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lemonlover1110 · 11 months

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𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 2] Visiting

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Pairing: Baseball Player!Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

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“He asked you to what?!” Shoko is absolutely bewildered when she hears the news that you have. She isn’t all that surprised about the fact that you had sex, she expected as much. However, she didn’t expect the man to ask for you to get married. She’s heard a lot about Toji, nothing was related to commitment and how loyal he is. They’re all rumors of course, but they all stem from somewhere. “Please tell me you rejected him.”

After your night with Toji, you find yourself in your best friend’s house. She’s in the kitchen, preparing herself a tea, and you’re with her, telling her about your date with the famous baseball player.

“I’m not in the plane with him, or am I?” You respond, a chuckle leaving your lips. Shoko squints her eyes before she tilts her head to the side. She doesn’t fully trust you. Her nails tap the granite counter that separates you two.

“What did you answer?” She has a serious tone of voice, and it almost sends a chill down your spine. It’s rare to hear her so serious. You take a moment to answer, and she repeats the question, even more serious than before, “What did you answer? Oh my god, please–”

“I told him I’d think about it.” You finally respond, and she slaps her palm on her forehead. She’s always viewed you as a smart woman, so why did the words that come out of your mouth sound like the most ridiculous thing you could possibly say? You’re not dumb enough to think about marrying an absolute stranger… Yet your response entertains that idea.

“No. Your answer should’ve been no because you two don’t know each other.” Shoko tells you, and you click your tongue. Where’s the fun in that? You aren’t going to share your thoughts though, knowing it’ll lead to getting berated by the woman that’s in front of you. “I can’t believe you… What happened after that?”

“Well… We had sex again, we talked a bit, getting to know each other then we had sex again. After that we fell asleep and when I woke up, he was gone.” You say, and she sighs. She can’t say she’s disappointed, it’s your life and you do whatever the hell you want. She’s just in disbelief that this is happening. “Can you believe that he has a flip phone?”

“Don’t change the topic!” She raises her voice, but she thinks that maybe changing the topic is the best option. She doesn’t want to overstep. It’s your choice after all, if you want to fuck up your life, she can’t yell at you for it. She takes a deep breath to calm down, “You do what you think is best, baby. Marrying him isn’t a smart choice but I’ll support you no matter what.”

“I’m not marrying him.” You assure her, even though you don’t believe your own words. You just feel so drawn to him, and you’re enamored with him even if you just met. Maybe you’re confusing your feelings of attraction with something else.

“I don’t trust you.” She answers. She hears the kettle whistle and she rushes to focus on that. At the end of the day, you make your own choices so she shouldn’t push the subject. You clear your throat before asking,

“Didn’t you have to tell me something?” You watch her pause as she tries to recall what she was going to tell you. You really caught her off guard with your news. Her eyes light up as she remembers, and a soft smile comes to her lips as you watch her cheeks turn a sweet shade of pink.

“I met the woman of my dreams last night, and best of all, she spent the night.” She tells you, and your brows raise. You should make a snarky remark but you bite your tongue, instead, you opt to listen. “She’s so perfect– I was so shocked she showed any interest in me but when I tell you I was over the moon when she approached me.”

“Do you have a picture of her? I want to see her.” You say, and she shakes her head in response. You watch as she pours the boiling water into a cup before she grabs a tea bag and dunks it in the water. “You got her number though, right?”

She stays silent. That’s your response.

You’re about to reassure her, gathering the right words to say but it’s hard. You suck at comforting people. Just as you’re about to speak pathetic words, your phone begins to ring. You see a very familiar name which makes the biggest smile appear on your lips. You excuse yourself, walking away to answer the phone. You go to Shoko’s room and shut the door behind you.

“Hey, Toji.” You speak lowly so Shoko doesn’t hear that it’s him, even when she has an idea of who it is. You love hearing your name as he greets you, it sounds flawless when it rolls off his tongue. “Not that I mind but… Why are you calling? I don’t have a solid answer yet.”

“Just want to inform my pretty lady that I’ll be in her town next week.” Toji tells you, and a foolish smile comes to your lips at the thought of seeing him again. You smile even more stupidly when you realize that he calls you his pretty lady. It’s all so sudden, but you like it. You like him. Maybe not enough to marry him, not yet at least.

“Are you coming to visit me?” You ask him, and you’re nearly over the moon when he says yes. “Then I’ll wait for you here, we can do whatever you want when you’re here. You have my number, and I’m always available for you.”

“I’ll see you then–” Toji is about to say something else, but Shoko calls out your name and you hang up without a second thought. You act as if you’ve almost been caught doing something bad. You try to play it off as if you’re not doing anything, but Shoko doesn’t care enough.

“Do you have any plans tomorrow night? Someone invited me to a birthday party and I don’t want to go alone.” Shoko asks, and you shake your head. You awkwardly smile.

“Let’s go out, that sounds like fun.”

You offered Toji to pick him up from the airport, and now you look around, searching for a tall strong man that’s nearly twice your size. You keep looking at the time, wondering if he’s off the plane yet. You check on your phone the time his flight is supposed to arrive, and you watch as luggage comes out from the conveyor belt, luggage from his flight. Maybe you should try to call him but his stupid flip phone is probably still on airplane mode.

“Where the hell are you?” You mutter, eyes hunting for the man. You’re being impatient, you just got here. You need to give him some time, he probably got off the plane and had to use the bathroom. You know that you’d feel self conscious shitting in an airplane bathroom.

You don’t like airports– At least not when you’re picking up someone else. Someone else that’s not all that easy to communicate with; you can still send him a text even if he has a flip phone, he’ll just take a little longer to respond. You decide to send him a text, asking if he’s off the plane yet.

“Hey!” You hear his voice and your head darts his way. He’s comfortable, wearing a simple black t-shirt and sweatpants, yet he manages to look as hot as ever. You smile at him, and you walk towards him, rushing to him after taking a couple of steps. You wrap your arms around him, and it takes him by surprise but he hugs you back.

“It’s so nice to see you again.” You say, and it comes out muffled since your face is pressed against his chest. You let go, and Toji weakly smiles at you.

“It’s so nice to see you again too.” He answers, and he walks to the conveyor belt to get his luggage, and once it’s in his hands, you two begin to walk to the elevator that’ll take you to the parking lot. When you enter the elevator, his hand goes into his pocket and he waves the brand new device in front of your face, “Look what I got.”

“You finally got a normal phone.” You grab the phone from his hands, and you inspect it. It’s the newest model, the old man doesn’t know what to do with all of that. “Did you change your number too?”

“Nope. Still got the same one.” He answers as you open the phone’s camera. You extend your arm out and lean towards Toji, pursing your lips together and putting up a peace sign. Toji leans down so he makes sure he’s on camera, and you snap the picture. You hand the phone back to him.

“I look pretty in that picture, you should make it your home screen.” You tell him, and he furrows his brows as he unlocks his phone.

“How do you do that?” He responds, making you chuckle. You take the phone from his hand and change the generic wallpaper to the picture you took. You hand it back to him, a smirk on your lips. The elevator doors open, and he clears his throat, “So do you have anything special planned for us?”

“Not yet, but there’s a couple fun things we can do.” You reply, and he wonders what you have in mind, but he’ll allow you to surprise him. Even if he doesn’t like surprises. You get to the car and open the trunk so he can put his luggage inside. It feels awkward for him to get into the passenger seat of your car, but he has no option but to since he doesn’t know his way to your apartment nor around the city. You get into the car and you ask, “What do you want for dinner tonight? I can cook or we can go out to eat.”

“Hmm… Are you a good cook?” Toji asks, and you hum in response. At least you like to think that you are. You turn on the car and get out of the parking lot, starting the trip to your apartment. “I want to taste your cooking.”

“You can’t blame me if you get food poisoning though.” You joke, making him chuckle. He thinks you’re joking. He prays it’s a joke. You don’t want the car ride to be silent, you can’t let thirty seconds of silence go by before you ask, “How are your games going?”

“You haven’t been watching?” He replies. You haven’t. You’re sure he knows that you aren’t a fan of the game, and as much as you’d adore to watch as the man that sits next to you hits some balls and does whatever the fuck the game consists of, you really don’t get to see much of him on the TV. He’s the only reason you’d tune in to watch a game.

“I’d rather do other things.” You don’t tell him what you’d rather do, he has an idea. Anything but watch the game. “Aren’t you going to answer the question?”

“The games are great. The team is doing great.” Toji keeps it vague, not wanting to bore you to death with something that you’re clearly not interested in. It makes you clear your throat and ask more about the topic, and he answers with more details. He’s clearly passionate about his job, so you’re entertained while you hear him talk.

You smile at him when you’re at a red light, and he smiles back at you. You won’t get to spend too much time together, but you know you’re going to have fun. Maybe not enough to get you to marry him, but enough to almost convince you to say yes. Almost.

Toji settles into your apartment, and he makes himself comfortable immediately. It’s nice that he’s comfortable enough with you to do so. Toji likes the apartment, although it’s way smaller than the one he lives in– This place doesn’t compete with his home but it’s cozy. And at least you’re here.

“I’ll go take a shower, then we can talk about dinner.” Toji says, and you watch as he opens his suitcase to pull out some underwear. He walks away and opens some doors to figure out where the bathroom is, and when he figures it out, he locks himself inside. You close the suitcase and bring it to your room so it doesn’t take up the space in the living room. He isn’t staying for long, but the suitcase is filled to the brim, almost too heavy for you to carry.

You almost find yourself in disbelief that he’s staying here, you thought that he’d never contact you again when you didn’t jump into his arms and squeal yes when he proposed. You did leave him uncertain though, leaving him with a bit of hope. You’re sure you’ll reject him again if he asks again.

“I need to see what I’ll cook tonight.” You talk to yourself, grabbing your phone to look up recipes. You try to think of what Toji ate when you went out together, and maybe you’ll look up something similar to make for him– But you also want to know what other food he likes.

You decide to toss your phone to the side, you’ll be asking him what he wants for dinner when he gets out of the shower. You focus on your bed, smoothing out the comforter. Your usual unorganized room looks like one of a magazine since it’s where Toji will be sleeping for the time he stays at your apartment. You’re sure it won’t take long for the room to become disorganized again since Toji doesn’t seem like the type of person to be neat, even when he’s staying at someone else’s place.

You proceed to lay down on the bed, grabbing your phone. You become so engrossed in the small screen that you’re startled when Toji walks into the room. “So do you have an idea of what you want for dinner? I’m getting hungry.”

You look away from the phone and at him. Water droplets going down his half-naked body. From his chest to his abs all the way to his briefs. His stupid fucking briefs. You’ve never been more mad at a piece of clothing before.

“Did I forget to put out a towel in the bathroom? I’m sorry.” You apologize, trying to focus your eyes on his face rather than his body. But your eyes keep lingering on his well-toned torso– Damn him, he looks like a god. He notices, and he chuckles.

“My eyes are up here.” He tells you, and you mumble an apology. He smirks as he walks to his suitcase to grab clean clothes. “Not that I mind.”

“What do you want for dinner? I’m not sure what you like.” You ask, watching as he puts on another pair of sweatpants and another compression shirt– It’s fair to say that he’s not the man with the most creative fashion style but he still looks hot.

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, and you laugh. You guess you’ll stick with something simple: white rice, steak, and a salad. If anything else pops up, you’ll make it but that’s what you’ll be sticking with right now.

“Okay, but you can’t complain if you don’t like it.” You respond, standing up and walking out of the room and heading to the kitchen. You open the freezer to take the meat out to thaw, and then proceed to check what you have in the fridge. You call out his name, “Toji! Come here, you’re helping me!”

“I’m a bad cook.” He claims when he walks out of your bedroom. That’s not enough to convince you though.

“You can chop up some vegetables, you don’t have to be a great cook for that.” You respond and he exaggerates a sigh that almost makes you laugh. “You know what, you can do it later. Wait for the meat to thaw.”

“What protein are you cooking?” He asks, and you tell him. “I can help you with that.”

“Aren’t you a bad cook though? Wouldn’t want you to burn the steak.” You reply.

“I can do that. That’s as much as I can do.” He answers, and you decide to not answer. You’ll make him chop up the vegetables later. Now you’ll focus on putting the rice on the stove. You put a pot of water, salt and a bit of oil on the stove before you wash two cups of rice. Toji sits on your couch and grabs the remote to turn on the TV. “Do you have any baseball channels?”

“I think you can go through the channel guide to find something.” You answer. You almost ask him why he wants to watch baseball, if he isn’t tired of the game considering that’s his job. But it seems like he’s super passionate about it, so you won’t make a comment about it.

