse but sometimes it was panic inducing pain, taking away your ability to breathe and function as haunting sobs wracked your body until you were crippled with agony, regret and hopeless longing.

You'd had a good day, as far as they went, managing to crawl out of bed and into the shower before trying to distract yourself with some muggle tv when a simple letter, delivered by owl, took your breath away once more.

Dear y/n,

I hope this letter finds you well, my thoughts have been with you each and every day since the battle. In Dumbledore's honour, we are conducting a memorial for the fallen and I would like to personally invite you to celebrate in the life of the loved ones we have lost. Fred's life will be celebrated by his staff, friends, family and fellow students as we pay respect to their bravery and sacrifice.

I would be honoured if you would join us.

With profound sympathy,

Minerva Mcgonagall.

You couldn't breathe again, tears streaming down your face as you read the letter through misty eyes, having to blink away the tears constantly to refocus your vision.

You didn't want to go. Your initial instinct was to burn the letter and hide from it, isolating yourself further and further until no one of your past life could ever find you again, lest contact you by owl. But you couldn't do that to Fred. He deserved everyone he loved and that loved him to celebrate his life, to tell stories of his triumphs and notorious endeavours in his time at Hogwarts. You couldn't be selfish this time, not for your Fred.

——

As you stepped into the all too familiar castle alone, you felt a dichotomy of feelings barrage you all at once. This had been your home since you were 11 years old, the place where you finally had a sense of belonging, where your best memories had been made, the place that you had met and fell in love with Fred Weasley and the place he'd died.

The castle had undergone extensive repairs and looked better than ever since the destruction from the war. Walking through the halls you felt both soothed and conflicted, the trembling of your hands never once leaving as you anticipated seeing everyone again.

"Y/n/n?" A familiar voice called from behind you, making your eyes close momentarily from the pain in their voice. You turned to see Ginny stood there, staring at you with a worried look on her face. She looked well, pretty, in sharp contrast to you.

"How?" She began to say as she walked towards you, thinking better of the statement before throwing her arms around you, "I'm so glad you're here."

You hummed a reply, already feeling an invisible weight tugging at you as you held your friend, the sister in law you'd once anticipated.

"Everyone's through here," she says, taking you by the hand as she led you towards the great hall, before you could protest. Your stomach roiled with nerves as you tried to keep your eyes down, not ready to see everyone again.

"Y/n?" A voice called out, the tone of shock and worry so intricately laced in the maternal tone it was hard to hear it. Molly. You raised your eyes just in time to see her move quickly towards you and embrace you tightly, the all too familiar smell of her and their home encasing you entirely. You bit your lip hard to stop the tears from falling, already succumbing to your overwhelming emotions as hard as you tried to deny them. Each Weasley took the time to give you a warm hug, even Arthur who had cradled you in his arms surprisingly tight.

When the last hug didn't come, you looked up with tear stricken eyes towards the body that had made no effort to walk towards you, George. He looked just as haunted as you, tired and frail as he looked upon you with sad eyes, tears silently falling down his face. You stared at each other for a moment, unsure of how to proceed until your lip quivered and a small sob escaped you. George rushed forward and pulled you straight into his chest, neither of you caring about the tears and sobs that fell from you both, too fixed upon each other to give a single care about the onlookers.

"I'm so sorry," you both said at exactly the same time, earning a little chuckle from you both at the ridiculousness of it all.

You and George never left each others side the entire time, clutching hold of each other's hand as you navigated the painful memories and eulogies, each giving a squeeze intermittently to let the other know that you were still there.

Mcgonagall had called you away some time before the official memorial had began, walking with you towards the office she now held that was once Dumbledore's. George had reluctantly dropped your hand with a quiet, frantic whisper that you'd better be back soon.

"It's good to see you y/n," she says, gesturing for you to step towards the desk. You'd always felt a kinship with you previous head of house, both of you having a flair for transfiguration and underneath the sometimes harsh exterior, she had a wicked sense of humour.

"You too professor," you replied, trying to force an honest smile onto your face, not having used those muscles in months.

"Oh professor," she laughs, "call me Minerva," you says, scandalised at the notion of you calling her professor. You smiled warmly, this time not having to force the smile, feeling surprisingly comforted by her.

"You know, I always knew you and Mr Weasley would become an item, right from the day he turned your water goblet into a rock," she smiled, taking her seat as she gazed up at you fondly, "I am so sorry for your loss."

You chuckled at the memory, for once not feeling complete anguish at the thoughts of you and Fred. It was your first transfiguration class and you'd been tasked with turning your pets into water goblets as every first year is expected to do. You'd succeeded first try and Fred had then turned said water goblet into a small rock before your very eyes. To his surprise you had barked out a laugh instead of cursing him out for the ridiculous prank and you'd been firm friends with both the twins ever since. Only in your third year did you begin to catch real feelings for him and by your fourth year you were completely smitten. Before fifth year began, just before the Weasley's trip to Egypt, you were officially dating, finally saying I love you and the rest was history, never parting from each other once you'd found your person. You'd attended the yule ball together, been hand in hand for every task, even as the twins gambled their way through the games. You'd spent hours upon hours inventing, perfecting and packaging their inventions with them and had been been included every step of the way in designing and opening the store. You smiled in pure nostalgia as Mcgonagall's comment triggers a pool of memories for you.

"I've never told anyone this, except for Albus, but when I was a young woman, I lost the love of my life too," she says, bringing you back to the present. You look at her with a sympathetic look though with wide eyes, shocked by her revelation. "He didn't die so it's not exactly the same but he might as well have." Her eyes begin to cloud over as you can see painful memories coming to the forefront of her mind.

"I was a much younger woman then, having graduated from Hogwarts and securing a position in the ministry, the department of magical law enforcement. Before I left for London, I returned home and met a local farm boy, a muggle. Fred Weasley reminded me a great deal of him, perhaps that's why his passing has been so hard for me aswell. He was handsome, clever and so terribly quick witted he even gave me a run my money".

You huffed out a little laugh, knowing how fierce and funny she could be underneath the professional exterior. She sent you a warm smile as you listened intently to her story.

"He proposed not long after our whirlwind summer, right in the middle of a ploughed field owned by his father. I didn't hesitate for a second and said yes straight away, blindsided by love. After I'd accepted, I realised that the future I would be creating for myself would cut me off from the Wizarding world completely, just as my mother had when she married my father. I realised I couldn't live a life the only place I felt like I belonged, having to lock my wand away for ever, unhappily drifting through a life in which I'd rejected the gift I'd been given. Three days later I left for London alone though I never stopped loving Dougal."

"What happened to him?" You asked quietly, not wanting to upset her. She sighed in return, looking down at the desk.

"My mother informed me years later that he married the daughter of another farm owner in Caithness, I never heard anything else after that."

"I'm so sorry Minerva," you said honestly, feeling a tightness in your chest at hearing her story. Truthfully it had been your own form of distraction from your own pain and you were immensely thankful for that.

She sent you a sad smile, nodding her head gently as she looked up at you.

"You're probably wondering why I told you all of this," she says with a smile. Before you can protest, she raises her hand warmly like a mother would and smiled, "I have two points to sharing this personal story with you. The first, is that time truly does heal wounds. You may feel as if you will never be rid of this pain, not knowing how to go on or feeling as if you don't want to, and that my dear is perfectly understandable but every month will get easier, every year you will begin to feel less pain and more pleasant nostalgia until you find a version of yourself that had bloomed from the pain."

Your eyes had filled with tears again at her kind words. Something in her tone made you truly believe that this was true and that you did have a chance of healing eventually, but nothing was comforting enough to immediately relieve the pain, nor set your mind at ease.

"The second, is a gift of sorts," she says, reaching into the top drawer of her desk which she unlocks with a wave of her wand. You frowned gently, not knowing how to respond as she pulls out a little wooden box. She casts another spell and the box opens with an intricate unravelling of the wooden box.

Your breath catches in your throat at you recognise the contents immediately; the time turner that Hermione had been given by Dumbledore all those years ago.

"I'm sure you remember this, as I believe yourself and miss Granger made excellent use of this in your third and fifth respective years." You could do nothing but nod, overwhelmed at the sudden implication of the possibilities of the gift.

"As you know, nothing can be altered by reversing the time, everything will always happened exactly as it always had. I know how tempting it could be to try and fix the projection of our lives, but consider this a gentle warning as to why it is not practical to do so," she says, handing you the time turner. You feel the cold, heavy weight of the time piece in your palm as you inspect it, remembering every detail.

"I always wish I'd gotten more time with Dougal, even just to relive a singular moment or to see him one last time but I was never brave enough, never wanting to jeopardise how far I'd come in my healing. But for you, the gift of time could be invaluable."

You began to cry silently, tears unable to be held back any longer at her kind gesture.

"Thank you, so much," you said through the tears, struggling to hold back your sobs. She immediately stood and moved to wrap her arms around your shoulders, her cape falling over you as if she was protecting you entirely.

"You always were one of my very favourite students," she says, rubbing your shoulder. "Despite the trouble, the mischief was usually rather funny," she admitted. Both of you laughed for a moment at her words, your free hand coming up to wipe at your eyes.

"If I were you, I'd chose a memory that you weren't originally around for, you'll get more time with him. Unless you want to watch from afar," she says, straightening herself out, though keeping a firm hand on your shoulder.

You wracked your brain for a time that you weren't around Fred, finding it hard to think of any specifics. Showing up randomly at the burrow would only pose deep, unanswerable questions that you couldn't explain, everything had to fit to the exact projection of exactly what had happened.

A vague memory of Harry popped into your mind, a tale he'd told about the twins that had been endearing to say the least. You remembered him telling you about seeing Fred and George comforting a young boy in the courtyard that had been victim to Umbridge's unorthodox punishments whilst you were in detention with Snape. Perfect. There was no chance of you accidentally showing up, knowing that you'd gone straight to the common room after that particular detention and it wouldn't interrupt the greater timeline.

You closed your eyes and estimated how many turns you'd need, settling on a little over three full turns, praying it would be enough as you fixated on a certain point.

Immediately your sense of space and time began to shift as you broke through whatever dimension you were entering as the time turner rumbled in your hand.

You were immediately met by the sight of Snape's classroom door which was thankfully sealed shut. You ran immediately out to the courtyard, desperation and adrenaline coursing through your body as you fought to get to your destination quickly, not knowing how much time you'd have.

Your knees nearly buckled upon hearing hushed whispers around the corner from you, tucked away in one of the corridors.

"It's not as bad as it seems, see, it's fading already."

"You can hardly see ours anymore and the pain stops eventually,"

"Yeah."

You walk around the corner and your lip instantly quivers at seeing him. You had to act strong, be strong for him so he wouldn't worry, knowing you couldn’t change the trajectory of time but it was so hard.

He was crouched on the floor beside the stone bench where the young boy sat sobbing with George sat next to him trying to comfort the sad boy, showing him his own scars on the back of his hand.

