#last time i saw him was at a funeral for my great grandma on that side of the family

[jacqcrisis]

Lmao looks like my deadbeat sperm donor finally got a job that doesn't pay him under the table. Took 31 years for him to start paying child support, but better late than never I guess.

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Summary: Grandma's funeral brings out a side of Ms. Sweetheart that Eddie hasn't ever seen, leaving the two of them questioning everything they've built up together.

Warnings: funeral service (I tried to keep it as neutral as possible so it could apply to any religion), mentions of cause of Grandma's death, failed attempt at sex, pretty much all angst sorry

WC: 5.1k

Chapter 10/20

Divider credit to @saradika Harris's note credit to @girlwiththerubyslippers

Eddie can’t remember the last time he went to a funeral. It might’ve been for one of Wayne’s friends, or a distant great-aunt twice removed. He doesn’t even own a proper suit for such an occasion; everything he’s wearing actually belongs to Wayne. He smooths down the creases in his black slacks; the material of anything other than worn denim is foreign against his legs. The elbows of his coat jacket are patched, and he slides his palms over them in embarrassment.

He takes a seat in one of the back rows, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible while the other mourners file in. There’s a pit growing in his stomach as his gaze swoops to the coffin resting at the front of the room. The realization that Grandma was inside was almost too much for him to handle, and he’d only met her a month ago. He hadn’t known her when she was…herself, but he saw glimpses of her now and again. The last time he was over for a Wednesday night dinner, she rested her head on his shoulder as though she’d done it a million times. You’d mouthed sorry, but Eddie had simply smiled and let Grandma stay there as long as she wanted. If he was being honest, he felt special, knowing that she was comfortable with him.

Eddie’s eyes are only drawn from the casket when he sees you walk among your family. He immediately takes note of your face, normally soft and vibrant, now stoic and emotionless. It’s a sharp contrast to your relatives, who wear their grief through bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks. The hymn playing in the background fades out as a man speaks up at the podium. 

Eddie’s barely listening, keeping his attention on you. He watches your mouth move as you recite the prayers along with the rest of your family, though he’s only half-listening to them. He’s never been one for organized religion, but he echoes the closing statement when everyone else does. 

That’s when you stand up, smoothing down your dress at the back of your thighs, and walk towards the front of the room. You’re clutching a piece of paper in your hand, which Eddie notices is slightly trembling. He locks eyes with you, dragging his teeth along his bottom lip and offers the smallest of encouraging smiles. You acknowledge it with a tiny nod in his direction before taking a deep breath and beginning the eulogy. 

“Um, h-hi.,” you start, stumbling over your words awkwardly. You clear your throat and try again. “Thank you all for coming to honor and remember Grandma. It’s evident that she meant a lot to so many people. 

“When I was writing this eulogy, I kept thinking about who she was as a person.” You don’t let your gaze drift from Eddie’s, and you could swear that he’s the only force keeping you from crumbling to the ground in a heap of grief. “For a lot of us, we wonder what ‘big thing’ will define our lives. The occasion that people will remember us by, you know? But with Grandma, there wasn’t one ‘big thing.’ Her life was a series of little kindnesses that she made sure to sprinkle into her everyday life. Like, when I was a kid, my dad broke his ankle. My mom couldn’t leave me home alone, so Grandma drove him to and from the hospital and stayed with him while he waited. She always took care of us. 

“One of my favorite memories is how she would bring me a bouquet of flowers after every dance recital I was in. She’d be waiting for me by the stage door with a big smile on her face, telling me what a great job I did, even if I totally messed up…she was the best. All she wanted was for the people she loved to be happy. 

“And that’s what I associate with Grandma—love. How much I loved her, and how much she loved us. Just a few weeks ago, she was sharing Oreos with the kid I tutor, and it reminded me of how she used to be with me.” At that line, Eddie feels his lip quiver, tears dampening his lashes, and he ducks his head to keep you from seeing him break. This time, it’s more for your sake than his, since you’re leaning on him to remain upright. “I encourage all of you to find the little kindnesses in life, and to be the kindness in someone’s day. 

“Grandma, you are already so missed. I hope you’re seeing the values you instilled in each of us. Rest easy. We’ll take it from here.” The only sounds in the entire room are the heels of your shoes clacking on the floor and sniffling from nearly everyone else in the congregation. You take your seat quietly, bowing your head as though trying to hide.

The rest of the service is a blur of hymns and prayers; nothing, Eddie notes, nearly as moving as the eulogy you gave. He barely notices when the people around him start moving, keeping a watchful eye on you. You’re trying to blend in amongst your black-clad relatives, but Eddie has no problem finding you. He cranes his neck just in time to see your family make a right through the doors, while you pivot left. 

Instinctively, his hands tuck into his pants pocket as he fumbles for his cigarettes and lighter. He has no idea what to say to you, no idea where to even begin. He needs a smoke or three to clear his head before he sees you and stammers out some half-witted acknowledgment of your loss. There’s no time for that; however, because as soon as he steps outside, he sees you sitting on the steps. It’s freezing outside, but your arms are bare, and Eddie can see the prickle of goosebumps lining your skin.

“What are you doing out here by yourself?” he asks, drawing your attention as he takes a seat next to you. He shrugs off his own jacket, placing it over your shoulders without a second thought. 

You offer him a sad smile, tugging the coat so it covers more of you. You didn’t realize how cold you were until you felt the contrast of his body heat. “Trying to avoid my family,” you admit, placing your hand over Eddie’s. “Could you take me home? I got a ride here from my uncle, but I really don’t want to go out to eat with everyone.” They’re probably arguing over where to get lunch right now, acting as though their matriarch isn’t about to be lowered into the ground.

“You sure?” Eddie’s eyebrows pinch together in concern. “I mean, I don’t mind, but I don’t want to take you away from them or anything.” He can picture the sneers he’ll receive, a pit forming in his stomach.

You remain unfazed to the conundrum he faces. “Trust me, you’d be doing me a favor. I can’t…” your voice catches, so you restart your sentence. “I can’t sit there while everyone’s smiling and laughing. That’s what happens when an old, sick person dies; people don’t even try to hide their relief. I need…I need to be alone.” You tuck your lips inside your mouth, attempting to bury your feelings.

Eddie nods, reaching over to take his keys out of the jacket you’re now wearing. “Yeah, no, I get it. We can get outta here.” He stands up, takes your hand in his to help you to your feet, and leads you to the car as inconspicuous as possible. The last thing either of you need is to be confronted by one of your relatives.

The two of you sit in the car quietly, without even the radio on. Eddie can’t remember the last time he’s had a silent car ride; he either has music playing, Harris yammering his ear off, or a combination of both. He keeps his hands at ten and two, internally debating whether or not to rest one on your knee. It wouldn’t be a sexual thing, not even close, but he doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea. His grip remains steady, the hum of the engine is the only sound.

You take this time to study him, taking in the crow’s feet that line the edges of his eyes, the tiny patch of stubble that he’d missed while shaving, the slight dimple in his chin. You try and turn before he can catch you, and though your efforts are fruitless, he doesn’t quite call you out on it. “Y’good?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stutter, smoothing a part of your dress that isn’t wrinkled. “Could you come inside for a little while? I thought I wanted to be by myself, but I really want you to stay.”

You really want him to stay. Not just that you need company, but you want him specifically. The notion sets all of Eddie’s nerve endings alight. “‘Course,” he replies, perhaps a bit too casually to cover up his excitement over the realization that he brings you some form of comfort.

When he pulls into the apartment complex’s parking lot and shuts off the ignition, he takes the opportunity to hold your hand again. It’s so much different than when he held it a few days earlier on your date, when there was an atmosphere of joy and hope. Now it’s like he’s pulling you along, like his lead is what has you placing one heel-clad foot in front of the other.

You unlock the door, accidentally leaving the key within its latch, and Eddie quietly removes it and places it on the table. His fingers ghost your biceps to remove your–his–coat from your body, but you just pull it on farther like a safety blanket.

“Y’want coffee? ‘M gonna put on a pot,” you offer quietly, already heading over to the kitchen. You scoop out a serving of coffee grounds for you, inhaling the hazelnut scent before dumping it into the basket, glancing over at him for his response.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he nods, and you put another scoop in before filling the carafe with tap water. With a flick of the power button, the Black + Decker rumbles and kicks on, and the drip drip drip of coffee fills the room.

You grab two mugs from the cupboard and place them on the counter. “How’d you even find out about the funeral?” 

Eddie walks over, though he feels as though he can’t get close enough. He just wants to hold you tight and never let go, but you’ve put up some sort of barrier that he can’t quite interpret. “Oh, um, I asked Byers. I hope you don’t mind–I tried calling you, but it said the line was disconnected.”

Your cheeks burn. “That was Grandma.” Eddie looks confused–rightfully so–and you elaborate. “The morning that she…she got annoyed with the phone ringing, so when I wasn’t looking, she took the scissors and cut the wire.”

Eddie’s jaw drops in disbelief. “You’re joking.”

“I wish I was. I left the house for a few minutes to get a new phone, and when I came back, she’d fallen asleep and…” you swallow thickly, rummaging through the refrigerator for the tiny carton of half-and-half, “…and she never woke up. First call I made with the new phone was to 9-1-1, but it was too late.” Too late. That’s what the EMTs told you: I’m sorry, but it’s too late. 

“Oh, Sweetheart. My sweet girl…” Eddie’s heart lurches, and he instinctively reaches out to you. One hand lays between your shoulder blades while the other rubs up and down your spine. He’s careful not to let it drop too low, never going past the small of your back. Though you’re pressed flush to his chest, there’s still a strange disconnect between you. 

Despite every urge you have to cling to him, you pull away and shove a teaspoon into the sugar bowl, sliding it towards him on the counter. “S’okay. I mean, it’s not, but…they said she’d had a heart attack. If I didn’t get the phone, I wouldn’t have been able to call for an ambulance anyway.” The dripping of the coffee maker slows as it finishes brewing. “Only thing I could do is go back in time and stop her from cutting the wires, and Melvald’s was all outta time machines,” you joke, but it falls flat.

Eddie frowns, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against the countertop. “You don’t have to do this, y’know.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Pretend like you’re alright,” he explains, voice hardly louder than a whisper. He tucks a lock of hair behind his ear.

You feel an anger rising within you, though you’re unable to pinpoint its origin. “I am alright,” you insist through gritted teeth.

Eddie shakes his head, peering at you through his impossibly long eyelashes. “It’s okay to be sad–”

“Don’t you get it, Eddie?” You cut him off with a snap, slamming the coffee pot down so harshly that it almost cracks. “I’m not sad. I’m not relieved. I’m not anything. My grandma just died, and I don’t feel a goddamn thing! It’s like I’m some kind of monster.”

“Hey, hey, c’mere.” He hugs you again, holds you even tighter than before as he kisses the top of your head. “You’re not a monster, ‘kay? I promise you.”

You look up at him, not quite believing his words, but you press your lips to his. He kisses you back gently; timidly even, but you deepen it and graze his tongue with your own. Your left hand weaves its way through his messy curls and your right fumbles with his belt buckle, but you’re unable to unhook the clasp before he steps back.

“What’re you–” His eyes widen and he puts his hands up to avoid touching you, clearly confused by your behavior. If you had the capacity to be honest with yourself, you’d admit that you’re not sure why you’re doing this, either.