Once the rice is on low, you walk over to him and take a seat next to him. You watch the game that he has on and you try to act interested, but you find yourself yawning at the game. You rest your head on his shoulder while he focuses on the game, and he throws his arm over you. You act like you’re dating– It’s not something too crazy since he proposed on your third meeting.

“You still need to cut up the vegetables.” You tell him, and he hums in response. You look up at him, his eyes glued to the television. You sit in complete silence for a moment, trying to focus your attention on the boring game. His stomach growls, and for some reason that gives you the idea of what you’re going to be doing the next day. “Let’s have a picnic tomorrow.”

“A picnic?” He raises his brows, and you nod in response. He purses his lips together, thinking about it before he shrugs, focusing his attention back to the television. Why not? The weather is nice outside, you might as well. “Sounds good.”

“Were you thinking of something else?” You ask, standing up from the couch to go to the kitchen. Instead of leaving the salad to him, you begin to chop the vegetables since it’s more entertaining than what he has on TV.

You and Toji end up cuddling for the night, Toji too tired to really do anything apart from a light makeout session. He wakes you up early, claiming he’s made breakfast even though the previous night he claimed he was a bad cook– He wasn’t exactly wrong since you wake up to the smell of overcooked/almost burnt eggs. You appreciate the toast, almost burnt scrambled eggs, and the pieces of fruit that are cooked too big nonetheless.

It’s a sweet act, even though he leaves the kitchen a mess and you have to clean it up. Toji makes a couple of phone calls while you clean up, and he’s still on the phone when you’re finished. You assume he’s calling his son and whoever else, so you leave him alone to get ready for your date. You excitedly get ready, thinking about the cute date that you’ll have. You’ll stop by the convenience store and buy some snacks before stopping at the park. The weather is perfect for this sort of date.

“You look beautiful.” Toji comments when you’re ready. You wear a strapless floral sundress and wear some light makeup that matches your outfit. You smile at him, going to your closet to grab the wedges that you’ll be putting on. You try not to focus on Toji as he undresses in front of you to get into the shower. It tempts you to ruin your makeup and get undressed to join him; you keep telling yourself that you can do that later.

When you’re both ready, you leave with a tote bag that has a blanket, some snacks, and some necessary utensils. Toji follows you blindly, unsure where the park you’re going is headed. It’s clearly nearby since you opted out from driving. You stop at the convenience store to get some snacks that you’re sure he likes, and then you head to the park.

You put down the blue blanket on the grass, and you both take off your shoes before taking a seat on the cover. You begin to eat the snacks that you have, and you ask, “Who were you talking to?”

“Megumi.” He answers, making you tilt your head to the side and raise your brows. “My son.”

“Oh…” You reply, and for some reason you sound disappointed. Until a chuckle leaves your lips. His brows furrow, confused at the response, and you bite down your lip before you answer, “You asked me to marry you and I don’t even know your son’s name… It’s just funny to me.”

“Yeah… The proposal was just a spur of the moment thing.” He responds, and you feel your face get warm of embarrassment. You replied that you would think about it only to hear that it was a spur of the moment thing… You try to remind yourself that you were going to reject the proposal. He watches your reaction closely before he says, “The feelings still stand though, and if you want to get married right now, I’m willing to do it. Even though we have to learn a lot about each other.”

“Let’s get to know each other first before we even think about marriage.” You respond. You’ve been talking with each other on the phone whenever you’re available, and slowly getting to know each other from a distance. Not enough to actually get married though, since this is the first time you hear his son’s name. “If we make it to marriage.”

“Do you see yourself getting married?” He asks a question he probably should’ve asked before proposing. You nod your head in response.

“I always have. I’m just not in a rush.” You answer. Toji munches on some chips, and he extends his hand, offering you some. You take a handful. “You shouldn’t be in a rush either.”

“You’re right. If I rush it, it’ll end up as a third divorce.” He makes you laugh with his response, even though it wasn’t a joke. It’s odd to think that he’s gotten married twice before. Maybe you’ve talked to a divorced man once or twice, but not one that had gotten divorced twice, and certainly not one that’s semi-famous. His eyes fall on a father and son that play catch, and it brings him a weak smile. It probably reminds him of him and his own son. He comments, “The dad has a weak throw, that poor kid is not going to learn how to throw that ball properly.”

“Go help them out.” You’re joking but Toji takes it seriously. He stands up, and you open and close your mouth as you’re about to tell him that you weren’t being serious but he’s already approaching the duo. The little kid looks excited, a grin on his face as he notices Toji, and you can safely assume he’s a fan of the player.

It’s sweet to watch Toji grab the ball from the dad, and throw it back to the father a couple of times before Toji teaches the tricks he can to the boy. You wonder if he’s like that with his son. You know Toji doesn’t see his son all that often, and Toji calls him a deadbeat, but you want to believe he’s a great dad when he’s with his son. You wonder how their dynamic is and how often Toji sees him.

You watch as the kid runs to search for a marker, and you find yourself laughing. The father begins to talk to Toji, and Toji entertains the conversation. Toji signs the ball when the kid comes back with a marker, and the father ends up taking a photo of the two. Toji walks back and sits on the blanket, and you comment, “That was so sweet.”

“What can I say? I’m a sweet man.” He responds, and you both chuckle because you know it’s not true. You reach into the bag to hand him some more food, and as he takes it from your hands. You clear your throat, making his attention go to you, “What’s up?”

“What are your thoughts on having more kids?” You ask simply because you’re curious. Does he want more? Or does he not want to go through that journey once again.

“Hmm… Kids aren’t a dealbreaker for me. Either I have one more, or I don’t. But I do hope you know that if you want kids, I’m not going to be very present. My job keeps me busy.” Toji answers. You have some questions about it; whether that's the reason he and the mother of his son separated due to his absence. But you won’t dwell on it, it’s not the right time to ask. “Why do you ask? Do you want kids and it’s a dealbreaker?”

“Oh, I’m just wondering. You were just so lovely with that kid that I wondered if you wanted more or not.” You reply. You try to change the topic to something more playful since you feel like such serious matters kill the mood. “Have you gotten used to the phone? It looks like too much for you to handle.”

“What are you trying to say? That I’m too old for that kind of technology?” His brows are furrowed, and you laugh. You hum in response.

“You’re an old fart.” You affirm. “Well, more because you had a flip phone… Speaking of, did you change your phone because of me? Or am I giving myself too much credit?”

“No you’re right. I was insulted after you insulted my phone so I decided to get a new one. Apparently this is the latest model, that’s what I was told anyway.” Toji says, and he hands you the phone. “You can check any features that your phone doesn’t have. The password is 1222.”

“What are you trying to say? I’m too broke to get a phone like this?” You ask as you put in the easy passcode. It’s like he has nothing to hide which is nice.

“I am.” And it makes you roll your eyes. It really doesn’t have anything that’s much different from your phone other than the better camera. You toss the phone back to him, and while he is a great catcher, his life nearly flashes before his eyes. “Careful with the phone.”

“Sorry.” You don’t sound sorry though, but he’ll make you sorry later.

You continue talking until your eyes grow heavy, and you both lay down for a moment. It’s supposed to be for a few minutes, but he brings you into his embrace, and the few minutes turn into a few hours.

You wake up to soft snoring, the weather outside much colder than earlier– The sun is no longer out, and you panic immediately. You sit up and check to see if everything is still there, and after verifying that you haven’t been robbed, you poke Toji. You poke him until he finally opens his eyes.

“What?” He groggily wakes up, and the first thing he sees are the stars in the night sky. He sits up and asks, “We fell asleep for a little too long.”

“We did.” You respond, and you’re about to stand up, but he grabs your arm and pulls you back down onto the blanket.

“We’re already here. Might as well stargaze.” He tells you. You lay your head back down on his chest, and look up at the sky since you have no option but to. He’s holding you down.

“Aren’t you hungry?” You ask him. The sky is clear tonight, and you can luckily view many stars in the sky. You would admire it if you weren’t a little confused after waking up outside. Luckily Toji forces you to admire it.

“We can go get something quick in an hour or so. We’re okay.” He assures you. Your ear is pressed against his chest, and you listen to his heartbeat which soothes you. You slowly calm down and admire the night sky. “I’m leaving tomorrow night.”

“Don’t remind me.” He’s no longer forcing you down so you sit up. You love spending time with him, you wish your time with him wasn’t so short lived. You wish at the very least you could meet up for coffee twice a week, and go on a fancy date on a random Saturday. You pout your lips, and he sits up as well.

“I’ll come to visit again.” He cups your face and presses his lips on yours momentarily. Your hands go over his, forcing him to keep his warm palms on your cold face. His lips fall on yours again, but this kiss is more passionate. His tongue enters your mouth and presses against yours. You let go of his hands and they move down from your face to your waist.

You get on top of him, knee on either side of him as the kiss deepens. He’s feeding your hunger, and you have no idea why you’re so touch deprived. Maybe it’s because he was teasing you the previous night and the entire week you were working yourself up at the mere thought of him. This man does the unbelievable to you.

“Toji…” You feel a soft breeze spread goosebumps on your skin, and it reminds you of where you’re at. You’re not fucking in a park– He shouldn’t even think about that, he’s somewhat famous. People know him. People would know you if anyone recognizes him and takes pictures. He pecks your lips a handful of times when you pull away, and you have to say, “Not here.”

“Huh? Why not?” He asks as you get off him. You stand up, and lend your hand so he can get up more easily. It hits him a little late, when the blood rushes from his dick back to his brain. You can’t risk getting caught. The rush is fun, but a few minutes of pleasure isn’t worth the risk of the consequences. Plus, you have a bed back home where you can do whatever you want. “Bad idea. You’re right.”

“Acting like a horny teenager for me, don’t forget I have an apartment and live alone.” You point out, making you both laugh. He laughs more in embarrassment than anything. You begin to pack everything in the tote bag. When your shoes are back on, you begin the walk to the convenience store again, ready to get something quick for dinner.

“You know, I can fly you out. You can watch my next game and then we can spend a whole week together.” Toji offers, and a smile comes to your lips at the idea. You can ask for a week off since you have a lot of vacation days leftover. Your arm intertwines with his, and you lean on him as you walk to the store.

“I like that idea. It sounds like a lot of fun.” You respond. You think to yourself how if he were to propose right now, you’d gladly accept. But luckily, Toji isn’t as stupid as he was that night. You find yourself weak for him when you hear a low laugh from him and he kisses the top of your head, assuring you,

“It’s a date then.”

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mari-lair · 1 year

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Nene and Aoi’s friendship doesn’t change and it is a problem.

Aoi is the first friend Nene makes at the academy, so they have known each other for a while.

Nene is sweet to Aoi, she consistently worries for Aoi well being when she is in danger, and shows great care for her, always going for Aoi when sharing her romantic woes.

The manga shows mostly Nene venting about love, while Aoi engage but never bring up her own problems. Aoi is guarded and rarely vulnerable with Nene, something that over the years, we are told Nene have noticed.

But when Nene says “Sometimes I think that she only gets close to me,” She is severely overestimating how much she understands Aoi, most of her interactions with Aoi are with a friendly persona.

When I say ‘friendly persona’, I do not mean Aoi is faking liking her, her friendship with Nene is genuine, Aoi only have two people she is deeply attached to at the start of the manga, and Nene is one of them. I just mean Aoi always shows off her cute and cheerful side, even when she isn’t feeling like the ‘cheerful girl’ she displays, her approach is always the same.

Her words here are condescending as hell but she still acts cutesy and friendly: It comes off as superficial. And a lot of what she says is pretty fake, just things that people expect a popular girl to say, things we know she doesn’t believe in or relate to:

“It’s all about experience!” “why don’t you date him just to try it out?” as if she ever dated someone, or viewed love and relationships as something to try out and move along, instead of a concept she is scared of.

But no matter how different from her personal beliefs Aoi’s words are, no matter how long Nene have known her, she always falls for the ‘popular girl’ approach.

Nene is confident Aoi is the girl everyone loves: She always pictures Aoi with a cute smile, oblivious in her throne, able to get any guy she wants.

And yet, even with that mental image, Nene doesn’t know what being popular really means.

When Aoi visits the stage, Nene is confused as to why she would ever go here.

Akane is the one who gives Nene an exposition on Aoi, dropping hints that her life is not a sea of roses.

When Nene hears this, she ignores that her friend was put in situations where she was pressured to do things she doesn’t want to, often in isolated places, to the point she constantly need to be protected, or how Akane looks troubled that this is a recurring problem. Instead, she focused on Akane’s devotion.