Fred's hair was a little longer than it had been when he died, something that you had always loved on him, secretly preferring when his hair looked a little overgrown and shaggy. He wore a blue striped polo shirt with a mustard yellow long sleeve shirt underneath and his dark trousers, all of which complemented him so well. In the time between the current events and his death, you'd rarely seen him wear anything other than a fancy suit when he worked at the shop or a simple pair of sweatpants when he got home, usually exhausted. It was so refreshing to see him look so perfectly Fred, reminding you of the boy you'd fallen hopelessly in love with all those years ago.

George also looked great, wearing a matching outfit with contrasting colours that complimented him just as well. He looked well and happy and you had to hold back another quiver of your lip at seeing the boy you loved like your own brother be so different to how you knew him now.

Fred noticed you almost immediately as you walked around the corner, stood silently observing him beside the stone pillar and the wickedly playful grin spread all over his face upon seeing you. He sprang up from his crouched position and raised his eyebrows at you in surprise.

You immediately flung yourself into his arms and he caught you seamlessly with a little 'oof' at the sudden impact. Your eyes filled with the tears you were trying so hard to stop as the familiarity and comfort of being in his arms surrounded you. Nothing felt like this. You fit so perfectly into his arms that he had once mentioned that your body must have been moulded from his own, your head resting perfectly on his chest, directly over his beating heart. His scent surrounded you like a delicious fog, the familiar scents of sweet marshmallow and dark notes of whiz bang smoke clung to your nostrils as you took deep breaths in trying to fill your body with his scent so that you'd always remember.

You felt like you could finally breathe again, finally home where you belonged.

His arms had locked around your shoulders, keeping you firmly against his body, no doubt sensing your need for him in that moment. His hand played with the strands of your hair as he bent down to kiss the top of your head.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" He asks quietly, only loud enough for you to hear, considering you still had an audience. Hearing him address you, calling you sweetheart had your world shattering and you could no longer stop the tears from falling down your face.

"F-Fred?" You said with a shaky breath, trying desperately to hold back the sobs that built up within your body.

"I'm here, I'm right here," he said soothingly, rocking you both back and forth gently as he pressed another kiss to your head.

"What's happened? Did Snape do something? Umbridge?" He says, pulling you back slightly so that he can look you in the eye, his worry clearly evident on his face, the protective side of him coming out as he considered that someone had hurt you.

You shook your head quickly, knowing you couldn't say anything that would work as an excuse.

"No, I just, I just needed to see you," you said honestly, the innocence and the weight of your words tugging at your heart, knowing he would never know how much you meant it.

His brown pulled together quickly in a slight frown before it disappeared off his face as he reached up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

You tried to push away all the intrusive thoughts that plagued your mind, things that only propelled you to feeling sadder, things you wanted to tell him and all the things you missed about him but you couldn't.

"I love you Freddie," you said, looking directly into his eyes, watching as they sparkled and an honest smile pulled at his lips.

"Not as much as I love you sweetheart," he replied, pulling you in for another hug, though this one was more playful as he squeezed you, making a laugh erupt from your mouth.

You suddenly pulled away and looked towards George who looked on in equal parts confusion and worry. The young boy had gone, no doubt feeling awkward about the whole interaction, leaving you with just the twins.

You broke away from Fred and moved towards George who stood instinctively as you approached him. You threw your arms around his neck and he fumbled awkwardly for a moment before moving his hands to wrap around you, holding you to him.

"I love you Georgie," you said. He chuckled against you.

"What the bloody hell happened in that potions room?" He jokes but suddenly squeezes you tighter and replies that he loves you too.

"Trying to steal my woman brother?" Fred says from beside us, his tone just as joking and playful as you'll always remember it to be.

"Maybe, I am the better looking one after all," George jokes as you slip out of his hold.

"My future wife disagrees, don't you sweetheart," Fred says, pulling you back over to his side.

You felt your heart shatter at his words and you tried desperately to act neutral under the circumstances, knowing that he had referred to you that way since fifth year. It had always filled you with pride and giddiness each and every time he would call you his future wife, the butterflies in your tummy fluttering wildly at his determination to marry you.

Somehow you found your strength and like magic you slipped into the moment, casting all thoughts aside as you spent your time wisely.

"Sorry George," you smirked, turning back to face Fred to really look at him, knowing that your time would soon be up.

"You think I'll make a good wife?" You ask Fred, who beams down at you with a smile as he slips his arm around you again.

"The best, only one I'll ever need," he smirks, his hand wandering on your waist to reach down and pat your bum.

"I'd do anything to marry you," you said, your voice breaking slightly towards the end as your emotions overcame you once again at the deeper, more painful meaning of your words.

"I have to go," you said to Fred, knowing that you couldn't linger around much longer. "Don't mention this again please, I don't want Snape to know I snuck out of detention," you lied. He nodded in understanding and you moved forward to give him a kiss, pouring your heart and soul into it as you clutched onto to the collar of his polo shirt, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

"I think you should get detention with Snape more often," he says, still holding you tightly to him. You laugh and nod enthusiastically as you spend your last moments really looking at him, trying to commit every inch of his skin to memory.

The little scar above his eyebrow, the mark on his nose, the curve and little bump on the bridge of his nose, the way his hair shaped his face perfectly.

His greeny brown eyes, always glittering with mischief, that's what you'd always remember of him.

"Bye Freddie, I love you" you said, barely able to contain your tears as you walked quickly away, hiding around the corner as you started to sob. You flicked the time turner back just the right amount and tolu felt yourself once again being pulled in every direction until you landed back in McGonagall’s office.

She’s still sat at the desk, signing some papers when you return and she offers you a kind smile, seeing your tear stained cheeks.

“Thank you,” you said, owing her all the gratitude in the world for gifting you the opportunity to see your beloved once again as you placed the time turner delicately back in the box on the table. She nodded warmly and smiled again.

“It’ll be here for you whenever you need it,”

She says, placing it back into the drawer desk, “now, shall we begin the ceremony?” She stands and gestures for you to join her and you do, already feeling stronger by the minute, like your brief visit with Fred had recharged you and given you enough strength to continue.

George slipped his hand into yours the second you were reunited, both of you sitting together as Mcgonagall lead the remembrance ceremony. It was hard to hear Fred’s name and the memories of him shared around the room, but you’d found a strength you didn’t know you had. You cried, you laughed and you celebrated him in every way you could, in the way that he had always deserved.

Epilogue

As the years drew on, you’d visited McGonagall’s office numerous times to visit Fred as it were, only doing so when you felt you desperately needed to, which happened to be less and less over the years as you found your strength. Sometimes you watched from afar as you both interacted, seeing the love between you and sometimes you intercepted memories so that you could interact with him, smell him and feel his skin against yours.

You never dated, feeling no pull or desire for another man in your life, never able to commit to anyone else, knowing that they would always come second to your true love. George had become something to you which you could never explain, a love of sorts which teetered between friendship and more, though it was hard to cross that line, knowing that anything you did would be irreversible. Years passed with you both stuck in limbo, until one day the line was crossed and you found no guilt or pain on the other side of the line but instead found comfort and love. You’d moved in together to a little cabin in the woods, the dream that you’d once had with Fred that George fulfilled for you and one sadness filled night had changed everything when you both sought comfort in each other, needing to feel like you weren’t alone anymore.

It was a natural progression to love George, and you both found that the only way of moving past your pain was to accept that Fred would always be the other half to both of you, with the rest completely dedicated to each other. You both knew you were the only ones that would be able to have this together, that somehow the gap left by Fred would remain but it would be comfortable, like an additional blessing to your relationship. No deciding between the two, no competition and no guilt at loving both.

You married a year after moving in together and you were happy, finally a Weasley just like you’d always wanted. You’d expected to be conflicted and initially you had been, but you and George were perfect for each other and you started a new life together, always keeping Fred in your hearts but finally putting yourselves and your relationship first.

When your first son arrived not a year after your wedding, you’d both cried tears of utter joy when he was born with fiery red hair and little freckles, a complete clone of both his daddy and his uncle Fred.

You didn’t name him after Fred, nor Gred or Forge as George had somewhat jokingly suggested throughout your pregnancy, but instead chose to give him his own name, letting him forge own legacy in this calm world, one where he would always know about his uncle Freddie and how he died a hero.

#emeritusemeritus #harry potter #fred weasley #fred weasley x you #emeritusemerituswrites #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley masterlist #george weasley x you #george weasley #George Weasley x reader #angst #Fred Weasley angst #weasley twins x you #george weasley imagines #weasley twins masterlist

288 notes · View notes

cultpastorkevin · 2 months

Text

Kevin Day & Grief:

how can you grieve the loss of an abuser?

aight let’s just get right into yet another psycho-analysis of Kevin Day and his messed up life; I’ll be using quotes from the EC

“Kevin does not react well to Riko's death at all, and this is a problem for a while considering what Riko's done to the Foxes. But Kevin & Riko have a long and complicated history.”

It is a very heavy and sharp type of grief to carry, when the person you mourn is someone who did terrible things to you and others. It’s not easy. It makes you feel guilty for missing them, makes you full of regret and “what ifs”. Grief is not rational, it’s something that tries to drown and take everything it can with it. Kevin is aware of what Riko was like, was well versed in the things he did and said. But he knew Riko before it all, he knew Riko when they could barely put their own shoes on. He saw Riko’s changes firsthand. He’s grieving everything that Tetsuji stole from the both of them. He remembers Riko in ways no one else ever will. The burden of seeing someone you love turn into the very thing you’re afraid of, is a heavy one to bear. It is even more heavy to know that everything that was good about them, dies with you.

Anger is always quick to rear its ugly head after the initial shock and the tears wear off, and it’s an emotionally bloody affair. Anger caused by sadness is one of the most gut wrenching kinds of anger, because there’s really nothing you can do about it but let it pass. You’re stuck feeling it, you have no choice. So yeah, Kevin was definitely angry. Angry at what Riko did to him, angry at the fact he’s outliving him, angry that he’s gone and angry because fuck, he shouldn’t be feeling this way, it’s not fair to everyone he’s harmed. For the first time in his life, he might’ve even hated Exy. All it has done is take from him the people that he loves, and playing is an eternal and constant reminder that he has succeeded Kayleigh and Riko. Picking up that racquet reminds him of his hand, and in turn, of Riko, who even at his worst was still loved by Kevin. And at the lowest points of his grief, seated in a bathtub and drunk off his ass, sorrow sometimes made Kevin wish it had been him instead.

“Wymack has to send the rest of the team back to South Carolina with Abby. Kevin is too numb to be moved yet.”