“Please, Eddie,” you beg, trying to reconnect your lips with his, but he just pulls away again. “Please, I…I need this. I need you.”

“If we sleep together for the first time right now, while you’re like this, you’ll regret it,” he says.

You don’t deny the accusation; instead, you double down on it. “Okay, so I’ll regret it! I’ll feel regret, but at least I’ll feel something!” Your trembling fingers brush against his shirt, trying to grab onto it and bring his body to you, but he turns with a scoff.

“You’d really be okay with that?” There’s unmistakeable anger in his tone, but it’s laced with something more than that; something that sounds more like hurt. “Regretting our first time together?”

“Didn’t we almost fuck on your couch the night we met? You didn’t even know my last name. You barely knew my first name.” Your words are biting, thick with malice. “When did you become so averse to meaningless sex?”

“Meaningless?” Eddie balks, digging his fingernails into his palms until they leave crescent-shaped marks. His lips contort into a perplexed grimace as he formulates a response. “I, um, I gotta go. I’ll call you–”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that line before, and I’m not falling for it again.” You can’t stop the words before they’re tumbling from your mouth, and you can’t take them back. “Shit, Eddie–”

“Just—don’t say anything else, ‘kay? I’m leaving.” He turns around, digging into his back pocket. “This is for you. From me and Harris.” He tosses a piece of notebook paper, folded into fourths, onto the end table and closes the door with a slam.

You stand there, dumbfounded at what just occurred–mostly at your own actions. When you move towards the paper, you realize that you’re still wearing Eddie’s suit jacket, and you yank it off and throw it to the ground, leaving it in a heap. You open the note and read, vision blurred from the tears threatening to spill over.

The innocent kindness of a little boy is all it takes for you to break down and cry, muffling your sobs in your palms though there isn’t anyone around to hear them. Grandma was gone. You’d chased Eddie away with the same vitriol he’d spewed at you that day at the record store. You’re really, truly alone.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you chant to no one in particular. You’re sorry to Grandma, for leaving her home alone. You could’ve asked Jess to run out and get a new phone, but you’d needed a break from Grandma’s anger that was always directed towards you. That morning, after you’d discovered the cut phone line, there had been another argument over taking her medication, and she yelled “I HATE YOU!” at the top of her lungs. Then she sat at the table and ate a bowl of cereal like nothing had happened. Instead of taking a deep breath and brushing it off, you’d grabbed your keys and headed to RadioShack. You could’ve driven there, it would’ve made the trip much faster, but you’d decided to walk. The fresh air would do you good, you told yourself, pushing away the full truth of the matter: you’d desperately needed to be away from Grandma. When you got back, she was laying on the couch, and you would’ve sworn she was only sleeping…

You’re sorry to Eddie. Sorry that he’d wasted his time with someone who resorted to dredging up the past as soon as she felt an ounce of anger and rejection. Someone who insisted that he could trust her and then promptly shattered that rapport once he’d let his guard down.

And for a split second, you allow yourself to feel sorry for you. Sorry that you couldn’t even grieve properly without feeling like you didn’t deserve it, because if you were home, Grandma might still be alive. 

You look down at the card one more time, choking out a laugh through your tears at Harris’s offer to share his grandpa. It dawns on you that you’ll either have to stop tutoring him or continue to see Eddie on a weekly basis. Everyone who comes in contact with me gets entangled in my problems, you note miserably. Eddie’s finally getting his life together and I’m fucking it all up. He deserves better than me.

Maybe it’s a good idea to leave Hawkins and go back home, at least for the holidays. You’re not sure what type of celebrations the family will muster up, but it’s better than being alone with your thoughts. And if you never return, that might be best for everybody.

The bell above the drugstore door chimes as Eddie pushes his way in. He smoked out his remaining cigarettes on the drive over, and he’s desperate for another pack. He makes a beeline for the back wall, plucking his usual Camels from the display. “Perfect,” he mutters, though his lungs would certainly disagree.

As he shuffles towards the cashier, he spots a familiar face in one of the aisles. His lurking cowardice screams at him to run away, but he shoves it deep down and talks anyway. “H-Hey, man. How’s it going?”

Jeff turns around, first bewildered at who’s speaking to him, then tensing up when he sees Eddie standing before him. “Can’t complain. Just getting some of these prenatal vitamin things for Viv,” he replies tersely, shaking the bottle to emphasize his statement.

There’s an awkward silence before Eddie speaks again. “Look, um, I’m really sorry about what happened at our last show.” He rubs the back of his neck and winces at the memory. “What I said, what I didn’t say…you’re gonna be a great dad, dude. Like, the best. I was just jealous, but that’s not an excuse to be an asshole.”

“Jealous?” Jeff cocks an eyebrow incredulously, willing Eddie to continue.

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, shamefully averting his gaze. “You’re bringing a kid into a stable household, and I couldn’t do that for Harris. I don’t regret having him, of course, but I’ll always feel guilty about the shitshow he was born into.” He taps the pack of cigarettes on his palm, biting his lower lip to shut himself up. “Anyway, I gotta get home—”

“Eddie Munson?” He turns around to see a young woman standing behind him. Her low-cut top shows off the top of her breasts, cleavage pushed up by a bra, and her jeans hug every curve. She purses her pink-glossed lips together in a flirtatious smile.

“Y-Yeah?”

“I’m Lisa.” She says this like Eddie should already know this, and he’s embarrassed to admit to himself that he can’t place the name or face. “We hooked up last summer at the Hideout? In the men’s room?” Lisa lowers her voice seductively to whisper that detail. “I haven’t seen you there in a while.”

“Oh, yeah.” There have been multiple men’s room hook-ups, but he’s not about to play detective to figure out exactly who she is, so he plays along. “The band’s been on a bit of a…hiatus, I guess.” From his peripheral vision, he can see Jeff ducking his head, and his cheeks burn with the truth.

Lisa juts out her lower lip in an exaggerated pout, though Eddie knows it’s all for show. “That’s too bad.” She lets her hand rest on his chest, leaning into him and twirling a strand of his hair around a polished fingernail. “If you’re not busy tonight, I’d love to have you over for drinks and…dessert? Recreate that night at the bar, minus the urinal?”

Eddie moves her arms from his vicinity, putting a necessary space between them. “Um, n-nah. No thanks,” he clarifies. “I’m, uh, kinda involved with someone, so…”

She remains undaunted, a small chuckle escaping her throat. “I can keep a secret. She doesn’t have to know.” She takes another step forward to close the gap, and he’s so goddamn tempted, but he shakes it off. He doesn’t have a clue what’s going to happen between you and him, but he knows he’s not going to sabotage any potential relationship.

“Well, I’ll know,” he retorts, “and I’ll feel like shit about it.”

Lisa rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Your loss.” She pivots on one heel and mumbles something under her breath that Eddie doesn’t even bother to interpret.

Jeff looks at Eddie with an amused grin as he shifts his weight from one side to the other. “So, you’re involved with someone?” He knows from what Jess has told him that Eddie went on a date with you a few days ago, but he couldn’t gauge the seriousness of the situation.

“I think so. At least, I was, until about fifteen minutes ago.” He relents and fills Jeff in about everything that happened, from your conversation over steaming coffee mugs, to the amazing kiss you’d shared as snowflakes collected on your eyelashes, to the unexpected confrontation after Grandma’s funeral today.

Jeff sighs, but it’s one of sympathy, not exasperation. “You did the right thing,” he says finally.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jeff laughs, punching him playfully on the arm. “I’m serious. And you did the right thing just now, too, with that groupie.” He clears his throat. “Viv’s baby shower is in a couple weeks. Ladies only, y’know, but I could use some help loading all the gifts into the car. And we could grab some lunch beforehand, if you want.”

Eddie nods. “Yeah, that would be great. Might have to let Harris tag along, if that’s all right.” He doesn’t want to keep asking Wayne to babysit, no matter how much the old man insists that he doesn’t mind.

“Of course. You know that little man is always welcome.” Jeff says, walking towards the register. “I’ll call you with the details.”

Eddie hesitates, letting his friend pass him by a few paces before he calls out. “Jeff?”

“Yeah?”

“What do I do about…” Eddie trails off, unwilling to finish his sentence. He feels absolutely ridiculous having this conversation in the middle of the drugstore, but he’s desperate not to fuck this up further.

Jeff scratches at his stubble with his free hand, contemplating the options as only someone who’s been in a long-term relationship and hasn’t had to navigate the nuances of a fresh relationship in ages can. “Give her some time; a few days, at least. She’s going through a lot. She needs her space, y’know, to figure things out.”

It’s not the answer Eddie was hoping for; patience has never been his forte. He wishes that Jeff would have told him to chase after you, to go get the girl and make sure she knows how much she means to him. But he knows that his friend is right, and he acknowledges his response with a small smile. “Thanks, man.”

“See ya around, Ed.”

Eddie unlocks his apartment door, new pack of cigarettes in one hand and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s tucked under the other arm. He doesn’t usually splurge on ice cream, but every romantic comedy cliche has instructed him that it’s the perfect remedy for heartbreak. If that’s even what this is, he thinks, but he knows it’s true. After doing everything in his power to prevent it, he’d allowed you to break his heart. And as he shoves a spoon into the container of Devil’s Food Chocolate, it dawns on him that he’d do it all again.

He’d come to your rescue and pick the lock of Grandma’s bedroom door. He’d sit around the table and eat pizza with you, Harris, and Grandma every Wednesday night. He’d drive to your house with store-brand cookies and watch cheesy Thanksgiving movies with you just to see the smile on your face. He’d take you out for coffee and kiss you in the snow a thousand times over. And he’d go to Grandma’s funeral and drive you home and turn down your offer for sex and break his own fucking heart again and again if it meant protecting you.

He shimmies out of his starchy dress pants and unbuttons his shirt, leaving himself in just a white undershirt and his boxers as he sinks deeper into the sofa. He reaches over for the remote–now that he works when Harris is in school, he rarely has time to watch something that he actually enjoys–and notices the phone’s red flashing light indicating that he has a new voicemail.

He presses play with a clumsy finger on the button, expecting Wayne’s gruff voice or a reminder for an overdue bill. When he hears that it’s you, he sits up straight, nearly dropping his ice cream.

“Hi, Eddie. It’s me. I’m so sorry for what happened earlier. I’m sure you’re probably mad, but I just want you to know…it wouldn’t have been meaningless. It wasn’t meaningless the night we met when it was supposed to be meaningless.” You take a deep breath. “I’m going back home for the holidays. Um, I’m not sure when…if…I’m coming back, but before I leave, I had to apologize for what I said. You’re a great guy, Eddie. I hope you know that. Have, um, have a nice holiday. Okay, bye.”

Eddie remains still, a loud silence enveloping the room once the machine relays that he’s reached the end of new messages. He’s dissecting every word you’d uttered, replaying them over and over. 

It wasn’t meaningless the night we met when it was supposed to be meaningless. 

So you’d felt it, too; that spark much stronger than the usual lust that overcomes him during hookups. And while he’d tried to convince himself that he’d only asked you to cuddle, had you stay over out of post-sex, post-show delirium, he can’t deny the truth any longer.