Nene’s fantasies of popularity are sugar coated, so she subconsciously undermines Aoi’s troubles and focuses on Akane’s behavior, which fits her personal reality that being popular is amazing and “Boys will do anything for Aoi, she is so desirable!”

Attention is attention, and since Aoi gets lots of attention, Nene puts Aoi on a pedestal: Give her a life devoid of issues.

Her view is in part Aoi’s fault. There is truth to what Akane said here:

Nene doesn’t ask about Aoi’s life, or go in dept about her own, but Aoi is the one that consistently plays along, she is the one that keeps the focus on superficial topics and make an effort to only shows Nene her cheerful and cutesy side. It makes their interactions feel empty: there isn’t a single instance in the manga where they have a talk that isn’t about boys, or school rumors, which are always used to move the plot along, not expand on the basis of their established friendship.

There is a mutual lack of interest to change what they have: Nene because she is content with the way things are and see no need for change, and Aoi because she is Aoi.

With Nene’s view of Aoi in mind, the lack of depth in their interactions, and Aoi’s playing along with the cheerful popular persona, I am not surprised Nene didn’t notice there was something weird with Aoi on the Grim Reaper Sacrifice arc.

Of course Aoi is so chirpy and playful after being kidnapped by a demon, nothing can phase her! Of course she knows the exit, that’s a popular girl for you!

The cute and smart Aoi is the only Aoi she knows well, so unlike Akane, Nene fully trusted her words and reasonings, falling in the hole.

Somehow, something as big as this betrayal doesn’t change her view on Aoi.

The only Aoi focused thought we get outside a chapter recap is “Sumire looks like Aoi.”

Which clearly has the “cute girl everyone can’t help but love” in mind.

When she does think about Aoi in the severance/rescue arc is always about the lifespan dilemma, not Aoi’s strange behaviour or why she acted like that. There is no wonder as to how Aoi feels, or if she did something wrong herself to be ‘thrown in the trash’, there is no thoughts at all about this other side Aoi have shown. No reflection.

Her view hasn’t changed in the slightest, just look at the way she talks about Aoi with Katakuri in the red house.

And we know that’s not true.

It was never true.

Nene is still her friend, she may be oblivious to a lot but she has been by Aoi’s side for years, so she knows more about Aoi than an average person would. She noticed Aoi genuinely loves and is proud of her plants.

She also knows Aoi has a crush on Akane and the knowledge made her discard him from being a possible crush option despite once upon a time finding him cute and worthy of dating.

Nene values their friendship more than any crush: Notice how Akane doesn’t show up on ‘Nene’s type’ list at all instead of dropping to ‘not her type’, subconsciously deciding he is not an option. Aoi’s feelings are more important.

This genuine care make the way she refuses to change her views on Aoi very sad.

Nene is so sure they are close and she gets Aoi, that she doesn’t understand that the Aoi she knows, who treasures her and loves plants and can feel distant, is just a fraction of the real Aoi. A very small fraction considering how long they have been friends, yet it’s understandable: Nene consistently covers her eyes when Aoi acts out of her persona and shows slivers of personal problems.

She doesn’t want her ‘universally loved’ best friend Aoi, and the Aoi that threw her in the trash to be the same people. She want thinks to stay the same, simple and sweet. To Nene, the cruel one was a brainwashed fake. That’s it. There is nothing else to it, no reason to think about it.

Which is not true.

We never get hints that imply the drug made Aoi do something against her will. Even after she completely snap out of the drug effect, Aoi owns her actions. She regrets it, deeply, but she also connects with it: She knows herself.

It’s because Aoi wasn’t faking it that she was so scared to apologize to Nene in the first place. She is shaking and anxious because it was her, an ugly part of her she isn’t fond of, but still a part of her: Still Aoi.

Nene saw her more unpleasant side. That terrifies Aoi.

This fear that Nene will hate her once she realizes who she is have been around for a while.

One of the few times Aoi was vulnerable and honest with Nene was in chapter 29, when she assumed Nene avoided her on purpose, because she ‘suddenly’ decided to hate Aoi.

When Nene heard this she is distressed, she doesn’t like seeing her friend sad, but there is no “I wonder why Aoi would think that...?”, no matter how unusual this insecurity is from Aoi’s ‘oblivious in her throne’ image, Nene doesn’t question it. We aren’t shown a single panel of Nene thinking about it.

But we are shown her thinking about the way Aoi makes people’s hearts race, which happened only two pages later, but is something Nene can easily fit into her established view on Aoi.

To Nene’s credit, Aoi is trying to distract Nene from her moment of vulnerability here, but it’s sad that it works so well.

“Is this a popular girl skill?” Aoi's personal mannerisms, no matter how distinct are always connected to that of a “popular girl” in Nene’s head. Is not malicious, but it shows ‘popular girl’ and ‘my best friend Aoi’ are interconnected in her head.

“Is this how you win men over, Aoi?” She doesn’t even suspect that Aoi isn’t a fan of all this attention, that unlike her, Aoi doesn’t want to 'win over’ any of the boys, even after Akane explicitly told Nene this attention is a problem in chap 24.

Aoi is aware of Nene’s simple view of her. It’s hard not to.

That’s why she wasn’t honest in chapter 96.

We all noticed how scared she was of Nene’s reaction, she even flinched when she went to apologize

But Nene doesn’t ask for an explanation of why Aoi did it, she doesn’t address what happened, she doesn’t want to know about any of Aoi’s problems, truly just chalking Aoi’s actions as “Not Aoi” and being done with this to have her cute bubbly friend back;

So Aoi doesn’t address it either.

Aoi is super relieved that she isn’t outright hated.

She doesn’t go over her emotions about the events, you can feel Aoi’s walls coming back: She falls back to her friendly and cute persona.

She wasn’t putting hearts and flowers in her speech before her apology to Nene.

And Aoi may be naturally cute, a girl that enjoys cute clothes and using cute speech, but she never talks with hearts and flowers when she is vulnerable and honest about her feelings.

We can see how her speech ties with her vulnerability best when she talk cutely with Hanako on the far shore train to distract herself from her bleak situation, but the moment she shares her honest view on Akane her tone change, she drops it.

Aoi is genuinely happy that Nene still sees her as a friend, but when she say she is fine on chapter 96, she goes over the events without adding any personal thoughts, and change the topic the moment she finish giving exposition. Something Nene accepts and doesn’t question further.

Once more, she is giving Nene the perfect problem-less cute friend Nene wants, and their talk feels superficial.

Akane behavior changed drastically after Aoi’s rescue (no confessions, no compliments every second, more physical contact, and so on,) because he confronted her, forced Aoi to open up, and listened to what was the problem, what he had been doing wrong, and did his best to adapt accordingly: He took her off her pedestal while still showing her the attention and affection she craves.

Nene’s behavior is exactly the same because she likes what they have, and she refuses to change it: Aoi is the same cutesy popular queen as always so she is also the same Nene as always. Their major arc did not change their dynamic in the slightest.

She truly considers Aoi a dear friend, but an unchanging one.

She blinds herself to Aoi’s problems, so she can’t confront Aoi, and Aoi is too cowardly to have an honest talk with Nene that she is convinced could lead to Nene hating her.

They are in a stalemate where Aoi can’t be completely honest with Nene (with far more than Aoi losing feeling in her right hand) and I hope something changes.

#did light edits on 28 of june #tbhk #toilet bound hanako kun #nene yashiro #akane aoi #aoi akane #jibaku shounen hanako kun #jshk #aoi is a far more dificult girl than people give her credit #notice how only akane give trust worthy expossition on aoi #character analysis

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hooked-on-elvis · 4 months

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The Green Scrapbook 📗

Why is Elvis a legend? Simple answer: HARD, HARD WORK... on and off stage.

That's the most interesting thing I've learned about Elvis lately.

This fanzine was out… it is called "Elvis Answers Back!", printed by Sound Publishing Corp in 1956 (view photo 8 and video 1 further on). In its pages, Elvis answer questions about his career and personal life in that genuine way we love so much about his interviews. There's very interesting answers in those pages (I'll share more in this blog in a while) but this one got me in awe. What we're about to read Elvis did in the 50s, while he was in the peak of his success as a young artist, specifically in the year of 1956, it's a demonstration of his courage, down-to-earth spirit, and a passionate level of dedication to his craft that few artists, or normal people for that matter, have.

Some of the pictures printed in the Elvis Answers Back! magazine: August 18, 1956. Elvis at the Knickerbocker Hotel, Hollywood, CA. Photograph by Ed Braslaff.

The magazine article is in topics. This one is entitled "THE GREEN SCRAPBOOK", and here's what Elvis had to say about this "rumor":

"Yes, it’s true that I keep me a scrapbook of a lot of the stuff that’s printed about me. But you know something? I don’t save the articles or stories that tell nice things about me. My scrapbook only has stuff in it that isn’t very friendly. I’ll tell you why this is. "When I first started out, my momma wanted to save all the programs and pictures and things that everyone put in the papers and magazines. I wasn’t much interested in doing this, because I was so busy singing and working and learning that I just didn’t want to take the time to sit down every so often in the middle of something and start cutting out pictures and things. Momma bought her a big green scrapbook, though, and asked me to send her stuff whenever I got the chance. For the first year or so, I didn’t send her a thing, and the scrapbook was empty, except for a couple of clippings she got out of the Memphis papers.

Some of the pictures printed in the Elvis Answers Back! magazine: (1) June 30, 1956 in Richmond, VA. Elvis drinking water after having a bowl of chili, sitting at the Jefferson Hotel lunch counter; (2) Elvis at the RCA's Studio One in NY, for a recording session on July 2, 1956, when he recorded "Hound Dog" and "Don't Be Cruel." Both photographs by Alfred Wertheimer.

"Then one day I saw this article about me not being a very good singer. I cut that out and send it to momma and she wrote back and told me I didn’t want to fill my scrapbook with things like that. But I wrote back and told her, 'Momma, anyone can fill a scrapbook with good things. But what good does it do? I’d like to know the things people don’t particularly like and study them and try to make myself better if I can.' "So that’s how The Green Scrapbook got started. I’ve got a lot of pages filled, and a lot of them are still empty, but I’ll tell you this. Every time I go home to Memphis, I take down that scrapbook and study it. I know most of the things in it by heart, and I’m always going to do my best to improve whenever and wherever I can." — Elvis Presley, 1956 interview.

Cover of Elvis Answers Back! magazine, published on August 28, 1956 | Source: elvis100percent.com

SEE THE CONTENT IN THE PAGES OF THAT 1956 ELVIS MAGAZINE (this is an US limited edition reproduction of the 1956 original magazine):

youtube

Thanks "Collecting King Elvis Interviews and Memobilia" Youtube channel for sharing this gem.

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UPDATE

I just crossed an interview of Elvis for the Hy Gardner Show ("Hy Gardner Calling") on July 1, 1956 (right after Elvis' performance on the Steve Allen Show). Hy Gardner asked Elvis if he reads the reviews on his concerts and he answers it with "Not if I can help it". Then Gardner goes on in the same matter and asks him further, "Do you keep a scrapbook at all?" -- Elvis' answer to this: "Only of the good stuff." -- We can figure, although Elvis had the Green Scrapbook probably since 1954, considering he said 'When I first started out, my momma wanted to save all the programs and pictures (...)', it was around mid 1956 that Elvis consciously decided to face his detractors more often and make a good use of their critics to help him improving his act. Fascinating. It's fascinating for a young man as talented, handsome and successful as he was, to pause the rush of excitement going on within himself just so he could think things through. Elvis was enjoying a tremendous amount of success already, so it would be more convenient to just have fun and let it happen while it lasted. 1956 was THE year when everything he ever dreamed about was happening at once in his life and he couldn't be more excited and thrilling with the attention he was getting from all over, yet that young man had the maturity to understand he had to keep working hard so he truly could have something worth sharing with the world, something better to offer to the people who seemed be starving for more of him. Fascinating.

WATCH THE FULL HY GARDNER INTERVIEW WITH ELVIS (July 1, 1956):

youtube

#elvis presley #elvis history #elvis magazines #1956 #elvis fans #elvis fandom #elvis #50s elvis #elvis the king #Youtube

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6lostgirl6 · 2 years

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Hi again! I was wondering if i could request some yandere angst with dwayne? maybe like they’ve been bestfriends awhile and he knows he’s her mate and she’s got a new boyfriend or something i don’t know where else to go with it but i’d love to see your take ( could also just be like yandere headcannons of all the boys if their mate had a bf it’s up to you) Love your writing!!!!

