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#Andrew: where do you want your body buried?
chaoticas-hell · 5 months
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Andrew: I will kill you
Neil: ah yes because the freckles are so threatening
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More Judd smut?
More Judd smut yay (,:
Tags: fem! Reader, porn with a little plot?, what the fuck is hormone monster dialogue, everyone is horny fr, Nick and Andrew are creeps, but also scared of Judd, and very curious, questionable babysitting?, smoking, participating in the act of “getting stoned”, smoking inside, use of the word simp un-ironically, Judd gives super useless dating advice, not so safe sex, please use protection! please do not read if you’re uncomfortable with smut(,:
Summary: you and Judd are the designated babysitters for the night.
Read my OG Judd story? Here
Author’s note: hi gang (,: I remember when I was like “mental illness funny haha” but it’s really not funny anymore 🥹 I know I disappear all the time,, and I don’t even wanna apologize this time lol. But anyways, this has been brewing in my docs for like MONTHS and now I’ve come back, humbly offering you another Judd smut since the other one is surprisingly popular. Eat well, my children
The one where Judd gives dating advice
4,4K words
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(Note, Judd is so cute and I love him :,)
“I don’t care about those horny little shits, I’m just saying they’re old enough to fuck off and do whatever they want. I don’t want my pissstain of a brother hanging around you, your sister is also fucking weird—“ 
You gently elbowed him. “—You’re fucking weird, Judd. And the kids aren’t really that bad, you’re a bit dramatic, babe,” you said, and he angrily grumbled something in response as he slammed the microwave shut. The microwave made a noise, and you watched the third batch of popcorn slowly expand and start to pop. 
Unfortunately for Judd, your parents had collectively decided to go out the day you had promised him a date. Mr and Mrs Birch got a coupon for a recently opened Thai restaurant and decided to invite yours, Missy’s and Andrew’s parents out for dinner, making you the designated babysitter of the night. Leah had ditched the whole ordeal, and Judd was planning to ditch as well until you sent him a picture of your tits and told him he could still come over if he behaved. 
With Maury clouding his judgement, there was no fucking way he could say no to that. 
So now, he was stuck making popcorn for a bunch of middle schoolers. Not to mention he had a pretty bad track record with the kids, they were all absolutely terrified of him. Except of course Jessie, who was deeply in love with him. He grunted in annoyance, turning around to face you with his arms crossed over his chest. 
He had been muttering complaints under his breath ever since you started setting up for the movie. He was absolutely livid that the kids stole away his one-on-one private time with his girlfriend, but for you (and your boobs) he tried to somewhat restrain himself. 
“Judd, baby, look at me,” you stepped out in front of him, reaching up and gently rubbing his cheek, forcing his attention on you. “I know this is not ideal. But, if you play nice, I have a little something for you when the kids go to bed,” you purred, leaning up to kiss his cheek.
He grabbed your waist, kneading the soft flesh in his big hands. Even though he looked intimidating as all hell, not to mention he absolutely towered over you, he was wrapped around your pinky finger. 
He leaned down and buried his face in your neck. “It better be good, slut..” he grunted, brushing his lips over your neck. You slapped the back of his head, feeling him frown against your skin. “I said behave, bitch-boy.” Your tone was sharp, and he knew not to push you any further. 
“Fine, alright. Whatever.” He grumbled, hugging you closer to his body. 
-
It was precisely 7’oclock when the kids arrived. Jessie was still in her room, not wanting to hang out with you and Judd alone; she had refused to come out after your parents left. 
Surprisingly, Judd was the first at the door. He grinned evilly. “Welcome to purgatory, you little shits.” He said, looking down at the 8th graders menacingly. “Bitch! Your sister's dumb friends are here!” He called over his shoulder. 
You huffed audibly. “Are you gonna let them in or what, numbnuts?” You called back to him, pouring the last packet of popcorn into a bowl. 
He frowned and stepped aside, letting the now pretty frightened kids inside. Missy walked in first, smiling nervously at Judd, then came Andrew and Nick. 
Nick was about to step inside, when Judd put a hand on his shoulder. The younger boy stopped dead in his tracks, praying to whatever god he could think of that his brother would let him off easy. “I didn’t do anything! Judd, I swear, please let me go!” He shouted, voice breaking multiple times.
A ghost of a smirk crossed Judd’s face. “Don’t try shit, or I will rip your tiny dick off and force it down your throat. Got it, asslicker?” 
Nick swallowed thickly, frantically nodding his head. Of course Judd had picked up on his brother's crush on you, as if it wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world. 
“Y-You got it, Judd!” He confirmed, panicked chuckles escaping him. 
“Judd. Let him inside.” You stomped up to them, looking so livid you scared Judd back into being nice as you crossed your arms over your chest. Nick looked away quickly, a pink flush covering his face and neck. 
Judd pushed Nick inside with a frown, once again not being able to refuse you. The kids looked on in bewilderment as the intimidating teen seemed to slightly cower under your glare, complying to your will. He looked down at them with something akin to shame, before following after you like a lost puppy.
The kids were in complete shock. Had Judd been fucking possesed?
You called out to Jessie, telling her to come out of her room, before dragging Judd back into the kitchen. 
-
“Y/nnn! Can you start the movie already?” Jessie whined loudly.
A bit of shuffling could be heard in the kitchen. ”I-In a minute! We’re just fixing some drinks!” You called out, voice slightly shaky.
“.. do you really think they’re getting drinks?” Missy asked, after an agonising minute of silence. The kids sat stiffly on the couch. 
You had told them to make themselves at home, but none of them were able to really calm down with Judd in the house. 
Jessie scoffed. “Does it sound like they’re getting drinks? My sister's kind of a slut if you haven’t noticed.” She spat. 
Nick rolled his eyes. “So is Judd.” 
The two of them weren’t able to get over their jealousy of your relationship, somehow not yet registering that they didn’t stand a chance with high schoolers. 
“Come on guys, that’s not a very nice thing to say,” Missy said nervously, glancing at the kitchen door. 
“Jessie, do you think it’s possible I can get a glass of milk? I feel very dehydrated right now,” Andrew muttered, wringing his hands. 
Jessie sighed and Nick immediately began explaining in detail how Judd would murder him. But ultimately, after a long and intense discussion, the kids decided to venture into the kitchen.
-
“You promised to be nice,” You said over your shoulder, holding Judd’s hand as you pulled him to the kitchen. 
“I am nice.” He huffed, letting go of your hand and instead reaching out to grab your waist. He gently lifted you, setting you down on the counter top before stepping in between your legs. For a moment you thought he would lead it somewhere, but your face morphed into a gentle smile when he buried his face in your neck, hands gently rubbing up and down your sides. 
You softly stroked his hair, making the angry agent of chaos visibly relax as he melted into your touch. “You didn’t even last ten seconds,” You muttered, immediately recognizing his actions as jealousy.
He breathed out against your neck, and you couldn’t help but softly laugh at the tingly feeling. “It was nice enough for me to make the popcorn, do you want me to fucking hand feed them too?” He grumbled, straightening up so he could glare down at you. 
You rolled your eyes. “Calm down there, Mr. grumpy-pants. All I ask is that you remain civil for the night, or at least until the movie’s over,” You gave him your very best puppy dog eyes, reaching up to gently brush your hands over his jaw again. Reluctantly, he leaned into your touch, fighting to keep his angry glare. 
Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t deny how absolutely soft he was for you. Your touch calmed him like no other, not even horror movies or tormenting the neighbourhood made him feel as gleeful as when you touched him. 
He hummed in response, not really registering what you said, too focused on your touch. His own hands travelled from your waist to your thighs, gently squeezing. You let out a soft little sigh and instantly Maury appeared. 
‘What? What’d I miss? You’re gonna fuck?’ The hormone monster asked, observing the situation. ‘Oooh! You should totally have a quickie, let’s see how many fingers you can stuff in her before the kids find out!’ He grinned, shaking Judd by the shoulders.
“Shut the fuck up.” Judd growled, making Maury let out a series of horse laughs. ‘Oh ho ho ho! At least get a good feel of her boob, we need something to get through the movie!’ He said dramatically, before patting Judd’s head and walking off in search of new entertainment. 
Judd thought about it for a moment, before slowly sliding his right hand up your tummy until he could palm one of your tits. 
“Judd,” You said, placing your hand over the one he had on your chest, but not removing it. “You gotta behave, alright? Just for tonight. And you can touch aaall you want after, I promise,” You said, finishing the sentence with a long kiss to his cheek. 
“Fuck. Okay, fine.” He relented, removing his hand from your boob and intertwining his fingers with yours instead. He leaned in, pressing a series of wet kisses to your jaw and neck. 
You hummed happily, half closing your eyes until you caught movement somewhere over Judd’s shoulders. You immediately straightened up, opening your eyes fully only to make eye contact with four completely stupefied middle schoolers. 
The kids were too stunned to speak, literally.
Andrew was stammering incoherently, Nick seemed to find the ceiling very interesting, Missy and Jessi had both turned completely red in face but for very different reasons. 
“Oh. Hello,” You said awkwardly, pushing Judd away and jumping off the counter quickly. 
Your boyfriend in question let out a disappointed grunt, murderously glaring down the kids but keeping quiet. You all stood in complete silence for a few, agonisingly long seconds, until Andrew finally spoke up.
Still wringing his hands, the preteen stepped slightly closer to you. “Y/n, I’m very sorry to interrupt. But could I maybe get a glass of milk? It would really help with my nervous stomach—“ You cut him off before he could go into further detail about his digestive system and smiled warmly at him. 
“—Of course. Why don’t you follow Judd back into the living room, he’ll start the movie for you and then I’ll be right out. Okay?”   
If looks could kill, you’d be six feet under. 
Judd bore holes through your back with his eyes, as you turned to open the fridge. “O-okay! Once again, thank you Y/n,” Andrew said, seemingly relieved.
Slowly the kids turned to walk out the kitchen, drizzling out one after the other. Jessi bore a somewhat mischievous smile, walking a bit slower on purpose in hopes she could walk next to Judd. Your boyfriend sighed heavily, uncrossing his arms and following after the kids. He was slowly coming to realise that he had no other choice, than to be a slave for a gang of middle schoolers. 
The kids were again stiffly seated on the couch, this time with Judd sitting in the far end. Jessie had glued herself to his side, shamelessly sitting as close to him as possible. He was sure he would accidentally hit her if he moved his arm just the slightest.
He was holding the remote, quickly flicking through movies on netflix as the kids fought over what to watch. 
“Shut the fuck up.” He barked. “I’ll find you a good movie,” And by “good movie'' he meant the absolutely goriest horror flick netflix had to offer. 
Judd grinned sinisterly as he chose a movie, looking over to see the kids all sporting comically shocked expressions. 
Andrew carefully glanced at Judd. “Excuse me, Judd, but are you sure this movie is suitable for children?” He asked. 
“Y-yeah. Doesn’t that say you have to be sixteen..? My mom said I shouldn’t watch scary movies until I feel ready,” Missy added.
Nick didn’t say anything. He was scared enough of his brother already to disagree openly with him, and he also didn’t want to seem like a wimp in front of Jessi. 
“It’s about time you little pussies grow up. Be quiet and just watch the fucking movie,” Judd said, as mischievously as his monotone voice would allow him to sound. 
Jessi nodded gravely. “Yeah, guys. Shut up. It’s just a movie,” She said, looking up at Judd with big eyes for approval. He only grunted, pressing start on the remote. 
Within the first few minutes, Andrew and Nick were clinging to each other. Missy was curled in on herself, watching the movie through her spread fingers. Judd grinned evilly, satisfied with his choice as he started digging through his pockets.
He was quick to dig up a lighter and half a blunt. A bloody jumpscare in the movie made Jessi jerk and grab onto Judd’s arm, slightly shaking. He sighed deeply, annoyed, but let it slide. He lit the blunt, throwing his feet up on the coffee table and tilting his head back as he inhaled deeply. 
“Judd, I told you not to smoke inside,” You grumbled, returning to the living room with drinks and even more popcorn. Judd raised his head slightly, cocking an eyebrow at you. “Shut up,” He simply said, gesturing to the way Jessi was clinging to him. 
You had to stifle a laugh, quickly setting the snacks on the coffee table and handing the milk to Andrew, who reached out to take it with a shaky hand, refusing to look at the tv.
Upon noticing the lack of space on the couch, Judd beckoned you to his lap. You happily sat down, Jessi giving you a disturbed look as your body gently pushed hers away. 
“What the hell are we even watching?” You asked, Judd shrugged. “Dunno. Summer camp massacre something,” He said, handing you the blunt as you got comfortable on his lap. 
You took a long drag, nuzzling into Judd as his hands came down to hold your waist, pulling you closer to him. “Guys,” Missy suddenly whispered, eyes glued to you and Judd. “Is that.. Marijuana.. As in drugs?”
Judd chuckled, you could feel him move beneath you as you struggled to keep from laughing yourself. 
You said the only appropriate answer you could scrape from your brain; “Well.. Yeah.” 
Missy’s eyes grew to sorcerers. “You can’t do that! Marijuana is a gateway drug! It could mess up your brain- Oh fudge! It could mess up my brain from inhaling secondhand!” 
This time you couldn’t conceal your giggle, handing the blunt back to Judd as you leaned forward. You smiled softly at the younger. “Don’t worry about it, Missy. You’re way too smart to be corrupted by secondhand smoke,” You said. Missy nodded reluctantly, a small smile appearing on her face as she accepted the compliment.
“Mom will actually kill you,” Jessi mumbled and you fondly ruffled her hair. “She won’t if you keep your mouth shut.” You teased, as she scowled at you. Her eyes quickly left yours, to blatantly stare at Judd as he blew clouds of smoke out his nose. He truly looked like an angry dragon, staring at the movie screen with furrowed brows. 
Jessi went bright red, looking away immediately when Judd turned to meet her gaze. You grinned, ruffling her hair again before relaxing back into your boyfriend. Judd gave another annoyed grumble, but soon relaxed himself. 
Somehow, the kids managed to be quiet for the duration of the movie as you finished the blunt and most of the snacks.
Jessi fell asleep against you, having ended up clutching your hand for safety (probably from the masked killer on screen). Missy fell asleep against Andrew, the two huddled in a pile. Nick had slid down from the couch, attempting to hide from the movie but ending up sleeping under the coffee table.
By the time credits came on screen, you and Judd were the only ones awake. Pleasantly hazy from the smoke session, you turned your head to smile at him.
“You were so good. I like nice Judd,” You muttered, leaning up to press a soft, slow kiss to his lips. 
He immediately deepened the kiss, claiming his price. In a horny daze, his hands migrated to your butt and his tongue invaded your mouth. You sighed, a bit too loudly and let your own hands wander. Over his shoulders, rubbing down his chest and abdomen till eventually they rested just over his belt. 
The hiss that escaped him as your hands pressed to his crotch, definitely did not go unnoticed and you responded in kind by moving from his lips, messily gliding wet kisses down his jaw and neck. You bit him playfully, but still hard enough to leave indents in his perfectly smooth neck. 
‘Oooh, baby!’ Right on time, Connie appeared at your side. She purred like a cat, curling around you and Judd on the couch. ‘Why don’t you hurry and jump right on up on that delicious dick of his? You know he can make you feel reeeeeaaaal good,’ She drawled.
Barely acknowledging her, you dumbly nodded in agreement. 
‘Hurry, dumpling! Don’t got much time before the kiddies wake up,’ She urged you, poking Jessi with a long fingernail, and indeed, your sister was starting to stir. 
You could only let out a frustrated huff. Judd had your hair fisted in one hand and your hip clutched tightly in the other, helping you rut yourself against his growing bulge in long, hazy strokes. He felt good, you felt good, everything felt so, so good and moving away from the heavenly friction could not be more of a bother. 
You leaned forward a bit, which came with resistance considering his tight grip on your hair, and whined lowly in his ear. 
Gently, you nosed at his cheek. “Judd.. the kitchen. C’mon,” You breathed.
He retaliated by grinding up into you, much harder than before, allowing you to feel the entirety of his now, very hard, length. You moaned loudly in response. 
“We need to.. the kitchen— they’re waking up,” It was a difficult task to form the right words, with the increased amount of pleasure, so you scratched his shoulders, gently, to get your point across. 
Leaning in, he captured your lips in a hard kiss, licking into your mouth with such fervour your head was spinning. He let go, biting down on your bottom lip and dragging it back before pulling away completely. 
“Stupid fucking kids,” He gritted, tongue swiping over his lips, plump from kissing. 
Heaving, you bit your bottom lip and batted your eyelashes at him in a most sultry display that was sure to make Connie proud. A sinister grin spread across his face, when he got an idea and he let go of your hair in favour of kneading your ass in both his hands.
“I’ll fuck you on the table, slut, be grateful.” It was a demand, but you didn’t mind because right at that moment, nothing truly sounded more pleasing than getting railed on the dining table in your mothers kitchen. 
A shudder went through you at the thought, warmth slushing in your belly and still, you grinned coyly at him. “Only because you were so well behaved. I’m starting to think you actually like them, Juddy-Wuddy?” You said, motioning to the four kids as you cooed at him. 
You got him with that one. Watching with glee as his jaw clenched and he sent you a look that could only mean one of two things; he was going to kill you or plow you until you could no longer walk. You highly suspected the latter.
Your boyfriend scoffed. “It’s almost cute how damn smart you think you are, huh? You fucking bitch.” He glowered. He despised when you called him that, one of the many terrible nicknames you had overheard his mom call him, and he always fell right into your trap. 
Before you could start to respond, he was rising from the couch, hands manoeuvring under your thighs to lift you up with him. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, legs tighter around his waist to keep his clothed cock pressed up against your core, and nuzzled your face into his neck. 
His hands were warm on your thighs, so big they almost covered them entirely when he spread his fingers. You latched onto his neck again, engraving lots of little purple marks, just how he liked it. 
His response came as a strained grunt, as he barreled into the kitchen and dropped you on the corner dining table. 
The table was cold, you squealed as your thighs dragged along the cool surface and Judd wasted no time, leaning over you and pushing your skirt up to expose your panties. 
A sinister grin spread across his face when he found your panties were already damp and soaked, his award for being a prime example of a boyfriend this evening.
You bucked your hips, mewling for attention and hoping he would be quick to relieve you of the throbbing between your thighs. 
He laughed, low and husky as he watched you writhe on the table beneath him. Your lips were swollen and plump, a deep blush covered your cheeks and your hair was messily spread out over the table’s surface. His dick ached.
‘Boi-oi-oi-oing!’ Maury was right behind him, a wild smile split his face and he let his tongue hang out, looking more like a rabid dog than a hormone monster. 
‘C’mon! Shove your fist inside her, she obviously wants it!’ Maury barked, shaking Judd by the shoulders. The teen shook him off, grumbling a threat as he returned to the task at hand. 