Kevin was so devastated he could not be moved; whether this is meant literally or in a “he didn’t have the energy to leave the house” kinda way, it’s still sad. Being so crippled by an emotion as heavy as grief that you cannot leave the home is hard. It’s painful. You’re dissociated and everything is a blur. You don’t register time passing. Eating, drinking, doing basic things all go out the window. And we all know what Kevin is like. He’s a routine oriented, night practice, calorie counting health nut who lives and breathes exy. He was so distressed that this man did not move and that means most likely, he did not fucking practice either. Kevin’s life ground to a halt for a second time because of Riko.

“It's a problem for a while because the Foxes' knee-jerk reaction to his devastated reaction is ugly. It'll take time for them to try and understand where he's coming from. Even Aaron has an awful opinion on the matter since he knows Riko was behind Drake. Renee attempts to play peacekeeper, but Wymack is the one who has to break his rule to stay out of their personal lives so he can try and fix things. He, Abby, and Betsy bring the Foxes to Abby's place two & three at a time to let them react and tirade in private. It's not enough, but it's a start.”

Kevin is not allowed to grieve without being guilted or punished for it in some way. He has never known a grief experience where he was completely supported during it. When his mother died, he was stuck with Tetsuji and Riko. He never learned how to grieve properly or healthily, and being attacked by the foxes for even feeling something didn’t fucking help. Wymack is the only (and probably first) person in his life who stayed by his side for this. Wymack went to the funeral, he stayed until Kevin could handle going back home. Wymack saw Kevin shatter and knew that he needed time to try to glue himself back together before the team inevitably caused him to crack again.

Wymack, Abby and Bee having to step in is all kinds of upsetting. Imagine having to basically set up impromptu vent sessions for your entire team because they cannot keep their personal feelings to themselves and can’t let a teammate grieve in peace. Granted the foxes aren’t exactly pinnacles of emotional regulation or maturity, but the least they could’ve done was leave Kevin alone (and let Neil and Andrew handle him)

“By the time they meet up again in the fall, the Foxes have attempted to forgive him his issues, because they understand from a logical standpoint that it's conditioned devotion.”

The foxes have every right to not grieve Riko, they have every right to hate him. They didn’t have the right to take it out on Kevin and isolate him even further from the group. It is a jarring feeling to be looked down on for mourning a loss. He did not need to be forgiven for his mourning. He did not need to apologize for missing Riko. His grief wasn’t something to be loathed. At the end of the day, Riko and Kevin were everything and nothing to each other. They operated on a delicate line of balance that shouldn’t have been able to be created. Their push and pull dictated every breath both of them took. Yeah, it was conditioned devotion in the end. But it didn’t start that way.

“Kevin Day goes on to be hailed the best player in the sport, the striker all future generations are compared to. The Jackie Robinson, the Wayne Gretsky, the bend it like Beckham. When the ERC constructs a Hall of Fame, Kevin Day is the first player to be honored.”

When Kevin received this honor, for a split second, he wished Riko was alive to share it. They started this dream together, after all. Only one of them being alive at the end is perhaps the biggest anguish of all.

#aftg #all for the game #kevin day #edgar allan ravens #riko moriyama #palmetto state foxes #kevin day character study #psycho analysis of aftg #cultpastorkevin

97 notes · View notes

darthgloris · 7 months

Text

Our Padawan III

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x fem!Jedi!reader

Warnings: death, heartbreak, angst, grief, sad Ani, traumatized Ahsoka

Summary: After the chaos in the gorge, Ahsoka and Anakin descend the cliffs to look for Y/N. The young girl finds her sprawled out on the ground and hopelessly tries to get her to wake up. When Anakin finds his Padawan trying to make her get up, his heart crumbles. As he grieves the love of his life, Ahsoka guilts herself into believing it was her fault.

A/N: and here comes the saddest one of them all! A moment of silence for Mufasa and Y/N. I promise that after this one I'm publishing lots of fluff!

Song: Mufasa Dies - Hans Zimmer

Our Padawan // Our Padawan II

☆☆☆

Ahsoka hopped down from the rocks and the thump of her feet echoed through the dead-silent gorge.

She tried to look for her Master through the clouds of sand and dirt. She caught sight of a silhouette under the broken tree and her heart clenched as she walks towards it. She takes slow, careful steps as she inspects the unmoving figure.

Y/N was on her side, hand curled on the floor by her face, hair tousled up and drooping over her forehead. She looked peaceful, almost asleep, except something felt different... she didn't have that spark of life.

No.

She has to be okay.

"Master?" Ahsoka looked at her, desperate for a sign of life. "Y/N, come on."

She walked closer and pulled on her arm, "You gotta get up." Completely still and a bit cold, her arm flopped back into place.

"Y/N..?" She whimpered. "We gotta go home..."

The young girl moved to stand near her head and tried to shake her awake.

But she wasn't moving.

"Help!" She called, her hopeless yell echoing through the gorge, now fallen onto deaf ears. "Anakin!"

Ahsoka walked back and forth through the gorge, screaming for anyone to respond. "Rex! R2..!"

Her shoulders slumped in defeat, but she still refused to admit her Master was gone. Forever. "Help..." her breath shook as tears filled her eyes, but she didn't let them spill. Instead, she walked over to Y/N's still figure and knelt down next to her, resting her head in her lap. "Come on, I know you're still there... you have to be..."

Footsteps echoed through the silence and her head snapped up, looking for the person. "Snips?"

"Master!" She said and rushed to hug him.

Anakin's heart crumbled and seemed to never be able to be put back together again.

The love of his life, his angel, his Y/N... lifeless on the floor like an animal.

He dropped to his knees beside her, defeated, devastated, destroyed.

Every moment they ever spent together flashed before his eyes like a movie: all the secret meetings and the kisses and the nights spent together... all gone. It was all gone.

His eyes filled with tears as Ahsoka tried to grab onto his arms and pull him towards her. "Master, help, please... I can't get her to get up..."

"Snips..." he couldn't even put the words together. He couldn't. "She's... she's not going to get up..."

The girl seemed to get lost in herself for a moment, and Anakin pulled his favourite person's dead body onto his lap, holding her close for the last time. He held her cold, peaceful face over his chest, right where she would rest after a long day. He started sobbing uncontrollably as he clutched onto her for dear life. He couldn't bring himself to let her go.

"I'm sorry, Master..." Ahsoka spoke up, her voice heavy with tears.

"Snips, don't do this, please..." Anakin begged. "You have nothing to apologise for."

"It's... it's my fault..." She said as she looked at her broken lightsabers in the distance.

"No, it's not, Snips, don't say that..." he denied without missing a beat.

"She'd... she'd still be alive..." she thought out loud, trembling as she took a few steps back. "I can't, I'm sorry..."

"Ahsoka, wait!" Anakin called, but she had already taken off running. His breathing quickened as his eyes flickered from the dust his Padawan kicked up to Y/N's pale and tranquil face. He couldn't take it anymore.

He let out a blood curdling wail of grief. And then he kept screaming. He screamed until his throat ripped raw, until he felt his voice dying into his trachea.

Anakin felt numb. He felt as if he lost the sense of time, place and touch. He couldn't get up, he couldn't pull his skin away from hers. He just couldn't. Because he knew that if he let go, he'd never touch her again. If he walked away from her, he'd see her once more at her grave and then never again.

...

Ahsoka's step faltered as she heard someone speaking and a response by commlink.

"Did you do it?"

"I did. She's dead."

She gasped silently as she poked her face out from the wall of stone. Dooku was on the line with someone... with Palpatine?

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Skywalker's screaming over his loss and the little girl felt so guilty about it that she ran away."

"So what are you waiting for? Go find her and kill her!"

As if on cue, the Sith turned around and caught the girl spying. She yelped and stumbled away, rushing back to look for Anakin.

She reached the broken tree and saw the ship waiting for Anakin to get inside. "Master!"

"Snips! You're all right!" He said, relieved, as she threw her arms around him again. He held her tightly as he felt a sudden wave of affection for her. He was going to protect her with all he had, at the cost of his life. His last attempt to keep a part of Y/N alive.

"Go on, go back to the ship." He said and she obliged wordlessly.

As he picked her up bridal style and walked inside the ship, he felt like it was the longest walk he ever took. With the love of his life still limp in his arms, he pressed a button to send a message to Obi-Wan.

"Y/N's gone, Obi-Wan. Alert the Council."

#star wars #star wars x reader #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars anakin #ahsoka tano x reader #ahsoka tano #tcw ahsoka #tcw anakin #star wars the clone wars

175 notes · View notes

thosewildcharms · 16 days

Note

Just broke my own heart thinking about Rick being absent for Lori’s pregnancy with Judith since he was, understandably, emotionally checked out AND being completely absent with Michonne’s for RJ and how he missed welcoming them both into the world, plus not seeing them grow up as he said, for a man that only cares about his family he must carry so much guilt over that or feel cursed… also thought about Michonne probably being extremely anxious when RJ turned the age Andre was when he died and she had no one to talk to about it. Thinking about her having to deal with it all while being a grieving single mother of 2 leading a community also made me sad. lol I know they’re both resilient fighters but damn all of that is so heavy! I’m so happy they’re all back together now and can start some healing

ANON BESTIE WHAT THE FUCK?

well okay sure. let's be depressing for a bit but then we should go back to grimes family headcanons okay?

it's honestly so tragic that rick was not able to see the birth of the child he wanted so badly, that he didn't even know RJ existed for almost a decade. the length of that time jump is honestly so evil - like yes, on one level it heightens the intensity of their bond, the way that they never even considered anyone else over all those years and stayed completely in love throughout that absence and distance. but god, it's just a really fucking long time. it's devastating!

it's also why I love that scene in the towl finale where rick expresses how angry he is about it, how just for a minute he lets himself say out loud that he just wants to be selfish for once and say fuck it let's go home, because he doesn't want to miss any more time than he already has. i also love the way andy played the reunion with judith and rj: the quiet grief in his face because he's mourning the time lost even while they're right in front of him, maybe even more so. like, of course he was distraught over how much he missed. this man held a shard of glass to his neck when he truly thought he could never see his family again (which i think we moved on from a bit too quickly tbh). his love for his family is his motivation for everything. keeping him away from them is the worst thing you could do to him, which is btw is why i'm not mad okafor is dead.

as for michonne. well my god anon did you have to go there with that andre/rj thing? i mean, yes you're absolutely right and you're completely brilliant but jfc that hurt. i honestly can't even think about those six years michonne spent grieving rick and raising their kids and protecting that community and getting that scar and everything else without getting upset. i genuinely hate it so much. i'm also constantly thinking about the scene where she finds evidence that rick is alive, the specific way her face contorts as she holds that phone like she's scared to even dare to hope, even though she never fully believed he was gone in the first place. we already saw how much she was struggling but that scene makes me want to set myself on fire. it's all just so fucking sad.

so yes. they better be left alone to heal in peace forever no more Situations no more near death experiences no more wars or fascist megalomaniacs with armies to overthrow. they've done enough!