-💜💚

She's Mine Pt. 1

Yandere!Dwayne x Fem!Reader

TW: Angst, Dark thoughts, Mentions of kidnapping and forced-turning

Throughout the entirety of Dwayne’s existence, he has always been perceived as being the most controlled in his emotions in comparison to his brothers. An undead creature that never allowed himself to slip away unless it was during feeding or defending their territory from other passing vampires. A being that seemed utterly composed, an immovable wall. It seemed as if there was almost nothing that could make Dwayne lose his composure.

Almost.

The disgust and utter loathing he was feeling within himself was agonizing, threatening to consume him the longer it inhabited his consciousness as he continued watching you mention a boyfriend you have recently begun seeing. The one you were spending time with during the days in which he wasn’t allowed to see you. Right now, his instinctive need to slaughter was itching his subconscious, begging for release and lay waste on those that deserved it and it certainly wasn’t you. You were his mate. His special person.

“I would really like you to meet him sometime!” You continued, oblivious to the intense heat of his gaze as you messed with the straw of your drink, leaning against the railing with him beside you. “He’s really sweet and charming, I’ve never met someone like that before.”

‘But you did, you met me.’ He thought to himself, eyes threatening to flash the more you spoke. He loved listening to you talk, more prone to enjoy sitting back and enjoying the sound of your voice as you talk about anything and everything. Now, he just wanted the topic of conversation to slip away and discuss something else.

“I told him about you, I think you should meet him, you know? Best friend approval and all.”

‘Like I would ever approve of you being with someone that isn’t me. You’re fucking wrong, you’re mine and I’m not about to share you.’

“Sure, that’s fine with me.” He replied instead, his demeanor appearing more passive than the ambiguous notions that plagued him inside his own mindset.

You smiled, moving from the topic of conversation towards something else, something you did earlier before meeting up with him at the boardwalk. Dwayne was more appreciative with that and outwardly reactive, replying to your questions and showing interest in conversing with you. However, his mind was still replaying your previous conversation…along with arrangements.

Firstly, he would need to finish off your love interest. That disgusting waste of a human life that thought he could claim what was not rightfully his. With your suggestion on meeting your boyfriend later tonight was practically your approval gift-wrapped for him to slaughter and maim this scum into an unrecognizable puddle of revolting blood. He didn’t mind though, he would do anything for you.

You didn’t know what he was, the dangerous predator that stalked the night. He wasn’t delusional, he was perfectly sane with understanding the fact that you could potentially fear him for what he was going to do and when he shows you who he truly is. That didn’t matter to him, the bond between you both was strong and would remain that way. He would never allow you to sever the bond. He would rather die than allow that to come to pass.

However, the chance that you would never accept him, even despite everything he could ever try to have you fall in love with him, he knows other ways of making it happen. Perhaps, taking you by force would be the best way. Even better, making you into a half-vampire. That way you would be fully dependent on him. Make you realize that you need him as much as he needs you. Which would allow you to feel the bond more significantly and assist in motivating and strengthening your feelings. Until he could be certain that you felt the same way, would he only allow you to become a full vampire like him. It certainly worked for David.

He didn’t register his name being called almost a dozen times before he finally brushed his thoughts away before looking towards you.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” He asked, giving you his full attention.

“Nothing! Just that he’s going to be on his way soon! We should head over to the beach and hang out!” You replied, a smile still on your face.

For once, Dwayne wished his eyes were like cameras, that way he could always remember that smile. The smile that he knows he won’t see for a while until you finally accept his feelings.

“The beach?” He pretended to give it a thought before nodding, “yeah, that’s fine. We should get going.”

“Okay!” You replied, following Dwayne to his bike and hopping on with him, wrapping your arms around his waist in the process. “You’ll love him.”

Dwayne almost wanted to laugh, the displeasure rolling off him in waves which you didn’t seem to notice. However, that displeasure turned into amusement as he realized the implication of meeting your boyfriend at the beach. It was a much better spot to tear him to pieces. It was like a sign how easy you were making this for him. If he didn’t know any better, he would have believed you already fell for him.

In time though.

The sound of the motorcycle drifting off into the night, laughing with your best friend would be the last thing you would remember in which you were your happiest. Not understanding the implications that your life would be changed figuratively and literally for the rest of your life.

#the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys #tlb 1987 #dwayne the lost boys #the lost boys dwayne #dwayne tlb #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys x female reader #dwayne x reader #dwayne x female reader #yandere dwayne #yandere lost boys x reader #yandere dwayne x reader #yandere dwayne x female reader #the lost boys fanfiction #the lost boys fanfic #the lost boys fandom

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truthfulpoint · 3 months

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Mom's Sexual Therapy

It was late May, and the heat kept rolling over us in waves and scorched the grass outside. Despite being thirty-eight, I enjoyed wearing tops and miniskirts, but as a psychologist and mainly having men as clients that would be impossible. I even felt like my black stockings and a knee-length skirt still brought a bit too much attention as I desperately tried to focus on their lives in order to help them.

And even though I tried to cover up as much as possible, I couldn’t hide my wide hips or big breasts straining against my clothing. I couldn’t remember the last time one of my clients’ eyes did not “accidentally” trail to my chest. It didn’t bother me, but it wouldn’t help them to get well.

I popped the buttons free on my cardigan and pulled it off me. I then saw the display on my phone flashing and noticed a text from Aisha: my colleague and best friend. On the rooftop!

I was dying to get out of this room. I went upstairs and reached our special place. She sat already under the patio umbrella with two cups of tea and some pastries on a round table.

I fanned my face and slumped down on the lounge chair. “It feels like I’m melting.”

Her loose ginger hair hung freely about her, and she pushed it behind her ears and pushed her sunglasses up on top of her head. “No wonder with the types of clothes you’re wearing.”

I pulled the white top over my head, and once it cleared my head, my breasts bounced free and almost knocked the cup of tea off the table. “Careful there with your well-endowed rack,” Aisha giggled, moving my cup of tea aside.

“My savior,” I said and kicked her with my feet. “I’m glad to see that you’re also appropriately dressed.”

“I’ll never leave a friend hanging.” She sat there in a pink bikini, and her face was peppered with cute freckles. I was glad she hadn’t gotten too tanned since her milk-white skin was the perfect match for her hair.

I took a sip of my tea, broke off a cookie and nibbled on it silently. I didn’t know if I wanted to bring up the topic that had bothered me for the entire month, or even a year. Aisha already knew parts of the story, but I hadn’t told her that he’d even slipped further down the slippery slope.

She searched my face, and as a friend, she knew me better than I thought. “Is it Ron?”

I met her blue, caring eyes. Despite being a bit naughtier than me adult-wise, she was equally as caring as a psychologist. Her petite frame was less intimidating, like a cute little ginger cake impossible to resist. “Yeah,” I said with a deep sigh as I washed the cookie down with a bit of tea.. “He isn’t doing well at all.”

“What’s the matter with him? I remember when his father used to be alive. Your son was so charming and social. He even dismissed me once because he needed to catch up with some friends.”

“Something has possessed him. I don’t think it was because of his father’s death since he was healthy for a long time after that.”

“Does he date?” Aisha asked with hints of interest. I knew she had a thing for younger men, and it wasn’t difficult with her rare looks to bring them to her bosom. She’d even rejected an old stinky millionaire to get a nineteen-year-old college stud … The same age as Ron.

“I wished,” I said. “He spends most of his time bunkered up in his bedroom. There’s very little to no social interactions.”

“I’ve read something very similar in the new psychologist magazine. Teens all over the world are becoming more and more isolated. Even in Japan, they don’t have an interest in girls anymore, just screens … and porn.”

My lips tugged into a smile when she mentioned it. “We also watch porn now and then.”

“Well … those teens in Japan masturbate up to eight times a day. Now you can’t compare that with our dirty nights now and then.”

“Do you think such an addiction can ruin him to the point he drops out of college and can’t even find a job anywhere?”

Aisha gasped. “He dropped out of college?”

“Last week,” I said, on the verge of crying.

“I thought his grades were good,” she said and looked completely bewildered. “What is he up to now then, I mean, his future plans?”

“He doesn’t have any and refuses to talk to me.” It devastated me and made my heart sink.

Aisha was quickly there and laid her hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do to help? It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him but I should be able to have a chat with him.”

“Well, it’s because he likes you,” I said, making dimples blossom on both her pinkening cheeks. “I so badly want to get to the bottom of it, but I just can’t. I mean, if I could try to get him an appointment with you, would you mind?”

“If I would mind?” she said. “Are you crazy? Of course, I will help him.”

“If I do manage to talk him into this, can you just promise one thing?”

“What’s that?” she asked, already excited about this as her nipples began stiffening against her bikini.

“Just please wear some appropriate clothes during the meeting.”

Her lips flattened to a line and she answered with an eye roll, “As you wish.”

We finished our cookies and tea and then put on our clothes again, heading back to work.

**Ron**

I wiped another load from my stomach, crumpled up the messy tissue paper and tossed it right into the bin, on top of the heap of other tissue papers. I let out a sigh as I glanced out the window. It was bright, almost to the point it dazzled me, but I felt no joy, and to be honest, I missed the darker and colder seasons because I would have an excuse to remain inside.

My eyes flicked back to my laptop and scanned the title of the video: Mom teaches her son. The semen was already dripping from her blonde face as he squeezed out the last drops of cum on top of her snubbed nose. It was one of my biggest, forbidden dreams—To have my own mother take care of me like that. I’d tried to suppress those dreams for so long, but resistance was futile. It was only a couple of months ago, I’d actually masturbated while fantasizing about her for the first time, and I’d never felt so good in my life. The forbidden high was addictive, but it wasn’t just the incest part that made it so thrilling, but my mom was gorgeous: a solid eleven on a ten scale, and she kept aging like fine wine.

But they were just forbidden dreams at the moment and unlikely to come true, especially after the blow to her heart last week when I told her I had dropped out. I could tell it broke her heart, but I had no choice. College was tormenting me to the point I considered killing myself.

My father died ten years ago when I was nine, and my mom had raised me as a single mom ever since. Even though it had been tough for her, she’d been committed to raising me well, and I knew she wanted to do anything to see me succeed. She was a young, dedicated mom after all, and ever since puberty, I’d looked at her a bit differently. I tried my hardest not to let my imagination run wild, but it was near impossible since she oozed sex appeal. Her busty boobs jiggled for every step she took. Her narrow waist and flaring hips looked perfect as if sculpted, and on top of that, she had the most gorgeous hair, cascading all over her in loose curls. But looks weren’t everything with that woman. She was the most caring person in the world and no doubt about that as she dedicated her full time to restoring and healing people’s mental health.

I had lost all focus on college as my friends and I grew apart. They started finding girlfriends and going to parties, slowly leaving me out in the cold. I’d gotten a few invitations at the beginning of my college year, but for some reason, I just ignored those parties, something I regretted now. It was hard to explain, but I just always felt different, as if I wasn’t good enough or lacked something. My mom had insisted that I had been social and charming before, but I believed she was just imagining things.

As time moved on and I became more isolated, I sought comfort in porn. The porn addiction became so bad I needed stronger stuff and led to more taboo flicks which was a double-edged sword. It felt thrilling but it also made me question if something was wrong with me. It was already evening and this was my sixth time. I was on course to jerk my skin off, but I knew it wouldn’t stop me from masturbating later.

My mom drove up the driveway, and I quickly closed the porn tabs and went to the bathroom to clean myself.

Opening the door, she called from downstairs, “Ron?”

“I’m here,” I shouted back at her.

“I have dinner for you. Let’s eat outside.”

“I’m coming,” I shouted back. After washing myself, I descended the stairs with something obvious weighing me down. I was depleted, drained and lacked the energy to accomplish anything.

I already picked up the scent as I headed out the veranda and knew she’d bought my favorite burgers—another one of her kind acts. A lovely deed that not any other parents would do to their sons after telling them that they’d dropped out.

She patted the cushion next to her, and her wide hips were almost big enough for two. “How are you?” she asked. She wore her golden blonde hair up in a ponytail, exposing her cute face. She was dressed in a body-hugging skirt and a top, which made her cleavage clearly visible. Just seeing her there in front of me made my cock bob, even if I tried to suppress my embarrassing dreams.

“I’m alright.”

“Have you sent out some resumes yet?” she asked.

I’d promised her to find a job when I dropped the bomb on her and said I was dropping out, but it was just something I’d said to relieve the pain I knew I inflicted upon her. I had no idea if there were any jobs out there for a guy like me. “I’m looking.”

“It’s alright, take your time,” she said and smiled briefly. “Let’s eat for now.”