You heaved in a breath, tongue coming out to wet your lips again. “Judd, I swear to god, do something—“ You pleaded, desperately. 
“— have patience. And shut the fuck up.” Judd grunted, long fingers creeping towards the wet patch on your panties. Then, he pressed down, right in the middle of the wetness where your much neglected clit sat.
Gasping, you reached out to grasp his bicep. He pressed down again, keeping his thump there and swirling it in circles. You gasped and whined his name softly, the wet fabric glided over your most sensitive part so well it was hard to think about keeping quiet. 
He was quick to silence you with a kiss, however, as his left hand finally, finally, left the wet patch to pull your panties off. You helped him shake them off, too focused with the cool air blowing on your hot core to notice how he crumbled up your panties and stuffed them in his back pocket. 
You begged for him again, whines disappearing into his open mouth as he kept it slotted over yours. 
He shushed you, putting his weight on his right hand as he leaned in further between your legs, suddenly stuffing two fingers into you, in one smooth motion. You cried out so loudly and desperately that not even Judd’s wet kisses could conceal it, he gave you another rough thrust of his fingers in retaliation.
Your eyes were half closed, lips forming an ‘o’ as he pulled away from your mouth to bite at your neck. His fingers reached a depth that your own could not, hitting a softer, mushier spot in your pussy that had you seeing stars each time. He was so rough with his thrusts too, working quickly and effectively to bring you to ecstasy and making the table rattle slightly. You could only pray that the slight scraping on the tiled kitchen floor could not be heard in the living room.
What was much louder, however, were your own loud gasps and breathy moans of your boyfriend's name. The closer you got, the louder your pleas became. 
Judd bit your neck again, hard enough to turn the skin purple. “I said, be quiet, bitch.” He groaned into your neck, panting slightly as the pace of his hand increased. 
You tried, but really couldn’t. The lewd squelching sound and the rapid stroking of his two fingers against your g-spot had you mewling and bucking against him. And it certainly didn’t help, when his thumb pressed down on your clit as well. 
His slender fingers didn’t create much of a stretch, but you knew he was preparing you for his monstrous cock and because his fingers were so deliciously long the waiting time was never disappointing. 
You could vaguely hear Connie bustling about in the background, shouting her encouragement and coaxing you to tell Judd all sorts of lewd things. You didn’t listen, you couldn’t when you were so, so close to your breaking point. 
With your body on fire, liquid pleasure in your veins, your toes curled and you tilted your head to allow Judd better access to the unmarked parts of it. He graciously took the opportunity, returning his grip on your head to position you just how he wanted.
Your thighs clenched around Judd’s arm, lip trembling as your eyes crossed in pleasure. “Judd..!” 
And then he was pulling away, you whined desperately in the process, only to be silenced with a large hand slapped across your mouth. 
“I told you to be quiet, bitch.” He snarled, his voice now so deep and feral it made you shiver. He squeezed your cheeks together, a bit of drool escaped your mouth and smeared on his hand, as he pulled you to a sitting position. “Didn’t I?”
Your pussy throbbed, clenching around nothing at both the rough treatment and being so suddenly void of stimulation. 
With your cheeks squished together, you couldn’t respond, so you opted for frantically nodding your head, softly whining out for him. You needed him inside you, and it had to be now. 
You rutted yourself against the table, slick following you and making a trail on the wooden surface, it felt good, but definitely not as good as Judd’s cock would feel. 
“Pw-pf..a..e.. Pwase!” You begged him, hands wandering towards his belt, feeling him up and unbuckling his belt buckle. You gasped quietly, he was so hard it had to hurt and the feeling of him pressed to your palm made you clench around nothing again. Despite the layers of clothes between you. 
He moaned, but reached down to gather both wrists in his free hand and pinning them together. “You think you think you deserve that? After all the fucking noise you made?” 
You cried out and nodded. Judd grinned sinisterly. “You’re so pathetic, you little slut. You know that?” 
You wanted to kick him, or at least insult him back but the throbbing in your cunt and the fact that his words only made that throb so much worse, made it quite hard to do so. 
Then, he leaned in, resting his chin on top of your head and inhaled your hair deeply. “You’re my little slut.” He grunted and, oh, you could have cum right there. 
You nuzzled into him, burying your head where his neck became his chest and started leaving small, wet kisses. 
He didn’t let go of either your wrists or mouth, instead he barked one simple order; “Off.” and brought your bound wrists towards his crotch again. 
You didn’t need to be told twice, immediately getting to work and shoving both his pants and underwear as far down as your position would allow you to grab at his dick. 
Hissing in pleasure, he pulled you closer to him. He was throbbing and warm in your hand, heavy and so swollen the head had almost turned purple, you tried lifting yourself up, tried to get just the tiniest bit of friction. 
You pumped him slowly, he was sticky with pre-cum already and he dropped his head into your hair again, burying his face into you with a strained groan. He, too, was close to his breaking point.
Letting your wrists and cheeks free, he opted to grab under both your hips, lifting them up to hover above his dick. You let go of him, fingers coming to scratch at the table as he did the remainder of work for you and you fell back on the table. 
“This what you want?” He grunted, thrusting experimentally and nudging his cockhead against your swollen little pearl. 
“Yes.. yes, yes! Please, Judd, it hurts, I need it..!” You blabbered, cheeks puffy and face screwed up as you felt your empty pussy ache with anticipation. Only your boyfriend's dick could ease the twang in your lower belly. 
He inhaled sharply through his nose, face set in stone and brows drawn together as he finally thrusted into you, filling you so completely in that one thrust, that you suddenly felt too full. 
The bit of pain from the wide stretch you felt melted into white-hot pleasure almost as soon as it appeared and when Judd pressed a bit more into you, his hip bones meeting yours, you came instantly. 
You cried out, overwhelmed by the sudden and immense pleasure. Judd cursed, rather loudly and tried pressing further into you, holding you flush against him as you clenched uncontrollably around him. You were even tighter now, so tight it almost hurt and so he waited for you to ride out your orgasm, breathing heavily. 
“Shit.. fuck you! Ah!” He nearly whined at the feeling, blunt nails digging into the plush flesh on your hips. 
Panting, sobbing and sighing, you slowly came down from your orgasm, not at all ready when Judd suddenly started thrusting again. You were already overstimulated, but the wide stretch and feeling of his cock inside felt so heavenly.
You couldn’t help the never-ending mantra of his name that escaped you, matching each of his violent thrusts. He wanted you to feel him as deep as possible, you knew, and he made sure of it. Leaning in over you to hit you at a deeper angle, pressing down on your belly as he fucked you to see himself bulging through. 
“Judd, m’so full,” You slurred, digging your nails into his shoulders, as deep as they would go. He grunted a response, sweat gathering on his dark brows; “You gotta be quiet, baby.” He was strained as he spoke, teeth clenched and warm breath fanning your face.
Then, he squeezed under your thighs again, sliding you towards the edge of the table. “Spread your legs.” He demanded gravelly, and you easily complied. He pressed himself to you further, barely pulling out after each thrust, but doubling the force in which he thrusted. 
The table scraped loudly against the floor, you whimpered and tried to quiet yourself, face heating as the room filled with squelching sounds that definitely didn’t leave anything to the imagination, should anyone overhear. 
Already, you started to tighten around him again, your thighs quivered as you did your best to keep them apart. Judd noticed almost immediately, bringing his thumb down upon your puffy clit. 
“C’mon pretty girl, cum for me again,” He panted and you followed suit, before you could cry out, though, he captured your lips with his own, chest pressed to yours. 
You sobbed into his mouth as his tongue licked flames into you, clutching him to you. His thrusts became irregular, driving you into the table until he couldn’t hold out anymore. He moved to pull out, but you stopped him, keeping him pressed against you. “Don’t.. they’ll see— in-inside.” You panted into his mouth, and almost immediately felt a slush of warm liquid fill your lower belly. 
Judd grit his teeth tightly, jaw fully clenching and breath heaving. His green eyes were dark and glazed, he straightened up a little, raising himself on his forearms to look down at you. 
You were drooling slightly, makeup a bit smudged as you laid out on the table, revelling in the feeling of complete satisfaction and Judd’s cum filling you.
He waited a while to pull out, watching with interest as your tummy swelled ever so slightly from the combining force of his dick and his spend. 
“You’re fucking horrible at being quiet,” He eventually stated.
You puffed out your cheeks, sitting up and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “It wasn’t me who made the table move,” you countered.
Judd’s hands ventured up your back, holding you to him. “You whine like a bitch in heat,” He countered, monotonously, in the most endearing way he could possibly put it. Because honestly, he loved the sounds you made. 
Maury clapped him on the back and barked something at him, reminding him that the two of you were indeed not alone and he pulled out of you. You sighed as he slipped out, feeling your combined liquids leak out a bit as well. 
He was quick to pull his pants and boxers up, turning from you to fetch a roll of paper towels. As he always did, he insisted on cleaning up for you. 
You had asked him about it once, getting the lame response of; “I like to keep my things clean.” 
Fixing your skirt to cover yourself, you found that your panties were nowhere in sight and fixed Judd a look. 
Your boyfriend shrugged. “This is your house, just get another pair.” You blew a raspberry at him. “I’m actually gonna run out of underwear because of you.” 
He didn’t care, it was quite obvious, so you kissed his jaw and jumped from the table, to get yourself a new pair. Judd didn’t miss his chance to roughly squeeze your ass as you walked past him. 
-
Nick awoke to a strange sound. The loudest being the scraping of something on the floor, then he heard you cry, loud and continually as though you were in pain. 
Immediately he sat up. The room was dark and the tv static, he drowsily looked around, his four friends sleeping soundly on the couch. Andrew moved his foot, coincidentally pinning Nick down with it. Groggily, he sighed and pushed Andrew off him. 
He swayed a bit as he stood up, rubbing his eyes to get the sleep out of them. His brother and you weren’t anywhere to be seen, the spot where you previously was sitting now occupied by Jessi, sleeping in a starfish position. 
That was when he heard the sound again, the scraping and then the desperate gasping. This time, though, he heard his brother’s raspy voice as well. What the hell was going on?
‘Judd and Y/n are wrestling,’ Suddenly his temporary hormone monster, Tyler emerged from the kitchen with a disturbed look. 
“What?” Nick was way too tired to process something like that. 
‘They’re rolling around on the table! Like this!’ Tyler got on top of the coffee table, and started intimidating something that definitely did not look like wrestling.
Tyler noticed Nick’s confused expression. ‘Yeah! And she keeps crying and saying his name— like, like this!’ The monster proceeded to do an utmost terrible impression of you calling for Judd and Nick cringed. ‘— and then, Judd told her to shut up and called her a slut! I think he’s gonna get her in a chokehold. I wouldn’t put my money on Y/n, though, she’s not even trying to fight him off—‘
“— Yeah, I don’t think they’re wrestling, Tyler.” Nick deadpanned, cutting the deity short. He felt his face grow increasingly red, as your sounds grew. Now, even he could hear you beg Judd for all sorts of lewd things. 
‘Oh.’ Tyler blinked a couple of times. Nick shivered, he definitely did not need to hear his brother bone his girlfriend (on whom he had a crush) or explain the situation to his hormone monster. 
The two of them remained in uncomfortable silence for a while, Nick pacing back and forth to clear his head of any inappropriate thoughts that Tyler was coaxing him into, once he had figured out the situation. 
Eventually, Nick settled on waking Andrew. 
“Andrew,” He pushed his friend and whispered again. “C’mon, wake up, Andrew,” 
The latter mumbled something incoherent, adjusting his glasses in his sleep. Nick groaned and shook him, not relenting. “I never peed in that pool!” Andrew woke up shouting, and Nick tumbled back in surprise. 
“What?” Nick hissed. Andrew looked about wide eyed, seemingly as groggy as Nick. “I— what?” Andrew repeated. He blinked at his friend slowly, not yet aware of the circumstances. 
He pulled Andrew from the couch, and put a hand over his mouth. “Listen,” He whispered, and watched as his friend's expression turned from annoyed, to confused, to very very startled. 
“Oh my god. Oh my god, oh my god!” Andrew stammered. Nick removed his hand. “Is that— are they?” His head snapped from Nick to the kitchen entrance and back again. 
The shorter nodded once, stiffly. “What do we— do we do anything? We could go back to sleep before Judd— oh god, what if they find out we heard?”
Nick turned to his panicking friend, determination clear in his eyes. “We need to go see for ourselves.” 
Andrew’s eyes grew impossibly larger, to the size of sorcerers. “What? No! No, no, normally I come up with those kinda terrible ideas— are you okay, Nick?” He put a clammy hand to Nick’s forehead, fauxingly checking his temperature.
Nick clicked his tongue, annoyed, and waved his friend’s hands away. “Think, Andrew! You have a crush on Y/n, I have a crush on Y/n, haven't you imagined her like that a lot of times, anyway? We can just look, really quickly,” 
“Uuhh, I— I don’t know,” He stammered, eyes flicking to the kitchen door. 
Nick sighed. “I’m going to go look.” His statement was final, as he marched off. Andrew wrung his hands, definitely not unaware of his own desire to see what his two designated babysitters were up to, and his legs seemed to follow after Nick all by themselves. 
The two stopped by the door, neither daring to actually peek inside yet. 
“Judd, m’so full,” 
Both boys stiffened at the sound of your voice, breathy and begging and definitely not how you usually spoke to them. 
Then, Judd grunted; “You gotta be quiet, baby.” Followed up by a harsh command of; “Spread your legs.”
Nick swallowed, and Tyler pushed him further towards the door, squealing at him to look. Suddenly, his previous courage had completely disintegrated and he looked at Andrew, panicked.
The other was just as alarmed, sweat beating his forehead as the scraping sounds picked up and they realised the weight of the situation. 
They stood there for a while, completely perplexed, having been so scared off by your vulgar statements that neither dared to move. Andrew shut his eyes tightly, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he heard Maury in the room as well. He was barking orders at Judd, all of which went completely ignored, and cheering the two of you on.
Then, after what felt like aeons, the noise quieted down and the two preteens listened as you had a quiet conversation. Judd was way less mean, when he talked to you in private, they both noted. Only when you went off to get another pair of briefs, did they realise their mistake. But it was too late for them to move, instead they both stood there with rapidly beating hearts, faces bathed in red with sheepish expressions as you exited the room. 
You stuck your head out the entrance first, yelling in surprise when you caught sight of the two boys. “Oh my god.” You breathed, then realising that they probably heard most of what just went on.
Caught red handed, you couldn’t bear to look neither of them in the eyes. You straightened, quickly walking past them and holding your skirt tightly around your bottom. 
Levelling your voice the best you could, you called to them over your shoulder; “Judd’s in the kitchen, if you need anything,” You squeaked, bounding upstairs to your room before they could properly take in your dishevelled appearance. 
Nick panicked, now they had to go in the kitchen, or suspicion would surely arise. He grabbed onto Andrew’s sleeve, willing his legs to move and take the final few steps into the kitchen.
Into the dragon's den, where Judd, the dragon resided. 
“H-hi. Judd.” Nick stammered. Judd had his back to them, raiding the fridge for anything to drink. You had only stocked up on diet sodas.
The older teen acknowledged them with a grunt, not bothering to turn before his drink-mission was complete. The two boys stood awkwardly in the middle of your kitchen, waiting for whatever reign of terror Judd would have prepared for them; but none came. 
Judd slammed the fridge door shut, and to their total surprise, threw each boy a Diet Coke. “Need anything else?” He drawled, sauntering to the table and slumping down in a chair. He opened a coke for himself and got comfortable in his chair, downing almost the entire can in one go. 
Andrew and Nick shared a glance, and simultaneously inched towards the table. The two of them sat down quietly, still waiting for Judd to scare them away. 
But he was completely out of character, for once, he looked kinda relaxed. Albeit a bit sweaty and tousled, but as calm as Nick had ever seen his older brother. His eyes lingered on Judd’s neck, where he bore a collection of teeth indents, smudges from your lipstick and hickeys.
The three sat in silence for a bit, listening as the light under the cabinets buzzed and eventually Judd got up to fetch another soda. 
“You want any more?” He asked the two, and they politely declined. He shrugged and returned to the table with a new can. 
Nick fiddled with the top of his can, eyes flitting around the room nervously. “Judd. Can I ask you a question?” He dared not look up as he spoke, keeping his eyes planted on the table.
Judd grunted, his way of saying ‘go ahead.’
“Why are you being so nice to us?” The question visibly caught Judd a bit off guard, he stopped drinking for a brief moment, thinking the question over before his stoic exterior returned. 
“Y/n wants me to be nice to you. She likes you small assholes,” He shrugged. 
Andrew looked at the older bewildered. “Y/n told you to be nice to us?” He asked, voice cracking as if he couldn’t believe his own ears. 
Judd frowned. “That’s what I said, wasn’t it?” He snapped.
Andrew swallowed thickly. “Y-yeah. Sorry,” 
“But— I mean, why? She’s not even here, and, you usually don’t listen to anyone,” Nick was unrelenting, now past the point of caring if Judd would beat him up for asking questions. 
A pregnant pause wove through the room, as Judd thought about the question. He still looked considerably less angry than usual, but his features were set in a frown and his brows drew together and made it look like he was planning something sinister. 
“I do what she says because I love her.” He said eventually, glaring off into space as he thought his answer over.
Neither of the two boys could believe their ears. The Judd Birch had just declared his love publicly. It must have been the post-nut clarity. 
When they failed to respond, he continued on; “Sometimes you gotta do dumb shit, even if it’s fucking annoying, to keep a girl.” He mumbled, still deep in thought. Had the situation been different, Nick would have found it quite funny to hear Judd talk about such tender things in his gruff voice. 
Andrew leaned over the table, adjusting his glasses. “Is— Is that how you get a girlfriend?” 
At that, the corners of Judd’s lips moved upwards ever so slightly. He turned fully to them, a wicked look in his eyes. “That’s how you get laid, numbnuts.” 
Then Nick cut in; “But what after? What if I like this girl, and I really wanna touch her boobs, but I also want to talk to her. I mean just talk. Because she’s smart, and funny, and really nice,” 
Judd dug through his back pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and opened the window on the wall behind him. He stuck one between his lips, and offered the pack up to the boys. 
“We’re twelve.”
Judd merely shrugged and lit his own cigarette. “If you wanna touch her tits, you gotta talk to her first. And don’t be a little creep. Charm her and shit,” He explained. 
Nick deadpanned. “Charm her?” Judd was everything but charming. It would forever remain the greatest mystery to him, how his brother managed to pull any girls at all. 
Andrew pushed up his glasses. “Actually, what Judd is saying is true. You need to make her feel as if you care about her—“ 
“—I do care about her!” Nick protested. 