He’d asked because he felt comfortable around you, like he could hold you forever and whisper secrets that scare him to even admit to himself. Maybe it was because you’d seen Harris’s car seat that night and hadn’t run for the hills, or maybe it was the way you’d kissed him like he was worth savoring. And the morning after, when he’d all but chased you out of the apartment…Christ, you didn’t deserve that.

I’m not sure when…if…I’m coming back. 

The ‘when’ he could handle, but that ‘if’ was a weight on his chest. He questions his actions for a moment–should he have slept with you? Showed you how wanted and cherished and safe you were with him? Given your mind a chance to wander from the grief choking it? But Jeff said he had done the right thing, and considering the man was engaged with a baby on the way, Eddie figured he had to know something about women.

You’re a great guy, Eddie. I hope you know that.

Is he? He’s certainly a better man than when you’d first met him, but is he actually a great guy? He’d bought you coffee and didn’t fuck you when you were too vulnerable to truly consent–is that what constitutes greatness, or is he just a step above a piece of shit?

And, of course, part of him is angry. Not only because you were so easily willing to use him–although that realization definitely stings–but mostly because you’d thought he’d want to. After everything you two had been through, did you truly believe that he’d be unbothered? That he’d throw away all of that progress just to get his dick wet? Is that how little you think of him? Eddie doesn’t want the answer.  

The ice cream is melting, so he forgoes the spoon and just takes a swig from the pint. He licks the chocolatey residue from his lips before standing up to put the carton in the freezer. Tacked onto the refrigerator is Harris’s picture from Halloween where Eddie and Ms. Sweetheart are holding hands.

He plucks it from under the magnet, staring at it intently. The memory of his son and his uncle asking him about you, that pretty like a princess remark, the unfurling realization that he felt things for you that he’d thought he was incapable of feeling. He never should have taken their ribbings, inadvertently getting his hopes up that there was something there worth pursuing.

Without thinking, Eddie crumples the paper in his fist, crushing the family portrait into a ball. “Shit,” he mutters, placing it on the table and smoothing it out as best as he can. His hands glide over the drawing, rubbing over every crease until it looks good as new and Harris will be none the wiser.

But Eddie knows what’s been destroyed. What he doesn’t know is whether or not it can be smoothed out.

--

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[shadowlali]

hot chocolate and snickerdoodle cookies

COD AU - Phillip Graves x bed and breakfast owner!fem!reader

[18+] summary: Phillip visits a bed and breakfast from his childhood. He meets the new owner, a sweet soul who helps him grieve. wc: 6.3k masterlist

[photos found on pinterest, all credit to original owners of the photos above]

warnings: NSFW, some proofreading, DUAL P.O.V., no use of Y/N nor details on reader’s appearance, talks about losing loved ones (grandparent, great aunt, great uncle), soft!graves, pet names, unprotected sex, breeding kink, size kink (if you squint) a/n: happy new year's! here's my take at a soft (but still commanding) graves <3 thank you all for the support! when i started this blog in august i never though i'd have people read my stuff 😭 may you all have an amazing and blessed new year! also don't read too much into the layout/logistics of the bed and breakfast i've only been to like two or three lol

Phillip’s. P.O.V.

Phillip sits in his idling car, staring at the dreamy, two-story bed and breakfast. It’s covered in a light sheet of snow with a few cars parked in the front. Through the big, front window, he can see the orange flickers of light emanating from the fireplace. 

It’s been years since he’s last visited. Despite the welcoming atmosphere of the town and of the house, his heart hammers in his chest. He recognizes the same small grocery store, same tiny post office, same park… but it seems different? 

And it is, at least to him. His grandmother, the one who introduced him to this place decades ago, is long gone. It didn’t matter that his parents would abandon him months on end, he had his grandmother and that was more than enough. 

They stumbled on this town decades ago, when he was just a boy. Eventually it became a tradition. Every year his grandmother would bring him and every year they would stay in this bed and breakfast. He remembers the hot chocolate and snickerdoodle cookies and the soft beds. He remembers the older couple who owned the place, how kind and willing they were to include Phillip and his grandma in their holiday traditions.  

Then it stopped. He joined the military, was shipped all over the world and only saw his grandma a few times a year. She never seemed to mind, happy to see her grandson all grown up and doing something he loved. The time spent with her became less and less. Lines and white hair, a symbol of a life well lived, appeared on her. It only made her more beautiful to him. 

But time eventually caught up to her. Her hands shook when she reached for a cup of tea and it took her longer to walk up the stairs. Phillip didn’t want to stay away anymore. He had already thought of creating Shadow Company to be his own boss, his own commander. And his grandmother’s worsening condition only made him work faster to achieve that dream. 

He didn’t see her too often, but she stayed in his home, under the care of a specialized team. Once Shadow Company was built, they had only three holidays together. Three holidays spent in the cute mountain town in the same two-story bed and breakfast. On the last Christmas before her passing, he held in his tears. She was too frail to open her presents. It was difficult for her to walk without assistance and her memory had long begun to fail her. 

But they sat in front of the fireplace, surrounded by the chatter of the other guests and family of the owners. He held her softer hand in his and basked in the warmth of the flames and the love of his grandma. She turned slightly in her chair, covered under a mountain of blankets, and stared at his side profile. 

Phillip… my baby boy, she had said softly. He turned to look at her, feeling her soft hand cup his cheek. Yeah, gram? I’m right here. A few months after that, once they were back in Texas, she passed peacefully in her sleep. There were hundreds of cards and flowers sent by everyone who knew her. There were people he didn’t even recognize at her funeral. But it was a testament to how loved she was by those around her. 

The couple from the bed and breakfast visited and expressed how hurt they were by her passing. Their bodies were also frail and soon after they would pass too. He cried and cried and cried until there were no more tears. A strong, assertive soldier reduced to tears. Phillip walked around his grandmother’s room at his home and wrapped himself in the blankets she would knit. Time passed and he threw himself into his work, not thinking too much about her or the memories. 

Even now, many years later, it still pains his heart when he thinks of her. He doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t want to see the park and the swings where she’d push him until he felt like he was flying. He doesn’t want to see the snow and think about the snow angels or the snowball fights they used to have. It hurts. It hurts so much to relive those memories. 

But he can’t live like this anymore. He wants to remember her and everything she did for him. Phillip wants to grieve properly even if he knows it’ll split his heart wide open. She deserves to be talked about and her memory deserves to be cherished. 

Before his surge of confidence fades, Philip turns off the SUV and grabs his luggage from the passenger seat. He jogs across the street, wanting to escape the cold. He reaches the porch, seeing Christmas lights wrap around the front posts. It's past Christmas now, only a few days away from New Years, but he can see the giant green tree with shiny ornaments through the window. 

Before he can knock on the door, it swings open. You stand there, encased in a knit sweater and leggings, looking way too sweet and soft for your own good. Phillip is left speechless for a moment, blinded by the smile on your pretty face.

“Hi! Welcome, come on in!” you say, motioning for him to enter the foyer. 

Phillip clears his throat and offers you a smile. “Thank you, sweetheart.” 

You close the door behind him, passing close enough for him to smell your perfume. Without thinking he breathes in deep, filling his lungs. He follows you to the front desk, wondering if you're related to the previous owners. As he gives his name and hands over his license he discreetly looks at your name tag. Phillip rolls your name quietly over his tongue, looking away once you take your eyes off of the computer. 

“You’ve been here before! Your name is in our system,” you exclaim. 

His heart pinches uncomfortably and before he can formulate a response you reach over on the desk and grab a picture frame. 

“I thought you looked like the boy in this photo… this is you, right? With your grandma and my great aunt and uncle!” 

He takes the picture frame from you, brushing against your soft hands. His breath catches in his throat and tears prick his eyes. It is him with his grandmother alongside what he now knows to be your great aunt and great uncle. He’s a young teen in this photo, at this point already taller than his grandma. 

“They passed when I was young but they always talked about you and her. You guys were like a second family to them,” your soft voice breaks through his thoughts. 

“They were–they were always so welcoming to us,” he whispers,” I have some great memories from this place.” 

He hands back the picture and you place it once more on the desk. You hand him a key and walk around the desk towards the hallway. 

“Well, Mr. Graves, I hope you’re able to create some new ones.” 

“Phillip is fine, sweetheart. No need for formalities.”

You hum, nodding your head slightly. You ask if he needs help with his luggage and he immediately says no, motioning you to continue walking. He follows you, taking in his surroundings. Not much has changed since he was last here. The same dark wood floors and furniture adorn the place. He sees photos of other guests on small tables and on the walls of the hallway. 

He breathes in the familiar scent of the home and lets the warmth wash over him. 

“Is it just you here? Do other family members help run the place?” Phillip asks as you lead him up the stairs. 

“It used to be my parents, but they left it to me. They said I’m more passionate about this house.” 

“I remember how packed it got when I was younger,” Phillip states,” we always made sure to make our reservations well in advance.” 

“It was like that a few days ago during Christmas,” you agree,” my parents came to help. I like it though, it’s always fun meeting new people.” 

You stop at the end of the hallway and open the door to the large bedroom. A canopy bed with white curtains and fluffy pillows is placed in the center of the room. There’s a large dresser and nightstand in the same dark wood style as the furniture throughout the house. It’s exactly as Phillip remembers. 

“I put towels in the bathroom for you and some extra blankets in the storage bench,” you say as you motion towards the ottoman at the end of the bed. “I’m down the hall if you need anything else.” 

“Thank you, doll. I think I’ll be just fine.” 

“Do you want any coffee or tea? I had just taken out the cookies from the oven before I saw you through our camera.” 

Phillip laughs, now understanding why you opened the door before he knocked. “No thank you, I think I’m just going to get ready for bed.” 

“Alright Mr. Gra–Phillip,” you remind yourself,” Have a good night!” 

- - - 

Phillip walks down the stairs, seeing cars leave the driveway from the window. 

“Bye, thank you for coming! Have a safe trip back home,” you call out through the open front door. 

“Mornin’,” he calls out. 

You close the door before turning towards him. “Goodmorning, Phillip! How’d you sleep? Do you want some coffee?” 

“Good, great actually. Those beds, wow, the softest I’ve ever slept on.” 

You laugh in agreement. “Yeah, they did good in choosing that brand of mattresses. Coffee? Or are you going out?” 

“Coffee would be great, doll.” 

He follows you to the dining room where he sees an assortment of pastries, eggs, coffee, juice, and other breakfast items on the table. 

“Any plans for today?” you ask while serving him a cup of coffee. 

He takes a moment to think about your question. He really isn’t sure where to begin in this town. There’s a few places his grandmother would take him, but Phillip wonders how difficult and uncomfortable it will be for him to revisit those places without her. It’s difficult enough to be in this place with the memories hitting him at every corner. 

“Uh, I’m not quite sure. Maybe take a walk around town.” 

You fiddle with your sweater as an anxious look crosses your face. “I found something this morning in the attic. Is it okay for me to show it to you?” 

Phillip’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion and he nods. You walk into the kitchen and a minute later walk out with a leather book in your hands. You pull out the chair next to Phillip, sit and open the book to reveal pages of photos. 

“It’s their photo album,” you explain,” from all of their guests. I went to look for some light bulbs and accidently knocked over a box. This was inside of it.” 