#richonne #the ones who live #side note anon:#i'm a bit confused about what you mean by rick being absent for judith's birth because he was emotionally distant #like yes he was obviously but am i remembering incorrectly or did lori give birth unexpectedly while the prison was under attack?#like i thought he was straight up just unaware it was even happening. i like to think he would have been there if he knew/was able #but maybe i'm giving him too much credit lol #or am i just being obtuse and that's exactly what you're mean by him feeling cursed? because he missed both due to ~circumstances?#not arguing with you btw because i agree either way he's prone to emotionally self-flagellating i'm just wondering if i'm missing something

63 notes · View notes

redheadspark · 5 months

Note

Is it too early to drop a request for the prompt? This is my first *ever* request, so I don't know how this actually works.

Mine is #8 and #15 with Az.

It's a personal one that is close to my heart. I'd love that kind of energy in my life, and maybe a good fic will help manifest that for me. 😉

I love your work, and I appreciate the effort you put into what you do! Thank you so much.

A/N - Aww this is great! This might be more of a somber piece, but I think it's great! Let me know what you think! I hope you like it!

Grief

Summary - Azriel knows a thing or two about grief, and he vows to never leave you in it.

Warnings - mostly angst with a hint of fluff in the end :)

The cool air was hitting you along your backside as you were kneeling in front of the small patch of new grass, the clouds above were giving off a shield over your head while you were holding a fresh bouquet of flowers in your hand. The meadow was cleared out, which is rare for a weekend since it would be filled to the brim with Velaris citizens to enjoy the weather. But that day everyone was in town, shopping for winter solstice that was right around the corner. You would have been joining them if you could, but not that day.

Not on the anniversary of your mother’s birthday.

Her grave was tucked away at a secluded piece of land, owned by Rhysand and used just for his family. It was a gift he wished to bestow on you when your mother passed away, making sure it was always well-kept and maintained. Being the ever-loving cousin that he was, he never wished for you to stress over the gravesite or the funeral, but you did. She was the one woman who raised you since you were an infant on her own, not leaning on others for help and making sure you could survive in the world on your own. You did, all thanks to her, and her sudden death at the hands of King Hybern and his invasion into Velaris devastated you to your core.

You were a wreck, but your mate stayed at your side.

Even now as you were placing the fresh flowers from Elaine’s personal garden on the grave, you knew he was standing not too far away and giving you the space you needed to both grieve and breathe. You sensed him, you always have since you two met as teenagers and then became mates 300 years ago. He knew how to show he was close by without saying a single word, which made you grateful for him as you took in a long breath and looked at the small slab of marble that was in the ground. Placing the flowers on top of the grave, you hummed.

“All is well here, Mother,” You replied, your voice softly floating in the air as the grass was swaying in the wind, “There’s peace again here in Velaris as we get ready for Winter Solstice. It was your favorite holiday, as was mine. It still is, and you should see the house and how we decorated it, plenty of garland and holly from head to toe. I think Elaine went a bit overboard this year, but I can’t say no to her,”

You chuckled wetly, a few tears were hitting your cheeks as you felt a small sliver of a shadow licking against your arm. You hummed, knowing who It was as the shadow swirled around your fingers, a silent request to join you. You nodded once, the shadows flicking away then the soft sound of boots in the grass coming your way from behind.

“We all miss you, Mother,” You continued, the footsteps stopping right behind you as you wiped some tears away briskly, “It’s not the same without you here. I know I miss you the most, I miss your laugh in the morning during coffee, I miss you telling Rhysand and Cassian to stop bickering with one another like they did when they were kids, and I miss hugging you. Your embraces were always home to me, and I’ve been missing them so,”

A scarred yet gentle hand was placed on your shoulder then, the faintest of pressure along there as you sighed and more tears fell.

“Azriel and I have been well. Your shop is running so well, Mother. You should see it, we’re almost sold out every day which helps in remodeling our home that you wanted us to have,” Once again you paused, clutching your fingers together a bit more as you were trying to find the right words in what you wanted to say. Wounds still felt fresh under your skin, past memories of the first year without your mother were flooding back to you and how hard those nights were. Not having her guidance or words of wisdom, not having her times of counsel when you were at a crossroads.

He knew of your mother and admired her for not only raising you on her own but also being a support for him, Cassian, and Rhsyand as you were all growing up together. He spoke to her about courting you, then later asking for your hand in marriage. His respect for her was massive, to which your mother loved him all the more and approved instantly.

“I know you will love my daughter and treat her as your equal, Azriel.”

“I swear to you, I will,”

Azriel was the backbone you needed to get through that dark time, holding you every night when you were in tears, always sitting at your side when you were lost in thought, during his love to you every chance he could. Azriel knew the guilt you carried in not protecting your mother during the attack in the town square, finding you hunched over her body and screaming into the void as no life was evident in her. That whole day was etched in tragedy and in pain. Hearing his voice brought you peace during those rougher nights.

“Why do you always think you have to do everything on your own?” Azriel asked against your head as you were snuggled against him in bed one summer night, his fingers raking through your hair and your legs intertwined, “I vowed to carry your burdens in dire times, sweetheart. You gotta let me,”

“I can’t,” You mourned into his shirt as he kissed your cheeks and shook his head.

“You can. I can no longer stomach seeing you got through this on your own. Grieving alone will kill you, baby. I won’t let you do that to yourself, you hear me?” He asked, you looking up at him and seeing his own eyes glistening a bit with tears. Tears from seeing you in pain, tears from not knowing how else to ease your pain and sorrow, and tears from simply thinking you were slipping away from him. You were grateful for him, the stubborn Illryian that he was to simply not let you out of his sight. You knew he also knew pain from his childhood and how true a mother’s love was.

You gave him the softest smile, and for the first time in a long time, you felt your mating bond hum and flutter in simple love and affection. It was safe to say your love for one another was simple and yet intense, mixed together in years of friendship and mutual respect.

“I can’t lose you either,” He stated to you as you held him a bit tighter, “I’ll do whatever it takes to bring that light in your eyes again, the same light I fell in love with when we were young. But losing you is not an option, not with me. I won’t survive in this world without you by my side,” He traced a few tears away with his scarred thumb, “I hate seeing you like this. Please..let me help.”

So you let him in, and you felt your heart preparing itself slowly but surely.

Azriel knelt down next to you, a bundle nestled in his arm showing an infant baby sound asleep and tucked away in a warm cotton blanket. You grinned at the sight, reaching over to tuck the blanket in a bit more under the chin of your babe, who cooed and snuggled into Azriel some more as the dark thick hair contrasted with the light yellow blanket. Looking from the babe to Azriel, you saw him smile with a hint of love and pride in those hazel eyes, then finally looking back at the grave in front of you.

“I want you to meet someone, Mother. This is your granddaughter,” You said softly, your voice no longer having pain but a sense of hope, “She was born in the summer, on the hottest day of the year actually. Madja said she was born a week early, and almost didn’t make it through the night since she was too tiny. But I knew, mother. I knew she was a strong babe and she would bring us joy, and she has. Her laugh reminds me of bells, she has her father’s eyes and my freckles, but I think she has your smile. I wish you could have held her, she’s so soft and little but I knew she’s fierce,”

“Like her mother,” Azriel hummed next to you, having you grin again. Your daughter was a shock for both you and Azriel, you both heard the news that you were with child and beyond happy. There were talks of you two wanting to have a family, but nothing too serious. Perhaps it was perfecting timing then, a new life coming into your little world that was still repairing itself and being made new. Azriel saw a growing seed inside of you as you were moving along in your pregnancy, a new sense of hope that sprouted from the notion of being a mother and having your own baby to love and care for.

The rest of the Inner Circle was excited for the babe, Nesta throwing a baby shower for you when you were 7 months along, High Lady Feyre painting your nursery from top to bottom with stars and hillsides, and even Rhysand gifting you both with handmade furniture to put in the nursery. Azriel requested Cassian and Elaine to be the godparents, and you knew that your child was going to have the best family to grow up with and to lean on.

For that, you were thankful. The same family that vowed to support you will now support your baby.

You and Azriel walked away from the grave and along the worn path in the meadow, you holding your daughter close in your arms as she was sleeping soundly without a care in the world. Azriel had a hand along your lower back both as a sense of peace and a sense of familiar protection. Every time you came to this place, you had moments of grief and sadness that came in small flickers of waves. But it wasn’t all bad now. Not with the life you had with your mate, with the Inner Circle, and now with your daughter.

Your daughter, who was named after her grandmother: Adeline Rose

The End

Hurt and Comfort Promp Session

#azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x oc #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #acotar #a court of wings and ruin #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #fanfiction #writing #acotar imagine #Ariel x female reader #azriel angst #azriel spymaster

112 notes · View notes

ellabsweet · 9 months

Text

[*ੈ✩] 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐘 • 𝐄.𝐖

synopsis: ellie writes in her journal religiously, a foolish attempt at reconciling with her feelings and understanding what it is that happens to her particularly when she is around you

pairing: ellie williams x reader

warning: written in ellie’s pov as the entire story is told through her journal entries, if this is well received it might be a multiple part series, loads of angst and borderline emotional cheating

I saw her again this week. Or better yet, she saw me, and I don’t think I have ever dropped someone’s hand so fast as when her eyes glanced down towards mine and Cat’s intertwined, in the end that only served a purpose to make them both upset. She pretended not to have noticed me after that and deep down I couldn’t blame her for it, though it’s been nearly a month since our last conversation a part of us both know that a friendship shouldn’t experience something that feels like a break up.

Guilt is the second worst feeling I’ve ever experienced and still it comes pretty damn close to grief. Sometimes kissing Cat I pretend that it’s her instead, eyes shut from all reality it’s almost like I can shift her taste into whatever I imagine hers to be instead and in the moment it feels too good for the guilt to settle in, it feels like home. Which is a shame, in the end, because this is about me not deserving that comfort. I remember Cat had to stop me, push me off her to catch her breath with a laugh and she looked me starry eyed to say she’s never felt me so into her before. The strawberry in my lips turned to poison so fast. She didn’t know. Didn’t even understand why my face fell at the comment, felt the need to tell me it was just a joke but we both knew it wasn’t.

Cat is easy. Easy in a way that borders boring which means it’s safe. Life is hard enough as it is for me to keep having these impulses towards devastating gut wrenching love, the kind of love inevitable with her. I told her once when we still liked to pretend we were friends that she was something of a tornado, like this force of nature so inevitable to everything else that sweeps up everything off the ground, and she was so offended. Like I’d said she was destructive. But she is. I haven’t given her the opportunity to abandon me and still it has broken my heart to glance at her across a room and not run straight to her arms, not be the one making her laugh. It’s been too long since I’ve heard the laugh I would bottle and save to get drunk on hard days and now can’t even treasure for good ones.