Judd flicked a bit of his cigarette off over the window still. “Then it’s easy. Just talk to her, pussy.” He inhaled a long drag. “If she’s into small pricks, you’ll be just her type.”
The younger pouted. “Not funny, Judd.”
Judd cackled, lowly, sinisterly. “Then, how do you know if a girl likes you?” Andrew asked. 
“She lets you touch her tits.” 
Nick sighed. “C’mon, Judd! There has to be more to it— I mean, you have a girlfriend, so you obviously know.”
The eldest grunted and exhaled smoke through his nose. He thought for a bit before replying; “I was at a party, and I saw this girl, Y/n, and she was really fucking hot. Is really fucking hot,” He fixed the two middle schoolers a pointed look. “So I talked to her, turns out she’s really fucking sweet too. And when you meet a girl like that, all the rest comes naturally,” He finished his explanation, a bit smug as the two boys looked at him in wonder. 
“Not to offend, b—but haven’t you dated lots of girls? How’d you do that?” Andrew asked. 
Judd put his cigarette out in his, now empty, coke can. “Sure I have. You can also just fuck girls, but it’s a lot more fun if you like them,” He said. 
“How do I do that, then? Do I have to talk to her too, even if I don’t like her?” Andrew was a bit eager now, but Nick had to admit that he was also itching for answers. 
“No matter what, you gotta talk to her. Maybe not for long, and if you just wanna fuck, you have to say the right things,” He said, and then quickly added. “But don’t do that. I don’t want you two turning into little dicks,” 
“Then.. What if you’re already friends with her?” It was a bit of a jump in topic, but Nick had to get answers, and right now was probably the only time he had the opportunity to ask. 
Judd snorted. “You want to fuck one of your friends out there?” He cackled, motioning to the living room. 
Nick turned red very quickly. “No.” 
“Fuck, you’re a little simp!” The eldest was finding Nick’s personal troubles a little too funny, and he huffed, glaring at his brother. “But all the rules still apply. Be charming, talk to her, and don’t be a creep.” Judd eventually added, nodding at his brother. 
“Thank you, Judd.” Nick muttered, and he meant it. 
“Yeah, thank you, Judd,” Andrew echoed. 
Judd grunted. “Yeah, whatever. But don’t, ever, spy on me and Y/n again. I mean it. Or I will gut both of you like fucking fish.”
Hi, hello,, thank you of making it this far!
Originally, I wanted to label this “16+ do not interact if you’re younger” but honestly I ate shit like this tf UP when I was 13 💀 idk if I made Judd a little too OOC, sorry big mouth writers ☹️✋ I hope you enjoyed, though
Small rant + update; tumblr has been acting up on my phone lately, idk what I did to make it so laggy lately, but I have to post from my computer now ),: ALSO I’m so mad I keep forgetting that the cursive I make in Google docs doesn’t work in tumblr ahhhhHHHH so I had to go over the whole thing again, I’m pressed
And anyways, I’ve been working on a really big project for a while now, it is literally my baby, and it’s a Loki x reader because I finally watched some marvel movies lol, I’ll wait with posting it till it’s completely done bc rn it’s kinda a mess (and not nearly done) but if anyone would be interested in beta reading the first 5 chapters please don’t hesitate reaching out to me!
You are wonderful! Thank you for reading <3
Request something? HERE!
Tags? @dlfvrr (this was the only instance I could find of someone wanting to be tagged in my Judd stuff, please reply to this if you do want to be tagged)
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aftgficrec · 1 month
Text
My favorite fics are soft andriel, and teen andriel.
Here’s my recs:
Raised on little light by maqicien
Falling is a lot like drowning by chaoticas_hell
This wasn’t in the prophecy (series) by Arirmis
(Account locked) Raise me up so you can watch me fall by Yes_No_ofcourse
And this last one is angst and dark but I do love it
Hiding scars under exy gear By rinz
Wow, that’s a lot of recs in one submission!  Usually we just get one or two 🤣. - S
You can find some of those fics here:
‘Raised on Little Light’ here (since updated)
‘Falling Is A Lot Like Drowning’ here (since updated)
‘Raise me up so you can watch me fall’ here (locked, now complete)
This wasn’t in the prophecy by Arirmis [Rated T/M, 73294 words, incomplete, last updated Feb 2024]
Percy Jackson AU where all of the foxes are demigods, Andrew meets Neil shortly after his mom dies, and joins him on the run instead of going back to camp. Part one spans from their first meeting to their first kiss; Part two will take place a few years later, when certain circumstances force them to return to camp, and Andrew has to deal with what he left behind, on top of their current problem. While both fics should be able to be read individually, it does make more sense if you read them in order :)
Part 1:  Cross your fingers, here we go (T, 25037 words, complete)
Millport is a horrible, dry as fuck little town in the vast nothingness of the dust hole that is Arizona, and Andrew hates it with vigor.  He has been tracking a horde of Manticores for weeks now, and isn’t that something? A half-blood having to chase after the monsters. He is starting to feel like one of Renee’s hunters, when Andrew is pretty sure the nasty scorpion-cats should want to kill him more then he wants to kill them.  Or, Andrew expected to find all sorts of things on his first quest. He didn’t expect a twitchy, blue-eyed half-blood with monsters on his heels, and he surely didn’t expect to fall in love with him.
tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced rape/non-con, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: child neglect, tw: assumed character death
Part 2: Mortal Bodies, Timeless Souls (M, 48257 words, incomplete)
„Minyard! Get your ass up and put some armor on! Abby, Greene, get the infirmary in shape, border control just spotted a motherfucking Drakon in the woods!“ As if Wymack’s order triggered it, a ear grating screech echoes all the way to the big house. The camp counselor curses. „Move it people, there are half-bloods out there that need to get to safety!“  Or, for two and a half years, Aaron has been grieving the brother he buried, only to learn now, that Andrew is very much alive. He also has a scarred little shithead in tow, that Aaron wants to punch in the face regularily. Life is fun like that.
tw: blood, tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced rape/non-con, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: child neglect, tw: assumed character death, tw: vomit
Hiding scars (under exy gear) by rinz [Rated M, 34309 words, incomplete, last updated March 2024]
Juggling a mobster serial killer household and high school is harder than Neil had anticipated. and that goth kid on the roof really needs to mind his own business. OR a high school AU where neil and mary never run from nathan and neil meets the foxes in private high school instead.
tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: imlied/referenced torture, tw: graphic violence
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denim-devil · 2 years
Note
Andrew x reader where Andrew dresses up in tasm suit for a Halloween party and reader blows him in the bathroom because he looks so fine in the suit yup
Party Animal | P.P
A/N - I changed it up! This is going to be based on Peter instead, hope you still enjoy (it’s more of a Pete shows up in his suit before realising so you drag him away and one thing leads to another-)
~ NOT PROOF READ ~
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
──────. • ☆:*.☽ .* :☆゚• . ──────
You usher you’re boyfriend up the stairs away from the crowd currently bouncing to the beat, you weren’t expecting him due to his…well, job, but you did encourage him enough for him to show up, even last minute.
You didn’t really expect to see the taller male dressed in his red spandex, although it did send a thrill through your body, one that you kept to yourself, although Peter had the biggest smirk plastered across his face, like a kid who had been caught in the act, almost.
“Peter- what the hell!”
You whisper harshly before lightly shoving him into the bathroom, which thankfully was free, you were scared to think otherwise.
You watch his brows furrow in confusion, surely you were happy to see him right? Or maybe it was because he was running late…fuck what did he do now?
“Peter…why did you come in…that”
You watch the brunette turn to face the mirror, only realising now why you were so hasty before. Fuck how could he be so stupid, what if someone caught even a glimpse, although it to sent a thrill down his spine, only you knew, and that was good enough for him.
“I- oh my god, I’m so so sorry- uh-“
He glares down at you, his lips creating an “o” shape, one that suggested how surprised he was in himself, how careless he was becoming, you guessed it had been a tricky one so you had to let him off.
You take a big breath before exhaling, smiling up at him.
“Don’t be sorry- I’m sure you were busy, saving the world an all”
He chuckles before bringing a spandex-clad hand to cup you’re chin, pointing it up enough for him to bend down slightly allowing him to push his lips on top of your own.
You immediately forgot where you were, more interesting in the way Peter so carelessly pushed you up against the locked door, deepening the kiss, his tongue, wet and warm invading you’re mouth like it belonged there.
Your small moan was enough indication for Peter to pull away with that smug little smirk, you notice the light dusting of pink on his cheeks, and the slightly growing shadow between his legs, clearly it had been a stressful day, but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t solve.
“I miss you- I miss this…I hate patrolling on a night”
He mutters against your cheek before making his way over to your neck, his lips latching onto them, teeth suckling on the soft skin. You’re hands bury themselves in his thick, brown hair, tugging on it once it got to much.
“Pete…please-“
He stopped, now travelling further until he breathed against your ear, a shiver rolling down your spine once his hands turn your body, you’re front now resting against the cool wood of the bathroom door.
“Tell me what you need, I wanna make you feel good…”
You sigh before tucking yourself away into your arms, mumbling inaudible words. Peter huffed, smiling sweetly before twisting you’re head gently to face him. Fuck you were a mess already.
“Come on, tell me, I wanna know- sweetheart?”
You lock eyes, staring at him with the slight twinkle of obedience, it was enough to let Peter know you were prepared to do almost anything for him, as he was you, fuck he was desperate enough.
“I- I want you to…uh…to-“
Peter knew exactly what you wanted but he needed to hear it, he craved to hear it, he needed that clarification.
“You can do better then that baby- I know it”
You nod before recollecting yourself, pushing yourself back onto the growing mound forming in his suit. He groans, half chuckling, half moan, it’s like he tried to refrain from just pinning you to the door and taking charge.
“I want you, I want your cock…I want it so bad Pete oh my god…”
He nods, his clothed fingers already making work of you’re belt. You nod which only gives him the heads up that you wanted him to take charge, to seize whatever this was right now.
He watched you lean back against his front, your little shorts leaving little to imagination, he loved that, how easy it was to get you like this, it was cute and it had him weak in the knees.
Once you’re belt was undone, he pushed the soft fabric of your shorts down, allowing them to pool around your ankles.
You felt naked, vulnerable yet so fucking safe in his hands.
“Commando…?”
Peter trailed of, his eyes widening at the sight, fuck, there it was. His hands desperately pawed at the globes of soft muscle, pushing them apart.
You nod before turning to him once again.
“I- I just thought…”
He pecked you on the cheek before turning his attention back to you’re ass.
“You look…amazing”
Peter’s hands managed to spread you’re cheeks just enough for his face to slot perfectly between them, dipping to his knees, he hovered for just a second, taking it all in.
“Baby…I- this is…you look so hot-“
His tongue eagerly laps over your flexing hole, the thin coating of saliva already felt cooling on the skin.
Another lap, this time it was gentle and slow as if he was savouring the taste, you’re sweetness.
Even with the blaring music, it couldn’t take away the attention you had on Peter, every wiggle and flick of his tongue, every sweet moan that managed to escape his occupied lips.
One of you’re hands managed to find his hair, burying itself deep, deep enough to hold him there, not that he minded, fuck he could spend all day there, breathing you in, eating every last ounce of you out until you couldn’t stand anymore.
Pulling away slightly, his nose bumped into the outskirts of your pucker, the breaths he released tickling you. It all felt way too close and that, that drove you insane, he was hungry, so fucking hungry.
“You…you taste so- so good, I love you”
He ushered out before continuing his attack, his tongue now leaving long, wide laps beginning from the top of your ass all the way up to you’re taint.
Before he could continue, you manage to pull him away just enough to break whatever spell you had managed to put on him.
“Pete-“
You breathed before dropping to your knees in haste, you’re eyes now level with his crotch. It all happened rather quickly but coincidentally followed the beat of the music.
“I’m aching…for you”
He whispers softly, watching carefully as your fingers trail over the growing mound at the front of his suit. You resume with your movements, smiling gently, reassuring almost allowing Peter to sink into your touch.
The suit was hardly an obstacle, your fingers managing to separate the flaps of his suit keeping you from him.
Peter’s lips turn up into a small smile. With a course thump, you watch his cock flop back up into his abdomen, the tip leaking with a clear substance, it was red and angry, bulbous as if he was waiting for you to envelope him.
Your eyes are drawn to the thick, throbbing vein that ran from base to tip. You watch the older male bite at his bottom lip once you raise slightly from your knees, lips hovering over his tip.
A gentle “fuck” slipping from his lips only encourages your libido.
You take the head of his cock lightly into your mouth. You spread your tongue around his shaft creating a slick cavern, one that had Peter rutting further forwards until your nose settled in the neatly trimmed bush at his base.
His head falls back, mouth hanging agape. His spandex-clad hands settled on your scalp, forcing you to keep him. He was usually soft but with all the stress from his patrolling and city escapades, he couldn’t hold himself back, not when you were so willing.
The approving moans from him pushed you further, sucking him like a lollipop, long, drawn out pushes of your throat only encouraging the coil growing in the pit of his stomach to break.
His hands helped figure out a rhythm, one that had your throat contracting around his girth, globs of saliva slipping past your open lips, messing up both your shirt and trousers.
“Always so willing- so pretty baby”
You stop, allowing your throat to engulf him whole, his balls resting against your moist chin. The mess included with your tears has Peter dizzy, almost hazy.
“So close- so so fucking close”
Tears streamed down you’re cheeks, you’re face flushed and eyes wide. You still stared up at him, watching the pleased expression written all over his face.
It took one last thrust for Peter, one. He buried himself deep, like a sword and it’s sheath. You struggled to breath but you revelled in it, in the pain running up across you’re aching jaw, at the saliva cascading over you’re chin, soaking you’re clothes.
The sight in itself, the red cheeks, the tears, the runny nose, the messy hair…all of it had Peter sink incredibly deep, coming with a groan of you’re name, it was slightly incoherent but you accepted it, allowing load after load hit the back of you’re throat.
Peter’s eyes open, his bliss-like state still reminiscent, rolling in the haze of pleasure that you brought, only you.
Patting you’re cheek, he pulls out, allowing his spit-slicked cock to flop, resting against you’re neck. His thumb travels across you’re puffy, abused lips, feeling up his own handy work, it made him proud but also…you’ve never looked prettier.
“Only you…so fucking grateful for you, com’ere”
You slowly picked yourself up from the floor until you were facing his chest. He dipped his head, allowing you’re lips to clash, capturing the moment of glory that just passed, Peter didn’t want this night to end, not yet…
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foxo-lotl · 7 months
Text
from twitter
blame the otdiaftg account for this
TW/THANKSGIVING MENTIONED/LOTS OF PAIN, ANGST, SELF BLAME.
Neil blaming himself for Thanksgiving.
He knows he shouldn't, it wasn't his fault and he'd do anything to take it back, but Andrew's words come back to him the November's following it in the years to come.
"You misunderstand. I wasn't asking, Neil. You helped create this mess. The least you could do is help clean it up. Where's your sense of responsibility?"
the words plague him, threatening to choke him all throughout the weeks.
He knows logically it wasn't his fault, he would never choose such a thing, but Andrew's words were like a knife, buried deep and leaving a bleed too hard to stop.
When Neil wakes up from a new nightmare full of blood and sirens, following it is always the belief that it was his fault.
and while he knows, logically, he couldn't have predicted it, it kinda was his fault, right? his fault for pushing, his fault for insisting, his fault for asking.
Neil doesn't sleep.
His eyebags match Andrew's now, match the dark skin like a sick irony, it makes sense that they'd match, right? Neil tells himself it's the least he can do, after all, he caused it, right?
Aaron starts being more volatile, screaming at the top of his lungs insults during games and practice, cornering Neil after class, demanding things like Neil to just leave, that's all he's good for right? so just go. Andrew won't miss him. He hates himself more at that, and even more when he dies grab his duffle and shoes, slowly slinking to the door in hopes nobody wakes up. all he has to do is get out and leave, and then he's gone, gone, gone, was never there in the first place.
He has the door creaked almost enough for him to slip out, when he hears feet rushing to the door.
He turns around and is met with Andrew's disappointed, almost panicked face. Neil thinks he can even see a little sadness.
Words are hard for Andrew right now, so Neil is surprised when he hears a strangled, choked out 'rabbit?'
he's a mess, hair messy, eyes squinting in the light, body tense, still wrapped in his blanket he's hardly left for the past few days.
he looks so much smaller, he's small already, but he does everything to make his presence larger, but now, in the morning sunlight, he looks tiny.
Neil waits for him to say anything else, but it's clear he can't get any words out.
Andrew reaches a hand between them, small specks of blood still under the fingernails from when Neil found him scratching at himself in sleep.
Neil's unsure what to do, surely Andrew doesn't want to touch him, right? he's the reason Andrew can't sleep, the reason every breath feels like knives in his throat, the reason for his near constant migraines, Neil causes nothing but pain.
Neil stares at his hand like it's an alien.
Andrew keeps his hand raised, looking to the door, the duffle, his shoes. He hadn't realised before, too tired and fuzzy from the for once peaceful sleep he was having. Great, Neil ruined that for him too, of course, he can bring nothing but destruction. Andrew's eyes return to the door, before meeting Neils. He looks so vulnerable, Neil can see the panic in his eyes, in the shaking in his jaw and hand he's still holding up. What hurts the most though, is the pained 'Neil' stabbing it's way out of his throat. It's gravely, panicked, forced and painful, voice sore, Andrew's not talked for days leading up to this.
Andrew stares at the door like it betrayed him, when really, he should be looking at Neil like that, right? I mean, Neil really did. He hurt him so bad, and then he let it happen again!
Neil doesn't realise he's crying until he hears it hit the wooden floorboard, and then he feels the tears rushing down his cheeks, warm and fast.
Andrew stares at Neil's face with shock, as Neil begins shaking.
Neil let's go of the door and drops his duffle, and Andrew uses his chance to push the door closed.
Neil finds himself sliding down the door to the floor, head in his hands, muffling his sobs.
Andrew slowly lowers himself to the floor, every movement taxing on his body, using every bit of energy he has left.
That's Neil's fault too.
He cries harder.
Soon, Neil's sobs are accompanied by words, apologies spilling from his mouth, how he's so so so sorry, how he wishes it was him, how he would go back and do it all over again, his he would take Andrew's place a million times before ever letting him step into that room, how Andrew was right, he caused it, and he understands that he's nothing, worth nothing and doesn't deserve to stay, he should just go, before he hurts Andrew again. all he can bring is destruction and pain. It's like a dam on his emotions burst and now he can do nothing to keep them at bay. Towards the end of all his admissions, he can only manage to choke out 'i should just die' before going silent and hyperventilating. Andrew just sits there, shocked.
Neil doesn't even realise the silent tears streaking his face until he's finished, and feels even worse for making Andrew cry.