You flip some pages and land on photos of a younger Phillip and his grandmother. Phillip gently grabs the photo album and brings it closer to him. There’s pictures from the very first time they visited to pictures of him and his grandma ice skating at the park. Each flip of the page shows Phillip at different stages of his life and all around town or in the house. 

“I can tell by your face that this is as much of a surprise to you as it was to me.” 

Phillip nods,” I had no idea there were photos. Why do you think they kept these?” 

“I’m not quite sure, they never mentioned anything when I was younger. They only showed me the picture that’s on the front desk. Maybe they forgot about it?” 

Phillip nods absentmindedly, flipping through the many pages. Tears prick his eyes and he gets a wave of nostalgia and grief. Before a teardrop falls he quickly slams the book shut and pushes it back to you. 

“Thank you, uh, for showing me this,” Phillip murmurs as he stands up. 

“Oh! I’m sorry, Phillip,” you stress,” the last thing I wanted to do was make you sad. I just wanted to show you these because I know it makes me feel better when I look back through photos.”

Phillip stops in his tracks with your words. 

“It makes you feel better?” 

You nod quickly, standing up from your own chair and walking slowly towards Phillip. “I mean, of course it hurts to think that my loved ones aren’t here anymore. But, I have pictures and I have memories. I talk about them and I visit places we went together and I make new memories.” 

Phillip rubs a hand on his forehead, taking in your words. He wonders if this is where he should begin. Seeing those photos made Phillip feel emotions he hadn’t experienced in years. But that’s why he’s here, to honor her and no longer repress his memories. 

 “It’s–it’s hard for me to think about my grandma. I don’t know how to–to get through this sadness. It’s been so long but it still feels as if it just happened.” 

“Is that why you’re here? To process her passing?” 

“Yes,” Phillip whispers,” it’s funny, actually. I’m a soldier who’s used to running onto battlefields and dangerous territories without a second thought. But this,” he points to the photo album,” scares me… I’m not sure why I’m telling you all of this, but I feel like I can trust you.”

You beam at him, showing him the pretty smile that’s captivated him from the moment he first laid eyes on you. “Of course you can trust me Phillip. And I know we just met but you don’t have to be scared. I can help you if you’d like?” 

“How?” 

“Well,” you say while walking back to the photo album and flipping to the first page with his photos,” there’s a ton of activities you can do according to these pictures. Like ice skating at the park.” 

Phillip scratches his head, not quite up to do things alone. “I don’t know if I want to go by myself–” 

“Would you like me to go with you?” 

Phillip’s heart skips a beat at your suggestion. “You’d do that, sweetheart? Don’t you have guests here?” 

“No! You’re the last one until after New Year’s. I’d love to help you Phillip, but I also don’t want to interfere in any plans or bother you–” 

“No, no. That would actually be–be really helpful.” 

Phillip smiles back, entranced by the twinking in your eyes. 

“Anywhere in particular you’d like to go first?”

The walk to town is straight out of a movie with snow covering the many trees and rustic-like houses. Despite the cold, the town square is filled with people and laughter. Vendors are set up around the park, selling hot chocolate and different foods. 

“I’m not sure, what do ya’ think?” he asks. 

“How about the ice rink?” 

“Only to watch, not actually skate–” 

“What?” you exclaim. “No way. We’re getting on the ice!”

You link your hand in his and begin pulling him towards the open ice rink. He drags his feet, suddenly nervous at the idea of balancing on thin blades. He feels like an awkward teenager again, hoping he doesn’t make a fool of himself in front of the pretty girl he likes. 

“Come on, Phillip! You can’t hug the wall the entire time,” you call out. 

“I’m not huggin’ the damn— Jesus, fine.” Phillip responds, pushing off the railing and slowly skating towards you. 

You start skating backwards, moving farther away for Phillip to follow you. He’s lucky, the rink is mostly empty apart from a few others. 

“Where are you goin’ doll? How about we stay in one place–” 

“No, silly,” you tease him,” you need to re-learn how to skate. Plus, we need to recreate the picture.” 

“Recreate the picture?” 

You stop at his question and reach into your jacket pocket. Finally, he thinks as he approaches you. You pull out a stack of photos, the ones from inside of the photo album.  

“I brought them so we know exactly what to do. The tree is still up,” you say as you point to the giant christmas tree,” if you stand here I can take a picture and you’ll have a new one. I was thinking you could recreate some of the photos.” 

It’s a good idea, a sweet one at that. Even if his legs are slightly shaking from being unbalanced and he knows he’ll eventually make a fool out of himself on the ice, it’s a step in the right direction of the grieving process.

You skate around him and hold up your phone to take a photo. “Ready?” 

Phillip stands awkwardly, unsure of what to do. You call out a simple smile but it takes him a moment to do so. He looks around, watching children stumble on the ice and parents or grandparents there to pick them up and push them to try again. He turns to look at people walking through the park, couples hand in hand or children playing in the snow. He feels the wind ruffle his hair slightly and brush across his face. 

So he smiles. A genuine smile. One that doesn’t feel forced or sad. He hears the shutter sounds come from your phone and you skate towards him after a few clicks.

“Here, I think these look perfect,” you say as you show him the screen. 

“Okay, now it's your turn–” 

“No, Phillip. I don’t need any pictures–” 

He makes a tsk sounds and grabs your hand before you're able to skate away. “We’ll take one together, that’s my compromise to your idea.” 

You roll your eyes playful at him but nonetheless hand him your phone. His pulse flutters on his neck as you lean in closer while he snaps a photo of the both of you. Phillip hands you the phone and you playfully bump into him as you skate away. 

“Okay,” he warns,” we’re done here–” 

“Show me what you got, Commander.” 

After the third time he slips and lands on his butt, you finally decide to leave for the next task. His ego is bruised only a little, the giggles and soft hands you offered every time he fell down were worth the minor embarrassment. 

“The hot chocolate your great aunt made was amazing, but I remember liking this one too,” Phillip says once inside the little bakery. 

“Her secret was maple syrup and dark chocolate. I haven’t been able to recreate it exactly like hers but I’m still trying.” 

The both of you reach the front counter and you order a hot chocolate and sugar donut while Phillip orders a coffee and croissant. 

“Coffee? No, Phillip! You need to order a hot chocolate–he’ll get a hot chocolate instead,” you tell the employee. 

“Wait–” he starts, but by then the employee has left to prepare the order. “You do realize that I’m a grown man?” 

“And? Where’s your childlike wonder? Where’s your inner child, Phillip?” you tease. 

You try to pay using your card but Phillip pushes your hand away. “What’re you doin’?” 

“It’s my treat, Phil–” 

“Don’t be silly, doll,” he gently chastises. 

You find a table and sit down, Phillip sliding into the booth right next to you. You cheers his cup and Phillip watches you take a sip. A jolt of arousal hits him the moment you moan at the taste of the drink. Phillip looks away quickly once you make eye contact, feeling himself overheat. He’s usually not so shy around women, quite the opposite actually. 

But the emotions he’s experiencing with you are… new. And it’s not because you’re helping him and he’s somehow replacing his grandmother’s memory with you, it’s because you’re sweet. You don’t even know him, yet since the minute you spoke to him you were genuine in your kindness. Here you are now, helping him with your encouraging words and pretty face. 

You give him a shy smile and place a hand on his cheek, turning his face towards his own cup. “Try it, Phillip!” 

He takes a sip, immediately transported back to his childhood. “Yup, this is just how I remember.” 

He hears the shutter of a camera and turns to see you taking pictures of him. He takes the phone from your hands and has you pose to take some of you then of you two together. 

In just a few short hours, you’re able to help him recreate most of the photos. By late afternoon, snow begins to fall, landing on your cheeks and eyelashes. The both of you are standing outside the bed and breakfast, admiring a snowman left by one of the guests. He’s enthralled, listening to the rasp of your voice while you recount a story of a snowman you built when you were younger. 

You tilt your head back, watching the snowflakes drift down slowly from the sky. He watches them land on your lips and soft skin, suddenly jealous that the snowflakes get to kiss you first. 

“Anyways, hungry? Phillip?” you ask, a confused look on your face at his silence.

“Right–yeah, I mean yes,” he stammers out, feeling his face heat. 

“How about I cook us something–” 

“Let me, as a thank you for today. Going out of your way to help me alleviate the pain, let me at least repay the favor.” Phillip interrupts. 

“You don’t have to repay–”

“Show me to the kitchen, sweetheart.” 

The busy bee that you are, he soon realizes, you do show him the kitchen but immediately begin cleaning the now empty rooms. He prepares a dish he knows too well, roasted chicken and an assortment of vegetables he finds in the fridge. Even with the soft music playing in the living room and the crackle of the fireplace, he can hear you gently humming from the hallway while you sweep.

He sets another pot of coffee and hears a knock on the front door. You jog to the door and open it, saying hello and thank you so much before shutting the door and walking away. Phillip finishes cooking and washing the dishes he used about an hour later and calls you over to the dining room. 

“Who knew the Commander could cook?” you praise him. 

He smiles at your comment, a slight flush appearing on his neck. “I’m a real jack-of-all-trades.” 

After dinner, the both of you sit in front of the fireplace, basking in the warmth. He listens as you talk about your New Year’s resolutions, mainly wanting to find the time and energy to travel more. Phillip finds comfort in your voice, allowing himself to fantasize what it would be like to retire from Shadow Company and travel the world with you. It’s crazy, since he just met you, but he allows himself to imagine. 

“I don’t even know what day it is today. Once Christmas passes it’s hard to keep track. Oh,” you say after a yawn,” I almost forgot.” 

You jump out of your seat and pad quickly up the stairs. He listens to your soft footsteps walk around the second floor, then you come back down with another leather book. 

“I know I’ve already airdropped the photos to you, but I thought you’d like this as well.” 

He takes the book from your hands and opens it, finding all of the old photos matched to the new ones. It’s the pictures of himself, in front or in the middle of whatever activity he and his grandmother were doing. He flips through the pages, finding comfort in her smile, knowing she’d want him to be happy, to not hold onto the pain but only remember the good times they spent together. 

He turns to look at you, uncaring that there’s tears in his eyes. “I don’t know what to say, thank you doesn’t seem like enough.” 

“It’s more than enough, Phillip,” you whisper, reaching to wipe away a teardrop with your thumb,” Through your stories and the stories of my great aunt and uncle, I feel like I got to know her too.” 

“How’d ya’ get these printed so fast?” 

“I had my friend at the print shop do it!”

You pull your hand back but Phillip grabs it, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand and another to your wrist. He leaves his lips there for a moment, feeling the flutter of your pulse. He hears the sharp intake of your breath and places another kiss on your skin. You pull your hand away slowly and stand up, leaning over to place a kiss on his cheek. 

“I’ll leave you to look through the photo album. I think it’d be good for you to have some alone time, yeah?” 

Phillip nods his head in agreement,“ thank you again, doll.” 

Once you're upstairs and he hears the sound of water running from your shower, he allows himself to cry. He traces his fingertips on his grandmother’s face, wishing she were still here. He cries until he can barely see, until the photos become too blurry to focus on. 

He cries for keeping the memories locked away in his mind for so many years, for not cherishing her memory. He cries for your thoughtfulness and for your gift. Eventually, he makes his way upstairs and falls heavy on the bed. Exhaustion takes control and he falls asleep, the book still in his hand. 

- - - 

Reader’s P.O.V. 