To be loved by her, though I guess it may be pretentious of me to assume she loved me, was finally coming up for air, was watching a meteor shower, is probably the closest I’ve ever gotten to the moon and understanding what it is to moon over someone, she personified my astronaut dreams and I am a stupid asshole who keeps dropping things on Earth because they’ve got new found gravity. I miss floating and I hate all the things I’ve crashed on the ground, sometimes I’m not sure who’s shattering the most without her. (I do. It’s me. I’m taking this metaphor too far.) But she would hate me if she knew. I thought I had lived long enough as myself so I could find her but not having died for the cure only means I never get to have her, not fully, not if she knew. And I wanted her to know me. More than I wanted her to just love me, which is terrifying. That’s why we can’t be.

#the last of us fanfiction #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams #lesbian #ellie williams angst

199 notes · View notes

alexsoenomel · 10 months

Text

Take Me Back To Eden (Joel Miller x f!Reader smut/fluff/angst?)

Summary: “Let me know if you ever come back to Austin,” – was the last thing he told you, and after losing your parents in a car accident you did just that.

Pairing: Joel x f!Reader

Warnings: oh boy here we go: 18+ MINORS DNI, big ol' age gap (Reader is 27 andJoel is 50), mentions of death, grief, if you squint reader has ADHD, unhappy relationship, oral female and male receiving, dick in vagina and all that jazz, pet names like darlin' and baby and I think that's all...

Word count: 9.3k

Note: So, I was sad and had a really hard time coping with life during my exams. So instead of going outside or studying I created this.

Song: Take Me Back to Eden by Sleep Token

Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)

Everything was going in your favor. You graduated from Austin Community College with honors, found a job as an assistant in a law firm, and had a man by your side – everything by the book. You were renting a small loft in The Big Apple, planning your future – you were enjoying life.

It wasn’t until you got a call from an unknown number. It wasn’t until you answered with a hallo that your life flipped upside down. Your parents – your support, your guardians – got into a fatal car accident when a reckless driver crashed into them, and your dad lost control of the wheel. The car ended up crashing into a tree and both of them died in a matter of minutes. Someone stopped the time that day. Nothing seemed to be real anymore. You were in haze and not the purple one. It was the weekend, Saturday or Sunday, you had no clue, you only knew it was the day both you and your boyfriend were off; sitting in the comfort of your home having a Lord of the Rings marathon. The scream you let out that day, you didn't remember – your boyfriend did and he thought it was gut-wrenching. The immense grief taking over your body that day took a toll on your body. Your heart was hurting, your head was pulsating and your stomach was starving but your mouth refused to accept food.

Your boyfriend tried to be there for you, to talk to you, even though no words could subside the loss you felt, he tried to hug you, but you refused to be touched and so two days after you got the devastating news, your relationship fell apart. You were fighting too much. He seemed deaf; you were trying to tell him that you needed solitude and he seemed to be wearing headphones.

On the third day, he packed his bags and on the fourth he left to stay with a friend. He kissed you on the forehead and told you; you were going to work this out, but you knew it was over. It wasn't like the love you read in the books; it was boring and uneventful. You felt like something was missing. Boy meets girl, they date, fall in love, start living together and then marry. When you found the damn ring in his underwear drawer your heart sank – you knew you weren't ready for that; you didn't want that. The loss made you snap and you ended it.

You were left in an empty space, lying on the bed, trying to see the point of this life you lived. You didn't see it that day.

On the fifth day, you finally got the strength to book a one-way ticket to Austin. Your aunt from your dad's side called you to discuss funeral arrangements and your heart sank even lower thinking about burying both of your parents. This all seemed like a fever dream.

On the sixth day, you packed everything you could in one suitcase and left New York. You decided to take some time off aka got fired, since you didn't bother to show up for work, and grieve. The good thing was you had some savings in your bank account since you and now ex were talking about buying a home – or at least he was.

Thank God that ain't happening.

You thought and closed the door, heading to the airport.

***

You haven't been back home ever since you graduated college five years ago. Your parents would always come to New York since they both loved the city and as your mom used to say Christmas in New York City was always a fairytale.

Austin was a lot different than New York City– hot and humid, quieter, and not so chaotic. Your aunt was waiting for you at the airport with open arms and for the first time in six days, you felt like you needed it. You accepted her warm hug and as soon as you placed your chin on her shoulder you cried and cried and cried…

"It's okay. Let it out." You heard her say as she tried to squeeze the pain away with a tight hug.

***

The funeral was painful. Your parents were good, hard-working people, loved by many so a lot of people came to pay their respects. You shook hands with people and listen to the same two sentences over and over again wanting to jump out of your skin:

I'm so sorry for your loss.

My condolences.

Your parents were supposed to be here. It was too early.

Tears just kept coming and thank God your aunt gave you a big pair of black sunglasses to hide your swollen face.

"Your folks were good people," you heard a man say as he shook your hand. By the accent you knew he was a local. And by the sound of his voice you knew you knew him.

You looked up to see a familiar face. Joel Miller – the man across the street from the house you grew up in.

Your voice was mute as you shook his hand, not being able to look at him anymore.

****

After they were laid to rest it hit you; you couldn't just rot away in your own grief, instead you had to try and live your "new normal" – whatever that meant. You told your family you needed some alone time. Your uncle offered to stay with you in the house but you declined, saying you needed to grieve in private.

"But I don't want you alone in that house," he told you. That man was always so sweet and caring. Since he didn't have kids of his own; you were the daughter he never had.

Mom has a great big brother.

"You remember when that boy broke up with me when I was 16 sayin' he's too embarrassed to go outside with me?" You asked him, wiping your tears from your right cheek. "And I didn't leave my room for two days?"

"I remember that bastard," he said, almost angrily.

"I'll be okay. I need some time alone."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am sure," you said and kissed his cheek. "I'll call you if I need company, okay?"

"Okay."

***

The house felt hollow and eerie as soon as you turned the key and stepped in. The air wasn't stale yet and the TV was off which was a rarity since your dad loved watching the news, while your mom loved sitting next to him reading a good romance novel. The house was spotless, with no dust in sight, since your mom enjoyed cleaning and listening to music every weekend. She loved the smell of a clean and polished home. You couldn't bring yourself to go to their room, a lump in your throat formed when you stood in front of their bedroom door.

You grew up in that house, you had many memories engraved in the walls and wooden furniture there. Your heart would ache every time you would see a small scratch or a stain on your walls. Those were all the memories of your happy and innocent childhood the house kept and refused to let go of. From food stains to scratches from tossing toys whenever you had a temper tantrum…Your father refused to repaint the house, saying even though you were at times an insufferable kid, those years were the best years of his life. You haven't set foot in that house for five years but it was still a place you would call home. Family photos all over the walls, cherished moments captured with your dad's camera throughout the years…your home.

The first day in that house you spend on the couch watching a movie on dad's TV. Your fingers felt heavy as you pressed the button on the remote. There was a blanket right next to you; your mom's blue blanket she would use to cover herself on a cold winter's day while getting lost in her book. Even though it was June and burning hot; your body was cold. Your soul was too sad to warm you up; you had to use your mom's blanket. It still smelled like her; a mixture of lavender – her favorite detergent and vanilla – her favorite perfume. Inhaling that smell was almost painful but it brought a wave of comfort. She was still in the house.

You didn't eat that day after the funeral; instead, you fell asleep with the TV on.

The second day seemed a lot better. You went to buy some groceries, made yourself a nice breakfast of sunny side-up eggs and bacon, and went to see the state of your backyard. It was freshly cut and green like always. Your dad liked taking care of the yard and making sure the grass was evenly cut and watered.

I miss you.

It wasn't until lunchtime that you started crying again when you glanced at the picture on your living room wall of your parents smiling with birthday caps on having a toast with Joel. You remembered that picture because you took it. It was your dad's birthday and he decided to have a BBQ in his beloved backyard.

You were sitting on the floor, looking at the picture in your hands as a sharp pain went through your chest, tears falling uncontrollably.

Why them?

Only when you noticed how grumpy and ridiculous Joel looked with his cap on a small chuckle escaped your lips.

Joel Miller.

Your favorite neighbor and guitar teacher during your college days. Every weekend you would look forward to spending some time with Mr. Miller while learning the magic of an acoustic guitar. It had been your dream to learn how to play and since your dad loved you with all his heart, he wanted to make that happen for you, so he asked Joel. Joel enjoyed teaching you, especially since you knew a lot about "old people's music" as he would call it.

Soon after you saved up and bought your very first acoustic guitar and started practicing almost every day after classes.

Once you moved to New York, you stopped playing. That city tended to either inspire or destroy someone's creativity and in your case, it completely killed the love you had for playing. Once you started working the guitar only collected dust in your little loft. You didn't have an answer why it just did…

******

Five years ago.

"Why New York?" He asked you after you finished your last guitar session. Well, it wasn't a guitar lesson, since you now knew how to play, you spent that day practicing Smoke on the Water by Deep Purple on his porch.

"I don't like living here."

"Why?"

"Too hot and too many conservatives."

Joel chuckled at your comment. "I agree with ya on that one darlin' but why New York City?"

"I always wanted to go there. Never got a chance," you blushed, giving him a short answer.

Darlin' – you always loved when he called you that.

“Are you plannin' on comin’ back?”

“Hmmm, not really.” If only you knew…

"Well, let me know if you do come back. We can catch up and play together again."

"Will do, Joel."

He was dreamy. A man of few words and ridiculously handsome. Your little crush –Joel Miller the guitar teacher.

****

Your eyes were puffy and red from crying. You didn't even realize you were hugging the framed picture like your life depended on it.

Numb. Numb was the feeling.

This is not fair.

***

The next day you remembered what Joel told you – to let him know when you're back. He saw you at the funeral but it wasn't the appropriate time to catch up obviously.

It was the first time since you landed you had three meals. For breakfast, a sandwich, for lunch noodles and you were about to have ice cream for dinner because you were craving something cold on a hot summer evening. You were doing somewhat okay, you cried once, under the shower that you used the first time on that particular day. As you were eating ice cream, Joel's words lingered in your mind again.

As much as you loved solitude, you were starting to crave company again. Your own thoughts were starting to suffocate you.

Your family was great, on both sides, but you knew they would only feel sorry for you and tried their best to make you feel better; which wasn't possible. You just wanted to talk to someone and maybe have a drink or two.

You picked up your phone only to see 10 unread messages and 5 missed calls from your ex. You didn't even bother to open the texts, instead, you found Joel's number under the name Mr.Handsome and started typing…

Hey, I know it’s been like 5 years but you told me to let you know if I ever come back to Austin. The circumstances are shit but I figured to let you know I’ll be here for a while. And thank you for coming to the funeral, Joel.

After a minute your screen lit up.

Your folks were great people like I told you. How you holdin up?

Better than few days ago. I took a shower today. Yay!

That's somethin. I figured you wanted to be alone after the I'm sorrys and condolences.

You both dealt with your shit in private. He knew that since your dad would always tell him how you didn't want to talk to him every time you were dealing with something. Joel would just tell him to leave you be, since he was also the same and his daughter Sarah was just like him but only less intimidating.