He can't breathe, can only feel pain and pain and pain and it's worse than any stab he's ever felt.
He feels Andrew's hand rest on the back of his neck, and counts as high as he can in all the languages he knows.
He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, Andrew's face is in front of his, cheeks red and eyes puffy
To his surprise, Andrew doesn't let go, hold tight onto his neck, slowly moving closer, resting their foreheads together, he croaks out a 'no'. Neil nearly reels back, thinking the no was for the touching Andrew initiated, but he meets Andrew's eyes and realises he means no, to everything Neil was saying, no to all of it.
Neil nods slowly, and watches as Andrew joins their hands, and starts to rise.
Neil rises faster, and pulls Andrew up too. Neil grabs his duffle, and for a second Neil sees the panic in his eyes, before Neil starts to walk to the bedroom.
Neil drops his duffle at the end of their bunk, before trying to release his hand from and Andrew's to climb the ladder to his bed. But Andrew doesn't let go, instead gently pulling to his bed.
Neil is surprised, Andrew can hardly stand touch right now, let alone sleep in a bed with someone else in it.
Still, Andrew leads him to the bed, only waiting until he needs to get in before letting go of Neil's hand.
He situates himself with his back against the wall, snuggled up in the blankets, before reaching a hand out to Neil.
Neil wants to climb in immediately, missing Andrew's presence and touch in the past few weeks, but he needs to be sure.
He asks 'yes or no?', meeting Andrew's eyes.
It's clear he's out of words, but still, he manages to whisper a yes whilst nodding.
Neil slowly lifts the covers, getting in, leaving a comfortable distance between them.
Andrew slowly reaches his hand out to Neil again, and Neil slowly twines their fingers.
Andrew pulls at his hand to encourage him to move closer, watching as Neil slowly shifts closer, breaths ghosting Andrew's face, meeting his eyes.
Neil sees the relief in them, contrasting his earlier panic, before he feels him slowly relax on the mattress beside him, watching as his eyes close and he settles into what is hopefully a peaceful sleep.
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dwindlinghaze · 1 year
Text
chatoyant skies
(andrew garfield x reader)
summary: alphabet fluff fic :)
warnings: fluff, sprinkle of angst, relationship stuff (i've never been in one lol who am i to talk😭)
sorry for any typos or incorrect grammars, my fingers aren't my best friends ;)
  . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆
A. adoxography [favourite little things about each other]
you find it cute how his nose gets red when he's cold. you think it's the most adorable thing. you admired how his hair is messy and droopy in the morning. he will run his hands through his hair to get it out of his face but it will flop down again. his hands are rough but they are gentle too, and you love how he plays with your hands when he's nervous.
your sleepy mumbles in the morning makes him smile. as i said before, he loves your hand/holding your hand/anything really. he also loves your rambles about the things you're passionate about. it warms his heart when you pull his body to yours when you're cold and completely bury your face in his neck. he loves how your face fits so good in it.
B. brumous [how they comfort each other after a rough day]
you would pull him for a comforting hug and pat his hair while trying to make him feel better by saying comforting words. when he has finally calmed down, you'd ask him what it was about that made him upset. you'd do the best you could to make him happy again.
when you're sad, upset, or even just tired, he would make your favourite dish and talk to you about it the whole evening while assuring you that everything will be okay. words about how much your worth is will be lowly whispered by him to you.
C. cosmogyral [what they love most about each other]
you love his hair of course! it is soft and shiny and you love touching it (and he lets you do it every time because he enjoys it too) his arms are also one of the many things you love about him. when he wrapped it around you, you could literally feel yourself melting into him because it was just so comfy. his eyes are also so beautiful, you can't help but stare at them sometimes with a sweet smile which makes him all flustered. the way he smiles at your jokes is untouchable. you love him with reasons and no reason.
he loves your style so much that sometimes he will steal some clothes from you (ones that he fits ofc). he loves your eyes and you two would have an eye staring contest. he loves your hands too, again i think he is big hand holder. he would admire and appreciate every curve of your body because to him, you are perfect with all your imperfections. your discipline also is a good influence to him because as time goes he sorts of absorbs your tidiness and discipline. your smile is the most important thing in the world for him. he always wants to see a genuine smile from you so he knows that he's keeping you happy and comfortable.
D. diaphanous [small gestures you do for each other]
he'd write small notecards for you filled with encouraging words and he will put it on the top of your phone so he is sure you will read it.
you took an interest in baking so when andrew got home from work, the house will smell like a bakery full of pastries you baked for him. he loves your food too <3
E. elysian [a place that held a beautiful memory]
it was the place where you two made it official. as cliché as it sounds, when he walked past that place, memories of you and him being in a romantic haze swarmed to his head in a kaleidoscope of happiness and gratitude.
F. foudroyant [how affectionate are they]
the both of you are incredibly affectionate, at all times. just small gestures here and there. making sure the other is alright in any situation. if one of you is feeling off, the other would immediately find a way to make it alright again. he'd rub your back to make you feel better. you'd squeeze his hands when he's nervous.
G. gasconade [are there fights]
of course the are. every healthy relationships have fights! it's not often but if there is, it will be mostly because of the busy schedules and works. you both always try to understand how important each of your work is. at times you'd cancel a date or he can't be there for a movie night. when you both finally found a time to spend together, you two would be too tired to even do anything. after a whole month without the presence of each other, you two argued in the kitchen. his job is very important and dear to him and so is yours so it was just like solving a crossword with no right answer.
but you two would eventually made up and make things work. he promises to think rationally. you also promise to not make him feel pressured.
H. halcyon [any pet you'd want to have]
months into the relationship andrew gave you a mini pig (a rescue one ofc!). nonetheless, you took care of it with your whole attention because it is so precious and andrew is so thoughtful. even though a pig isn't an ideal pet for a couple to have, who cares anyway? you and andrew still give the little pig all the love and affection it needs.
I. insapory [what you dislike about each other]
there aren't many things you dislike about each other. though you dislike his carelessness. sometimes he does things out of the blue that will not end up so great. he dislikes your clumsiness especially if it'll end up with you getting hurt.
J. juvenescence [how mature is the relationship]
fights make things better for relationships (though those fights happens rarely). i don't think andrew would want to date someone that's too young with a huge age gap so he'll find someone his age so there are more similarities in what you want.
sometimes in the relationship, you and him will be a little childish, but it's all just for fun! all in all, i think the key to a successful relationship is to be mature in facing obstacles. you both wanted this to last forever so maturity is very important.
K. kalon [cuddles, hugs, kisses]
cuddles - he loves cuddling with you! especially when the weather is freezing and barren cold. he'd just drag you from wherever you were and lay down on the couch, he'll place your head in his neck and cover the both of you with the blanket you knitted. he just really loves cuddling with you so he'll do it any time.
hugs - you are a big hugger. you love hugging everyone. which is very pleasing to him because he loves it when you hug him. although your arms aren't as big as his, you'd still be able to wrap your arms around him and make him smile. he too loves hugging you. when he hugs you, it feels like he's protecting you, which makes him want to do it all the time because you are so precious to him that he didn't want any speck of cruelness in the world to touch you.
kisses - when you just started dating he found out that you love forehead kisses. so whenever a chance of planting a kiss on your temple is there, he'd take it. how you smile when andrew kisses your forehead is the purest smile he has ever seen, and he wants to see it often. also, kisses on the lips happens occasionally too! your lips taste so sweet that he just doesn't want to separate his from yours. he would definitely pout when you only give him a brief peck on his lips. sometimes you two would make out for god knows how long until you both fell asleep, face pressed against the other.
L. lethologica [how they confessed their love]
it was just a normal rainy night in his london flat. you two were watching a movie- well you were drawing messily on a paper. when he looks over at you, your eyes were focused on the drawing that you were trying to make shape of and the words came out of his mouth. an 'i love you' is said so softly by him and you looked up to meet his gorgeous eyes. you smile as you kiss his lips whispering an 'i love you' back.
he has been in love with you for so long and he just had to let you be aware of that because he wants you to know that you are loved. having unrequited love scarred his heart but knowing that the feeling is mutual puts his heart back together.
M. meraki [how much efforts are put into dates]
andrew puts a lot of effort. if you're having a dinner date out, he will make sure the restaurant you two were going to have a whole menu of dishes you like. if it was a date in the park or a nature walk, he will bring cold water just in case it's too hot or a coat in case you're getting cold. and the end though, he will give you a very thoughtful gift that melts your heart. your favourite date was when he took you to a place to feed penguins, he brought you across the state to meet penguins in real life! he would do every possible things just for you to be happy and loved.
N. nubivagant [are they supportive]
of course he is! he'd encourage you in everything that you do (that are rational ofc) but he's also not hesitant to tell you when you're not supposed to be doing what you're doing.
you'd be supportive of what he does too. you always think he is good in everything he does so giving a little everything a try will not hurt. just like andrew, you will always support him to a certain extent. if what he's doing is too much, you aren't hesitant to tell him to back off a little.
O. orenda [is the relationship secure]
yes it is. you love each other too much to just take this happiness for granted. he likes it when things are secure and knows where it leads to. he wants this beautiful relationship to last for a lifetime.
P. philocaly [love languages and how they show it]
andrew's love language is definitely physical touch and quality time. so cuddling is a very good option (that's also why he loves cuddling so much). sometimes, you place your palm on his face when he is talking to you and he will press his cheeks further into your palm like a cat. you'd bake with him, do artsy stuff with him, and he'll enjoy every second of it. you would arrange a dinner in the woods behind your backyard and he would pray for those to happen more often (and it does!). you want him to feel loved.
acts of service is a big thing for you so he would absolutely be there for your service! when you can't open a package, he will do it for you. when you crave for some food, the next thing you know is the food is in front of you. he'll place his hand on a table or a cabinet when you crouched down to grab something. although words of affirmation isn't your main love language, he will still whisper sweet nothings to you because he wants you to know the you in his point of view.
Q. quatervois [do they want a marriage or wedding]
yes absolutely. andrew always wanted to have someone by his side who will spend the rest of his life with and meeting you is a miracle to his wishes. he also wants a marriage because it's with you. the proposal wont be big or anything. it'll just be the two of you on a regular thursday night together when he pulled out a ring.
the wedding will be small and intimate too! it'll just be in a small venue filled with only people you are close with. though nothing in your relationship really changes that much because you two were already so deep into each other's life and love, the only thing that changed is that your relationship is legally approved by the government and was signed on a piece of paper.
R. rasavada [is honesty important in the relationship]
honesty is one of the most important aspects in a healthy relationship. you two are always honest to each other no matter what the situation was. even if it was horrible, lying will make things ten times worse. andrew will be so straightforward to the point (not in an aggressive way).
S. solivagant [do they get jealous often]
andrew is a very confident person and he doesn't get jealous easily. but when someone is checking you out way too much, he will pursed his lips and furrow his brows at the person.
you're also confident! there are thousands of people that are probably attracted to him and sometimes you do feel small but it doesn't matter to you because he chooses you every time.
T. thantophobia [fear at the thought of losing each other]
do i need to elaborate? losing someone you dearly love wholeheartedly is a pain that time could never mend. the both of you sometimes feared that the light burnt out when you are months away from being together but after a day spent with each other, the flower is only growing.
he loves you so much that he forgot how loneliness felt like. meeting your other half really makes life brighter and more complete.
U. utopia [how are they in the morning, night]
in the morning, you usually wake up first so you would be met with his heavy arm secured tightly around your waist. you would just smile at andrew's sleeping face and kiss his cheeks before laying down again because it's quite literally impossible for you to get off his grip. then he'll wake up, he runs his fingers through your hair gently while admiring your peaceful state and kiss the top of your head softly, trying not to wake you up. when you two are fully awake now, he will ask you how was your sleep and little sweet questions will follow.
at night before bed, he will sit on the edge of the bed, waiting for you because when you are together, he refuses to go to bed without you. he wants you to be the last thing he sees before he is off into the dream world and wake up with you tangled up with him. he will interlock his fingers with yours and kiss your lips before saying goodnight. also, you guys cuddle while sleeping, he will be the big spoon but sometimes you will be too.
V. vernorexia [how romantic are they]
he tries to be romantic because he loves seeing the crimson cheeks on your pretty face when he does a romantic gesture. he buys you your favourite flowers with a handwritten card for you. he gives you small gifts. he doesn't like going out in public so most romantic dates are whether in your place or in his. he would cook you breakfast and make you cordiform pancakes and strawberries (also breakfast in bed if you feel like it). he'd go to ends of the world cause to him that's what you're worth.
W. wanderlust [how do they spend the holidays]
andrew loves christmas so he will definitely celebrates christmas with you and his family and sometimes yours too! ever since you two introduced your families to the other's, holidays have always been so festive and fun.
when you two got home, you will have a mini celebration with just the two of you being intimate and overly affectionate to each other. you cherish each passing second spent together.
X. xylograph [nicknames that are used]
verbally, he will call you sweetheart, lovie or, your nickname that he made for you. you call him darling, honey, or sometimes love. in texts or messages you two would call each other in random made up names. his contact on your phone is drewdrops and yours in his is raindrops. :)
Y. yonderly [are they emotionally distant]
not at all. he cherishes every little thing of you and you make him feel emotions. he loves small activities with you, every evening spent together is what keeps him going til this day. you love him so much to not care about his being, mentally and physically, you took care of him when he can't take care of himself.
Z. zemblanity [what makes them angry]
andrew is a really patient man, things don't anger him very easily but if there is a situation where his anger builds up, it's probably because something or someone puts you in danger. he never wants to see you hurt.
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lostgirlfandom · 1 year
Text
Mother Dearest
Part Four
Pairing: FP Jones x Fem!Reader
Warnings: None
Words: 908
Summery: History of FP and his wife
Previous
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You met Forsythe Pendleton Jones Jr when you were in elementary school. You had moved to Riverdale when you were really little. As a kid you didn’t much care for the change, it’s a new experience. The first memory you have Forsythe is when you were introduced to the class since you moved in the middle of the year. You were sat next to a boy with black hair and dark eyes. On the other side of him was another boy with light brown hair and brown eyes. The boy with dark hair was staring at you as you sat down which made you duck your head down as you were shy. 
A soft voice broke the silence that surrounded the table. “I’m Forsythe Pendleton Jones Jr. You can just call me Fp though.” You looked at the boy with dark eyes. 
“I’m Y/N.” You almost whispered to him. You then looked at the other boy as he was watching you too. 
“I’m Fred Andrews.” He spoke. 
“You can call him Freddy, I do.” Fp said with a smile. You smiled back. 
Time Skip
When you were middle school was when you realized that you liked Fp Jones as more than a friend. You didn’t know how or when you started to like him like that but it grew as you went into high school. In ninth grade was when you both started to grow into your teenage bodies. Starting to adjust life as you grew. It was also the year you both realized that you both liked each other. 
You can remember sitting with Fp at his house. You were both in his room on bean bag chairs. Though he pushed his up against yours so close that he was able to lean over and comfortably lean on a little. You were reading, so you didn’t notice that he wasn’t looking at his bike magazine anymore until he said something. 
“Y/N...” You looked over at him and saw him staring at you with a look in his eyes that you never seen before. 
“Yeah?” You said. You placed the still open book on your chest so your whole attention was on Fp. He put his head down and started to slightly rip the pages of the magazine. 
“I think...” He took in a deep breath and let it out as he spoke. “I like you a lot. As more than friends....” He sat there, almost regretting telling you.
But he didn’t look up to see a smile grow on your face. “I like you too.” You told him. His head jerked up and turned to you making you giggle at his face that he made. His eyes were wide with shock and jaw had fallen slightly. 
A grin tugged at his lips as he wet his lips and asked breathlessly. “Really?” You nodded at him as you leaned your head back comfortably against the bean bag but kept your eyes on him. “Th-That’s great! Uhhh,” He paused as he thought for quick second. “Do you want to go on a date soon?” He asked in a hurry and excited tone. You smiled at him.
“Sure. Just tell me where and when.” You told him. Next thing you knew he basically threw himself and wrapped his arms around your waist and was on his knees with his head buried in your stomach. You grinned and ran your hands through his hair. 
Time Skip
The next important memory you have of you two was when you both joined the Serpents when you were 16. Fp’s dad had put him out, which made your mom take him in. You both lived on the Southside. You both were tired of the shit that people were giving you both so you joined the Serpents. Which turned out to be the best decision you had ever made. They became your family. 
When you were 17, you both were in love. You felt you could do anything while he was by your side. 
Fp and you had slowly risen in the ranks of the Serpents. It was put on hold once Fp joined the Army right after high school along with your engagement. He served for a couple of years before coming home and picked up where he left off with the Serpents. When coming back it was slightly different. You had also risen in ranks in the Serpents. Kind of like a Mom or caretaker of the gang. If someone was hurt and didn’t want to got to the clinic, they went to you. They had a problem, they came to you. 
He couldn’t be prouder. 
It was when you were both 25 that you got married, finally. That same year, Fp and Fred started the construction company. Two years later you were pregnant with Jughead. When Jughead was 5, you got pregnant with Jellybean. 
The problems started when Jellybean was around 2, mostly because Jelly was a sickly kid. She was constantly in and out of the hospital. Bad immune system which wasn’t ideal with Riverdale weather. This caused hospital bills to start piling high. Making Fp turn to less than legal ways to provide more money for the needs of his family. 
But you both were King and Queen of the Serpents by the time Jughead was 10. 
The drinking and jail were last straw for you. You couldn’t handle the down hill direction the love of your life was going. 
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eve-lullabye · 1 year
Text
Where you don't want to pair up with a certain survivor
Based off IDV
(I kind of imagine the eels in there merform floating off the ground like Naiad)
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You were chatting with Patricia when Kevin walked up to you.
"Hey, Doll, Sugar," he smiled flirtatuously. You were no stranger to Kevin's harmless flirting. It was his way of saying he cared about you. Of course, that didn't mean that all the girls appreciated it. "You got yourself a match comin' up, Sugar."
You were Sugar. "Oh? And who are my teammates, Kev?" You raised a brow while resting your chin on a propped hand.
"Pretty sure, 'twas Kurt, Andrew, an' Jade."
"Hold on," you straightened your back. "Jade?"
"Yes, ma'am," Kevin slid into the seat next to you.
"Well, I'm out then," you raised your hands. Patricia sighed and rolled her eyes.
"Not this again." She buried her face into her arms, slumping against the table.
"What! I don't like him. He gives me the creeps, and I find him unpredictable. Plus, who knows what kind of conniving plan he's concocting!"
Kevin drummed his fingers against his leg, "If you need, I can step in for ya, Sugar. Of course, we're makin' a switch."
"Please do," you grasped his hand with wide eyes. "I swear if the two of us were on a raft with enough rations for one, Jade would chuck me into the water."