You’re up early the next morning, like most days. You hear the front door close as you descend the stairs and once you open the blinds, you see Phillip walking in the distance towards the town. He seemed like he appreciated the gift, and you really hope he liked it. The night before, you could hear his sobs and it took everything in you not to come back down and comfort him. But, he needed his time alone. 

You finish cleaning up the rest of the rooms, really only needing to put the sheets and towels to wash as you had finished most chores the night before. You’re in the process of starting a fresh pot of coffee and taking muffins out of the oven when you see someone out of the corner of your eye. You turn and find Phillip leaning against the doorjamb with a small smile on his face. 

“Good morning, Phillip. How’d you sleep?” 

“Mornin’ sweet girl,” he pauses and takes a deep breath before responding,”... good. I had a good night's rest. How ‘bout you?” 

“Great!” you respond, a smile spreading across your face. 

He places a paper bag from your friend’s print shop on the table. “I have something for you.”

“Oh?” 

Phillip pulls out a lavender colored photo album from the bag and presents it to you. 

“Oh, Phillip. You didn’t have to buy me a new one! We have a ton of them all over–” 

“Doll,” he interrupts,” open it.” 

You take it and open up the album, gasping as you see the pictures from the day before. There’s some of you ice skating and of you drinking hot chocolate at the bakery and of course the pictures Phillip took of the both of you. 

“This is–wow, Phillip,” you whisper,” I don’t know what to say. This is incredibly sweet of you.”

You flip through the pages for a few minutes, seeing you and Phillip posing. He took time out of his day to not only print the photos, but rearrange them in the album. Your heart beats fast in your chest, the crush you have on him only growing. Without another word you wrap your arms around Phillip. He returns the hug immediately, placing a kiss on your forehead. 

“I’m grateful, ya’ know? To you, for being with me while I work through it all,” Phillip says once you pull back,” I still have a lot to do on my own. But you were there, encouraging me to take the first step. The major first step.” 

He cups the side of your face and you can’t help but lean into his touch. You’re sure you have a dreamy look in your eyes, completely taken aback by the blue of his. 

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he whispers. 

“What–” 

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, his eyes flicking from yours back to your lips. 

You nod, meeting him halfway. His lips are soft and plush. Phillip cups the back of your head with one hand while the other is placed on your lower back. You run light fingers through his thick hair, running the tip of your tongue on his bottom lip. Phillip groans, pushing his hips into yours. 

He grinds his erection into your lower belly and moves his hand to cup the curve of your bottom. You lift up your thigh and wrap your leg around his waist. He angles his hips to grind right against your clothed pussy, eliciting a whimper from your mouth. 

Phillip breaks away from the kiss, trailing open mouth kisses to your throat. “Let me take you upstairs,” he groans,” please, sweet girl.” 

“Yes, yes, Phillip.” 

In under two minutes Phillip is able to get you up to your room. You stand at the edge of your bed while he kisses a path over your clothed breasts and down to the waistband of your leggings. He pulls them down, trailing his lips over the soft skin of your thighs. You wiggle out of them, goosebumps erupting on your sensitive skin. 

He presses open mouth kisses to your cotton panties, looping his fingers on the sides and pulling them down slowly. You're wet and achy and hot, all thanks to him. You grip the edges of your sweater and pull it off. Phillip stands to unclip your bra, immediately latching his mouth to your swollen nipples. You link your fingers in his hair and tug, feeling his teeth bite gently on your skin.

“So pretty, aren’t you?” Phillip whispers while gently pushing you to lay on the bed. 

He brings your hips right to the edge, spreading open your thighs and running light fingers over your slit. 

“All wet and swollen just f’me,” he groans. 

You nod even though he’s not looking at you, more focused on kneeling and burying his face in your cunt. “Just for you, just for you–oh god!” 

He licks a broad, quick stripe from your entrance to your sensitive clit. He does it again, lapping up your juices. 

“Phillip,” you drag his name out in a long moan. 

“What baby?” he teases,” you want more?” 

He slips a finger inside your drooling entrance, moans erupting from the both of you. He fucks into you gently, adding a second finger and swiping his tongue through your folds. Phillip’s tongue swipes up and up and over your clit repeatedly. You twist and squirm your hips, feeling electricity coil in your tummy. You thank the gods that the house is completely empty because the sounds emanating from your mouth are dirty. 

“Such a sweet girl,” Phillip coos against your wet skin,” keep makin’ those sounds f’me.” 

Phillip curves his fingers and speeds up his movements, the wet from your pussy only making it easier. So soft and beautiful girl falls from his lips the few moments he comes up for air. You feel heat spread rapidly through your body and then you're falling, falling, falling into the abyss, gripping the comforter tightly to hold you in place. He places a strong hand on your stomach to keep you still while you writhe from his tongue and fingers. 

“Oka–okay, no mo–more,” you cry out, shaking from the intensity of the aftershocks. 

“You made such a pretty mess,” he groans. 

Phillip removes his fingers, placing his forehead on your inner thigh. He breathes in deep and places tiny, wet kisses up to your tummy. 

“How was that, sweetheart? Wanna keep going?” he whispers, biting the sensitive skin on your chest. 

You move your hands to cup his face and bring him in for a kiss. You lick and bite his jaw, cleaning up your mess and leaving behind red marks on his skin. He falls perfectly between your thighs, lightly grinding his still clothed erection on your sensitive skin. 

“You’re wearing too much clothes,” you murmur, sliding your hands underneath his crew neck sweater. “Take them off,” you giggle. 

“Yes ma’am,” he says, quickly sliding off the bed. 

You sit up and watch as he throws off his sweater and then unbuckles his jeans. While he pushes them down, you bring a hand to his muscled stomach, stroking the heated skin. His cock comes into view and you gasp slightly at the size. You reach a hand down to gently stroke his length, shivering at the feel. 

“Don’t worry doll,” he moans,” you can take me.”

He grasps your hand, lay back down, whispered in the quiet room. Phillip climbs on the bed and spreads your thighs to accommodate his hips. He wraps your thigh around his waist and rubs his thick cock between your folds. You reach a hand down and guide him right to your dripping entrance. You throw your head back into the soft pillows, feeling him slide into your messy cunt. He works himself all the way in, his eyes half lidded and jaw clenched. 

“Phillip,” you whimper,” you’re deep, baby.” 

“Fuck, like if you–if you were ma–made f’me,” he mutters. 

Phillip hips fuse to yours and you feel the coarse hair on his groin rub on your wet skin. He stays still, running hands over your thighs and up to your swollen nipples, breathe, baby, he repeats to you. He runs his thumb over your lips, sliding it into the warmth of your mouth. 

He stretches you, reaches deep inside of you with his thick cock. You squeeze him, adjusting to his size and the feel of him all around you. He slides back out slowly, gripping your thigh for a better angle. In one swift movement he pushes back in. You suck and bite his thumb, gagging slightly when he pushes it deeper into your mouth. 

“Honey, fuck–you feel like honey,” he groans, keeping his eyes locked where you two are joined. 

He slips his thumb out of your mouth and moves it to rub small circles on your clit.

“Like that, just like that,” you cry. 

Phillip keeps the pace, sliding out and pushing all the way back in. You become limp in his hands, molded by his touch and by his cock. He reaches your cervix with each thrust, kissing the end of you, deeper that anyone else has ever reached. 

“Feels good, doll?” he asks, moving faster. “Am I stretching this little pussy?” 

Tears fall from the corner of your eyes from the intensity. You nod dumbly, entranced by him. His eyes are almost black, pupils dilated. 

“My swe–sweet girl,” he groans,” so tight.” 

“So good–i’m so– i’m so,” you stammer. 

“I know, baby,” he coos,” you’ve been so good.” His thumb swipes through your folds, gathering your wetness and back up to strum your clit. “Let go, I’ve got you.” 

He leans over you, pistoning his hips and rolling your clit with his slick thumb. Your vision blurs then electricity shoots up your spine again. Your mouth opens in a chorus of moans and whimpers. Vaguely, you hear Phillip praise you that’s it, come for me baby, my pretty girl. 

He finishes soon after, falling on top of you and burying his head in your neck while he fucks you sloppy through your aftershocks. You feel spurts of warmth as he comes inside of you, marking you. You hear his groans and slight whimpers in your ear while his hips jerk and twitch.

You’re exhausted, body deliciously aching and limp. Your eyes droop as you feel the pull of sleep almost take you. Phillip groans as he leans back, pulling out slowly. You feel the drip of his come slide out of land on the sheets. Phillip uses his fingers to push some of it back in. 

“There,” he whispers,” back to where it belongs.” 

You roll your eyes but Phillip catches you, slapping your inner thigh. You giggle as he stands, watching while he walks into the bathroom and comes back with a washcloth. He cleans the mess on your inner thighs then cleans himself. 

“Take a nap with me,” you plead. 

“Tempting, but have you eaten?” 

You blink, realizing you were in the process of making breakfast before he arrived. 

“Eat first, nap later,” he commands, walking to your drawer and pulling out one of your sweaters, linen pants, and thick socks. 

Once you’re dressed, he has you wait on the bed while he goes back to his room to change into new clothes. You walk down the stairs together, you, a little more slowly from the ache between your thighs. You push his shoulder as you see him smirk, only slightly annoyed by him. 

After breakfast you fall asleep on the living room floor, Phillip setting up the fireplace and placing a mountain of blankets in front of it. You wake a while later, feeling lax but surprisingly energized. You walk into the kitchen, noticing the sun setting from the window. 

“I think today is New Year’s Eve, doll,” Phillip says behind you. 

You check your phone while Phillip rubs the sleep from his eyes, noticing that it is in fact New Year’s Eve. The days got away from me, you think, leaning into Phillip’s embrace, in the best way possible. 

“Will you help me make hot chocolate?” you ask. “I want to try again with the recipe.” 

“As long as you teach me how to make snickerdoodle cookies,” Phillip agrees, placing a kiss on the tip of your nose. 

“Deal.” 

By the time both tasks are finished, you and Phillip find yourselves in the back patio, wrapped in blankets with two cups of delicious hot chocolate and a plate of snickerdoodle cookies. The clock strikes midnight and fireworks light up the sky, Phillip gently grasping your chin while he gives you a New Year's kiss. 

if you enjoy my work, leave a comment, reblog, or like! thank you for the support, love you! 💖🧚🏼‍♀️💖

[inanotherunivrse]

In another universe, you listened to the doctors. In another universe, you weren't sneaking out for cigarettes behind grandma's back. In another universe, it didn't get infected. In another universe, amputation really was the worst option. In another universe, your heart was strong enough for surgery. In another universe, my parents didn't have to search my school to tell me the news. In another universe, I didn't have to watch my brother fall to his knees when I picked him up. In another universe, I didn't have to hold my aunts hand at your funeral because she was worse off and I was the only one who could hold it together. In another universe, I didn't just watch my cousin cry as she read your favourite poem because I was comforting her mum. In another universe, you lived to see your youngest great-grandchild for the first time in seven years. In another universe, she wasn't five days too late. In another universe, you saw your eldest grandchild start senior school. You saw my brother follow your footsteps and join the airforce. You saw me turn 18. In another universe, there's not a bottle of brandy for you in my cupboard that I bought after you died even though I don't drink because you drank brandy and it reminds me of you. In another universe, I can remember you as anything other than your last days.

[tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors]

Goodbye

A witch and familiar are the dwelling of a single soul in two bodies.

A familiar, alone, is just a cat.

Pairing: LAMP but its not the focus and roman and patton are not present.

Word count: 1770

Warnings: Major Character Death, both past and depicted. Animal/pet death, euthanasia, grief, funerals.

Notes: part of my Love and other Fairytales verse, taking place 80 years after the end of the main story

thank you to @airiervessel for beta-reading

---

Trinity knew the Sanders better than most.

Not well. She had a feeling she’d known them better when she was a child, because her great uncles Corbin and Sloane had brought her around some, let her play with DJ and Seth. DJ had even deigned to use her blessing for Trinity a few times.

They’d died when she was just eight, and Grandma Chloe had never been as close with the Sanders as her cousin.

Dizzy made up some of her favorite memories from those early times. She’d loved that cat, her smart sass and the way Mr. Gage talked to her like she was no cat at all.

Trinity was close enough to them to know the truth.

Nowadays, she wondered if that’s why they’d picked her.

For weeks after the funeral, no one saw the Sanders. The old flower shop stayed shuttered and dark. Not a glimpse of the prince. Not even Kit and Remus, manning the Gage family’s stall of apples and eggs, normally a fixture of the farmer’s market every Saturday.

And then, Trinity came to open the clinic, and there was Mr. Sanders, sitting on the wooden steps – a cat carrier under his arm.

She came up to the door cautiously.

“Hey, Mr. Sanders,” she said.

“Good morning. Do you take walk-ins?”

“... I’ll see if I can fit you in,”

Dizzy was a cat with no records, no chip, no files to speak of. Trinity knew why – those were probably lost to time, decades past in some ancient computer in a dump somewhere or more incredulously, on paper. Dizzy had outlived every vet who’d ever touched her, but she wouldn’t outlive Trinity.

“So are we just here for a vaccine update?”

“She needs to be fixed,” said Mr. Sanders quietly. “And chipped.”

Trinity hesitated.

“Okay,” she said carefully. “Chip I can definitely do today, you won’t even need to make an appointment. Fixing- fixing’s a little more complicated-”

“I figured I would have to make a second appointment.”

“It’s- it’s not just that, Mr. Sanders.”

“Please, Trinity,” said Logan. “It’s Logan.”

“Logan,” she said softly. “Dizzy... Dizzy is so old. I don’t know... the anesthetic, she might...”

Logan looked like she was killing him, and Trinity had learned, a bit, to compartmentalize that in this job, but this-

Nearly the whole town had come to Mr. Waller’s funeral. Again, to Mr. Gage’s. Dizzy had been at the first, but not the second.

Logan took a deep breath, petting Dizzy with a miserable smile.

“She requested it,” he said, his voice level in spite of the fact that he was now crying freely. “I promised.”

“And there’s no way to... ask?”

“No,” he said. “For better or worse, Dizzy’s sentient mind left with- with Roman. This- we still love her, make no mistake. But she is a cat. No more or less.”

That- that hurt. Trinity had figured that Dizzy would not last long without Roman, but to have her mind stripped away seemed unnecessarily cruel. And the rest of the family, left to mourn them both even when only one was fully gone.

“Okay,” said Trinity. “I will do my very best to respect her last wishes, Logan.”

“Thank you, Trinity.”

She could only hope her best was enough.

---

Dizzy was a model patient. The Sanders were model clients. She made it through her surgery beautifully, and Trinity had almost cried herself when all four of them showed up, Logan and the prince and Kit and Remus, and cuddled her drowsy form close, ecstatic. For weeks afterwards Trinity saw shadowy, bright-eyed Cait Sidhe all around the clinic – all their surgeries went flawlessly, all their meds worked perfectly, and Trinity herself found her bike had never worked better.

For the next year, they brought her for regular – and slightly too-frequent, but Trinity could hardly fault their nerves – check ups. Dizzy was everyone’s favorite.

She’d known. Right from the very first day, Trinity had seen an old, old, cat, and known she was on borrowed time.

“It’s kidney failure,” she said quietly.

The prince didn’t normally bring Dizzy to these appointments – usually it was Logan or Kit. He looked out of place in their rickety chair, cuddling her.

“And what does that mean?” he said, and Trinity pushed and shoved and compartmentalized, because that’s what she had to do.

“Even if I treat her as aggressively as I can, she would get very sick, and be in a lot of pain, if...”

He looked up at her, and the eye contact made Trinity’s heart pick up a staccato beat of terror before she beat it back down again with reason.

“...If we don’t euthanize her.”

Trinity held her breath, unsure and more than a bit terrified of how he’d respond to such a statement.

“Relax, Trinny,” he said, because while Logan seemed to have properly recorded the passage of time, the prince couldn’t seem to untangle the child on her great-uncle's knee from the woman in front of him. She didn’t fault him for it. “I’m familiar with the concept of mercy killing.”

Trinity didn’t flinch, but it was a near thing. She believed in the rightness of putting animals down instead of leaving them to languish and suffer, could never have done this job if she didn’t, but few called it so bluntly what it was.

“Do you do house calls?”

Trinity hesitated – no, normally, or at least not for non-farm animals.

“Please,” he said quietly. “She has children. A mate. They should be with her.”

The prince did not cry, but Trinity wondered if she might.

“Of course.”

~

It was late. Off the clock. Trinity had known she’d want this to be the last thing she had to do today, to go home and process it with the gravity it would need.

She started crying as she approached the house, and she remembered that too, the way Kit cried and everyone would cry with her. She figured it wasn’t going to stop, so she pushed through, climbing up the steps and knocking on the door.

DJ opened it, and Trinity wasn’t expecting that. She was gestured in with a sad smile. It seemed like the entie clan was here - DJ’s brother Seth, their elderly parents Brian and Augustine, Kit and Logan and the prince and Remus, his partner and what Trinity could only assume were their children, a gaggle of little fae children, one of which looked less than preschool-age and whose tiny, hiccuping sobs were like getting repeatedly poked with a needle.

All crowded in the living room around a little cat bed, five Cait Sidhe of varying sizes and eldritch levels laying in a cat pile on Dizzy. All the humans and Logan wore black – the prince, Kit, Remus, and his family were in white.

This was a funeral.

“Sorry,” muttered Trinity, wiping her face.

“It’s fine, kid, my fault,” said Kit, and Trinity would have raised a brow at being called ‘kid’ by someone who looked ten years younger than Trinity’s thirty, if she didn’t remember that same twenty year old face looking down at her at six.

“Take as much time as you want,” she said. “I’ve got nowhere to be after this. I’m gonna go get some water.”

Call it a tactical retreat.

As soon as the words were out of her mouth a fresh wave of tears welled up, and Trinity fled to the kitchen. She braced herself on the counter, choking on secondhand sobs – but they weren’t secondhand, because Trinity felt like she was reliving every euthanasia she’d ever done all over again, at once and tenfold. She clawed at her chest, an empty, yawning chasm of grief threatening to swallow her completely.

Someone folded her hand around a glass, pressing it to her mouth, and Trinity took grateful gulps of the cold water. Someone was holding her other hand, stroking the thumb back and forth.

The water helped, and she found herself staring at the pink and green nymph, the in-law. The pronouns were escaping her at the moment.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” said Trinity. “Yes, I- sorry, that was unprofessional.”

The nymph watched her solemnly with gray-purple eyes.

“You are a healer,” said the nymph. “I think empathy is your profession.”

Trinity let out a weak, startled laugh.

“Hey.”

It was DJ in the door.

“We’re... we’re ready.”

Trinity wondered if they’d sent one of the humans to say it because the fae wouldn’t have been able to.

The Cait Sidhe were still piled on Dizzy. Logan, Kit, and the son had laid down on their sides around her, and Trinity didn’t dare ask them to move as she carefully stepped between them and kneeled, pulling out her syringes.

The paler tortie Cait Sidhe launched forward, hissing and spitting angrily, and before Trinity could leap out of her skin the orange male wrestled her back.

“Um-”

“It’s fine,” said Logan. “Dusty is just emotional. She’s- she’s very close with her mother. She won’t attack you again.”

After that, it was almost routine, aside from the fact that Trinity was still weeping. The click and uncap. The sedatives first, just like falling asleep. The final draw. The hand on her tiny furred chest, holding for the heartbeat until it stopped.

“She’s gone,” she said wetly.

The littlest fae girl wailed, and the windows rattled ominously. Kit scooped her up and cuddled her close, her sobs redoubling, and the Cait Sidhe picked up miserable wails in echo of them.

Trinity stood, fruitlessly rubbing her face. She stepped back to give them space, and the prince stood as well.

“Let me walk you out,” he said softly.

She followed automatically, because one didn’t just not listen to the lord of the forest – he was basically the whole town’s scary cryptid uncle – but she turned the sound of his voice over in her mind.

Cold, but not unfeeling. Bleak. Haunted.

At her car, he thanked her again, and Trinity couldn’t stop herself from speaking.

“You did the right thing,” she said.

He stared at her, his face blank and impassive as stone.

“You did,” she repeated, steeling herself. “I know you did. I swear.”

He twitched, but otherwise didn’t react for several moments, before the corner of his mouth twitched into a wry, heartbroken smile, and a single tear escaped his shiny eyes.

“I know,” he whispered. “It... it was mercy.”

He turned, and walked back to the house, his hands stuffed into hoodie pockets older than her.

Trinity climbed into her car, set her head on the steering wheel, and wept for all of them.

---

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[strangesmallbard]

okay i just watched an episode of call the midwife that made me abruptly confront several grief-related traumas at once and i feel the need to talk about them, like make everything exist outside my head and join the human experience, or something. please feel no obligation to read this or respond but if you're going through The Grief yourself, know you're not alone.

tw for death, cancer, suicide, alcoholism

i lost three people in a year, and didn't really get to say goodbye to any of them, and that's like? fucked up doesn't describe it LMAO. i lost my grandma and a work supervisor in june 2019, and my dad at the very beginning of 2020. my grandma died in her sleep; she was 89, so it wasn't unexpected, just sudden. she was very anxious toward the end of her life and we didn't have many meaningful conversations. i wasn't medicated or grown up enough to have those conversations, and mostly i wish i'd validated her deep anxiety about death and her anger at her own body when it stopped working. right now i'm acutely grieving her house - it was sold a year later, and i don't think i'll ever forgive my uncle for that.

my supervisor died by suicide. we weren't very close, but he had a strangely large place in my life - he was previously my college professor several years before and i chose that school because of his work in particular. he was also the first out gay person i saw at my school during orientation, and that memory's always stayed with me as i formed a community there.

the last time i saw him was a work event the night before (opening night of a play - i worked at a theatre company.) we sat next to each other and i noticed he seemed sad, tired, or off. i was annoyed with him about a work-related thing that doesn't matter anymore, but i was still friendly because i always try to be friendly. i hoped he was alright. a few days later, my other supervisor told me what happened. he was a kind-hearted guy who was passionate about his work and changed many, many lives for the better. i think about him a lot.

my internship ended right after this without much fanfare or Unpacking. i just left a grieving community and dived right into my first gig, basically running on fumes lmao. my internship was very, very toxic, and i wouldn't realize it for another year. i didn't think about my grandma or my supervisor. i spent the whole summer wanting to call my supervisor and talk to her about what happened. she came to watch closing night of my play, and we didn't talk about what happened. the next day, i plunged into a Huge Depression involving an alcohol dependency and eight seasons of house md.