We ate together and also talked about various topics. I had a feeling that she held onto a secret of some sort and prepared to reveal it. It made me eat slower, but the burger was so tasty it was near impossible to resist. Sure enough, when I stuffed the last bit of the bun in my mouth, she drew in a deep breath. “I just need to talk to you for a little,” she said. I could only look at those rare blue gems for less than a second before I had to lower my gaze. They were too valuable for me. She lowered her hand on my thigh, making me stiff as her soft fingers kept drawing circles on my skin. “Is it okay for you?”

“Sure,” I said.

“I know we have tried this before,” she said, not with a sigh but like she wanted the best for me. “I know something is bothering you and it’s weighing you down, and as a mother, I want the best for you.”

I couldn’t suppress the blush creeping up on my cheeks. “Sure,” I said and felt the urge to leave. If it hadn’t been for the fact her soft fingers were drawing intimate circles on my thigh, I would have gotten the hell out of there.

“If you don’t want me to help you with this. Then please, can you at least let my friend Aisha try?”

Aisha … that petite redhead kept running through my mind. She was another piece of delicious eye candy: a fiery ginger peppered with freckles. It was more than half a year ago I spoke to her last, right when I was about to slip down the porn slope but still somewhat functioned socially. “I don’t know,” I said and didn’t know how I was supposed to reveal my porn habit to her best friend. “It’s kind of embarrassing.”

“So it is something that bothers you?” she asked and looked relieved since I hadn’t even told her that before.

“Yes, it is,” I said and lowered my head in shame.

“Can’t you at least let her try?” she asked. “For my and your own sake. I can’t just watch your life pass by like this. Especially now during your heyday. You should be out having fun and not be buried in your bedroom.”

“Yeah … maybe you are right.” It didn’t feel so uncomfortable to talk to Aisha about this. The only thing that worried me was that I knew those two women were close as sisters.

“Can I take that as a yes?”

I looked at her and saw the optimism and hope in her eyes, making her look ten times younger. I didn’t want to see that glow disappear from her since I loved her too. “Okay, I’ll talk to her, but I’ll feel a little bit more comfortable when it will be a time you aren’t there.”

“I will be out on a lunch break when you’ll be there, don’t worry, hon.” She opened up her arms and embraced me, her breasts mashing against my chest, and I felt her forbidden breath against my neck, making me shiver with guilty pleasure.

The following day, I was on my way there, I entered my mom’s private psychology clinic. I rang the doorbell, and I heard the high heels clacking on the floor. Aisha opened, dressed in a mini skirt and black stockings. But it was her skin-tight V-knit cardigan that made my jaw drop, showing off her flat tummy and jiggling breasts. I had to close my jaw as I noticed her extended hand in front of me. I shook her hand, and she gave it the softest squeeze I’d felt in a long time. “I’m sorry,” I apologized when she noticed that I’d gawked at her.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I’ve been a teen too. Anyway, nice to see you again.”

“You too,” I said and hoped I didn’t sound too awkward.

“Come, let’s get some privacy.” She escorted me to her room, her hips swaying side to side on her way. It was sparkling clean, and even the corners of the hall were dust free and reflected the light from the ceiling. She welcomed me into a room with a comfortable chaise lounge. “Relax and make yourself feel at home.”

I sank onto the chaise lounge and tried to keep my eyes on the ceiling, but gravity pulled them down to her breasts that sat firm and high on her chest. I had no idea if psychologists were usually this under-clothed, but I honestly didn’t mind. “So, I’m assuming something is bothering you,” she began gently, “otherwise you wouldn’t have come here, am I correct?”

I nodded and swallowed hard. “Yes,” I said and prepared myself to open up about my misery.

“Keep in mind, to take your time and be comfortable. It’s just you and me in this room, and we got nothing but time.”

I nodded and mulled over what and how I would tell her. “It’s everything. A year ago, my friends started slowly to drift away from me, to the point I was abandoned. Going to college started feeling painful, so I then dropped out. The worst thing about this is that I’m certain I’ve hurt my mother, and she is the last woman in this world that deserves any pain.”

“Let’s go back to a year ago,” she said and wanted to get to the bottom of this. “Why did they start to drift away from you?”

“They were going to parties, and I sort of withdrew.”

“Withdrew where?”

“To my bedroom mostly.”

“Was there a source of comfort you were seeking there?”

I sighed, and she was better than I imagined. “Yes, it’s an addiction that started three years ago but spiraled out of control last year and especially since winter.”

She buttoned two buttons free on her cardigan, exposing her cleavage. “I just want you to know that I’m an expert when it comes to addictions and have helped many before you. But you have to let me know what I’m dealing with.”

I blushed and then dragged my eyes from her delicious body and up to the ceiling. It was this part which was so difficult for me to admit, and revealing it made me lower my head in shame, “I’m severely addicted to porn.”

She nodded slowly as if it wasn’t a surprise for her. “Do you know what,” she said and leaned closer, so her breasts hung down. “There are a lot of porn addicts out there, but they don’t even know they are addicted to it. You have taken a great first step and I’m sure you will break free from this addiction by coming clean about it.”

It gave me some hope. “Do you think so?”

She leaned back. “I’m more than certain.”

It felt as if she lifted the weight off my shoulders. “But it’s just so embarrassing. If it was drugs, I wouldn’t have an issue telling my mom. I just don’t want her to believe I’m lazy or don’t like her. You’ve no idea how many times she’s tried talking to me.”

“Oh, I know your mom well enough,” Aisha said with a cryptic wink, revealing she knew her perhaps a bit better than I thought. “She’s a sweetheart. I can’t imagine living without her.”

“Do you think she understands?”

“Of course, she is a very understanding person. I’m certain she would never believe that you don’t want to speak with her, but of course, when she doesn’t know it becomes difficult for her to help you.”

I sighed. “But it’s more to my addiction than just porn though.”

“I’m listening,” she said and leaned back.

“Well … Lately I’ve been watching some taboo stuff,” I said and didn’t know whether I was revealing too much. “I just need something stronger and thrilling.”

“Okay,” she said professionally. “Go on when you feel comfortable.”

“It’s incest porn,” I said, coming clean about it, lowering my head in shame. “I’ve fantasized about my mom too.”

“Hey, lift your head up,” she said and placed her finger under my chin and gave it a lift. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed over.”

“To fantasize about having sex with my own mom?”

She shook her head. “It’s not … She’s very attractive after all, so I can’t judge you for it. And besides, we all have our fetishes.”

“But how am I supposed to come clean about my porn addiction to her?” I didn’t know if I’d told her too much and prayed psychologists kept the conversations with their clients to themselves. “That’s why I find it so hard to talk to her about it. She’s a part of my deepest, forbidden fantasy.”

“I see where you’re coming from and you’ve all the right reasons to act the way you’ve done the past months. It’s not an easy situation, but I just want you to know there are ways to break free from this addiction, and I have a feeling she will be a part of that equation.”

I blinked. “What do you mean by that?”

“She will be there to give you a helping hand in your journey to sobriety.”

**Mom**

I have to speak with you now, Aisha texted me right after her appointment with Ron. I had done as my son wished and had grabbed some lunch downtown. I was now trying to hurry back with my belly full. Her text intrigued me, and I prayed that she’d gotten to the bottom of his misery.

She was already on the rooftop, and right when she saw me, she waved at me like mad. “Yeah, I’m coming,” I said with a chuckle. I entered the building, ran up the stairs and opened the door leading to the roof. She had prepared a lounge chair for me, and I sat down and then noticed her eyes were round like saucers, and she kept shifting in her seat.

“Gosh, what’s happened to you?” I asked.

She pushed her ginger hair behind her ears and leaned toward me. “It was exactly what I suspected,” she said and lowered her voice to a whisper. “He admitted he has a porn addiction.”

“Why are you speaking like that?” I giggled and looked around. “No one is up here.”

She rolled her eyes. “Did you listen to me?”

“I did. He must have done well to hide it if that’s the case.”

“Well, there was another reason why he never wanted to share his habit with you.”

“And why’s that?” I asked.

“You are a part of his addiction,” she said and grabbed my hand.

I stabbed myself with my thumb. “Me? What do you mean?”

“He opened up that he’d started watching more and more taboo stuff,” she said and tried the hardest to suppress her impending grin.

“What taboo stuff?”

“Incest,” she dropped the bomb, her eyes widening with excitement. “Mom and son.”

I froze for a moment and then mulled it over. I’d caught him peeking here and there, but I’d never put the puzzle pieces together, or it was just me who refused to believe it. Although ever since his father died and my son had hit puberty, I couldn’t help but throw sideways glances at him too. “Are you sure?”

“It’s true,” she said.

“You sure it isn’t just the horny side of you I’m speaking with now?” I tried again.

She gave me a look. “Why do you refuse to believe it?”

I drummed my fingers on the table and thought for a moment. “I’m grateful you got that out of him, but we should look for ways to help him now.”

“Why are you trying to dodge this?”

“It’s just a bit overwhelming,” I explained. “First, you tell me that he admitted he’s severely addicted to porn, which I’m happy he admitted in the first place, but then you take this twist and say that I’m a part of his addiction.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she said and took my arm again. “Let me explain. I’m saying you should give him a helping hand to recover.”

“I don’t like the way you emphasized hand in this context,” I said and gave her a look.

“I’m sure he will,” she said and waggled her eyebrows.

I gave her a light kick with my feet. “Let’s be serious here.”

“I am. I’m certain you can easily fix his addiction, quicker than what you believe.”

“How exactly? If he’s been addicted for years, he won’t just throw the laptop in the bin.”

“You have to reward him for every day he manages to go without porn and set up certain milestones like getting a job. It will be like a quest for him and he has no reason to fall back. And besides, I know you look at him too.”

“Aisha … he’s my son. Of course, I look at him.”

“I know you’ve been looking at him in a different way too since his father died,” she said and looked at me firmly.

I sighed and didn’t know whether I should fight this any longer. “What if someone finds out? I mean I can get in trouble for this.”

“How would anyone find out?” she asked and gave me a caring smile. “I’ve been your best friend for years, and you know Ron is certainly going to be quiet about this.”

It dawned on me that she perhaps was right. “It’s just that …”

“What is it, hon?” she asked. “I’m your psychologist now, so let it out.”

I chuckled and there was a reason why I loved that woman. “Okay, I will admit I do find him attractive, but I don’t want to be selfish.”

“You don’t have to,” she said. “Do this solely for him and also, view this as an opportunity to even get closer.”

**Ron**

I heard her park her car up the driveway and it made my heart beat quicker. “Ron?” she called for me by the stairs.

“I’m outside,” I shouted back at her. She hurried outside, her hair spilling over her shoulders and her tight pencil dress that hugged her curves. She was so attractive that I couldn’t help but gawk at her beauty.

“So you’re sitting here today,” she said with a smile.

Somehow it had gladdened her that I didn’t bury myself up in my room for an entire sunny day. “I just needed some fresh air.”

She sat down next to me, and I met her loving eyes for a brief moment and then looked away. “How did the appointment go?”

“Better than expected,” I admitted and searched her face in case she knew about it. “Uhm, did she tell you anything?”

“She did,” she said and couldn’t lie to me. “And I need to talk to you about something, but don’t worry.” She pressed her sweet lips right onto my right cheek. “You will get better and you will get through this.”

Right where her lips had touched, a blush spread like fire. I couldn’t remember the last time she kissed me like that. “You have nothing to be embarrassed over. Do you want to talk now or after dinner?”

The talk … It was that part that made me consider running up to my bedroom. “I … talk about what exactly?”

“Your addiction.”

I swallowed. “It’s difficult to talk about.”

“I’m also a psychologist, don’t forget that,” she reminded me.

“You are also my mom,” I reminded her.

“Yeah, and why can’t I be both for you?”

“I don’t know.”

She took both my hands and gave them a motherly squeeze. “I’ve had many clients struggling with severe addictions. It’s not like I don’t know what’s bothering you. And it will hurt me to know that I could’ve done more for you while I still had the chance.”

She was right, and I couldn’t stand another blow to her well-being, especially after what I did to her a week ago. “I’m open to this conversation,” I mumbled.

“Thank you,” she said and pressed her hand over her heart, squeezing them between her cleavage. “So, be honest with me … How many times a day do you watch porn?”

“Six times is a usual day for me, but it can be more,” I told her and lowered my head.

“And how many times have you masturbated today?” I sighed and struggled to answer her. She patted my shoulder, reminding me she was still here for me. “Don’t worry, take your time.”

“Three times.”

“If you won’t masturbate till you go to bed, I will give you a reward.”

I stiffened. The way she said reward … It didn’t sound like it was a cookie from the jar but more like honey from the honeypot. “What kind of reward?” I asked carefully.