"I'm rather offended you think lowly of me," a smooth and slimy voice called out beside you. You shrieked, turning to see Jade giving a closed-eye smile. Then he opened his eyes, and those heterochromatic eyes caught your attention. You admit it. You were a sucker for heterochromatic irises. There was something about them so beautiful, so captivating. "Shall we go?" Jade bared his sharp teeth. You looked one last time at Kevin with a desperate look. He just shrugged.
[~]
Of all the maps you hated Leo's Memory and it hated you. It always spawned you next to the hunter, and you would be out of the game in a couple of seconds. Vera had told you that you could move away from the hunter. Oh GEEZ, LIKE YOU HADN'T THOUGHT OF THAT BEFORE! If ONLY you know from which direction the hunter was in, you then could avoid it. The other reason for disliking this map was the fact that it was freezing.
Currently, you were hiding behind some boxes in hopes that the hunter who was not budging would move. You couldn't even look to see who or else you would be discovered. Around you shouts from your other teammates rang in your ears as they gave an update on the status. You had long ago told them that the hunter was near you. Now, your clothes were wet, your body - numb, and your patience wearing thin.
It was then you heard voices talking. One, you recognized as Jade; the other, you believed to be the hunter. Around your waist wrapped a coil of teal flesh, and you held your breath. It squeezed you tightly before two arms captured you. When you were dragged out of your hiding spot and released, you whirled around to be right in front of Jade who seemingly turned into a merman.
"Jade, what the heck?!" You brushed yourself off, taking a step back.
"I'm right here," he answered behind you. You stopped moving, slowly moving your gaze to look at the Jade-lookalike. You whipped your head to see Jade fully clothed and looking humanlike. Behind him stood Azul. You scowled suspiciously at Azul and the other Jade. "That is my twin, Floyd." Floyd smiled at you showing off those same sharp teeth that Jade had.
"I'm out of here," you threw up your hands and trudged off.
"Aaaawwwww, Shrimpy, don't you want to hang out," Floyd called out in a crooning tone.
"No! I'd like to get out of here as soon as possible before I get sick," you retorted. At the end of your sentence you sneezed. Great! You were getting sick.
"I'll see you later, brother," Jade spoke before following you. "I need to take care of my dear teammate."
"Dear my ass," you growled. Brushing off the collecting snowflakes from your hair. With long strides, the teal-haired survivor caught up to you and placed his blazer over your shoulders. You looked up in shock before looking away with pink cheeks, "Thanks." It was sweet in a way. Well, maybe that was your thinking since no one had ever done that for you.
"I expect compensation after this match," Jade smirked. You stopped in your tracks while the male continued forward. You were prepared to shove the blazer back into his arms when you thought better than to receive a lecture from Emily. Especially, since Jade would be there telling how you refused his "generosity". You sniffed the material which smelled like men's body wash and shampoo.
"Well, at least he thinks about hygiene." You heard the cipher pop.
"Smelling my clothes is unnecessary to find out if I keep my personal hygiene," Jade glanced at you with a raised brow teasing you while he decoded the gates. Caught red-handed.
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cevansbrat0007 · 2 years
Note
Ok..so We know about Andy’s rules for Cookie jars right😂
So i imagine one day the girls are having cookies in their lunch at school …and one of their friend asked for one and they denied coz they are not allowed to give (maybe they are still in kindergarten at this point where they still didn’t know what that metaphor meant )
And after they come home…in evening..they are having dinner and one of girls say “Someone asked for our cookies at lunch daddy…but we didn’t gibe them coz you said no giving cookies to anyone”of course she is talking about the snack but Andy is positively wheezing at this point😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂
For @elle14-blog1
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The Cookie Jar Jam
"Katrina, honey, why did I just find a bag of Oreos in your jacket pocket?" You hold it out, gently shaking its contents. "Why didn't you eat them at lunch?"
KitCat looks up from the book she's been reading to her Daddy. This had become her thing lately, insisting on reading Andy a bedtime story so he had "da bestest, sweetest dreams".
Her words exactly.
"I thought you liked those cookies, Sweet Pea." Your husband asks as he smooths a few stray copper-colored curls away from her forehead.
"I do, doh." Your baby girl mutters as she quietly closes her book about Spot's adventure to the circus. "But sumfin' happened tuhday so me and Sissy had to hide 'em."
KitCat heaves a dramatic sigh before falling backwards into the safety of her father's arms.
"What?" You ask, concern etched across your features. "What do you mean?"
Andy nods, shifting his daughter so that she can look up at him. "Why did you think you had to hide your cookies, baby?" He keeps his tone calm and even as he lightly strokes her back, but there's no mistaking the tension in his broad shoulders.
"I tol' her tah hide 'em cuz Ricky Martinez and his dumb brother kept askin' for 'em." Another voice chimes in from the direction of the stairs.
You watch in confusion as BiBi makes her way down the steps, adjusting her pink bonnet as she goes.
She brushes past you to go stand in front of Andy, her arms crossed over her chest as indignation radiates from her tiny body.
"Daddy. Dey are boys. And you say we no give boys our cookies. Dey kept askin' KitCat, so we put 'em up."
Not this whole cookie jar bullshit again. You think you yourself as you bury your face in your hands to muffle the groan that escapes your lips.
"Yep." KitCat chimes in, delicately pulling on Andy's shirt. "Dey no gettin' our cookie jars. I punch 'em first."
"Dat's right, Sissy. We did good, right Daddy?"
"Thank you, Lord." Andy murmurs as he beams down at them, feelings of fatherly pride emanating from every pore. "That's right, my incredibly beautiful, smart, and shrewd little daisies. I've never been more proud."
Your fingers go to your temples as you try to delicately massage your headache away.
"Andrew." You growl. "Can I see you in the kitchen, please?"
"Sure thing, baby girl." Standing, he swoops up your babies, holding one in each arm.
"I meant alone." Your hand goes to rub your slightly rounded belly. Lord give me strength...
"Eh, no can do. This proud dad moment calls for a celebration! Who wants ice cream?"
"Me!" BiBi and KitCat shout before high-fiving each other.
"No! We're already fifteen minutes past bedtime and --" You stop when you see they're not listening. "Three children. I am literally living in a house with three children." You grumble under your breath as your excited little family strides past you.
"Okay, but Mama would like to remind everyone in this house that sharing is caring!" You say as you follow them into the kitchen.
"Not when it comes to cookie jars!" Your man calls back. "We're keeping those on lock."
"Good to know, Andy Bear." You watch as your husband begins pulling out the fixings for hot fudge sundae. "Because after all this foolishness, this Barber babe just threw away her key."
"Huh!?" Andy's head whips around to look at you with his gorgeous blue eyes.
"I said what I said." You shrug. "Enjoy your ice cream everyone!"
END
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ashleys-coffin · 5 months
Note
Is there anything you remember that directly conflicts the canon? :0c
I do have some weird memories, I’m not sure if all of them conflict canon but I know that whole dream scene where we buried Nina didn’t happen
We found her corpse, went L and then left because andy was too scared to touch the body and get fingerprints on her or something
I have no idea if that did happen in canon or if that was just Andrew being weird in his sleep
Other things that happened that I’m not sure are canon or not:
The reason I fucking hate Nina and Julia so much is because I thought they wanted to be my friends but they only fucking hung out with me to get closer to Andrew! It was just some fucking ruse they never liked me so why should I like them
Mom cared about me and andy more when we were little I think, we went places and acted like your average nuclear family until I turned around 4
I dropped out of high school junior year and never went to college I don’t think I would’ve gone to college even if I finished high school
My cooking is GREAT andy is just an asshole! I’m better at baking but I don’t get many chances to
The only birthday party I ever had was when I was 6, and they only came for Andrew. Every year after that it was just us two
We lived somewhere in the Midwest
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brinkofdiscovery · 1 year
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can you write hypothermic andrew trying to goof around and get up to do things but he cannot stop shoving and nuzzling against whoever's trying to warm him up??? or maybe delirious and shivery with a fever and being teased by whoever is helping him?
I surprisingly got this out in one sitting at work!! I never do that. Here you go hone here's your cold Andrew. Contains: hypothermia, discussion of kidnapping? (through jokes) __
“Am I being kidnapped?” Andrew trembled, he could barely manage to speak with the way his teeth were chattering.
“No, you’re not.” Snow answered. They draped another blanket over Andrew’s shoulders. Andrew felt like a little kid, wrapped up in three giant coats for a snow day. Except, he was freezing. And wearing a stranger’s dry clothes underneath. And he had almost died… Really he felt more like someone who’d almost died in a snow storm, but ‘kid on a snow day’ felt better to say.
“Why not?” He stammered, still smiling. He leaned in to meet Snow halfway as they raised a mug of hot tea to his lips. He started talking again as soon as he swallowed. “I’d let that big guy kidnap me. If he wanted.”
Snow paused, there was a twitch to their brow that looked like confusion. They opened their mouth for a moment and closed it again, before leaning down to press their hand to Andrew’s forehead.
Andrew sniffed, pulling back to itch his nose on the topmost layer of the mountain of blankets he was buried in.
“You’d let him kidnap you?” Snow asked.
“Yeah, I’d… I’d let him uh.” Andrew paused, his thoughts leaving him for a moment as another tremor wracked through his body. He’d never been this cold before. He tried to focus on what he was saying… What was he saying?
“…You should lay down.” Snow offered, they placed one hand at the back of Andrew’s neck and tried to ease him down with their other hand against his chest.
Andrew gripped the back of the couch and suddenly pulled himself back into a sitting position. “I’d let him–uh! Kidnap me. At eight o' clock. On a Friday. But he has to clean his car first.”
Snow’s hand hovered in place for a second, but they promptly placed a pillow down and tried to lower Andrew down again. Andrew didn’t fight this time, but he didn’t stop talking either.
“He can take me to TJ’s on the Lake. Or that restaurant on the riverboat if he’s feeling fancy. Do you guys have the money for that?”
Snow didn’t answer. They made sure Andrew’s feet were covered by the mountain of blankets.
“He also… also has to carry me inside. Like how he carried me to the van today.”
“Hm. I’ll let him know.” Snow answered. They brought the mug up to Andrew’s lips again. “How do you feel?”
“I feel optimistic.” Andrew said when they took the mug away. “Like, there’s some potential. It depends on if we have anything in common, or if he’s got any red flags I don’t know about. I don’t normally go for blondes either, but–”
“I mean physically.” Snow interrupted. “How do you feel physically?”
“Oh, bad.”
Snow nodded. “Stay awake. I’m going to see where our electric blanket is.”
Andrew nodded, looking up to the ceiling. “Are you sure I’m not kidnapped?”
Snow looked over their shoulder, “I think I would know.”
Andrew played with the fleece of the blanket. He was grateful to be able to feel his fingers again. “You wouldn’t tell me though. You’d just do something like… Throw me in a van and drive me to a warehouse. And give me poison tea.”
Snow paused, turning to lean against the door for a moment. “And dry clothes?”
“Yeah.” Andrew nodded.
“And lots of blankets?” They asked.
“Yeah, you wanna keep me alive.”
Snow thought for a moment, taking a deep breath before they answered. “Well, I’m sure you have lots of vital information behind all your fantasies about my teammate. But this isn’t a kidnapping.
“You’ll die out there.” Snow motioned toward the window. “We’ll let you leave as soon as the storm passes.”
Andrew looked out the window, sniffing again as he watched the storm outside. He looked back to Snow, feeling every bit as pitiful as he must have looked.
Snow crossed in front of him. They lifted his head to place another pillow gently beneath him. “In the meantime, you’re safe. The tea’s not poisoned. I’m going to get a regular, safe, non-lethal electric blanket for you.”
Andrew nodded. He moved one hand to blindly feel for the back of the couch again. Snow took his wrist and eased him back down into the pillows.
“And don’t get up.”
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moonsfavoritedaughter · 6 months
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Hi! Can you tell me about your PFP character? I see her around a lot, but I lve never really watched the videos.
oooohhh, care if i tell you the whole story? no? tysm!!!
okay so her full name is ashley graves, shes 20 years old, and well...
she used to live with her parents and her older brother, andrew graves, 2 years older, but this bitch, apart from being absolutly beutiful, is an obssesive, manipulative son of a motherfucker, cuz she forces her brother into doing things that her brother doesnt want to do, and then blames him for those things to make him feel guilty and put him closer to her, just to keep all his love to herself, she has made him kill a childhood girl named nina only cuz ashley found out that she liked andrew (also, in this time, when they are kids, they arent named andrew and ashley, but andy and leyley, cuz idk lil kid nicknames) they also buried the body terribly wrong and their parents found out that they killed that girl, putting us in the present where shes now stuck in an apartment cuz the water suply got contaminated with parasites and now theyre infected and quarantined, for some reason due to their blood type being AB they no longer get fed by the wardens, making them feel angry and wanted to leave, between all the things they did to get out of the apartment is: they saw how theyre neighbor summoned a demon and sacrificed himself by accident cuz he didnt have no soul to offer, ate the neighbor (cannibalism, yes, one of the qualities that made this game popular), also manually killed a warden with a cleaver, killed another warden undirectly by sacrificing him to the same demon, killed a woman from downstairs, and escaped.
gotta make sure you understand that these are not things that only ashley did, killing the warden manually and killing the neighbor from downstairs was andrews making, but only to protect ashley and himself, the rest of it ashley did it, and andrew took participation too, then when they left, they went to live to a far department, got chased by a hitman, killed the hitman, discovered a whole cult of satanists, learned a thing or two about them, also, forgot to mention that ashley stole a gun from one of the wardens, so they killed the hitman using that gun, then they stole a car and went to their parents house, also forgot to mention that when ashley sacrificed one of the wardens to the demon she got a lil trinket as a reward that would allow her to see visions of the future, which she used to avoid being killed by the hitman.
then when they were at their parents house, they stole all of their mothers money, discovered that their parents had sold their organs but failed, somehow, they still got the death certificates, then ashley and andrew just sacrificed their own parents to the same demon to recharge the trinket to be able to have more visons of the future, which one of em was about both siblings having sex (incest, the one thing that made this game popular in the first place) and then they left to get rid of their parents corpses in diferent ways, they also did human soup with their parents insides cuz why not (more cannibalism) and then they threw their bones and skulls into the ocean, the end, for now, im still waiting for chapter 3 to see how much sibling love and incest is there gonna be, and yeah theres a quite bunch more than to what i meantioned, but what you need to know the most about this girl is:
she is a relentless, selfish, narcisist, obsesive, manipulative, and horrible murder sister that doenst feel empathy for no one and deserves to suffer the most horrendous tortures of the medieval eras.
AND SHE GAVE ME A MASSIVE ATTACK OF GENDER DYSPHORIA, I WANNA HAVE HER BODY, NAME, AND PERSONALITY SO BAAAD 😭😭😭😭
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englishstrawbie · 2 years
Text
Serendipity (38/?)
Fandom: Station 19, Grey’s Anatomy
Characters: Maya Bishop & Carina DeLuca
Summary: A chance meeting at a bar leads to these two idiots falling in love. Follows canon and fills in the gaps of their relationship that we didn’t get to see on screen.
Also @ AO3. 
* * * * * * * * * * 
Fratellino
But in all the sadness, when you’re feeling that your heart is empty, and lacking, You’ve got to remember that grief isn’t the absence of love. Grief is the proof that love is still there. - Tessa Shaffer
The room is pitch black, as one would expect at almost four o’clock in the morning. Not even a sliver of light from the outside world makes its way into the bedroom. Carina lies on her back, staring up into the darkness. Her head hasn’t stopped pounding since Owen and Teddy delivered the news of her brother’s death, despite the double dose of Tylenol she took when they got home. It is not just her head that hurts: her shoulders ache from being so tense; her back is sore from sitting around for most of the day – in the car, at the hospital, by his bed; her legs have that weird restless leg syndrome, like she could run for miles even though she is zapped of energy; and there is a tingling in her hands and feet that won’t go away no matter how many times she curls her fists and toes.
She sighs heavily into the silence. Beside her, Maya sleeps peacefully, a soft snore escaping from her every now and again. Carina is envious that she is able to sleep so easily when it evades her.
Andrew has been dead for five hours.
She keeps thinking about how she has to live the rest of her life without him, hundreds of thousands of hours without her baby brother in the world.
It can’t be real, and yet the pain in her heart tells her that it is true.
She waits for another hour to pass before she gives up on sleeping and slides out of the bed, pulling a sweater over her head and padding out into the apartment. She sits on one of the chairs, her feet curled up beneath her, and pulls a blanket over her legs. She turns on the television and flicks through the channels. She has never watched tv at this time of the morning and settles on a home renovation show. Not that she is really watching it; she is too tired to concentrate and her vision keeps blurring as her eyes grow tired from the glare of the screen.
She drifts off for ten, maybe twenty minutes. It is an uncomfortable sleep, her chin resting on her shoulder, and when she wakes her neck hurts from the funny angle. She rubs it gently, but it provides little relief.
She should make a list, she thinks, of all the things that need to be done. Bailey promised that he would stay in the hospital morgue until a funeral home could collect him, sparing him the indignity of being just another body in the make-shift morgue they had to build for their Covid victims. There would be no service, except for her and Maya perhaps, to say goodbye.
He wants to be cremated, she knows that. He hates the fuss of a traditional Catholic funeral, finds them long and tedious and too sad.
“I want to go out with a party, where everyone smiles and laughs because I lived instead of crying because I died,” he said once, not long after they buried Mama.
He wants Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here played instead of the usual hymns. Carina thinks she should do a reading of the same poem that she read at Mama’s funeral. She will have to organise for it to be streamed online so that Papa and their family in Italy can watch it, which means making sure she gets the time difference right.
There will be no wake to organise, no memories will be shared. She will mourn alone.
A light at the other end of the hallway captures her attention and she looks up just as Maya emerges, pulling a robe around her body as she walks towards her.
“Hey,” Maya says softly, leaning down and pressing her lips against Carina’s hair before sitting in the empty chair next to her. “Did you manage to sleep at all?”
“A little,” Carina lies, twisting her body towards her. “I was just thinking about all the things I need to do to plan his funeral.”
Her voice shakes, full of disbelief that she even has to say these words out loud.
“I can help you with that,” Maya says. “You don’t have to do it all by yourself.”
Carina musters up a small smile, grateful to have Maya by her side in all this. Maya reaches into her pocket and pulls out Carina’s cell phone, holding it out to her.
“It started buzzing about ten minutes ago,” she says. “I think people have started to hear about Andrew.”
Carina takes it from her and looks down at the sea of familiar names on the screen. Jackson, Jo, Maggie, Link, Schmitt. She doesn’t bother to open them, she knows what they will say.
She still needs to tell Papa but that is a conversation she isn’t ready to have right now.