as i vaguely began to exit my depression, my dad was deadass. DEADASS. diagnosed with stage four lung cancer from smoking cigarettes. like omg. DUDE? the last time i saw my dad was at my grandma's funeral!!!! fucking on the nose. anyway. he was diagnosed in early december 2019, after seeing a doctor for back problems. the back problems were several tumors. everything happened very quickly. the last time i saw my dad alive was in a hospital parking garage on december 24, 2019. we hugged goodbye, but not Goodbye. he was in a rush to get home because he was sick from radiation treatment. i don't remember our last conversation at all.

my mom and i got the call he was dying after i schlepped her to urgent care for a separate medical issue. my mom was too zonked to get on a plane, so i went to the airport. five minutes after i got there, i learned he passed. it was very crowded. i canceled the ticket while crying, and i didn't explain why i was crying. my lyft driver asked if i had a good trip. this now strikes me as hilarious. i learned that his family let him know i was coming. this was likely the last thing he heard. i can't really sum up my dad in a sentence, but he was brave in his own way, a great storyteller, and loved me very much. i wish he realized we had a lot in common, and i wish we had more time. thanks for the adhd dad

anyway, guess what happened in march 2020! yeah shit's been weird. most days i'm honestly fine, and then i remember i designed my dad's headstone (it looks banging) and he'll never meet any kids i have. in three months it'll be three years since we last spoke and i hate that. i'm a very different person, and i've only become this person because three people in my life died in the same ten months. my mom's also been sick and it's a very particular kind of lonely. wow this was cathartic! if you made it here, i love you. if you didn't, i love you! feel my love telepathically! i am 65 years old in vibes, especially if you count the osteoarthritis. i am also maybe 3 or 4 years old and i want a nap and snacks and my stuffed animals, etc.

[witheringvoice]

Grief - A Poem

Before I get into this, I decided to play my moody mix on Spotify to write this poem, right? WHY THE FUCK DID MASK PLAY???? It's so funny but still makes me want to cry---I don't get life sometimes...

TW: Mentions of attempted suicide, mentions of suicide, mentions of sh, mentions of deaths, funerals, mentions of cancer, mentions of guns, mentions of alcohol and pills, etc

I've never truly been able to experience it.

You see, family of mine has died.

Ones that I was very close to.

When I was little.

When my great grandfather died when I was in second grade.

He died of cancer.

When I was little, I was really close to him.

I know I was.

But in second grade, I barely recalled those memories.

I went to his funeral, and I even saw him.

I don't remember what he looked like.

But I didn't feel much.

Two years later I stared at the clouds and cried for him.

I don't know why, to this day.

The rain fell that day.

September 2017, beginning of fourth grade.

Someone who could've become my father.

Shot himself.

He wasn't in the right state of mind.

Anti-depressants and alcohol don't mix well.

That night, that early morning of the 17th.

Was traumatic.

Though, I only heard about him doing so on the radio.

We were in a cop car.

I did cry, I did feel broken.

But quickly I put on a happy front.

I told people about the incident.

I was trying to make myself know it was real I think.

But I must've seemed so apathetic.

I'm still not over that, but I don't think of it much.

During September, around the 16th and 17th, I get upset.

Last year, I think.

Seventh grade, 2021.

My great grandma died.

A heart attack.

A different side of the family.

My grandmother's side, not my grandfather's.

I barely remembered her.

I remember the walk to her place.

I slightly remember the old folk's home.

I remember the smell.

I remember rice crispies.

I don't remember her well.

I didn't feel much, toward her death.

But I know it affected me.

Why didn't I cry for her?

My sister attempted suicide multiple times.

It hurt, I never took it well.

I lashed out at her.

I will never forgive myself for that.

But she isn't dead yet, I'll make up for it.

Technoblade died of cancer.

It hurt, but it didn't.

I felt sorrow, I broke down, I cried.

A depressive episode was triggered.

I drew something to pay respects.

But I didn't truly know him.

Even so, I still cared for him.

Because he helped me when I was sad and lost.

Did I grieve then?

Am I still?

It still makes me sad sometimes.

But at the same time, it doesn't.

Is that bad?

One of my best friends, his friend died recently.

Suicide, how do I help him?

I don't know what it truly feels like.

I have no words that can help him.

But I want to, even if it's useless.

Today he messaged me out of the blue.

"I'm sorry."

My heart stopped, tears pooled in my eyes.

Is this it?

I started grieving like I lost him.

What if he did something?

I'd never be mad, never disappointed, just hurt.

Without him, I'd feel so lost.

He relapsed, he cut again.

Relief and sorrow rushed over me at once.

I did my best, my useless words.

I love him, my best friend.

If he died, I would never forgive myself.

I'd forgive him immediately.

Why do I still feel like I've lost something?

He's alive and well, he's okay.

I'm okay, everything is okay.

What will happen the day I need to do it?

I've gotten close for family pets, for people I barely knew, for family, for people who inspired me.

But when the time comes, I know I won't know how.

I don't understand it, after all.

Grief.

[kaybythebay]

I’ve been purposely avoiding/neglecting writing this post. Even my family asked why I haven’t posted anything on my FB wall or my IG feed about it. Truth is, posting about it just feels like I’ve come to one more step to accepting it. I haven’t really accepted it just yet, but with my grandpa’s viewing(s) happening this weekend & his funeral on Monday, it’s becoming more of a reality. My grandpa passed away on a quiet Wednesday, July 13th 2022. The way I had found out was not ideal. I was driving to get lunch on my lunch break when I had gotten a random FB msg saying, “hey hate to be the bearer of bad news but there are a lot of police and paramedics in front of your grandparents house right now…” As soon as I read that, I left work instantly and drove to Union City as fast as I could. Though I didn’t make it in time, I stayed with my Grandpa until the coroners arrived 2 hours later. Yup. *Breathe* It’s been tough since. 2022 has already a rough year for me as I am going through a personal loss since the beginning of the year. My Grandpa was like a 2nd dad to me, and we were very close. He was the heart of my Basuel family. If my Grandpa hadn’t made the decision to join the US Navy a little after WWII, I probably wouldn’t be here right now. The first few photos posted here were of the last time I saw my Grandpa. It was Father’s Day, and I had gotten him a bunch of Navy veteran gear from my trip to the USS Midway in SD. (Side note: My Grandpa & entire Basuel family were stationed on Midway Island). I have a lot of peace knowing that my Grandpa lived a long, healthy, & happy life. He was 98. Though my Grandpa didn’t live passed 100, and didn’t get to see me walk down the isle and get married (like we joked about)… he lived such a fulfilled life. He was still driving his car, walking, doing yard work still & cooking with my Grandma. He was able to spend time with his children, grandchildren & his great grandchildren. ♥️ I will love and miss you forever Grandpa. Thank you for raising me. Every good thing about me I got and learned from you. I already know you’re having a great time up in heaven. Please watch over us, especially Grandma. We love you! (at Union City, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/CgzNJF8LoHF/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[ripmyfictionalfriends]

something about my grandma dying last december unlocked a new level of grief in me. (she didn't even like me, i did not have a good relationship with her that's not the point). something about the mother of your abuser passing and seeing your abuser at the funeral service even from a distance is both emboldening and terrifying. but i was surrounded by family and love all day and my abuser only got a smile from his son. but his son is my brother and my brother supported me too all day bc he knows how hard it all is for me. my abuser was avoided by everyone i saw. maybe ppl did greet him before i arrived idk idc. but ppl respected me and comforted me. And they made me feel so much stronger. And im so proud that i did that. I did not let his presence keep me away this time.

But im constantly thinking about death and loved ones dying and relationships that could have been more. And that brings me back to my abuser. Something about his mother dying who didnt rlly like me in the last years before her dementia but was a great grandma to the others apparently. And my own father not bothering to just fucking accept the child he had the love i had for him while he was being so awful to me. And he just didn't care. Didn't pay attention till it was too late. Something about just having held on for so long, begging someone to just love you as much as you loved them, and finally giving up. And then being in the same environment as that person again 7 years later. At a funeral service while emotions are already running high bc someone died. It's crippling sometimes. Like you could have had all of my love. I give it so freely. You just weren't worth it.

[immaterialgurl]

11.26.2023

the one thing about me that changed since i was last seen on this god forsaken platform is that i think my friends love me. i certainly know i love them. and another thing is that living through my twenties feels like i’m living through memories i’ll be able to narrate some time in the future.

finally. good memories. strong emotions. haven’t felt them in a while.

and yesterday i saw my best friend graduate and become an engineer and loose his grandma on the same day. i had to convince him to come back to our hometown with me and some other friends and we didn’t sleep the whole night to catch the flight. he dedicated his thesis to his grandma. and to me.

during the whole flight i was overwhelmed by this love i have for him and i knew i had to tell him but i wasn’t able to write anything without crying in front of strangers sitting next to me. and i wasn’t about to.

we got in our beds, in our houses, in our hometown at 8 in the morning and i finally was able to express what i (kind of) feel for him, without looking at him, knowing he couldn’t possibly answer because he was so tired.

it’s so strange finding yourself so attached to a man without romantic feelings involved. a man that is so alike me but so different. a man that gets me so deeply and at the same time doesn’t know me at all. we’ve been friends for over a decade now but i cannot seem to recall when we became friends.

that’s what i always wanted and strived for since i was little. a friendship i could trace back to my core, a friendship that carries so many memories on its back it becomes difficult to recall how it flourished.

i asked him in my message not to tell me his thoughts on it and we woke up almost at the same time. he was still reading when i woke up.

he just told me he saved it in its favorites.

the funeral was emotional, the priest truly struck a chord with something he said. he was talking about how, when we die and walk towards God, we leave behind the regrets (best known as sins) to be burnt and the only thing standing between you and your God is whatever good you’ve done in your life. then he told his audience that even though some of us didn’t know the person laying in the coffin and couldn’t recall any occasion in which She did good by us, we should be celebrating her nonetheless. because our presence in that church in that moment means that throughout her life, maybe in her twenties, she made choices that led to someone being born and put in your life to do good. you wouldn’t be in that church if there wasn’t love in your heart for someone who is a direct consequence of her.

i was so happy to be there to celebrate a woman who created another woman, a great and intelligent and successful woman who created a men that has changed my life probably forever, that has granted me the biggest wish i had and if not the biggest, the longest lasting.

i hope the priest is right. i hope that when i go my regrets will be burnt to ashes like rubbish. because honestly i’m hoping there’s nothing to this feeling i’m feeling of regret of not being able to touch him as much as i would want to. or the regret i know i’ll feel when i’m much older and i never ever kissed him.

another thing that changed about me is that i was raped, but that’s for another time

[jacqcrisis]

Man.... had a convo with my mom that reminded of me of the last time I talked to my biological father when i was like 16.

It was a sunny day and I rode along with my grandma to my great-grandmother's funeral. I stuck with her the whole time because I didn't know this side of the family very well. I cried because she was crying and after the service, we mingled with the rest of the people there.

And, for the first time in about 2 years, I saw my bio father, Steven. He was there with the one older brother I've met and his current family. I remember awkwardly talking to them as my grandma went around speaking and remembering with other family members.