She raked her fingers through my hair and then said in a low voice in case our neighbors were listening, “A handjob.”

My heart was about to jump out of my chest, as hot confused blood flushed in my cheeks and behind my eyes. “Did she tell you about the taboo stuff?”

She nodded slowly but surely. “She did.”

“Mom, I don’t know about this.”

She held onto my hands firmly, refusing to let go. “Ron, if this is what it will take to break the habit, then please, let me.”

“Both of us can get arrested.”

“I know but we will keep this a secret.”

I looked away for a brief moment as I was lost for words. “Watching something is one thing but doing it is another.”

“What does your heart tell you?”

“I find you attractive,” I said and lowered my head in shame. “You’re gorgeous, Mom.”

“Look me in the eyes, son,” she said and lifted my chin. “I’m a young mom and have had you since I was a teenager. I’ve overcome challenges too. I know it will be a new chapter in our lives, but things will remain the same between us. I promise it will.”

I just loved the way she held my hand, and it was a touch to die for. I started delving into my taboo fantasies where her soft hands stroked my length till I spurted my cum all over her fingers. Even if I tried to make it sound like I was embarrassed; I couldn’t resist the taboo temptation. I craved her flesh and had done so for a long time. “How far are you willing to go?” I asked. “I mean. I will admit it will be difficult today but I will try my hardest to not masturbate till I go to bed, but after tomorrow, then what?”

“I’m willing to go as far as it will take to see you back on your feet again.”

I nodded for myself and understood she was more than committed to this. “Okay.”

“Can you look me in the eyes?” I did as she wished and was dazzled by her pretty gems. “There. You look so much better already.”

“Thank you.”

“I will prepare some dinner for us, okay?”

“Okay, I’ll just go out for a walk in the meanwhile.”

The sky finally darkened, and I sat at my desk with a wooden ladle clenched between my teeth. I heard the stairs creak as my mom made her way upward. It was time. “Ron, are you there?” she asked and opened the bedroom door. Halting at the threshold, she gasped. “Is it that bad?”

I nodded as a tear of pain ran down my right cheek.

“Gosh, I’ll hurry, let me just brush my teeth and get my gown on.”

I prepared myself as well, taking off my shirt and pulling down my shorts. I was surprised my underwear was still in one piece and that my cock hadn’t burst right through it. I sat down in my bed and leaned back, trying to breathe deeply as my mom would give me a handjob.

Finally, I heard how she hurried up the stairs and stepped in, dressed in her purple nightgown. It was a size too tight for her as her round breasts strained against it, exactly how her breasts did with all her clothes. She wasn’t wearing a bra since I could see her nipples poking against her garment. “Didn’t mean to leave you hanging,” she said and gently closed the door, leaving us some privacy even if it wasn’t anyone else living under this roof.

“It’s alright for now,” I said and tried to hide my pain as I knew the relief would soon be here.

She had a hard time taking her eyes off the bulge. She descended onto her knees and curled her fingers around the waistband, preparing to reveal my cock. “Are you ready?”

I nodded and accepted her therapy. The time had anyway come to stop suppressing these fantasies. “I’ve been waiting all day for this.”

She pulled the waistband over my manhood, and it reared up and was an inch from slapping her in the face. My cock could finally breathe. “What a thick girth,” she said and looked genuinely surprised as her fingers crawled toward my erection.

“Are you just saying that to make me feel better?” I asked and tried to pour some humor into this taboo situation.

“No, I would never do that,” she said firmly and looked me in the eyes, but the eye contact didn’t last long as her eyes strayed back to my cock. “This is way beyond average.”

She curled her fingers around the upper shaft and then her left took the lower part. She gave my cock a downward stroke, revealing the purple crown. “Is this your first handjob?” she asked and smiled as if it were nothing strange that a mother held her son’s erection.

“Yeah,” I said and leaned back as the warmth from her hands radiated to my hard-on and traveled across every nerve and muscle of my body.

“Does it feel good when I hold you like this?” she asked with a grin and probably noticed my deepened breathing.

“It feels really good.”

“Give me a sec, and I will take care of you, son. I just don’t like to rush things.” She spat in both of her hands and lubricated my cock till it glistened. She then let one hand slide down the head and then the next and then the next. It was a long slow motion, pleasuring the sensitive head first and then cascading down, only to be back up with her other hand that glided down on my shaft.

“Hmm, that feels good,” I said and shivered in pleasure as her right hand stroked down my head and shaft. I’d never seen such a technique before, but it made me curl my toes already.

In the middle of it all, I caught a foreign scent in this room. I’d never picked up the smell before, but it was sweet, musky and came from between her legs and just got stronger during this act.

She spat in her hands again, and I looked at her while she held intimate eye contact throughout the act. As she applied another layer of her fresh lube, she started stroking my cock up and down in a twisting motion. “Oh, Mom, that feels good,” I said.

“Are you getting there?” she asked and smiled caringly while she continued to use her hands on my cock.

“Yeah,” I said, nodding as my temperature rose. I seized the coverlet and was about to tear it in two as she twisted quicker and deeper. “Almost there, Mom,” I said and curled my toes.

“It’s okay, son. I’m doing this for you,” she said and smiled even wider as her experienced hands kept gliding up and down my manhood that was covered in her spit. I tipped my head back as my orgasm climbed higher and higher till I reached the peak. I arched my back and inhaled sharply. Letting go of my breath, I fired hard into her hands, making the cum splash back onto herself and back to my waist. I caught my breath and stared at her wide-eyed as I’d partly covered my mom’s face and hands in my sticky seed.

“Jesus,” I said and raked my fingers through my hair.

“What a thick load,” she giggled and slowly milked me, not wanting to let go of my cock yet as if she wanted this moment to last longer, and to be fair, so did I.

I slumped back and could finally breathe, watching my cum drip from her fingers. She rose and got out some tissue papers. “Probably going to need more than one for this.” She wiped the pearlescent beads from her face and then cleaned my stomach. I was still out of breath, speechless that this had actually happened after all these years.

She pulled up my underwear and then leaned in for a kiss, this time slightly closer to my lips than the last. “I just want you to know that I am proud of you.”

“I’m grateful to have you as a mom,” I told her and looked her in the eyes.

The full story is 30k words long and contains way more than a handjob. You can find it on my website [Mom's Sexual Therapy](https://juliusincestus.com/product/moms-sexual-therapy/?utm_source=reddit&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=Book+promotion) Nude cover + nude art of Mom included!

Thank you for reading.

My comment made her smile as well. “How was it compared to doing it by yourself?”

“It felt way better,” I admitted.

“Then you’ll get through this. I got more rewards in store for you.”

“Are you sure things will remain the same with us?” I asked her.

“No,” she said. “It will even get better.”

I believed her. “And what about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow, no porn or masturbation at all, and if you succeed, tomorrow evening, I will give you another handjob—naked, plus, I will let you cum on my body.”

My eyes popped wide open, and I drank in her curves and breasts. It was just her loose robe covering her goddess-like body that I’d lusted over for so long. I stared wide-eyed at her breasts which were the two forbidden fruits I’d only seen in my most forbidden dreams. “Do you mean it?”

She nodded and pulled her robe slightly apart, flashing the insides of her breasts, just where her areola was. It was less than an inch to her nipples. “They will wait for you tomorrow. I know you got this.”

Oh god, this was actually happening. She kissed my cheek again and wished me goodnight.

Thank you for reading.

#fanfic writer #female writers #story #sexstory #hot story #writer

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ash5monster01 · 9 months

Text

Goes On Chapter One

Pairing: Charlie Dalton x OC!FemReader

Warnings: 18+, depression, mentions of suicide, heavy topics, eventual smut, slow burn romance, fluff, gender themes/stereotypes.

Summary: Against his best efforts Charlie has to start at a new preparatory school after the tragic events that took place at Welton. The very events that led to the loss of his best friend and getting expelled in the first place. He has no plans to make friends let alone get close to anyone ever again. That is until he meets Evelyn and her interesting group of friends. No matter how hard he tries to push them away he finds it to be impossible. So he caves and in the end learns that life can still be enjoyable even if it feels like everyone is against you.

word count: 2.6k

Prologue ←→ Two

Masterlist

Ridge Academy, NY

1/4/60

Coming back from break was always the worst. The good part was you knew you were already halfway there. The bad part was now it was time to get serious. No more silly Holidays or breaks. Now it was time for excessive studying, finals, and college applications. It meant being real for the next five months. The teachers knew this to which explained why Evelyn had a mountain of books to carry in her arms and enough homework to keep her up all night.

At least she had English. The one class she wouldn’t mind having an excessive amount of work. As long as she got to read and write it would be okay. A whole forty minutes to relax and enjoy the only lesson of the day that wouldn’t bore her entirely. Something to clear her mind. Or at least she thought.

“Isn’t he so cute, I told you” Evelyn heard Laurie whisper to Violet as she plopped down in her seat next to her. Laurie was the school gossip, most popular, most blonde, most perfect, and an in on every secret that flooded through the school. She had the power to be friends with anyone and for some reason she had chosen Evelyn and her friends.

Violet on the other hand was more outspoken. Gentle, kind, blue eyes as deep as the ocean and hair as dark as a raven. She had been Evelyn’s roommate the entirety of their time at the Academy and best friend in the world. So if Violet was part taking in Laurie’s gossip it only made sense Evelyn did too.

“Who’s cute?” Evelyn asked as she slid into her desk beside them and the two girls instantly shushed her, students turning, and giving the three confused looks.

“The new guy, he was in my math class” Violet whispered and Laurie nodded behind her, a grin etched across her face. New students meant fresh meat for Laurie. New gossip, new excitement, and possibly someone new to flirt with.

“Yeah he was in Latin with me first period. Real mysterious and quiet. It’s hot” Laurie spoke and Evelyn chuckled at her blonde friends antics. Only she could romanticize the idea of a new guy in Latin class with Mr. Miller who was bald and fat, and for some reason always smelled like moth balls.

“Well I wanna see the new guy” Evelyn pouted, now intrigued by the fact there was a new student randomly in the middle of the year and she not only hadn’t seen him yet but had been so busy with school she didn’t even hear about it.

“Don’t worry if you don’t have a class with him I heard he’s rooming with Nate” Violet said speaking of their male best friend. Nate hadn’t mentioned getting a new roommate but they also hadn’t really had the chance to see each other since they came back from the Holidays.

“Wait, quiet, there he is” Laurie hissed before Evelyn could yell about Nate not telling her. Evelyn nearly snapped her neck as she turned to the door where sure enough an unrecognizable boy walked through. His white button down was tucked into his required grey slacks, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up effortlessly. He was cute, and normally she wasn’t one to admit that so quickly.

“Wow” was all she could muster and the girls giggled at their normally not so shocked friend. Evelyn turned to see he had taken one of the open seats in the back, immediately dropping his head as if not to be seen.

“I wonder why he transferred?” Violet whispered back and Evelyn shrugged. Until now she hadn’t known anything of him and she hated that he actually was cute because now there was no way she could focus on class.

“Maybe his parents got a new job” she offered and the girls nodded as they accepted the answer and began to open their English books.

“Alright students today we’re going to be learning a little about Dr. J Evans Prichard” the room froze as a small scoff came from the back of the room, heads turning to spot the new kid.

“Is there an issue-” Mrs. Clark paused as her eyes scanned her papers for the new kids name. “Mr. Dalton?”

“No issue, just clearing my throat” Mrs. Clark rose her eyebrows, unconvinced with his excuse, but moved on nonetheless. Evelyn was surprised by such an outburst from the boy and grew even more curious about him. Suddenly his eyes locked on hers and she quickly turned her head away to avoid being caught staring.

“Well then, let’s open Chapter One of our books, Understanding Poetry” the class moved and did as told as Mrs. Clark got started with the lesson. Evelyn found it wasn’t only the boy that kept her distracted during the lesson but his reaction to the material as well. Why didn’t he like Prichard and how did he even know about him? She figured these were questions she may never get to learn the answers too.

Charlie had grown used to the staring. He figured he’d stick out like a sore thumb considering the fact most of the students were expecting the same old classmates from before. Add in the fact it was during the middle of the year. He thought he’d have fun admiring the girls and being around them considering he now went to a co-ed school but he still didn’t feel enough like himself to care. The Charlie that answered a phone call from God would be disappointed to see him now.

As Evelyn continued throughout her day she noticed the new kid ended up being in all the same classes with her. Guess it didn’t matter he was rooming with Nate because she couldn’t seem to get away from him after English class. With the shared amount of time together she learned he was quiet and mysterious just like Laurie had said, which perked her interest about him even more. So it was a total loss trying to pay attention in any of her classes, she was in another world, curious thoughts swirling her mind about him.