“Shall I make you some breakfast?” Maya says.
Carina shakes her head. “I’m not hungry,” she says, even though it has been twenty-four hours since her last meal. “I could do with some more Tylenol though.”
She watches as Maya goes into the kitchen to pour her a fresh glass of water and retrieve the packet of pills from the counter. Carina pops two into her mouth and swallows them, then gulps down the rest of the water. She knows her body is dehydrated, which probably isn’t helping her headache.
“How about we curl up on the couch, see if you’ll sleep a bit more?” Maya suggests.
Carina doesn’t have the energy to object. She doesn’t really know what to do with herself anyway, so she nods, letting Maya take her hand and lead her to the couch. Maya plumps the cushions – not that they need it – and brings over a selection of berries and pastries on a plate.
“Just in case your appetite comes back,” she says, and Carina knows it is her way of taking care of her.
Maya stretches out on the sofa and Carina curls up beside her, wedged under Maya’s arm against the back of the couch. Maya pulls a blanket over them, thick and fluffy to keep them warm. The newly plumped cushions are soft and Carina feels herself becoming drowsy. Maya’s hand strokes her hair, the slow rhythm lulling her towards sleep.
It is somewhere between being awake and being asleep that her brain turns off its defence mechanism and her body and mind are hit with pain and loss all over again.
‘Stop,’ she wants to say. ‘Please don’t.’
But there is nothing she can do to stop the wave of grief from crashing over her. She doesn’t get the words out before her body convulses and a sob escapes from deep in her chest, echoing around the apartment. It takes Maya by surprise and she jolts awake from the near slumber she was in.
“Oh Carina,” she says, her voice oozing sympathy.
She tightens her arm around her, her other hand stroking her face, wiping the tears that cascade down her cheeks.
“I know.”
She doesn’t know. She still has her brother. They might be estranged, but he is out there somewhere and she has hundreds of thousands of hours left of her life to get to know him again. Carina doesn’t have that any more.
She cries until her eyes run dry and her chest hurts. Every part of her body is screaming out in pain and she needs it to subside, just for a little while so that she can get some rest but her head betrays her the moment she gets too comfortable.
Maya’s embrace is too warm, too comfortable, too soft, so she extracts herself from under her arm.
“I’m going to shower,” she announces abruptly.
“Okay,” Maya says, sitting up and dropping her feet to the floor so that Carina can shuffle around her.
She leaves her cell phone behind, already annoyed by the constant messages. She knows she should be touched by the outpouring of sympathy but she can’t cope with other people’s grief on top of her own right now.
Once in the shower, she washes yesterday’s trauma from her body, removing every trace of blood and sweat that may have lingered. She dresses in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, letting her wet hair hang limply around her shoulders, not caring about her appearance.
When she finally emerges, Maya is at the stove, scrambling eggs in a pan. Two pieces of bread pop from the toaster and she puts the simple meal together, placing it on the table and looking expectantly at Carina, hoping she will eat something.
Carina feels a child-like petulance growing inside of her, unwilling to do what she is told, but she knows that if – no, when – the roles were reversed, she did the same for Maya. She sits obediently at the table and tucks into the food. The toast is dry and the eggs are too salty (or so she tells herself) but she swallows a few mouthfuls to appease her girlfriend.
Maya’s own empty plate sits on the side and she grabs two mugs of coffee, placing them on the table and sitting down beside her.
“Is there anything you want to do today?” she asks.
Carina’s shoulders drop. “I should call my dad, but I… I don’t know what to say.”
“What if we went for a walk?” Maya says. “Get some fresh air, it might help clear your head and help you sleep?”
“Maybe,” Carina says non-committedly.
She doesn’t like the thought of bumping into anyone they know, of someone asking how they are in polite conversation and having to tell them that her brother is dead.
Murdered.
“I really should call the funeral home and make plans,” Carina says, a small frown on her face. “They’re busy and I don’t want him to have to wait.”
Her voice catches in her throat as she talks and she feels the few mouthfuls of eggs she has just eaten threatening to make their way back up. It is stupid, it is not like Andrew is going to know, but she knows and she wants to do right by him in his death, even if she couldn’t do right by him in his life.
Because that is what she keeps thinking. She failed him, she didn’t keep him safe like a big sister should do.
“Okay,” Maya says, reaching into the cupboard behind her and pulling out a notepad and pen. “Let’s make a list.”
Maya jots down all the things that Carina has thought about – the songs to play, the poems to read, and the memories for his eulogy. She writes down the names of all the people who need to be told and their contact details so that a link to the live stream can be shared at the right time. Maya scans her phone for the names of some local funeral homes, Carina picking out the ones she knows are good.
Carina picks up her cell phone to call the one at the top of the list, but her hands are shaking too much and tears prick her eyes. Maya places her hand over hers.
“You don’t have to do this today, it can wait until tomorrow.”
Carina nods dumbly. She knows she won’t be able to get the words out today, it is hard enough to think it let alone say it out loud.
“Maybe a walk would be a good idea,” she concedes.
Before they can make a plan, there is a knock on the door. Maya squeezes her hand, then stands and grabs a face mask from the pile they keep on the console table, hooking it over her ears. She opens the door just a little so that Carina can’t see who it is.
Carina hears the murmur of voices and eventually Maya steps back to let their visitor into the apartment. Amelia steps inside, a bag of junk food from the grocery store in each hand. She walks straight over to the table and drops them unceremoniously on the table.
“I know we’re in the middle of a pandemic and I’m not supposed to hug you, but I took a Covid test and it was negative, so I’m going to anyway,” she says.
Her short stature means she doesn’t have to lean down too far to envelope Carina in a hug. She smells of baby powder and it brings a small smile to Carina’s face. She responds by putting her arms around Amelia, letting her hold on for longer than either of them would normally allow before pulling back.
“I’m gonna go take a shower,” Maya says.
She looks at Carina for assurance that she will be okay with Amelia and Carina gives her a small nod. Amelia starts to empty the grocery bags on to the table, while Carina gathers up the two mugs.
“I’ll make a fresh pot,” she says. “Maya… I love her, but she still hasn’t learned how to make a decent coffee.”
With two steaming hot mugs in front of them, Carina surveys the mountains of sugar-filled treats the cover her table, her eyebrows arching.
“Whenever bad things have happened in my life, I usually go for the stronger stuff,” Amelia says. “But it never ended well and I don’t want that to happen to you.”
She pushes a box of Twinkies towards Carina and leans back in her chair.
“It sucks, losing a brother,” she says. Her eyes glaze over as she thinks about Derek. “They’re supposed to always be there, to be our partners in crime until we get old. And when they’re gone, there’s a loneliness to that which doesn’t come when you lose a parent or a grandparent.”
Carina is reminded of all the loss that Amelia has suffered in her own life. There is an odd sense of camaraderie in knowing that she is not the only one to have lost a sibling so suddenly, so tragically, even though she wouldn’t wish this on anyone else – friend or foe.
Amelia takes the box of Reese’s peanut butter cups and tears open a packet, taking one and offering the other to Carina.
“Derek hated peanut butter,” she says, looking at the confectionary in her hand and taking a bite. “He hated the way it stuck to the roof of your mouth. But he was always that kid that would say yes to a peanut butter and jelly sandwich if it was offered to him, because he didn’t want to be rude.”
She rolls her eyes at Carina, who smiles as she takes a bite into her own cup. It is not the kind of thing she usually eats, even though Maya always has a box in the cupboard. It is sticky and sweet.
“I remember when Andrea came to America with Mama, the first thing he sent to me was a packet of these,” Carina remembers fondly. “He said they were the best thing he’d ever tasted – which of course upset the family, because they pride themselves in making the best cannoli in Sicily.”
Amelia chuckles.
“The first time I came to visit them, he snuck a box into my room before dinner and we ate them all. Mama didn’t understand why we weren’t hungry when she took us out for pizza a couple of hours later.”
She feels tears welling up in the corners of her eyes and blinks them back.
“Scusa.”
Amelia waves her apology away. “Don’t be sorry about being sad,” she says. “You’re allowed to be sad for as long as you want. There’s no timeline on this.” She grows wistful. “I miss him even more now that Scout is here. That kid is so much like Link, but sometimes when he cries, he screws up his nose and he looks just like Derek.”
Carina lets the tears fall down her cheeks. “I feel…” She shakes her head. “I don’t even know how I feel, just numb.”
“That’s normal,” Amelia says. “It’s normal to be sad and upset, it’s normal to be smile and laugh at the memories, it’s normal to rage about all the things he’ll miss. Because there is no normal, not really.”
She leans forward and grasps Carina’s hand in hers.
“There is a light at the end of this very dark tunnel,” she says. “You just can’t see it yet. And it might be a while before you do. But it’s there, I promise.”
Carina nods. “Thank you, Amelia.”
“Well, you’ve done enough for me,” Amelia reminds her with a smile. “I just wish this wasn’t the reason for me returning the favour.”
“Me too.”
Amelia’s visit does her some good. She stays for an hour and they talk and cry and laugh, and it helps to forget about the shock of the last twenty-four hours for a while. It is still there, the grief, bubbling under the surface. It doesn’t go far, but she makes the most of the respite while she can.
She skips lunch, blaming the sweets and chocolate that Amelia brought round, and they go for a walk around the park in the afternoon. Carina doesn’t say much, too caught up in all the thoughts in her head. Still, Maya was right, the fresh air does her some good and she sleeps for an hour on the sofa when she gets home before the bad dreams come.  
As she comes to, she hears Maya on the phone.
“A week at least. I spoke to the Chief, we agreed that, with Covid protocols, it wasn’t a good idea to bring someone else into the bubble. Will you cover for me while I’m off?”
Carina frowns. Maya wasn’t going to work this week?
She sits up and lifts her hands above her head, stretching her aching limbs. The movement catches Maya’s attention and she looks over her shoulder.
“I gotta go, Andy,” she says. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
She ends the call quickly and grabs a glass of water, walking over to the couch and giving it to Carina, who gladly accepts it and takes a large gulp. Maya perches on the table in front of her.
“You’re not going to work tomorrow?”
Maya shakes her head, no. “The Chief’s letting me taking a week’s bereavement leave,” Maya says.
“You don’t have to do that…” Carina starts to say, but Maya is quick to cut her off.
“Yes, I do,” Maya says. “I’m not going anywhere.”
It is the same promise she made yesterday and she hasn’t broken it yet, always there when Carina needs her.
“Thank you,” Carina says quietly.
Maya offers her a small smile. “I still have take-out from yesterday, do you think you could eat some?”
The thought of food is not appealing and Carina’s stomach feels twisted into knots, but it is practically empty and she knows she should eat something.
“Sure,” she says.
She manages half a plate, which is more than either of them expected, followed by two more Tylenol and an early night at Maya’s insistence, hoping that sleep will come easier tonight.
It doesn’t. Maybe it is because, this time, it is Carina evading sleep instead of sleep evading her. The wave of emotions that hit when she gets too comfortable, too soft, is overwhelming. She wants to sleep but doesn’t know how or where, so she stares into the darkness again, her only company her memories of their childhood in Italy.
Her limbs become restless in the early hours. She doesn’t know what time it is, but the urge to get out of bed and move is too big to ignore. She slips out from under the covers, careful not to wake Maya, and creeps into the apartment. She doesn’t bother with the television this time, but instead tunes the radio to some generic station that plays pop music she doesn’t usually listen to. The lyrics are about falling in love and breaking up; some are about unrequited love, some are about lost loves. None are about dead brothers and she is grateful about that.
The couch is too soft, so she lies on the floor of the hallway, wishing for sleep that never comes. It is where Maya finds her a little while later.
“I’m just trying to sleep,” Carina says before Maya can ask her what she is doing.
After a beat, Maya lies on the floor, her head next to Carina’s with her feet pointing in the opposite direction.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to sleep too,” Maya says plainly.
Carina sighs. “You should go back to bed.”
Maya doesn’t speak, but her hand scrambles around in the dark until it finds Carina’s. She links their fingers together, giving them a gentle squeeze.
They stay there for an hour, maybe two – Carina has stopped counting time by now – until she drags Maya back to bed. Even if she can’t sleep, Maya should.
Maya tries to fight sleep, to stay awake until Carina sleeps too, but she falls into a slumber around six o’clock. Carina drifts off too, for twenty minutes or so and only a light sleep. Still, it is better than nothing.
They have another slow day at home. Carina avoids calling her dad, but does call her Zia Alice to tell her. It is a hard phone call to make and she doesn’t know how she gets through it, but Maya stays by her side, holding her hand, as she tells her about what happened. It is another loss in their family and she wonders if they should be hardened to it by now, but Alice wails down the phone at her and it takes all of her strength to keep it together. At least Alice agrees not to tell Papa, not yet, not until Carina has spoken to him.
She feels drained afterwards and pushes the notebook away when Maya asks if she wants to call the funeral home. She knows she should, but there is finality to his death that comes with making those kinds of plans that she isn’t ready to face just yet.
Her cell phone is still alight with messages of love and sympathy. She hasn’t read them yet. At one point, she threatens to delete them, but Maya persuades her to keep them.
“You’ll want to read them one day,” she says. “To know how much people loved him.”
She is right, of course. Instead, she leaves her phone behind when they go for another walk, taking the same route around the park as yesterday. The sun shines and it feels weird, wrong almost, that it should be so warm and sunny when everything about her life feels so bleak. She hides her eyes behind her sunglasses so that no-one can see the dark circles and red rims that give away her trauma.
“When we were little, our grandparents used to take us to the park near their house. It had this swing with a big round seat… I don’t know what they’re called,” Carina says. “It was big enough for both us and we would sit on it side-by-side with our arms linked together in case one of us started to slip.”
She smiles sadly at the memory.
“I can still hear Andrea’s squeals of joy as Nonno would push us. Nonna used to scold him, tell him that he was pushing us too high, but we loved it. It was the first thing that Andrea would beg to do whenever we visited.”
She stops walking suddenly. Her chest rumbles and she chokes back her tears, not wanting to fall apart in public.
“I just… I can’t believe I’m not going to hear him laugh any more. He had such a beautiful laugh, like Mama’s.”
Maya slips her hand around her waist and steps closer.
“You want to take the short cut home?”
Carina shakes her head. “No. I’m okay. I just need a minute.”
“Take as many minutes as you want,” Maya says.
Carina dips her head and rests it on Maya’s shoulder, taking a deep breath to steady herself and recognising a familiar scent. Her lips twitch, threatening to smile.
“You’ve been using my shampoo again?”
“Why else do you think I asked you to move in with me?” Maya teases.
The smile breaks through, lighting up her face briefly.
They finish their loop of the park and head home. Carina feels drained again and lets Maya cover her in blankets on the couch. She sleeps for a little over an hour this time, woken up by shrill ringing of her cell phone. She jolts awake, blinking a few times as her blurred vision clears, and looks towards the source of the noise.
Her cell phone stops ringing just as she reaches for it. Next to it is a note from Maya, letting her know that she has just popped to the shops for some fresh ingredients for dinner. Her cell phone starts to ring again and she looks down, a surprise name staring back at her.
“Arizona, ciao,” she says when she answers.
She rubs her eyes. Her voice is still a little sluggish from her nap and Arizona picks up on it.
“Sorry, did I wake you?”
“It’s okay,” Carina says dismissively. She doesn’t know what to say next, she knows why Arizona is calling and she falls silent, waiting for Arizona to offer her condolences.
“I heard about Andrew. I’m so sorry, Carina,” Arizona says.
“Thank you,” Carina says.
“He meant a lot to me, I hope you know that,” Arizona continues. “I hope he knew that too. He helped me so much when he moved in. I was so lost after Callie and Sofia left and he stopped me from wallowing, just by being there, by making dinner and watching trashy television with me.”
Carina smiles. “He always had a soft spot for The Bachelorette. He made me promise not to tell anyone.”
Arizona chuckles. “He was a special one. To me and so many.”
“I know,” Carina says softly.
“You know, when my brother died, my heart was broken into pieces. Timothy was my ally in so many ways and I didn’t know how I was gonna live the rest of my life without him as my cheerleader,” Arizona says. “I know you know how that feels.”
Her words make Carina’s heart ache, her eyes filling with tears.
“And it never goes away, not completely. When Sofia was born, when I got married, the plane crash, my divorce – I missed him so much. I mean, I always miss him but there are moments still when he’s the first person I want to call and I hate that I can’t.”
The tears fall down Carina’s cheeks and she can’t stop them.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t call to make you feel worse,” Arizona apologises.
“I don’t think that’s possible right now,” Carina says through her sniffles.
“Yeah, I know that feeling,” Arizona says. “I guess my point is, don’t be afraid of those feelings. They’ll hurt, some days more than others, and sometimes it will feel unbearable, like you’re right back here in the worst of your grief. Don’t be afraid to feel it, Carina, because pushing it away will only make it come bouncing back harder.”
Carina wipes the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand.
“Thank you, Arizona,” she says. She takes a deep, shaky breath to regain her composure. “How is New York, are you happy?”
“I am,” Arizona says. “Sofia loves being back here, and…”
She trails off, leaving an awkward silence between them.
“And Callie?” Carina prompts.
She already knows that Arizona and Callie are back together, happier than ever according to Jo, who heard it from Alex – before his sudden disappearance.
“We’re good,” Arizona says. “And you? Do you have… someone?”
Carina smiles when she thinks about Maya. “I do,” she says. “She’s a firefighter – the captain, in fact.”
“And she’s taking care of you?”
There is a protectiveness to her voice that Carina can’t help but find endearing.
“She is, very much,” Carina says. She hasn’t stopped taking care of her since the aid car rolled up outside the hospital.
“Good, I’m glad,” Arizona says.
From her end of the phone, Carina hears the familiar beeping of a pager.
“Shoot, I have to go,” Arizona says. “Look, I know you have people in your life who will take care of you. But if you ever wanna talk, I’ll listen.”
It is a sweet gesture, even if Carina knows she will never take her up on it. They haven’t spoken since Arizona left for New York and they probably never would have if it hadn’t been for this tragedy. It would be an odd friendship, built on her brother’s death, and Carina doesn’t want that.
“Thank you, Arizona.”
She hits the red button to end the call and keeps her cell phone in her hand, pulling up the messages that have been flooding in over the last two days. There are forty, maybe fifty messages from her friends and colleagues – some numbers she recognises and some she doesn’t – all offering words of sympathy and support. She reads them one by one, each message making the tears fall harder and faster. He was so loved and cherished by so many. It makes her happy and sad all at once, and it is too much for her.
Maya finds her curled up in a ball on the couch, her face buried in her knees as she sobs uncontrollably. She drops the groceries on the floor and rushes to her side, scooping her up in a hug, her arms strong around her.
“He’s gone,” Carina murmurs through her tears. “He’s really gone.”