At one point, it was just me and Steven. I remember he half-heartedly apologized for never being there, for being a bad father. I wanted to tell him about all the times as a kid, I would wait by the door for him to show up like he promised, only to have to explain to my grandpa or my mom that he never did. How I just stopped expecting to see when my mom would say he was coming. How often I was right.

But his grandma just died. His eyes were red and puffy. I just nodded along and looked at my phone, waiting for my ride out of there.

It was my dad's weekend to have my little brother over, coincidentally. Despite never adopting me on paper and no longer being with my mother, my dad treated me, and still does, as his own as he had since I was 4 and would take me with my brother up to his place every other weekend. Today was no different.

My dad came to pick me up like he always would. I remember him asking how the funeral was and if I was okay. I told him it was fine and yeah, I was okay.

I didn't really know anyone there anyways.

[foxtriestobiteandmaimandkilland]

its my step grandads funeral tmrw and honestly i feel guilty bc i dont feel bad or sad or anything even tho i knew him vaguely well. like ive always seen my grandma more than him but like ive seen him more than my blood grandad atleast and hes been one of the ppl who have been a fairly constantish presence. but like im not grieving and im not sad im just like. idk. normal. but ig bc this is normal for me bc like its all well and good saying hes dead but its like. like if nobody had told me i wouldnt know any better bc i only see him once every few months or w/e so like. i mean the last time i saw him was christmas and between then and like a few weeks ago when he died i didnt see him at all so like. that was half a year w/o seeing him so it was just. idk. like he was 100% a much better person than my grandad bc i was actually kinda happy when my grandad died bc he was an awful awful man and the reason my dad is an awful man too and he was just so bad. and i mean i dont feel guilty 4 feeling happy abt that bc like. yknow. but i do feel guilty 4 just being sorta. uncaring abt my step grandads death. bc he was a nice person and hed tell us jokes that made no sense and hed eat his food so incredibly slowly wed run out of conversation topics at dinner and hed spoil me n my siblings by buying us shit and hed pretty much just always be smiling and like. he wasnt some hero he wasnt some great amazing grandfather who was always there and who i could always trust and love and he wasnt some guy i looked up to as a role model or got excited when he was around or loved seeing but he was nice and like. being nice is enough. he never knew he had a trans step grandkid tho. oh my god. im gonna meet his blood family tmrw. for the first time. at his funeral. thats gonna b awkward. i dont actually know if he ever had any kids or grandkids. i know he has a sister i think but thats all i know. and i mean im calling him my step grandad but he wasnt rlly bc he n my grandma only dated but he was definitely more of a grandad than my actual grandad. idk. i think i just feel weird bc like. i mean its at the exact same venue as where my grandads funeral was. my grandma picked both times which seems a little weird. bc its like shes equating her ex and her partner to the same standards but. idk. idk what im gonna do tmrw anyways bc at my grandads funeral i was pretty much just bored bc all the adults n stuff were making conversation n i was there in my school uniform bc it was during the school day and i just played hide n seek w my siblings in the garden of that place but likeee. i mean idk i might just go on my phone or smth. listen to some riptide. might take my camera n take some photos bc its a fairly pretty place.

[achilleslyre]

well my great grandpa died last night and i’m kinda rlly struggling to decide if i go to his funeral….. cause on one hand i have absolutely nothing against him, i literally haven’t even seen him in prolly 10 yrs but like…. the does mean i have to see my grandparents. like my grandma is incredibly transphobic.. the last time i saw her she tried to exorsize a demon from out of me lol….. and my grandpa is like ? idk mostly fine but he’s scared of my grandma so he just does whatever she says….. soo like.. idk. i haven’t seen them in like… idk 6-8 years………. idk i miss my grandpa but ik he’s not gonna be excited to see me anyways cause its a funeral and it’s me……..

[yllem]

My Grandpa Died

I'd say this all happened very quickly, but that is not the case. Grandpa was sick for a very long time and, because of the distance and the pandemic, I can't even remember which year was the last that I saw him.

I was in Starbucks after OTF one morning when I got a text from Laura. Grandpa is dying. He's circling the drain. Mom is flying out tomorrow. This was mid to late July- one of the last games for my pee wee team. She was out there for a week. Auntie Ei was able to stay there until he passed. Dee Dee made her way back, too.

I thought that week might be the end. I called him and he seemed mostly the same, though a little tired. He shared his same stories. I told him that I loved him. We never spoke again.

He thought they had come to take him home. It's funny to use home as he'd spent most of my life living in Hawaii. He always said he wanted to die there and the funny thing was that all he wanted was to be back in Chicago. Eileen handled it well from what I can tell. She told him that he would have a new treatment team and a new environment where there he would have his beautiful ocean view and the team that he already knows and knows him. He felt better, I think.

He died on August 15th Hawaii time. I got a text from my mom at 2am on the 16th (Chicago time) letting me know he had passed on. Grandma told me that it was shortly after sunset. Dee Dee and Eileen were there and seeing all of his daughters before he went on to the next great beyond moved him deeply. I hope someone else called him. I hope he is seeing eternal sunsets.

The news did not hit me for a few days. I read the text and felt tears, but they never fell. It was like being in a mania with humor as a coping mechanism. I thought of the way he treated me mom and all that she deserved and never got. Same with my aunts. Grandma says she regrets nothing because the life she lived has been so beautiful. She was sad.

I cried after finding the last birthday card I will ever receive from him- sent in November of dated 12-29-2021. He always sent a gift in time for black Friday and wrote a nice note. I broke then. I broke at the funeral hearing Mousey tell the story of his life. I hear a lot about what my grandpa didn't give my mom, so it was interesting to hear all of the amazing things they were able to do because of him and all that they had. Mark grabbed his urn off the alter. I grabbed his hat. We left the church.

I will always miss hearing his laugh.

[chasing-rabbits]

I’ve just felt so tbh I’ve felt everything from numb to complete meltdown crying over the past week. Last weekend I was a wreck. Sunday night I just had a major breakdown on the phone with my mum and was starting to get some not so great thoughts.

I’d felt like I was handling my Granddads death well all things considered but Sunday made me realise nope not so much. Then Monday as soon as we got into the church and I saw his face (they had these printed order of service things with an old photo of him on it) it made me burst out into tears.

It was a more traditional funeral as my Granddad was religious whereas for my Grandmas last year it was a lot different. So idk I think this one felt more real as well I guess because we saw it coming whereas my Grandma she went very quick and unexpected also we had to rush out to Spain and the funeral was very quick after her death but it took like two weeks I think to get my Granddads funeral sorted here. It was a lovely service but it’s just a lot. Losing two Grandparents in two years is hard. I’ve only got my Granddad in Spain left now and he’s really not coping well without my Grandma. He has his good days don’t get me wrong but overall I think he’s not doing great and physically he has a lot of illnesses, he’s on dialysis and has been for quite some time now. So I’m just scared we’re gonna lose him soon too and it’s just a lot right now. I’d never been to a funeral before my Grandmas so it’s just very overwhelming.

I wanted to keep busy but doing so caused a flare up of whatever it is that’s wrong with me and so now I’ve been so fatigued this week, lots of aches and pains and I’ve been getting the internal jitters and involuntary jerks/twitches which hasn’t been great. On the other hand I did have a call with my new GP’s yesterday and she’s suggested I get referred to a neurologist so that’ll get me answers on all the shit my body is putting me through although interestingly she wasn’t convinced it wasn’t fibromyalgia despite reading the report from the specialist I saw back in 2019. So if I see the neurologist and they rule out FND I’m going to see a different specialist to get checked out for fibromyalgia again especially because the previous one I saw did say some questionable things about hypermobility (EDS) that just aren’t accurate so I’m not sure if she’s working on outdated information because the way she tested me for fibromyalgia was so different to my mum and my mum did seem to think she was using an outdated testing method and yeah shes no expert but she’s done a lot of reading/research since her diagnosis into fibromyalgia and given the GP also wasn’t convinced it just adds validity to my mums doubts, so we’ll see how all that goes. It’d just be nice to get an answer to what is wrong with me like what’s causing all this so I can at least look into what/if any treatment is out there.

[misadventuresofthatoregongirl]

My grandma died early May this year, two days before my sons birthday and mothers day. My grandparents raised me, not my parents so its important to understand how traumatic this was for me plus how bad she suffered I would also like to note she was denied to even be put on a list for a liver transplant 16 times. If she had money, rest assured she would have gotten a liver no problem. Deep down I knew the couple weeks before she passed she was going to die, I just did not want to say it in front of my grandpa since they had been together 52 years. For 10 years she has been seeing a “specialist” who decided not to tell anyone she had massive internal bleeding. That was the whole reason she went to the specialist was to get endoscopies and make sure there was in internal bleeding, she had a weird immune system disorder, causing liver problems even though she never drank a day in her life, which often leads to stomach varices. The first “specialist” basically said there was nothing they could do she would just start coughing up blood and die someday. He left new guy took his place, did another endoscopy that actually cause more damage. We just got back from the rancheria in Humboldt County going to my great aunt’s funeral who died of get this shit... OLD AGE wild right. She was 83. So my grandma went to the procedure after my great aunts memorial, two days later ended up vomiting so much blood she needed 3 bags given to her at the hospital. The local little hospital. The new specialist had also doubled her “high blood pressure” medication, these doctors down here immediately took her off of it because she has low blood pressure and her heart rate got so low she had a heart attack as well when she was hospitalized over the bleeding. When the doctors at the local hospital tried to contact the “specialist” they would not respond. The doctors down here said no one with low blood pressure should be taking high blood pressure medication and her stomach veins should have been banded at least 5 years ago. By the time they did it was too late. She stayed in the hospital for a week, when she was supposed to go home the next day and ended up stating a week I just knew. Then she had the heart attack. Then they sent her home the next day. Not once did either one of these “specialists” ever mention hey, her stomach veins need banded or she's going to die. Now my grandpa and I sift through the photos and videos of her insides from the endoscopies you can see the bleeding but why should we have to do this? These doctors make a minimum of 300k a year and you just send people home to die why should we have to do their job for them, and die a slow miserable death at that she could not eat any food she could not smoke pot she could not hardly walk she was only 68 in her last couple weeks of life. For years she said she was light headed and nauseous I'm sure now it was because she was slowly bleeding to death internally. This is just one of many examples of why I think degrees are extremely over rated. It was a doctor from India who saw her at the emergency room. When she was sent home she wanted to do nothing but sleep. All she could eat was like broth and jello. I did not want to leave her alone, my grandpa’s way of dealing with it was kind of just go back to normal but my grandma couldn’t go anywhere so I just stayed with her anytime my grandpa wanted to go run errands, take my uncle to look at a truck, you know whatever. She kept getting sicker I swear you could see the light leaving her eyes. She didn’t remember who came to visit, besides me, my son, and my uncles. Its so fucked up to have to watch someone you love suffer like that all because of lazy doctors. The one day I went to the park and did not go visit her she ended up back in the hospital and died within 4 hours. The best part, they did not even give her anything for pain or to relax until half an hour before she died. My poor grandpa having to go through that and now I have to watch him suffer, I will be amazed if he does not die by the end of the year simply from a broken heart. The best part, we have to get the state of Oregons permission to sue the doctor, lawyer won’t touch it until we get the states approval.