“Hey has anyone seen Nate?” Martin, Violets boyfriend, asked. They were sat in the students lounge, determined to get study group rolling so they didn’t have as much homework to do after dinner. Martin also needed all the help with classes that he could get. Martin wasn’t as smart as the rest of them but he was at least willing to work at it. He was determined and Evelyn figured that was exactly the reason Violet had fallen in love with him. Evelyn now realized that being stuck in her thoughts the rest of the day made her unaware of the fact she hadn’t seen her friend all day or at the very least talked to him.

“No not since lunch” Violet spoke, realizing their friend had been A-wall for a while.

“I’ll go find him” Evelyn popped up, curious herself as to why Nate hadn’t been around all day. She needed a distraction too, she couldn’t start the new semester with clouded judgement.

“Don’t get caught on the boys dorm floor!” Violet called after her, always worried about her careless friend, and Evelyn waved a hand back. Mostly unbothered considering Violet had Martin in their shared room almost every night.

“Nate, why are you hiding?” Evelyn shoved the familiar dorm door open to spot not only Nate at his desk doing homework but the new kid shirtless on the usually empty bed. She had already forgotten her friend had gained the new kid. What a waste of a distraction.

“Eve can you learn how to knock, what if we didn’t have pants on?” Evelyn rose her eyebrows to which the new boy snickered at the look on the girls face. He hadn’t meant to respond but seeing her expression made him laugh. She was cute he thought, someone he might’ve spent more time thinking about if his head wasn’t so crowded with grief.

“If you didn’t have pants on I’d probably be a little concerned as to what you two were doing and then I might’ve snuck a peek” Evelyn shot a wink towards the new boy, figuring if he was so quiet she could mess with him. Charlie was surprised by this response, not realizing the girl from most of his classes could be so outspoken.

“Evelyn could you stop embarrassing me for once, I meant if we were changing” he tried pushing her out the door and she giggled lightly, fighting back and forcing the door open.

“Oh lighten up Nate, it’s all in good fun. I just came to drag your ass to study group, Trig is killing me” she pouted at the boy, knowing he would cave. He always did. Nate held a soft spot for Evelyn and sometimes she abused her power, without even realizing she had it.

“Eve you’re gonna have to learn math at some point” Nate crossed his arms, hoping if he did homework in the dorm he could get his new roommate to open up a little. Martin was a cool guy but him and Nate were on different spectrums and if Martin wasn’t dating Violet he figured they’d never talk to each other.

“Yeah, but todays not that day. Let’s go” Evelyn shoved him towards the door and he sighed as she collected his books. Not willing to take no for an answer.

“Fine, you’re so annoying” Nate huffed as he went to grab his books from her before she messed his notes up. Now free of the books she turned to the new kid, ready to take her opportunity while she had it. The sooner her questions were answered the better off she’d be. No curiosities to keep her distracted.

“You too newbie, let’s move it” Evelyn collected the shirt she saw him wearing earlier from the ground and tossed it at him. He wore a surprised look but quickly collected himself.

“I think I’m okay sweetheart” he quipped and she rose her eyebrows, surprised to hear the confidence in his voice, but she didn’t falter as she held her ground.

“Save the pet names for Nate, we’re studying now” she told him, arms crossing over her chest. Charlie stared at her in shock for a moment and Nate sighed as he looked at Evelyn. The girl he had been in love with since he was thirteen. For a moment he realized having a room mate meant having someone new to steal her away.

“Man, she doesn’t take no for an answer. So save us the time and just come” Nate suggested a little defeated and Charlie looked to the girl, he saw how she held her shoulders high and waited for him to stand. She was brave.

Without answering Charlie stood and shrugged on the button up shirt he had planned on abandoning for the rest of the night. Evelyn grinned in victory as she watched his fingers glide up the buttons and hide away his chest. Evelyn tried her best not to seem too smug but it was hard not to when she had already convinced the new boy to tag along.

“I think you’re cool new kid” Evelyn said as he started to grab his own textbooks. Charlie gave her an amused look before shaking his head.

“It’s Charlie” he corrected her and she shrugged before turning towards the door and leading the pair of boys back to the study group.

“Found him and a straggler” Evelyn announced as she pushed the door open. The friend group turned to find the familiar faces of their friends was accompanied by a new one.

“Of course Evelyn would bully the new kid into spending time with us” Laurie said gesturing to him as they all took their seats at the table.

“I had to, Nate was talking about them not wearing pants together. It was my duty to save him” Charlie was surprised as she grabbed his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. He had never met someone so unbothered by the world around her. Most girls he knew were uptight or dumb.

“She took that out of context, she just opened my dorm door. One of us could’ve been changing” Nate quickly defended himself and the group laughed.

“That won’t stop her Nate, she would’ve enjoyed the view” Violet said and Evelyn let out a proud hmph because that was exactly what she said.

“Well Nate, introduce us to your friend” Laurie leaned forward on the table, dropping the nail file she held in her hands. Evelyn was surprised by the jealousy the bubbled in her stomach as she spotted the way Laurie looked at him.

“This is my new roommate Charlie, he just transferred from Welton” surprised faces appeared as they heard this. Shock filling almost each and every one of the group.

“A Welton boy, guess it is true that they’re all cute” Laurie smirked and Charlie gave a surprised look that these girls were so free willed with their speech. He figured majority of them were shy but maybe this is what happened when you went to a co-ed school.

“How did a Welton boy end up here of all places?” Violet asked him, curious as to how you could go from one of the best schools to here.

“Yeah, I tried to get into Welton and they denied me. Weird that someone who actually could attend comes here?” Martin asked a bit surprised. He already struggled at Ridge, Welton took one look at his grades and said hell no.

“You guys know you’re a prep school too right?” Charlie asked and Evelyn laughed like he just told the best joke of the year.

“Yeah but not a good one, maybe a quarter of our graduates go to ivy leagues and since we’re a co-ed school we’re frowned upon. The Ridge Rejects” Evelyn bumped her shoulder with his, surprised he wasn’t aware of this. Then again why would someone from the big times bother to know anything about the left behind kids.

“Yeah, exactly. We’re the kids who were too smart to go to public school but not smart or rich enough to go places like Welton or Henley Hall” Violet explained and Charlie nodded as he learned this new information. No wonder he ended up here of all places.

“Well I’m here because I’m the king of the rejects. Welton booted me” Charlie spoke so nonchalantly but the rest of the group gasped.

“They kicked you out?” Martin eyed him, shock covering his features.

“How did you get kicked out?” Nate asked, new to this information as well. He had been dying to know since last night.

“I hit a kid, he deserved it, and I’d like to do it again. On top of that they wanted me to sign some bullshit contract and I wouldn’t so they shoved me out the doors” Charlie stated, flipping through his assignments, already having come to terms with the fact he was no longer apart of that school.

“That’s really bad ass new kid” Evelyn spoke, eyes glimmering with admiration, and Nate burned with jealousy the same way he had been since she shoved open their dorm door and winked at him.

“Thanks” Charlie spoke and Evelyn was surprised to see he was much more than they had thought.

“Well Charlie welcome to the school of Rejects, you’ll fit right in”

Comment if you want to be added to the taglist :))

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gothcsz · 4 months

Text

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter XIII.

GIF by alexturner

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: Literally just Jolene by the iconic Dolly Parton.

WORD COUNT: ~7.7k

RATING: 18+ Explicit topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: angst :p, OFC lowkey being a brat and javi not tolerating that shit, some horniness to satiate the masses, alcohol consumption, if there's typos/grammatical errors just pretend that there's not, other things that I'm probably forgetting.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized.

A/N: for the sake of the plot we're just gonna pretend that before he cheats exist at this point of time okay? okay! anywhooo we're so close to getting to the fucking fluff of this fic... our couple deserves some semblance of PEACE and HAPPINESS am i right? but that sweet, sweet angst must come first in order for the pay off to be gr8 <3 as always feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or ao3. i'd really appreciate it <3

♰ read on ao3. ♰

♰ playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

Paloma begins her parade of amends with her boss at the library, profusely apologizing for being fickle which typically isn’t like her. She’s been so caught up in August and his wistful musings that it momentarily had her acting out of character.

Fortunately, Olsen accepts her apology almost as quickly as the words tumble from her lips. He reassures her that it’s okay and that what he really needs is for her to begin logging books into the new computer system they’re implementing.

So that’s exactly what she does. She situates herself behind the circulation desk and spends her entire shift typing away at the clunky keyboard, surrounded by carts stacked with books. She’s so engrossed in her task that she doesn’t even notice when Sloane walks in, a giant smile lighting up her face.

“Hey, doll.”

Her eyes flicker up to meet her friend’s and she feels a tinge of frustration at her presence. The last time they were together, she had tried to convince her to kill someone and then got pissed when Paloma didn’t go through with it.

“Hey,” she replies simply, her voice lacking its usual warmth and quickly returning her attention to the computer, muttering under her breath at how sluggishly it’s operating.

She hears a sigh, and then Sloane is leaning forward against the desk, tilting her head to the side and pouting. “Are you still mad at me?”

A snort escapes her, eyes still fixed on the screen. “Yes and no. If I’m bein’ honest with you, I’m feelin’ real conflicted.”

Sloane’s cadence is lighter as she asks, “What can I do to smooth things over?”

“Give me the space I told August I needed.”

Their gazes lock, and Sloane’s shoulders slump, the weight of her words settling in.

“Why on god’s green earth are you wearing a scarf in the middle of the summer?” Paloma can’t help but ask, eyeing the flimsy material around her neck.

“That’s actually why I stopped by. I was hopin’ you weren’t so mad at me so I could tell you ‘bout the amazin’ fuckin’ lay I got last night.”

At this, Paloma rolls her eyes and flips open the next book, meticulously scanning it for imperfections. Leave it to her so-called best friend to reach out just to brag about getting laid.

Not to check in on her or apologize for being a giant cunt back in Louisiana.

She decides to pacify her, hoping that feigning interest in her love life will get her out of the library without the awkwardness that would come if she just outright told her to leave.

“Really?” Her tone drips with forced enthusiasm. “Tell me all about it.”

Sloane launches into her story overdramatically, obviously messing with her, but she still nods along, her mind only half-engaged. She silently prays for the conversation to end soon, eager to return to the relative peace of her book-logging task.

“Alright, quit beatin’ around the bush. Who was it?”

The scarf is slipped off, revealing her marked-up neck, and her eyes widen at the sight. “Christ almighty, Slo, who did you sleep with? Dracula?” Various purple splotches litter the other girl’s skin, and she wonders how long it’s going to take for those suckers to heal.

Sloane giggles, smirking as she shows off her neck. “No. But that woulda been one hell of a story. I fucked Javier Peña in his truck after work last night.”

Time stops. The air stills, and her motions halt entirely. Sloane continues talking, but all Paloma can hear is the blood rushing in her ears and the rapid acceleration of her heartbeat at the news.

I fucked Javier Peña in his truck after work last night. I fucked Javier Peña in his truck after work last night. I fucked Javier Peña in his truck after work last night.

She feels like she’s been punched in the gut, the wind knocked straight out of her. She tries her hardest not to let her body language reflect the heartbreak that surges through her.

Javier Peña. Of all people. Shock and something she can’t quite place thud in her chest viscously. Forcing herself to focus, she tries to catch the tail end of Sloane’s story, but her mind is a mess.

She shouldn’t care, but the problem is that she does. Despite things between her and Javi being a done deal. They’ve both made their intentions clear and it is better to pretend like the other doesn’t exist until he leaves town.

So why is she so hurt at the fact that her best friend had gotten a taste of the man she’s supposed to be over? Why does she feel that nasty green monster slithering its way through her body, into her chest, and up her throat?

“You what?” She interrupts, not even listening to what she said after.

Sloane’s voice trails off, her eyes widening slightly at Paloma’s sudden intensity. “I, uh, slept with Javi,” she repeats, feigning confusion.

The envy and betrayal coil tighter around her lungs, making it hard to breathe. She forces herself to look at her ‘best friend’ and she sees the hidden excitement in her eyes. It only deepens her ache.

“Why him?” Paloma asks, the words tinged with a vulnerability she can’t hide.

Sloane shrugs, once more pretending to be oblivious to the turmoil she’s purposefully caused. “It just happened, P. We were talkin’ after work, ‘n one thing led to another… I figured you wouldn’t mind, considerin’ you’re with August now and hate the officer’s guts. I was jus’ havin’ some fun. No harm in that.”