She feels Maya’s hold tighten.
“I’m here, I’ve got you,” Maya soothes in her ear, letting her tears soak into her shirt.
Carina wonders how long it will take before she cries all of her tears. She is a doctor, a scientist, she knows that she will never run out of tears – that’s not the way a body works. But there has to be a point when the tears don’t come. With Mama, it was many weeks later before she had got through a day without crying – which only made the tears come back when she realised it, because she felt so guilty at not remembering to be sad.
“Did the bad dreams come back?” Maya asks.
Carina shakes her head. “No, I was reading the messages on my phone. Everyone was being so lovely.”
“People being nice made you cry?” Maya says.
Carina smiles ruefully. “It feels like everything makes me cry at the moment.”
Maya tucks Carina’s hair behind her ears. Carina leans into her touch, closing her eyes and pressing her cheek into the palm of her hand, taking comfort from her warm skin.
“You wanna help me make dinner? It might help to have something else to focus on for a while,” Maya suggests.
“That sounds like a good idea,” Carina says.
Maya doesn’t force her to make conversation as they prep the food and it is a welcome relief to have nothing to think about except chopping vegetables. She pours them both a large glass of Chardonnay as Maya stands in front of the stove making dinner. Her shoulders feel so tight that it feels like someone is pressing all of their body weight on top of her and she hopes that the wine will help her relax. Despite being one of her favourite bottles, it tastes acidic and burns her tongue, as if her taste buds are betraying her.
She helps herself to a small amount of the risotto that Maya has made and it tastes good, but sits heavy in her stomach. Still, she clears her plate and she knows that it makes Maya happy to see her eating.
“Is there anything you wanna do tonight?” Maya asks. “A movie, perhaps?”
“Sure,” Carina says. She doesn’t really care, but at least a movie will fill the silent apartment.
Maya insists that they watch it on her laptop in bed, hoping that if Carina finally succumbs to sleep then at least she will be somewhere comfortable. She chooses something light, a romantic comedy set in London, and Carina distracts them from the happy ending by telling her about her travels there just after medical school.
The glare of the screen was probably a bad idea because, despite the exhaustion she feels, she still can’t sleep. She tries the kitchen floor that night, the oak flooring harder and more uncomfortable than the soft rug in the hallway. It is where Maya finds her in the morning, staring up at the pots and pans that hang above the small island. She doesn’t say anything about it, just accepts it, like it is becoming the new normal, leaving Carina to wonder if she will ever sleep properly again.
The numbness is starting to fade and she is overwhelmed by the guilt she carries instead. She should have stopped him from getting on that train, she should have insisted they wait for the police. She should have stayed with him as he made his way through the train station, she should have got to him sooner. She should have been able to save him, instead of freezing and panicking when she saw the stab wound. All these things she should have done, but didn’t, and because of that her sweet baby brother is dead.
The guilt makes her angry. The sound of Maya’s footsteps, echoing between her ears, irritates her. The pounding from her treadmill as she exercises reverberates through the apartment and she wants to tell her to go out for a run if she wants, but she doesn’t because she selfishly needs Maya near her right now.
She moves before Maya turns on her blender to make her morning smoothie, knowing the loud whirring will aggravate her even more and she doesn’t want to snap at Maya, when she has been so lovely these last couple of days.
“I’m going to shower,” she announces, hauling herself up to standing.
“Do you want me to make you break…”
Carina doesn’t hang around to answer her question. She heads into the bedroom and closes the door behind her, exhaling deep and long. She is so exhausted, she doesn’t know what to do with herself, like a child who refuses to nap and is on the verge of a meltdown.
The tiles of the shower are cold and strangely inviting, and she sits down in the corner, resting her head on one wall and closing her eyes. It’s too uncomfortable though and doesn’t help her sleep any easier.
Maya comes looking for her when she doesn’t hear the water running.
“Hey,” she says softly, leaning against the door frame.
Carina doesn’t lift her eyes, knowing that Maya will be looking at her with love and empathy. “I know this looks crazy.”
“Not any crazier than finding you lying in the hallway at three a.m.,” Maya says.
“I can't get comfortable anywhere.”
Maya wanders into the bathroom and leans against the shower door. “You want to give the bed or the couch another shot?”
“Too soft.”
She can feel Maya looking at her, bemused. She lifts her head off the wall and glances up at her.  
“When something is too soft and nice and comfortable right now, it makes me want to cry,” she explains, “and I can't cry anymore because it's exhausting and it gives me a headache; and I'm already so tired, but I can't fall asleep, and sleeping is the only thing that will turn off the crazy guilt screaming in my brain.” She sighs. “So, I'm in the shower to try to fall asleep.”
“Carina…” Maya scolds her lightly as she crouches down near her. “None of this is your fault.”
The voices in her head tell her otherwise. There were so many things she did wrong that day, that she knows will haunt her for the rest of her life.
“You want to scream?” Maya asks. “Would that make you feel better?”
Carina read an article once about how screaming releases the tension you carry in your body and that the endorphins that follow will mask any pain you are feeling. She would do anything right now for the pain to go away.
She nods.
“Okay, then scream.”
She leans back, but she is too tired and can’t summon the energy to do it.
“Your brother died, Carina,” Maya says. “You’re allowed to wake up the neighbours.”
She doesn’t care about the neighbours. She would wake the whole apartment block with her cries if she could.
“He didn't die,” Carina reminds her. “He was murdered.”
The words make her feel nauseous and she swallows the thick bile that rises to the back of her throat.
“Scream,” Maya encourages her.  
She tries, hitting her head against the solid tiles behind her a few times to garner the energy, but her throat is dry and her chest aches from all the sobbing, and she just can’t do it. All she can do is cry – again.
Maya comes into the shower and sits beside her, wrapping her arms around her. Carina indulges her for a moment, letting the comfort wash over her, until she feels the familiar throbbing in her chest.
“Too soft, too soft,” she says, rejecting Maya’s help and training her eyes on the wall in front of her.
“Okay, I’m sorry,” Maya says.
She walks away and Carina knows it is because she doesn’t want to make her feel worse. If only she understood that she is the only thing making her feel better right now. Carina closes her eyes and leans back against the wall behind her. It is cold and hard, just like she feels inside, but still sleep doesn’t come easily. She can hear Maya moving around in the kitchen and gets up slowly, her back sore from too much time on the hard floors of their apartment. She wanders out into the kitchen where Maya is making eggs again.
“Thank you,” she says quietly. It doesn’t feel like enough, but it is all she has to give right now.
Maya pauses on the way to deliver her breakfast to the table, leaving a soft kiss on her cheek.
“It’s okay to not be okay,” she says kindly.
It has only been three days, after all. Carina sits at the table and pushes the eggs around the plate, her stomach churning at their smell. She takes a bite of dry toast. She thought she was getting her appetite back a little yesterday, but today her stomach is twisted into knots and the food doesn’t settle well. She notices the notebook on the shelf, the one that lists all the things she hasn’t done to give her brother a funeral. It serves as another reminder of how she is failing him.
“I’m gonna go change the bed, maybe some fresh sheets will help,” Maya says. She is running out of ideas of how to help. “You okay here?”
Carina nods absentmindedly, her eyes moving away from the notebook but not meeting Maya’s. Her phone chimes and she pulls it out of her pocket. It is a message from her cousin, offering his condolences. It beeps a few more times as a series of photos come through and she opens them, curious, only to have her breath taken away by the image of her brother’s smiling face looking up at her. They are photos from the last time they were all together as a family, her cousin’s wedding four years ago. There are candid photos of Andrew chatting to family and dancing with friends, his eyes bright and his smile wide across his face. There are photos of her Nonna and uncles she will never see again, and they bring tears to her eyes. The last one is a photo of the three of them – Papa, Andrew and her – laughing during the after-dinner speeches.
Her heart drops.
She still hasn’t told Papa. She doesn’t know how she is going to tell him, how to even begin to explain what happened and how his child ended up dead.
He was away at a conference when Mama died. He got home a few days later and Carina went to his house to tell him. She thought he had taken it okay, he was upset but they had been divorced for ten years by then. Except it had triggered an episode and the next day the police had turned up on her doorstep with him in tow, incoherent and manic. He had passed the alcohol test, so they didn’t want him taking up space in a station cell, and he had been able to tell them where his daughter lived.
What if that happens when she tells him about Andrew? What if, this time, the police don’t pull him over and he gets into an accident? What if he hurts himself or someone else? She can’t have that on her conscience as well.
Panic flares up inside of her and she rushes to the spare room, pulling out a suitcase and heading into the bedroom, where Maya is in the middle of changing the bed sheets.
“I have to go to Italy,” Carina announces, flinging the suitcase onto the half-made bed.
Maya looks up at her, confusion across her face. “What?”
“I have to tell my dad and I think the best way to do it is in person,” Carina says.
She walks towards the dresser to pull out some clothes, not paying attention to what she is choosing.
“Carina, take a breath. Let’s talk this through,” Maya says calmly, but Carina isn’t really listening.
“…because I don’t know how he’s gonna react to the news and I just need to be there in case he goes crazy or something.”
All she can see in her head is the image of her dad, hanging limply in the arms of two police officers. She drops the clothes haphazardly into the case, then goes to find more.
“Okay, there are no flights to Italy right now,” Maya points out. “The border is closed there and here. And even if you could get there, we're in a pandemic, remember?”
Carina stares at her as she starts to make sense of what Maya is saying. But if she doesn’t go to Italy, how is she going to escape all that haunts her?
“Okay, yeah, I have... ahhh! Okay, I feel like there's so much that I have to do, and I don't even know how.”
It overwhelms her and she marches out into the hallway, with Maya close behind her.
“Okay, what do you want? What do you need? What can I do?”
“I have to organize the funeral, I have to contact his landlord,” Carina says as she paces up and down the hallway, unable to keep still. “I have to call the bank to sort out all the details and paperwork. I have…” She sighs. “I have to tell my dad. But what I want to do right now is scream. I want to scream until my throat hurts more than my head and my stomach and my chest. I just want to scream so that some of this pressure goes away.”
“So scream,” Maya says. “Do it, let it out.”
“I can't,” Carina cries. She has tried so many times and every time she fails, and she doesn’t need to feel like any more of a failure.
She knows that Maya is trying to help her but everything feels too hard and she craves the solitude of their bathroom, brushing past Maya and making her way back into the shower.
“I can't, I can't, I can't,” she mutters.
She sits on the cool tiles, her brain buzzing and her heart thumping in her chest. She tries to control her breathing, a long inhale and a slow exhale.
‘Five things you can see,’ she thinks to herself.
The tiles, the bottle of shampoo, the crumpled towel on the floor, the mirror, the trash can.
Four things you can touch.
She goes through the steps, the calming technique helping reduce her stress and anxiety. She drops her head to one side, resting against the wall and closing her eyes, willing herself to sleep. She just wants to sleep but the floor of a shower isn’t exactly conducive to it.
That is the point, being somewhere uncomfortable to stop the warmth and cosiness of her bed from lulling her back into her grief. She tries to sleep for an hour, eventually giving up.
When she wanders back into the apartment, Maya is in the kitchen again, making a sandwich.
“Did you sleep?” she asks.
“No, but I tried in the shower, like a lunatic,” Carina says, sitting down.
“Well, I got everything sorted out with the funeral home,” Maya says, as she delivers the sandwich to her seat at the table.
It takes Carina by surprise. “You called them?”
“I called everyone,” Maya says. “I did the whole list. I did all the things.”
She says it so simply, like it’s not a big deal but it is. Carina feels her heart flip, in a good way for the first time in days. Because as strong as she wishes she was, this loss more than any other has shaken her foundations and when she wonders how she is still standing, she always comes back to the same answer.
Maya.
And every time Carina thinks she is as much in love as she will ever be, Maya does something else that takes her breath away.
“Thank you,” she says, fighting back her tears. “No-one has ever done that for me.”
She sees a small frown crinkle Maya’s forehead.
“Any chance you could call my dad for me too?”
She knows it is cruel not to have told him yet. She tries to tell herself that it is because she is worried about him, and that’s not a lie, but she knows the real reason why she hasn’t done it yet. She’s afraid of what he will say, she’s afraid that he will blame her as much as she blames herself.
She watches as Maya walks over to her, grabbing a spare stool and sitting beside her, leaning her arms on the table.
“I wish I could,” she says.
Carina wishes that too.
“That's one you got to do on your own.”
“I know,” Carina says. “I'm so scared to tell him.”
Saying it out loud doesn’t lighten the burden at all.
“I know,” Maya says softly.
The smell of the sandwich makes Carina’s stomach turn. Or maybe it is the thought of telling her dad that makes her feel sick.  
“I'm gonna try again,” she says, standing up from her seat.
“To sleep?”
“To scream.”
She walks into the bedroom. She doesn’t bother with the shower floor this time, instead she sits on the edge of the bed and grabs a pillow. She holds her body tight and takes a deep breath, opening opens her mouth and pressing her face against the soft pillow.
All that escapes is a pathetic whimper.
Her pent-up grief and sadness and frustration sits heavy on her chest but she doesn’t have the energy to expel it.
She can’t sleep, she can’t scream, she can’t find the courage to call her dad.
She puffs out her cheeks and exhales, running her hand through her hair and noticing how greasy and full of knots it is. She stands up, the exhaustion making her a little dizzy, and she reaches out to rest her hands on the bedside table to steady herself until her head stops spinning.
She strips herself of her clothes, dropping them on the floor, not caring for once about the wrinkles it will cause. She steps into the shower and ducks under the running hot water, washing away some of the tension in her limbs. She rolls her head in her neck, immersing her face in the water, letting it cleanse her skin of the tear stains on her cheeks.
She thinks about that morning when she bumped into Andrew in the parking lot, how he had given her that typical DeLuca stubborn glare when he told her about Opal and his plan to follow her. She kept telling herself that she couldn’t stop him, that he was too wilful, but maybe that was just an excuse because she was too afraid to upset him, to make him feel unsupported just like before.
She forgets about all the times she told him to wait for the police and all the times he pushed on anyway. All she remembers is driving him around the city, chasing a woman they knew could be dangerous and leading him to his death.
She doesn’t know what is worse, the grief or the guilt. It is like they are conspiring against her, battling to see which one can weigh her down more.
She turns the shower up to its hottest setting, letting the water burn her skin until it is bright red as a way of distracting herself from the thoughts in her head. She stays in the shower for as long as her body will tolerate, then steps out in the cool air of the apartment. Her skin prickles with goosebumps, her fine hairs standing on end, and pulls a towel around her to stay warm.
Once she is dry, she covers herself with moisturiser to soothe her dry skin. The massaging motion helps her to relax a little. She dries her hair and dresses, pulling on a pair of jeans and comfortable sweater, before heading out into the apartment.
Maya is at the far end of the apartment doing push ups in the living room. Apart from a couple of gentle walks, she hasn’t been able to indulge in her normal exercise routine lately and Carina knows that she is probably feeling claustrophobic being stuck indoors all day.
She hears Carina coming and looks up, stopping her workout and rising to her feet.
“You showered.”
“Mmm. I was already there and I couldn't sleep, so, um...” She sits on the edge of the couch. “I didn't want to call you when I was in the car with Andrea because I knew you would talk me out of it and tell me to make my brother stop. Tell me that it was dangerous. And you did…”
She takes a shaky breath.
“And you were right. And I still think…” She can feel herself getting worked up, becoming breathless as she talks. “I feel like this is… Why? Why didn't I stop him?”
She stands up, feeling boxed in as Maya walks towards her and she backs away from her. “This is… this is all my fault. This is… I…” She struggles to find the right words until they spill out of her mouth. “My brother is dead because I'm an idiot.”
“Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey. Listen to me,” Maya says sternly. “None of this is your fault.”
“Whose fault is it then? Who am I supposed to blame?”
She needs to blame someone, to be the focus of her anger – and she convinces herself that she deserves it.                                                                
“Blame me!” Maya says out of nowhere. “We have to get some of this off of you. I will take it. Blame me. I should have gotten to you sooner, I should have been there. Blame me.”
It is the most ridiculous thing Carina has ever heard.
“Maya, this is not your fault,” she says, walking past her.
“Then why is it yours?”
Carina spins to face her. “Because I let him on that train! I did that.”
What can’t Maya see that?
Maya grabs her arms and guides her to sit on the couch. “Give me the guilt, okay? Give me the blame. Give me the part that stings the most. Okay, let me hold on to it for a little while.” She looks up at Carina with her bright blue eyes. “And when you're feeling a little stronger, you can have it all back, I promise.”
Carina can’t see it for the beautiful gesture that it is. It is too soft and the grief threatens to consume her once again. Her body turns rigid and she trains her eyes on the fireplace in front of her, refusing to look at Maya.
“Too soft, I’m sorry,” Maya says, standing up and walking back into the kitchen.
Carina focuses on her breath, in and out, in and out, willing herself not to cry. She hears Maya clearing away the sandwich she didn’t eat at lunch time and focuses on the clanging of plates and cutlery as she fills the dishwasher.
She can feel herself pushing Maya away. Too nice, too kind, too soft.
She doesn’t want to, she wants to cling to Maya so hard because she is the only thing that is keeping her hanging on right now.
She gets up from her seat and wanders over to the kitchen, her shoes light on the floor. She sidles up behind her, resting her hands on Maya’s hips and her chin on her shoulder.
“I’m sorry.”
Maya twists her head a little, glancing over her shoulder.
“Maybe you should let yourself feel soft for a while?”
“I can’t,” Carina says. “It hurts too much and I can’t figure out how to get it all out. So it’s better to not feel anything at all.”
Maya spins, staying in her embrace, and rests her hands at the top of her arms.
“You wanna go for another walk?”
Carina shakes her head.
“I need to call Papa,” she says slowly. “I don’t want to, I’m still scared about what he’s going to say. But it’s not fair that he doesn’t know.”
She knows it is not helping, having it hanging over her head. At least it will be one thing ticked off the list.
Maya nods. “You want some space?”
“No,” Carina is quick to say. “I… Can you stay close?”
Her voice is flooded with vulnerability and she blinks back tears.
“Of course,” Maya says. “Whatever you need.”
Carina takes a deep breath and pulls her cell phone out of her pocket, scrolling through her contact list. Her finger hovers over Papa’s name and her leg jiggles nervously.
“You can do this,” Maya says softly.
Standing still feels unnatural so she walks through the apartment, pacing up and down near the couch as she finally hits the call button and raises the phone to her ear, listening to it ring. It is almost eleven o’clock in the evening in Italy but she knows he never goes to bed early.
“Carina,” he answers his phone with her name, his voice flat. Not cold, but not warm either.
“Papa, ciao,” Carina says, but before she can get the words out, he launches into story about his current research project and the success he is seeing in his experiments. He sounds a little manic, which makes her heart drop, but she perseveres, trying to interrupt him. He talks over her, like he does so often, and it takes a while for her to get the words out.