Do you wanna come over to catch up? Human interaction seems nice today and I have alcohol.

For some odd reason, you felt a strange sensation in the bottom of your stomach. Nervousness? Why?

I'm still at work. I can come after 10?

Sure. You in the mood for whiskey after work? My father has a nice bottle he refused to open.

Always in the mood for whiskey.

Perfect. See ya later!

He came at around 10:30 pm. When you opened the door you were greeted by a tall man in a green flannel, with soft brown eyes looking at you. Mr. Handsome. Your heart started racing but you ignored it.

"Hey!" You said and let him in. "Long time no see!"

"Long time no see!"

Once he stepped into the light of your living room, you noticed his hair filled with even more grays than you remembered five years ago.

You wondered if it was once black like charcoal. His beard was also lighter and grayer.

He was still handsome, maybe even too handsome now.

You went to the kitchen to get your dad’s prized possession, it was still sitting in the same spot in the pantry on the top shelf, collecting dust. Hillrock Solera Aged Bourbon Whiskey – a mouthful.

“How do you take your poison?” You asked as you put two glasses on the kitchen counter. Joel sat right in front of you.

“Neat.” He said.

His was neat and yours was with rocks. You made a toast in silence and took your first sips. It was strong but smooth and tasted like it took a small fortune out of your dad's wallet. It burned your throat but in a way no drink has ever done – it was a pleasant rich burn.

“Why he didn’t wanna open it? It’s a good fuckin’ whiskey.” Joel asked you looking at the liquid gold.

“He wanted to open it on my wedding day.”

“I’m guessin’ there’s no wedding.”

“Not a fuckin’ chance.” You laughed. “I never told him I don’t wanna get married.”

You were craving interaction but didn’t know what to say, what to add. The silence in the air was pleasant, felt like a warm hug in his presence. He was enjoying it just as much.

“So Joel…” – you said finally – “What happened in your life during these past five years?”

He finished his first glass and you immediately poured another one.

“Same ol’ same ol’. Still working as a contractor.”

“How’s Sarah?”

“All grown up in college. Studying agriculture in Nebraska.”

You remembered his daughter fondly. She loved to hang out with your family. Your cousins would always tell you how pretty and smart she was. She was like family.

“They grow up so fast, I swear.” You said taking another sip.

***

The night was passing by quicker than you expected. Time wasn’t suffocating you and for a few hours, life seemed normal. Joel told you about his bar adventures and how he managed to get kicked out of multiple bars in the last year alone because of his short fuse.

“You don’t seem like the violent type though.”

“Oh trust me darlin’ I can be when a fuckin’ moron tries to start an argument over stupid shit.”

Darlin’

You haven’t heard that one in a long time. He turned back time for a few seconds, as old butterflies started creeping into your stomach.

After two glasses you started feeling tipsy so you decided to continue your drinking endeavors in the living room on the couch. Joel was sitting right next to you watching you as you poured your third glass. “How’s your love life?” You asked, not thinking this one through. Joel's eyebrows frowned as he gave you a half smile.

“Doesn’t exist.”

He never liked talking about his love life and past relationships, hell, you have never seen him with a woman next to him holding her hand. It was hard to picture him with someone since he was always just Joel. After Sarah’s mom he never fully recovered – or that was what you thought. Your speculations were always off when it came to people but you liked to think he never truly had gotten over Sarah’s mom.

Now you were sitting there, cheeks burning, alcohol running through you as you wanted to hear one question: “What about you?”

A drunken man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts, but your words were too shy to come out. You wanted to let him know you were single, a desire buried so deep you forgot you had it.

“What about you?” He asked. YES!

“I broke up with my ex when I got the news.” You confessed. “ Their death just pulled the inevitable trigger, I guess.”

“Even though that sounds kinda poetic, why was there a trigger in the first place?”

You swallowed nervously before taking another sip of whiskey. You never said those words out loud, you never dared to admit to yourself what was happening behind closed doors. You wanted to do everything by the book; make your parents proud; only to suffer in silence as a result.

“I wasn’t happy.” You felt a sense of freedom saying those words. Freedom, freedom, freedom…

Joel gave you a look of understanding, his soft eyes fixed on yours, sharing this intimate moment with you.

“If you ain’t happy then what’s the point?”

“Exactly, and I was stupid enough to think it mattered to my parents even though they never pressured me into”– you raised your two fingers to make quotation marks – “doing everything by the book.”

“What you mean…marriage?”

“Yeah, and this law degree I have, this job back in New York which I don't have anymore…I don't want that.” You confessed, putting your soul back together. Verbalizing it was validating and therapeutic. Joel just sat in silence and listened carefully knowing exactly what you were talking about. He was in the same boat once, lost and stuck in one place right before Sarah was born. He realized he needed to get his shit together – for her and his family.

“What do you wanna do?” He asked genuinely curious.

“I wanna play again and make music.”

He wasn’t expecting that kind of answer. He always thought playing guitar was a hobby of yours nothing else.

“I wanna paint, write and just…create.” You added.

“Old artistic soul you are.” He smiled, remembering the good days; your lessons. He thought you were gifted – a rock star – but you refused to believe it. When you learned the basics of the guitar you started experimenting, playing with melodies, and writing songs. Joel would play them. He liked your songs.

“I can tell you darlin’ one thing I know is your parents were proud of you and no matter what you do now they will be proud.”

Your eyes started watering, but you refused to let the tears roll down your cheeks. You chugged the rest of your whiskey down like water.

“I just wish they were here.” You leaned in, resting your head against Joel’s shoulder. He smelled like pine trees and something you couldn’t put a finger on it – something that made Joel, Joel. It had a calming effect on you.

“I know. I miss them too.” He said. Joel did miss them. They were his favorite neighbors, not forcefully kind or pretentious Bible folks – just normal kind of people. He loved spending time with your dad playing poker now and then and he certainly adored your mom’s signature pecan pie.

Alcohol was running through your veins as the sound of the clock was echoing throughout the house.

“What time is it?” Joel asked you.

“Mmmm, almost 1.” You slurred your words looking at your phone.

“Do you want me to stay or are you okay sleepin’ here by yourself?”

“You workin’ tomorrow?” You completely forgot it was Thursday.

“Sadly. Have to get up at 7.”

“Can you stay here for the night? I can take the couch, you go to my room. I can’t sleep there.”

Joel placed a light kiss on your head and you were too intoxicated to notice it. Seeing you grieve the loss of your parents had a strange effect on him. It was almost like he could feel your pain, the same agonizing pain in his heart. “I will take the sofa.”

He stood up leaving you starved for his touch and scent. You were drifting away when he pulled you back into reality.

“Your back will hate you tomorrow though.” You said and wrapped yourself in your mother’s blanket. Joel pulled out the seat of the sofa making it into a small bed.

“Or not.” You added when you realized someone finally fixed the pull-out sleeper chair you broke right before you left.

“I fixed it for your old man a few weeks ago.” He said, adjusting the pillow before he laid down. He let out a sigh, feeling his body relax. “It’s brand new now.”

No wonder your parents loved Joel so much. His exterior was tough, but under all the layers there was a heart made of gold. Even a simple thing like fixing the damn chair made your eyes tear up.

“Thank you for fixing it for my dad, Joel.”

“Your welcome darlin’”

And with that you both drifted to sleep, leaving the whiskey bottle half empty.

***

You woke up at around 8 am to an empty house and a pleasant smell in your nostrils. Your head was pounding, your mouth was dry as a dessert and you couldn’t sleep. You checked your phone only to see a text from Joel.

I made you breakfast. Eggs and waffles since you only had that in the fridge. I figured you’d be too hungover to do anything, so EAT!

He was right. You were indeed too hungover to do anything.

On the kitchen counter, there was a plate waiting for you and a glass of orange juice.

Thank you, my favorite guitar teacher :)

You answered before your brain could complete your thought.

And thank you for coming last night. I hope I didn’t suffocate you.

One thing you learned over the years was – people don’t give a shit. In the end, your problems are your own and no one else’s. He didn’t answer. Once you dove into your scrambled eggs you heard a bing.

Darlin if you think this is a one time thing you’re mistaken.

Again with the darlin’. Your heart started pumping faster as you stuffed your face with eggs.

As you were thinking about how to answer, another message popped up.

I told you to let me know when you’re back so we can catch up and play again.

Another message.

Well we missed the playing part last night.

He still remembered his own words from five years ago. You wanted to get back into playing, but by now you were rusty; you hadn’t touched your guitar in so long that you forgot how to hold it.

You’d be disappointed. I haven’t played in ages, plus my guitar is back in New York.

Darlin playin guitar is just like drivin a car. You aint forgetting that. You just have to remind your fingers how to move.

You chuckled. His words made sense. Another message popped up in a matter of seconds.

You can play my electric one.

He never told you he had an electric guitar. He would always play the acoustic versions of his favorite rock songs. You decided why not.

Okay, that’s goin’ to be a mess. I’m down.

***

The rest of the day you spent in anticipation and nervousness. You tried to occupy your mind by doing simple tasks like going to the store, making lunch, and rummaging through your stuff in your room. You finally got the courage to go in, to see old family photos all over the room and old trophies and diplomas. You were an overachiever, a gifted kid your dad would call you, straight A student, a painter, a writer, and a spelling bee champion. Too bad once puberty knocked at your door that gifted kid became insecure, lost, and consumed with sadness. Once a gifted kid, now a miserable adult. You thought living by the book would make you happier, but it only made you hate life even more.

You found your memory box under your bed and spent the majority of the day looking at old concert tickets, letters, and little Polaroids of old friends. You were too hyper-fixated on going down the memory lane; you didn't cry. The nostalgia this box brought made your heart warm. Your room was a memory portal, pleasant and nostalgic, and you decided to take a nap in it. When your head hit the cold pillow your whole body sank into the mattress, and you drifted peacefully, with no thoughts in your mind and sorrow in your soul.

You woke up at around 7 pm. Someone was knocking on your door.

"Hey." You greeted Joel with a yawn, still not feeling 100% awake. You noticed his hair was slick back and wet, and he was wearing his signature jeans and a blue t-shirt. He probably took a shower back home. You swallowed the remaining spit in your mouth as you admired his looks. That man only looked better with age.

In his hands, there were two guitars, his signature acoustic one and a baby blue Fender Stratocaster in the other.

"Hey."

Immediately he put the guitars on the couch and went straight into his backpack trying to find something.

"There it is." He said and pulled out a small amplifier.

"Joel, this guitar is fuckin' beautiful. You never told me you had an electric one."

"Yeah well, when my band fell apart she went to the attic."

You tilted your head wondering if you heard him right. "You had a band?"

Joel stopped mid-connecting the baby blue beauty to the amplifier and shook his head. "Long story."

You started slow. You have never played an electric guitar so first Joel let you play with strings and feel the weight since an acoustic was a lot lighter than an electric one.