“Papa, Andrea è morto.”
Her voice cracks when she says it. The line falls silent for a moment before he says something that hits her like a punch in the gut.
“I know, Carina. Someone at the hospital called me a couple of days ago, I guess my name is on his emergency contacts list.”
Carina is stunned. He already knew?
She waits for him to ask her about what happened, to know what it was like for Andrew in his last moments on this earth. She wants him to ask her if she is okay, to tell her that he loves her. He rarely says it, not since she was a little girl, and these days it comes with an emotional manipulation. Still, it is all she needs to hear right now.
What she gets is a kick in the gut.
“Look, I have to go, I’m in the middle of writing an article and I don’t want to lose my train of thought.”
“Okay, okay,” Carina says despondently.
“Just tell me how much the funeral costs and I’ll pay it.”
Like that is all she needs from him.
“Si, ciao.”
She hangs up, still in shock, and turns to look at Maya.
“He heard.”
“What?”
“He heard that Andrea died two days ago and he didn't call me.”
She turns away from Maya, feeling the anger growing inside of her. She has been living in her grief for the last three days when it could have been shared with her father. She has spent hours worrying about how to tell him, what to tell him, and how he might react – all for nothing, because he already knew and he didn’t bother to call her to make sure she was okay.
The rational part of her brain knows that his Bipolar is affecting the way he reacts to his grief, but Carina isn’t feeling very rational right now. She feels angry and frustrated, like she wants to break something, like she wants to scream.
She opens her mouth and tries again but still nothing comes out. Instead, she thumps her fist against the wall, and again, and again.
“Hey, hey!” Maya says, coming up beside her and grabbing her wrist to stop her from hurting herself.
Carina struggles against her but Maya is stronger. Her other hand slips around Carina’s waist.
“He left me to grieve alone,” Carina cries.
“You’re not alone,” Maya reminds her. “I’m here.”
Carina sighs, her body deflating. “That… That’s not…” she struggles to find her words. “I know.”
She doesn’t know how she would have got through the last few days without Maya’s constant presence. But Maya didn’t know Andrew, not like Papa and her family, and she needs someone who can share that grief with her.
“I just don’t know how to make it go away.”
“What?” Maya asks.
“All of it. The pain, the guilt. It’s too much in my head, in my heart.”
She taps her chest with her hand as tears run down her face and she wipes them away with the sleeve of her sweater. Her body sags and she leans into Maya’s body.
“I’m so tired.”
“I know you are,” Maya says softly, kissing her temple. “Why don’t we go out? Being cooped up in here probably isn’t helping.”
Carina starts to shake her head. All she wants is to cocoon herself away from the outside world.
“Please? I have an idea that might help.”
Carina can hear the concern in her voice and relents. She will try anything that might help her sleep.  So she nods, slowly, as Maya grabs her car keys and insists on driving them somewhere else.
Carina sits in the passenger seat, staring out of the window and watching the world go about its daily business. She doesn’t pay attention to where they are going, her focus on the people living their lives like normal. She doesn’t know what normal looks like any more, because a world without her little brother – the other half to her whole – isn’t normal.
They haven’t gone far when Maya pulls into an empty space outside of the fire station.
“What are we doing here?”
“You’ll see,” is all Maya says.
Leaving Carina confused, Maya gets out of the car first and walks round to the passenger side, opening the door and holding out her hand. Carina is too tired to object, so she takes it and lets Maya lead her into the station, pulling on a mask as she walks. It is quiet; the reception desk is empty, so is the captain’s office; the ladder truck and aid car both out on a call.
Maya leads her into the barn and around the back of the engine.
“What? What are we doing?” Carina asks wearily.
Maya doesn’t answer as she opens the door and climbs into the driver’s seat. Carina’s eyes roll.
“Okay, Maya, I'm not a child,” she grumbles, removing her mask. “I don't need a fire truck ride to feel…”
Better, is what she is about to say when, all of a sudden, the siren wails. Carina has never heard it up close before and it pierces her ears, making her wince.
“Maya!” she cries out, covering her ears with her hands to shield her from the noise.
“Scream” Maya says.
“What?”
“Scream!” she repeats.
Carina looks at her dumbly. “I can’t.”
She has been trying for days but it never comes.
“Do it!”
“No, I can't,” Carina says. She is holding back, she knows that. Keeping the grief inside, wallowing in the guilt, it is like a punishment. The moment she lets it all out is the moment she will have to accept what happened and start to forgive herself.
Suddenly, Maya lets out a loud, long scream.
“I can’t do it,” Carina says, defeated. She is not ready to accept it just yet.
She turns and starts to walk away from her, but Maya keeps screaming. She feels a rumble in her chest, as if all of the grief and anger and frustration and sadness is about to force its way out of her. She takes a deep breath and clenches her fists, and lets out the fiercest scream she can muster. The tears come as she screams again and now they are both screaming, drowned out by the siren. She screams louder, like she is trying to match it. Her chest burns but it is a good pain this time because she feels the pressure releasing with every breath, every cry. She hits the palms of her hands against the fire engine, letting the tears fall.
Maya opens her arms and she collapses into them, letting the warmth of her embrace swallow her. Maya may not have known Andrew very well, but she knows her, and she knows exactly what she needs to let the grief out. She loves Maya completely in this moment and it feels like the light at the end of the tunnel is cracking through just a little bit.
She sobs into Maya’s sweater, holding on to her so tightly, only soothed by the quiet murmurings in her ear. They sway until Carina stops trembling and even then Carina refuses to let go.
The siren brings Ben to barn to find out what is going on and Maya waves him away, but not before he climbs into the engine to turn off the siren. Silence falls around them.
“The team’s on their way back, ten minutes out,” Ben says quietly, before slipping away.
Carina pulls back, her eyes flaring with panic. “I don’t want to see anyone.”
“You don’t have to,” Maya says, taking her hand again. “Home?”
Carina nods, takes a step forward and, with her free hand, cups Maya’s face and draws her in for a soft, light kiss. Salty tears trickle down her cheek and onto her top lip.
“Thank you,” she says in barely a whisper, resting her forehead against Maya’s. “Thank you.”
“I love you,” Maya says.
Carina feels herself smile. “I love you, too.”
The car ride home is quiet. Carina feels exhaustion wash over her, her eyelids drooping. Her body craves the soft mattress of their bed for the first time in days.
“Are you hungry?” Maya asks as they step inside the apartment. “You didn’t eat lunch, you must be starving.”
Carina shakes her head. “No, I just want to try to rest.”
“Why don’t you curl up in bed?” Maya suggests. “I’ll bring you some tea, maybe that will help you fall asleep?”
Carina leans forward and kisses her cheek, then wanders down the hallway. The bed is freshly made from this morning and looks inviting. She kicks off her shoes, but doesn’t bother to undress before crawling under the duvet. She curls up on her right side, buries her face in Maya’s pillow and hugs the edge of the duvet. She feels warm and comfortable, and she feels herself drifting into a slumber.
The memories don’t come this time, the nightmares kept at bay as she finally lets the softness back in and succumbs to sleep.
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The Prince & I
CHAPTER TWO: The Future King
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Featuring Charles, Prince of Wales
I'm a 28 PR manager working for a world wide PR firm. Recently, I was hired by Prince Andrew’s personal legal team to help clean up his “highly tarnished” reputation, so he can return to his royal duties. During our meeting, the Duke of York and I became lovers. Over the years, I had come to realize I had a predilection for famous, mature powerful men, especially well dressed ones. It didn't matter who they were. And a member of the British royal family was a prime specimen of this kind of man and the thought of him made me drool with lust.  
Anyway, in between my visits with Andrew, I received a telephone call from his older brother, Charles, Prince of Wales. He asked if I could come over to The Clarence House right away to discuss his brother's situation. I told him I'd be there right away, arriving about an hour later. I was escorted to his office where he sat. He was dressed impeccably in a navy chalk stripe double breasted suit, a crisp white shirt and blue patterned tie. Time had been kind to Prince Charles as he matured into a handsome man (at least in my eyes). His hair was now more white than brown, but this only added to his attractiveness. I was already beginning to tent my pants.
"Thank you for coming." He said.
However, I wasn't greeted by a strong confident man. The prince had a tough year with the loss of his father, Prince Philip and the absence of his own son, as Prince Harry is set to spend the holiday season at his new home in LA with his wife and their children. On top of the situation with Andrew.
As we talked, I took in his visage sitting behind his desk with a decanter of bourbon and a shot glass in front of him, looking tired and defeated with lust was coursing through my veins. I knew he was the Prince of Wales and my client's brother, but I wanted him. Bad. I had fantasized about this for years and it was time to make it happen if I could.
"Looks like you need something to take your mind off of things, your highness." I said as he chuckled in agreement.
"When was the last time you had your cock sucked your highness?" I boldly asked.
Charles froze at the question, so I got up and walked around the desk to remove the obstacle between us. He was still froze, but his lower lip seemed to quiver a bit. As if words were trying to be formed, but my now sexual presence was suffocating them. He quickly took shot of liquor. I then told him he was a very handsome man as I sat on his lap like a little kid. The prince was shocked back into reality and said "Er... this is highly inappropriate..."
I interrupted him by kissing him hard on the mouth with a little tongue thrown in. I was hot and raring to go and sitting in the lap of  the heir apparent to the British throne was quite intoxicating to me. Charles pulled back, seemingly shocked by my actions and replied "I'm the Prince of Wales and a married man. What are you thinking?"
Despite his protest I could feel the substantial bulge at his crotch. I responded by putting my arms around him and burying my face in his neck. He gasped and said "What...my wife... this isn't right."
"Relax your highness, she doesn't have to know." I said as sat in the Prince of Wales' lap, with my arms around him taking in all of the sensations bombarding my senses. The smell of his cologne-scented skin, the soft yet firm feel of his warm body, the soft wool of the suit he was wearing, and his hard-on poking at my ass. It was all too much and a dream come true at the same time.
We sat like this for a while as he was beginning to loosen up, looking into each other's eyes every so often and kissing passionately. Charles gasped about how long it had been since he'd been touched by a male and how good it felt. I asked him how long it had been and he said years ago before I met my first wife, Diana without elaborating further. He then looked at me and said "Where do we go from here?"
"That's up to you, why don't we start with the here and now?" I said before kissing him hard and placing his hand on my erection.
He directed me to lock the office door and told me I was in charge. I did as he asked before coming back, kneeling before him and with his lips still quivering, I slid my hands gently on his upper legs and savored the feel of this beautiful man. Finally, unable to take it anymore, I reached up, undid the buttons on his suit coat to give me clear access to his crotch. I ran my hand over the bulge in his pants noting how hung he must be as he gasped in pleasure.
Then I unfastened his pants, unbuttoned the bottom buttons of his dress shirt exposing his hairy belly, reached into his boxers and extracted my prize. It was 8 inches long, uncut, and beautiful. I looked at him with eyes filled with lust and longing as I slid my tongue up his cock before I slipped my lips over his manhood. Charles moaned and shivered as I deep throated him with everything I had, making him gripped the arms of his leather chair.
"So... good..." The prince moaned as it looked like he was all ready to cum and everything.
I went at this for some time, noting his rapid breathing and increasing excitement to tell when he was getting close. Now feeling my cock flutter uncomfortably in my pants, I stood up, took off my shirt showing his highness my six pack abs before lowing my pants and stepping out of them. He just sat there, observing my body, stroking his cock still rock hard in his hand. Clearly, he had other things on his mind beside me finishing his blow job.
"Come here, sit on my royal cock." Charles said as he spit on his hand, smearing it all over his cock.
I've already been fucked by Andrew's comparable cock, so I knew my hole wouldn't be so tight when accepting Charles's nice uncut cock. I turned around to position myself to the Prince of Wales cock. When I felt the tip of his head tickle my cheeks, I pushed gently down on his cock, it slide into my hole. I moaned out loud feeling it enter, but only half of it got into my ass.
"You seem loose, does this mean you've been fucked before?" Charles said grabbing onto my thighs, pulling me down onto him till I felt his pubic hair brush my smooth butt.
"Yes your highness, I've had a few guys fuck me." I told him as I bounced off him, taking out half of his cock.
Then he slammed my body back into his cock sliding all the way in me. Placing both my hands on my knees, I lifted my ass and slid back down again. I started riding him real fast till we were both dead close to cumming, so it didn't take too much bouncing until that hot cock exploded inside me. He was still inside me when I grabbed my cock and jerked it to finish off. And as I shot my load, my ass muscles tightened around his softening cock and he shot another load inside me. Now for a man in his early seventies, that was impressive. Exhausted, I climbed off him, breathing like I'd just run the marathon.
We became lovers after that and he and I managed to find time between me fucking his brother and his official duties to fuck like wild rabbits.  
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allforthe-gay · 2 years
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sometimes you read about fictional characters going through some crazy shit and you compare it to your life and be like why do i think i've got it rough when Andrew was literally raped by his foster brother more than once, and there was blood, and he laughed when it happened once again because he didn't give a fuck about his own wellbeing, but because of the rape developed an intense negative reaction to even the littlest physical contact he received without his somewhat explicit permission ?
when Neil had to burn the dead body of his own mother to take and bury the bones, running away from a father who wanted to capture them both, was coerced by a worthless piece of shit to head over to the black torture chamber where psychological wellbeing went to die and get beaten every day, and was later kidnapped by his father's people and tortured with a dashboard lighter to the face, and knives to the palms and hands, and his father himself told him he was going to rip the tendons in his legs or something like that with his wicked axe or cleaver so Neil would never run away again ?
when Kevin had his Exy playing hand stomped on and broken by someone he was close to who was just really jealous, had been abused for years being a Raven and now had panic attacks and lived in fear of Riko and his old coach, but most of all the whole fucking Moriyama family before he finally conquered it ?
or is it just me
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tasteforrot · 2 years
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You’re a hopeless romantic.  Falling in love at the drop of a hat with anyone foolish enough to be attractive and kind to you.  It’s become a problem.  Always heartbroken or in the process of breaking.
It’s exhausting.
You’re a giant open wound that can’t mange to heal.  Sometimes it gets close and you just keep bumping into things and tearing it open.  You can’t help but pick at it.  None of it sanitary.  None of it comfortable.
Think of the heart like an antique vase.  A Ming vase, or whatever that fancy expensive shit is.  It’s that.
You’re clumsy, but you’ve decided that the vase looks so nice on that spindly carved table next to your front door where you drop your keys in the dark after you’ve unlocked the door.  Before you turn on the lights.  What you ought to have is one of those sturdy Victorian card tables your archaeologist roommate told you about.  The ones where people leave calling cards then you decide whether or not you want to see them once they’ve already called on you.
When you come home drunk at night, or exhausted from your third double shift in as many days, you flop your hand outward, your fingers grazy that precious pottery and knock it to the ground.
“Shit,” you slur as you bend down, collect all the tiny fragments and leave them on the kitchen table to superglue back together in the cold sober light of morning.     Again.
You’ll squint at the edges, trying to puzzle piece it all back together, matching up broken edges and patterns.  Attempting perfect placement and trying to hide that it ever suffered an impact.     That it ever belonged to you.
Each time this happens the ritual is less effective.  It fractures in different places.  Smaller pieces get lost and you have to crawl under the couch to seek them out.  Some break into such fine pieces that they turn to dust, leaving large gaps that you try to just fill up with more glue.
Getting old feels this way.
In your teenage years and early twenties you bounced back.  Maybe not very quickly, but eventually.  You’d fill yourself with hate, point and shoot until the next person you’d been hurt by no longer existed to you.  You’d forget them.     It feels like aging slows down the pace of healing.  The same way our bones were softer, more malleable, as children.  In the Golden Years, there are steel hips and knee joints because eventually our bodies give out on us.  Misuse—or hell, existed at all—leads to damage.
You thought you’d felt true sadness.  In fact, you were almost addicted to it.  You’d write poems and essays brooding about autumn’s beauty and finding a beauty in death that wasn’t there.     Your father read one such essay when you were in high school and sighed as he set down the paper.     “Why do you always write about death?  There’s nothing beautiful about it.  You don’t know what you’re talking about.”     You found this offensive because seventeen-year-olds know everything.     He was right.     You’d never seen anyone die before.  Slowly or brutally, it was foreign to you.  You’d read a lot of Plath.  It was different in real life.
When you watched Andrew die that sunny afternoon you knew exactly what your father meant.  There was nothing beautiful in it.  You stood horrified and you couldn’t look away until your friend’s boyfriend physically turned you away from the scene.  You stood with your back to the road staring vacantly at yellow dandelions growing through a chain link fence.  They swayed in the cool even breeze and you said to yourself, over and over, “He’ll be okay.  He’s fine.  They’ll bring him back.  He’ll be okay…” until they loaded him up in the ambulance and drove away without sirens or lights.
You see those little yellow lions in the grass everywhere, springing up between squares of concrete, and you cringe.  Every time.  Little yellow weeds that haunt you with a memory that you want to bury somewhere it can never crawl out of.  It sticks in your mind like the brilliance of the sunshine reflected off his comforter and bare white walls that morning.  So bright that you had to cover your face until you shambled out of bed.
The coroner came into that little waiting room in the ER.  He said hello and asked if Andrew was chewing any gum at the time of his death.  You cheeked the other half a piece of gum you had been gnawing on all afternoon.  The other half was what they thought obstructed his breathing.  The coroner nodded and said nothing.  You swallowed your gum.
In second grade a teacher’s aide saw you swallow your gum.  She knelt down and poked her finger into your sternum, something your biological mother did when she was angry, so you flinched.  She saw you recoil and smiled brightly.     “When you swallow your gum it gets stuck right here,” she said, tapping gently on your chest.  "For seven years.“
You told Juliana about Andrew’s gum.  Not that you swallowed it, just that it was brought up.  That you were chewing the other half of it.     "Did you save it?”     You stared at her.     “I’m a creep.  I would have saved it,” she said.     “I swallowed it.”     “You swallowed it?!  That shit takes YEARS to digest.”     “I know.”     She gave you a hug and bought you another drink.
It changed so much.  You thought you’d never see something so traumatic in your lifetime.  How could you?  You woke up in his bed the last two mornings and by the end of that day, early evening, he was dead.
You cried for a month.
It would just wash over you sometimes.  If you sat in the backseat on the passenger side of a car and you felt the car was going too fast, you’d have panic attacks.
You’ve had dreams for years about being in a car that has no driver.  Sometimes it was clear to you that you were supposed to be driving from the backseat.  It smacked of symbolism.
Take hold of your life.  Get some fucking direction.
After Andrew’s death those dreams seemed much more literal.  You didn’t think anything could top it until you got that call from a family friend telling you that your parents had been in an accident.
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