"Like I told you, it's like drivin'."

You took a deep breath, feeling your hands shake in anticipation. The anticipation being you waiting to fuck everything up.

"I guess I forgot how to drive." You smiled awkwardly.

Truth be told you forgot since in New York you don't need a car, but once Joel played one chord and told you to do the same your ears immediately perked up.

"That's G5." You said as your fingers touched the strings. The sound was strong and sharp, far different and powerful than the sound coming from Joel's guitar.

"Another one." He said and played another chord.

"F5." You were correct.

Joel's face lit up with excitement. The first time you saw him smiling for a straight minute. Every sound he played you guessed it.

Soon enough you saw the pattern and recognized the melody.

"That’s…That’s Smoke on the water?"

"Unbelievable," he said, confirming your answer. " I’m convinced you have a perfect pitch because you darlin' are a natural."

You felt your hands get sweaty and your fingers felt still and in pain – it was the same satisfying pain you felt in them after every lesson you had with Joel, only this time the pain was sharper because the strings were thicker.

"Wanna find out?" You asked him. "Play me something and I'll try to follow you."

It felt good playing again. Walking on that road again was familiar and Joel was holding your hand guiding you all the way.

He nodded and thought for a second before a familiar melody filled the room. It was Dazed and Confused by Led Zeppelin. Your favorite song. He took the inspiration from your old worn-out Zepp t-shirt you were wearing that day. It was your dad's. He gave you a few years ago when he realized he was too big to wear it. Both of you connected through that band and now Joel was playing one of their songs for you.

The precision in which he moved his fingers, his silk back hair, his bottom lip between his teeth as he was trying to concentrate…Joel Miller was starting to occupy your mind more and more.

You shook your head and listened carefully. The chords were relatively simple. You played a couple before you eventually found them and slowly but surely you followed him. He was right, it was like driving. Your fingers remembered.

"Good girl." You heard him say through the sound of both guitars creating heaven in the form of melodies. You smiled back at him, pretending like you didn't just feel your pussy get wet by his comment. You wondered if he was aware of it – his presence was intoxicating, addictive, you wondered if he was aware of his charm.

"You're a fuckin' rockstar." He said and placed the guitar right next to him. He went to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

"No, I ain't." You denied, but he didn't register you.

"A rockstar with a perfect pitch."

***

By the time you finished your jamming session, it was almost 9 pm. From Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, and Queen you covered everything you used to play together. Your fingers were red and swollen – but your heart was full. Joel put the missing puzzle piece in you, making you realize playing wasn't just a hobby, it was a need and a means of survival. Art was the core of your whole being.

Why did I stop playing in the first place?

You decided to have a late-night dinner.

"Hope you like my shitty burgers. I'm a lousy cook so if you get food poisoning you have been warned." You shrugged your shoulders and went to the kitchen. You made them that day to not think about cooking tomorrow, not knowing he would come.

"I'm not sayin' no to burgers." He smiled softly.

As you were sitting in silence devouring the burgers that were actually quite good in Joel's words your mind went somewhere you didn't want. Your crush. Your undying crush that was Mr. Handsome. He was much older than you, a friend of your now-deceased parents, and yet you would still get butterflies after so many years.

"Tell me the story about the band." You shook your butterflies away and let your mind focus on something else.

"I told you it's a long one."

"Well, make it shorter." You sassed.

You shared a look before simultaneously taking a bite of your burgers, grease slipping down your fingers.

"After high school me and my buddies would play small gigs in local pubs. We were doin’ pretty good until we got into a fight and broke up. I punched the bassist."

"Of course you did. A fight over what?"

Joel rolled his eyes when he realized what he had to tell you. "They wanted to name the band Rock Bottom."

He confessed as you choked on a piece of your burger. Thank God you swallowed the piece quickly enough because you started laughing, while Joel just stared at you trying not to roll his eyes again.

“A rock band, Rock Bottom! That’s horrible, I love it!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“But wait, why did you punch the bassist?”

“Ah, he fucked my ex.” He said almost too casually and you froze mid-bite. It was the first time he ever mentioned an ex/girlfriend.

“That wasn’t the answer I expected.”

***

After dinner, you both started craving alcohol. Since there was little to no whiskey left, you remembered your mom would always have a bottle of red wine in the house – for cooking and drinking purposes. Red wine was your poison and it opened many doors, setting you free and killing the remains of your shyness. Adrenaline was running through your veins when you poured your second glass, feeling your tongue untangling. You wanted to confess more with each sip. He seemed to be getting more and more handsome or you were just getting more and more intoxicated. For the past two days you weren't rotting away, you laughed, cried, ate and you remembered good moments in life. His laughter only made you laugh, his words made you listen, his music made you calm…

Your gaze was fixed on his perfect aquiline nose as he was telling you another story about his band or rather about the bassist that fucked his then girlfriend. You were drifting, wondering, fantasizing what it would be like to close the gap between you, to feel his warmth, to spend the night.

"And that's why I wanted to break his fuckin' jaw the second time."

You blinked a couple of times, praying to God you didn't visibly drift away. Another sip of wine went down your throat smoothly.

"Darlin' are you okay?"

Crap.

"Yeah I-" in a second God answered your prayers when you heard a bing from your phone. Your aunt and uncle have been checking up on you, regularly making sure you were alright so you assumed someone messaged in the family chat. You were wrong. It was your ex again.

A quiet ugh left your lips followed by an eye roll before you locked your phone and put it on the table.

"Everything okay?" Joel asked, glancing at your phone then back at you.

"Yeah. My ex and his I wanna talk bullshit."

"Dude doesn't seem to get the memo, huh?"

"Nope. I don't wanna talk to him. If I open my mouth he will probably cry or lose his mind. I'm doing him a favor."

Joel licked his bottom lip, not understanding what you just said.

"Care to explain more?"

"You really wanna listen to me whine about my failed relationship?"

"I'm all ears."

He gave you permission and you told him everything. Something about this man screamed a safe haven for your aching soul. He was the comfort you needed. You told him the forbidden words. The love you wanted was the love your ex never knew how to give. His love was plain, boring like working 9 till 5. If he made a mistake he would buy you something, it he was tired he would forget to kiss you after coming home from work, if he was horny he would fuck you in the same position over and over. There was no depth, no fireworks. Your relationship looked like a marriage of two middle aged people that hated each other. He wasn't capable of satisfying you, neither emotionally, nor intellectually, nor sexually. The guy was as plain as white bread. When you got together with him, it felt right, because you didn't know him well, but after a year you already knew and when second year rolled around you wanted to jump out of your skin.

Joel wasn't surprised by your words. He understood them, especially when he knew you during your college days. You were always hyper, desperately chasing that high; that dopamine boost, always getting hyper fixated on songs he would play you – you wouldn't stop practicing until you perfected the song – your brain was scattered back then in the same way as it was now. You were anything but boring. He liked that about you; your wild spirit perfectly aligned with his inner lone wolf. Later he realized, he wasn't much of a lone wolf after all when he was with you. Five long years without her… – he thought as the sweetness of wine hit his dry mouth.

"Oh and he has a small dick," your mouth slipped. You were always as blunt as they come, but after alcohol – you were far worse. Joel choked on his last sip and chuckled.

"How small?" He asked genuinely curious.

You lift up your right pinkie. "Add another half an inch."

"Damn, poor dude."

"No, Joel poor me," you said,putting your index finger on your chest. "It's not even the size, it's the fact that he was a selfish bastard and lasted two minutes."

You didn't know why you opened this particular can of worms. Joel seemed to be interested and listening, but was he truly? Your now drunk brain wanted to dive into something unknown and you did everything you could to stay in that lane and keep the conversation going. You wanted to know what he liked in the bed; you wanted him to verbalize it and then show you; especially since it was the truth – you haven't had good sex in AGES. At the same time another thought pierced your head like a bullet – was it wrong to be having these sinful thoughts in your deceased parent's house? Was it wrong to be crushing on a man who just turned 50? Were you just sad and wanting to replace sadness with a good orgasm? You didn't know and frankly you didn't care. This high was too good for you to stop chasing it – like a damn junkie.

Joel licked his lips and devilishly smiled. He always liked hearing you vent. He thought you were adorable, getting all annoyed and frustrated and always losing yourself in your own thoughts – your mouth being faster than your brain.

"Darlin', no wonder you weren't happy. Should have dumped his ass a long time ago."

"Stop callin' me that," you said, feeling yourself getting wet. Wine just enhanced everything you were feeling and Joel seemed to be getting hotter by the minute. "You always call me that and it's distracting." You added not wanting to sound rude.

"How so, darlin'?" He was a tease. You were his darlin' and ever since you stepped foot into his house, for your first guitar lesson, he would call you that and every time you would get distracted.

"Ugh, Joel, don't make me embarrass myself now." You hid your face from him with your palm, feeling your cheeks burning. You dug this hole by yourself and now you had to lay in it.

"Oh come on now, I'm curious." He was curious, even though he already knew the answer. He just wanted you to say it.

All those years and she still looks at me like that. Silly little thing…

"I- I like it too much…if you know what I mean." You poured the rest of the wine in your glass and took a big sip.

"No I don't." He tilted his head, like a damn kid asking stupid questions.

He was impossible.

"Jesus Christ," you whispered under your breath. "I get horny, okay?"

You finally confessed and Joel smirked.

"Dear God, take me now." Came out in the form of a whisper.

He was your parents' neighbor, your dad's poker buddy, he was 23 years older than you and yet you wanted him to devour you.

"Is it bad that I have a crush on you and you're only 10 years older than my dead father?" You asked. The first time the word dead came out of your mouth.

"Is it bad that I don't think it's bad?"

That damn smirk on his face is going to be the death of me.

"If you don't think it's bad, can I do something?" You were burning up and the summer weather didn't help.

"Of course, darlin'," he answered, and thank God he gave you an affirmative response because you were feeling adventurous. You chugged the rest of the wine from your glass and put it on the table. Then went and sat on Joel's lap, putting your legs on both his sides. You could feel his hot breath on your face, his firm chest and his dick slowly getting hard. Your hands found their way into his now dry hair; it was soft, softer than you thought. His fingers went behind your back, finding your bare skin under your shirt, making you shiver.

"Now do you think it's bad?" You said, slowly moving your hips, grinding against him.

His breathing deepened, his mouth slightly opened and he whispered: "No."

That was all you needed to hear. No more holding back, no more hiding behind a shy smile and refusing to look him in the eyes. His wine-stained lips touched yours gently. His lips were surprisingly soft and as the kiss deepened more and more, his hands roamed on your body freely, touching any naked surface he could find. When your hips started moving faster a muffled moan escaped from Joel's mouth letting you know he was growing impatient. Hell, you could feel it. He was now fully hard underneath those jeans and big.

When oxygen became a necessity, you broke away resting your nose on his.

"Still not bad?" You asked, almost breathless.

"Still not bad."

Something about sleeping with your favorite guitar teacher in your living room, filled with family photos, was giving you an ick so you went into your room. Your bed wasn't big, but it was big enough for both of you. He climbed on top of you, kissing you hungrily as you pulled on his hair making him groan into the kiss.

"Mmm I thought you couldn't sleep here." He told you between kisses. "What changed your mind?"

"I broke the ice today" – you sighed as Joel bit your neck gently – "With a nap."

Your hands pulled on his t-shirt, trying to take it off and feel his warm skin against yours. He took it off, before taking yours off followed by your shorts leaving you completely bare, only in your black panties underneath him. It was too hot for a bra that day. You cupped your breasts feeling a sense of embarrassment. Joel took your palms, intertwined his fingers with yours and put your hands above your head.

"No need to feel shy aroun' me darlin'," He said and placed kisses all over your collarbones, getting lower and lower. You sighed growing wetter with each kiss and touch. His lips explored your skin, his beard lightly brushing against it leaving light red spots all over your belly. When he reached your panties he kissed you through the fabric as your back arched – your body on fire. You have never experienced anything like that with anyone and he hadn't even fucked you yet. Something about him; maybe his age or maybe the fact that you had known him for so long, he was comfort and you were ready to let go of all of your worries. You were his.

"Are you going to…?" You asked looking at the ceiling, but unable to finish the thought.

"Don't be shy, baby. Use your words!"

Baby.

You swallowed, feeling your cheeks burning. "Eat me out?"

Joel took off your panties as he positioned himself right in front of your cunt. He kissed the skin on your inner thighs as you bit your lip, balancing yourself on your elbows.

"I can do that, can't I?" He asked, trying to play innocent.

"Yeah, it's just… no one has ever. I don't know if I'd like it." You confessed.

You had little to no experience when it came to good sex. Your ex liked the same shit and wasn't as creative as you would have wanted him to be. All of your previous partners were the same – same shit over and over. They were all selfish – selfish and just awful.

"You've been with some dickheads, darlin'. Who doesn't wanna eat this pretty little pussy? I mean look at you, baby."

His words were hot, but tongue against your wet cunt was even hotter.

"You're already so wet for me.Tell me if you don't like it, okay?"

"Okay, Joel."

He started off slow, showering you with kisses all around your sensitive and pulsating core, before his face was buried deep between your legs, licking the bundle of nerves that no one bothered to touch. Your fingers were in his hair, pulling it harder and harder as the pleasure was growing stronger. It was a brand new feeling – intense, but good. It felt like he was tickling you and torturing you and yet you didn't want him to stop. Your mouth only knew the sound of his name.

"Joel, Joel….FUCK!"

You could feel the vibrations of his groans against your skin, making your back arch. When he placed two fingers inside, you knew you were going to lose it very soon. It was too much to handle. He was fucking you with his fingers as his mouth never left your clit. Your sanity began to crumble as you started forgetting your own name, only pleasure taking over you.

"Oh my fucking God!" You screamed, gripping the bed sheets as the orgasm rushed through you. Your body was stiff, skin covered in goosebumps, your lungs forgot to breathe – the climax hit you hard.

You were panting, practically running towards air, but not being able to catch it. Joel kissed your hip bone and climbed back up.

"Good girl!" He said and kissed you letting you taste yourself. A mixture of sweet and salty hit your taste buds – you craved more.

"Spit in my mouth!" You heard yourself say, breaking the kiss. Your hands cupped his face pulling him closer and licking your juices off his beautiful nose.

Joel bit his lower lip, letting you know he liked your demand.

"Open!" He said and you opened your mouth, letting your tongue out. A thick drop of saliva left his mouth and hit your tongue, and you swallowed instantly. Something about being able to finally taste every part of this man was enough to send you into an animalistic state so intense it was able to cloud your judgment completely. You wanted to take control now. It was his turn to moan and scream in pleasure. Your hands went around his torso as you pulled him closer to you. His hot skin pressed against yours and before he knew it you managed to flip him over, with his help,so he was under you. Finally, he was under you.

"You are a lot stronger than you look, darlin', he told you as you took off his jeans.

"Not strong Joel…just really fuckin' horny." You confessed.

He was bigger than you– sure; stronger– sure; but under your spell powerless. It has been a very long time since he felt this kind of connection with anyone. He needed this just as much as you did.

"What you wanna do? He asked and watched you taking off his boxers, his dick free and fully hard and slightly curved to the right.

"I want you to fuck my mouth, handsome."

Handsome.

He was indeed handsome. His hair messy, skin drenched in sweat, his eyes soft as always – he was indeed the most handsome man you have ever laid your eyes on.

Only a gasp left his lips. He didn't even manage to react to your statement; his dick was already in your warm mouth.

"Fuck!" You heard him say under his breath. Not having a gag reflex was a blessing, since he was big enough and hit the back of your throat right away. Your head moved slowly up and down as you hand cupped his balls making him grip the bed sheets and moan your name. Hearing him say your name all hot and bothered only made you want him even more.

Your pace became faster, with each movement his dick would hit your throat and every time he would moan.

"Baby!" He called but you didn't answer.

"Please, don't make me cum!" Your ears registered. He was begging.

"Please, don't wanna –"

His words. The desperation in his voice was sweet like honey – music for your ears. You didn't stop though, you wanted to listen to him beg a little bit more.

"Baby –"

His dick was hitting your throat every time and it felt too good to stop.

"Please –"

His words – too melodic and desperate to pull away.

"I'm gonna –"

Until you finally pulled away. His head hit the pillow and in relief he let out a sign when you got back up to kiss him

"Going insane, handsome?" You teased.

"Teasin' me like that darlin' – Jesus Christ– yeah a little bit."

You kissed him again, swallowing his short exhales, smiling into the kiss. "I couldn't resist, you're cute when you beg."

And with that he flipped you over by wrapping his hands around your body. With ease, like you were a ragdoll. A squeal echoed in the room. Your fingers followed his face lines; on his forehead, cheeks all the way to his lips, your thumb, brushing against his lower lip. You had never seen his face up close, every line was a perfect puzzle piece on his face, his eyes were dark, tired but filled with warmth. He was a work of art, nothing more, nothing less.

"You're so handsome, Joel."

He didn't know how to react. He forgot how to take compliments, so he just kissed you, almost wanting to absorb your words through your lips. He liked them – he liked you, very much.

"You're beautiful, darlin'." He said, stroking your hair.

"I never thought you'd go for a young lady like me." You told him, your hands around his torso, pulling him as close as possible.

"And I never knew you'd go for an old man like me." He smiled, his face inches away from yours – noses barely touching.

You frowned. "You ain't old."

"Sure darlin'." He smiled softly before kissing you again.

It wasn't a dream. It wasn't a daydream. He was healing the wounds in your soul with each kiss. He was gluing you back together; like you were a broken vase; not even knowing that he was the glue. It was strange to finally feel an ounce of happiness – true authentic happiness; considering the situation and the enormous grief surrounding you in that house. He made everything go away.

A pathetic whine left your lips as he entered you. He was big, bigger than any guy you had slept with and the blissful sensation was fused with light discomfort before completely melting with pleasure. Joel kissed the skin just underneath your ear.

"Are you okay?" He whispered.

"Y-yeah. Fuck me!" You whispered back.

Slowly he started to move, establishing the pace. With each thrust, your fingers pulled his hair, with each pull he moaned. It seemed that he waited for you long enough. You were now his and only his to consume.

Your legs wrapped around his waist pulling him closer to hit that sweet spot, your ex was incapable of hitting without cumming in two seconds. Sloppy kisses and love bites as the pace got faster. The room filled with moans, groans and whimpers. Time stopped – it was just you and him.

Joel suddenly stopped and took your legs, placing them on his shoulders. You watched him as he slowly leaned in to kiss you as he started moving again– faster and harder. You had no idea you were that flexible.

"OH MY GOD!!" You screamed feeling him hit that sweet, sweet spot over and over again.

He took your face squeezing your cheeks between fingers, forcing you to look at him.

"Not God, Joel!" He smirked as he was fucking you.

You giggled. "Funny, old man!"

Your body wasn't hurting, he bent you over in half; like a piece of paper; you could see your feet dangling in the air as he was pounding into you.

"Joel, Joel, Joel!!!"

"There we go! Come on baby! Cum! Cum for me!" His words were unexpected; since no one has ever cared enough to say them. No one has ever cared enough to see you come undone.

You dug your fingers into his back, feeling the waves of pleasure consuming you completely.

"Gonna–"

"Fuck–"

"JOEL!"

For the second time you fell apart under him. Your body was completely drenched in sweat as you let the pleasure run through you. He still didn't stop, he was eager to cum; to have that release and fill you up. He wondered if he could.

You lifted your head up and kissed him. "Cum in me, handsome!"

"C-can I?" He asked, barely able to speak. He was close – really close – he just wanted to make sure you were okay with it.

"I'm on the pill," you reassured him. "Please, Joel!"

The desperate plea was all it took for him to completely lose himself. He stopped moving, his body twitching in pleasure as he filled you up. The sound of him moaning and groaning as he couldn't keep your name out of his mouth was something you never knew you'd hear.

You felt him fill you up completely, before he pulled out, collapsing next to you.

He was aware that this wasn't just a meaningless fuck and you knew you were already falling for him.

***

A few months later

Your alarm went off as you pressed snooze. It was time to seize yet another day but after another 5 minutes and another and another... You rolled on your side to find the other half of the bed empty.

"Joel?" You mumbled, still feeling groggy.

When you finally got the strength to actually get up, you found him in the kitchen making pancakes.

"Mornin'," you said, rubbing your eyes.

"I was about to wake you up darlin', we're already late." He said, placing a kiss on your forehead.

It was a rainy day in The Big Apple and you would much rather stay in your beloved loft than go outside and be a productive member of society. Unfortunately, you had dreams to catch and money to make.

"Didn't they tell us the rehearsal is at noon?" You asked, taking one pancake from the plate.

"Darlin' it's 11am." He told you. You didn't realize you had been snoozing your phone for an hour.

"Do we have to go though? We already had two gigs there and we played the same shit. I know my chords.," you whined. As much as you love playing, you really wanted to stay in.

"Yes, we have to. Tonight is some kind of fancy jazz night, remember? We will be playing different songs."

You completely forgot about that.

"Shit! Well, it's your fault old man! Your stamina is so high, we always end up fucking like rabbits almost every single night for like 5 hours!" You teased and smacked his ass playfully.

"Seriously?" He said with a bitch face as he watched you leave to go to the bathroom to get ready.

"Love you, handsome!" He heard you say.

"Love you too, darlin'." He said and flipped the last pancake.

#joel miller fic #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fluff #joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader smut #the last of us hbo #joel tlou #daddy joel #joel x reader #joel miller x reader fic #joel miller x you #the last of us smut #the last of us fluff #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #tlou hbo

184 notes · View notes