No harm in that. Nodding slowly, a tight smile forces its way on her lips, “Well, I hope it was worth it,” she says strained but steady. How badly does she want to verbally eviscerate her and drag her across the floor by the crown of her hair.

The keyboard keys feel foreign beneath her fingers as she attempts to return to the task at hand. She knows she’ll have to confront her feelings eventually, but for now, all she can do is focus on her work to try and keep the pieces of her shattered heart from showing.

“Look, Slo, I’m happy to hear you’ve been keepin’ busy,” wince, “but I’ve got a lot to go through here ‘n I would like to be left alone to get it done. If you don’t mind.”

There’s a beat of silence as Sloane studies her, and Paloma pretends not to feel the weight of her stare. If she keeps looking at her like this, she will burst into angry, frustrated tears.

“Right… right. I’ll leave ya to it, doll face.” She taps her fingers against the counter, then adds softly, “And… just so you know, I am sorry ‘bout losin’ my shit that night in Louisiana. Wasn’t very fair to you.”

What isn’t fair to me is for you to sleep with the guy I cried on your shoulder about for weeks.

“Thanks. I’ll see you,” she replies curtly, trying not to let her hands shake as she reaches for another book.

Slo finally leaves, and she waits for her to be fully out of the building before letting out a heavy sigh. The ache intensifies, weighing down on her poor heart. She stares at the screen, the words blurring as tears threaten to spill over but she forces herself to keep typing.

The quiet of the library is almost oppressive, amplifying the commotion inside her. She can still see the image of Sloane’s marked neck, a painful reminder of what transpired between them. She takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but the pain just doesn’t subside.

She can’t afford to break down here. Not now. Not yet. She’ll deal with the aftermath later, when she’s alone.

After thirty agonizing minutes, she realizes that she simply can’t. All she can visualize is Javier and Sloane together in the most intimate way possible. His lips all over her, her hands on him. Was she a better kisser than her? Had Javier enjoyed being inside Sloane more than being inside her?

Standing abruptly, she smooths out her sundress and goes to track down Olsen, finding him tucked away in the science fiction section of the library.

“I’m sorry to do this,” she begins, already cringing at the request she’s about to make, “but I’m just not feelin’ good. I feel nauseous. Like I’m about to vomit.” It’s not technically a lie; with every blink, there’s an image of Sloane bent over for Javier, and it makes her emotionally sick.

Olsen sighs, giving her a look. “How far into the logging did you get?”

She answers, and he agrees to let her leave, telling her he hopes she feels better and to let him know whether she’d be able to come in for her next shift.

Grateful for his kindness but also feeling guilty about how unreliable she’s been, Paloma thanks him before gathering her things and leaving the building.

The warm summer weather contrasts sharply with the coldness that’s crept over her entirely. She walks slowly, each step feeling heavy, her mind racing with thoughts she wishes she could escape.

Finding a quiet spot in a nearby park, Paloma sits on a bench and takes a deep breath. She watches the leaves rustle in the gentle breeze, the world moving on obliviously around her.

She just needs a moment of goddamn peace.

It’s serene here. Children laugh and play in the distance, couples stroll hand in hand, and birds chirp merrily in the trees. But all Paloma can think about is the betrayal she feels, the jealousy that gnaws at her, and the deep hurt of knowing that the man she still harbors feelings for has slept with her best friend.

She really shouldn’t be so worked up over this. While she and August have never explicitly put a label on their relationship, they’re together. Hell, she’s fucked him more times than anyone else she’s been with.

Then why is it that she’s so pressed about Javier, a single man, hooking up with Sloane, a single woman?

It’s because of the tangled mess that is her connections to both of them. How she had been vulnerable with Sloane about her conflicting feelings towards him, and how Sloane had always been there to reassure her that he was nothing more than a piece of shit manwhore and that she deserved better.

So why go and sleep with him?! Paloma groans, her fingernails digging into the skin of her palm as she balls her fists out of anger.

She contemplates whether she wants to cry it out at home or by the abandoned railroad tracks. The answer is neither, because before she knows it, she’s at The Whiskey Fox ordering a shot of tequila.

“Stranger danger,” Tammy, eldest of the three sisters who own the bar, approaches her with a sardonic simper on her face.

Paloma just waves her off, her heartbreak evident as she takes the shot and immediately orders another, earning a surprised look from the older woman.

“Woah there, sugar. What’s goin’ on? You hardly ever drink, let alone do back-to-back shots.”

She just shrugs, staying silent as she proceeds to shoot the drink, not even grimacing as it burns down her throat, then reaching for a lime wedge to bite into. Tammy watches her with a mix of concern and curiosity, leaning against the bar, her maternal instincts kicking in. “Why don’t ya tell me what happened? Might help to get it off your chest.”

For a moment, Paloma considers it. Considers unloading it all onto this poor woman but she remains silent, twirling the empty shot glass between her fingers.

“Oh, c’mon now, Paloma. S’bad enough that you’ve ghosted us for the past month. Don’t give us the silent treatment too. What’d we do to you, darlin’?”

Rolling her shoulders, she keeps her gaze fixed on the empty shot glass in front of her. “Y’all didn’t do anythin’,” her voice is a little hoarse due to how dry her mouth feels, and there’s a pang of guilt in her stomach at hearing how her absence has affected the people she cares about. “I’ve just been dealin’ with a lot.”

She let her friends lead her down a fantastical path, and while it was exciting and thrilling at first, she’s realizing that it shifted her into a defiant headspace she wasn’t used to and didn’t like being in. When did everything get so complicated? What happened to just basking in the attention of two handsome men and enjoying a summer romance?

Now she’s caught in the middle of something so convoluted. Her mother’s mysterious past, the uncertainty of her own future, the heartbreak she continues to suffer at the hands of Javier Peña, and the gut-wrenching betrayal of her so-called best friend. She feels overwhelmed by the severity of it all, like she’s sinking in a never-ending pit.

Fuck, she needs another drink. She goes to order it, but Tammy blocks her. “Okay, so spill. The tequila is not goin’ t’ make it any better, baby, trust me. I’m speakin’ from experience.”

Paloma snorts, shaking her head, exasperation bubbling inside her. She just wants to numb herself with alcohol, to drown out the images of Javier and Sloane together. “Just guy problems, Tam. Now will you please let me drink my sorrows away? I’ll deal with the consequences and the hangover later.”

Tammy contemplates whether it’s a good idea to let her keep drinking, but ultimately she allows it. Everyone goes through this at least once. Everyone learns from experiences like this in their own way.

The older woman then nods understandingly and pours her the shot, this time setting the bottle down next to her. “Alright, but don’t overdo it. We don’t need you passin’ out on us.”

Paloma gives a weak smile and continues to drink, the tequila burning a path down her throat, momentarily granting her relief from the uncomfortableness she’s been wallowing in.

As the night wears on, the bar fills with the usual crowd, but she remains in her own bubble of despair, getting drunker by the minute. The lively chatter and clinking glasses become a distant hum.

She wants to be able to confide in someone about the root of her conflictions, but she knows that if she were to spill all the details, including the outrageous backstory of her mother, it would be met with jarring skepticism and criticism. Tammy would probably look at her like she was crazy and her father would probably have her secretly lobotomized for speaking such blasphemous ‘lies’ about his wife and her mother.

He wouldn’t actually, but she’s drunk and her mind is going to the extremes.

Tammy keeps an eye on her, occasionally checking in and she appreciates it, even if she can’t bring herself to say it out loud. She’s not sure how she’ll face tomorrow, but right now, she’s content to let the alcohol do its thing and forget, if only for a little while.

There’s a reason why people say not to drink on an empty stomach, and Paloma is feeling the effects smack her square in the jaw. Her vision is hazy, her movements sluggish. At least she’s not hurting as much as she had been when she came in.

It’s well into the night now; the dim lights of the bar cast shadows on the faces of the crowd around her. The bottle Tammy had set in front of her is almost gone, so she drinks the remaining tequila straight from it, not caring about appearances or what the town gossips might say if they were to see her now.

With her veins coursing with liquid courage, Paloma hops off the barstool, wobbling a bit due to her inebriated state, and makes her way to the stage. No matter how tough things get, she can always count on music to lift her spirits.

That’s another thing she’s been neglecting— her music, her passion. So much for complaining that she didn’t have any inspiration to write new songs. Now she’s drowning in it, struggling to stay afloat.

Tammy’s eyes follow her the entire way, concern etched on her face as she bites her lip, contemplating whether or not she should let her go up there and potentially make a fool of herself in her drunken state.

She reaches the stage, her heart pounding against her chest. Shuffling through the available songs on the karaoke machine, she stops when she finds the one that she’s looking for. She grabs the microphone with a shaky hand, the spotlight harsh on her face.

The bar quiets down, curious eyes watching her every move.

“Hey everyone,” she slurs slightly, giggling drunkenly. “S’been a while since I’ve been up here ‘n I apologize for my absence,” she hiccups, “but tonight, m’gonna sing a song to make myself feel better.”

She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes briefly to steady herself. The familiar chords start playing through the speakers then she begins to sing; her voice fueled by emotion and tequila.

♫

Tammy decides it’s wise for her to phone the sheriff’s department, specifically asking for Javier to come by.

He only has ten minutes left on his shift and doesn’t want to get caught up dealing with another drunken idiot, so he almost sends one of the deputies but then she mentions Paloma and how shitfaced she is.

Immediately, he’s reaching for his keys.

“I don’t want Romeo seein’ her like this. Kinda my fault, to be honest, but who am I to stop a young girl from drowning her man problems in tequila? Anyhow, any chance ya can take her home?”

Man problems? Had August done something to her? His nostrils flair at the thought of him hurting her.

As if he hadn’t hurt her tenth fold.

Javier arrives in record time, urgency evident as he busts through the doors of the bar. Despite his entrance, no one seems to pay him any attention; all eyes are fixed on her as she stands on stage, clearly intoxicated yet still captivating the room.

His jaw tenses as he beelines over to the bar where Tammy is already looking at him expectantly.

“How long has she been here?”

“‘Bout four hours now. At least she took it slow. S’probably why she’s like this,” Tammy nods her head towards the stage, handing him Paloma’s car keys, and Javier can’t help but glance over too.

Her voice echoes through the bar and the words flow from her lips as a cathartic release of all the pent-up feelings she’s been carrying. There’s a plethora of mixed reactions coming from the audience, but she isn’t really performing for them.

To her, she’s in her bedroom with her curling wand in hand, belting out to her favorite song.

Despite her initial nerves and the alcohol clouding her senses, she finds solace in the music. It’s her therapy, her way of expressing what words alone can’t capture.

By the time she finishes, there’s a mix of applause and quiet murmurs in the bar. She sways again, catching herself on the microphone stand with a tipsy grin. Javier’s heart clenches at the sight.

As she steps down from the stage, her eyes lock onto him leaning against the counter with Tammy. Dread grips her heart like a vise, her breath catching in her throat. The tequila swirling in her stomach threatens to come back up. Without hesitation, she changes direction abruptly, veering towards the restroom at the back of the bar.

The door slams shut behind her, and she leans heavily against it, the cold metal offering a momentary reprieve.

No, no, no. I can’t see him now. Not like this.

Paloma rushes to the sink, splashing water on her face in a desperate attempt to clear her mind. Deciding that she won’t face him, she makes her escape through the small window near the ceiling.

It’s the longest fifteen minutes of his life, each second feeling like an eternity. She hasn’t come out and Javier is unable to wait any longer. He strides purposefully across the room towards the restroom, twisting the door handle open with a sense of urgency, expecting to find Paloma inside.

But the stalls are empty, the restroom devoid of any sign of her presence except for the open window with a torn piece of her sundress caught on a protruding piece of plastic.

“Goddammit,” He curses under his breath, pissed yet not surprised that she had fled. He rushes out of the restroom, sparing a quick explanation to Tammy before bolting into the parking lot. The engine of his cruiser roars to life as he pulls out onto the road.

She, despite being piss drunk, managed to move swiftly through the shadows outside, her torn dress fluttering in the night breeze. She kept to the alleys and back streets at first, away from the main roads where he might expect her to flee.

She isn’t far from the bar when he finds her. Perhaps half a mile down a dark, deserted road flanked by endless crop fields. The night offers no solace, no streetlights to illuminate her path, only the distant glow of his cruiser drawing closer.

He could really lay into her, scream at how reckless and fucking dangerous it is for her to be walking around aimlessly at night. It’s not like there’s an active killer lurking about, targeting girls like her.

The blue and red lights slice through the darkness, casting an eerie glow around her stumbling figure as she trudges along the roadside.

“Get in the car,” Javier’s voice carries through the rolled down passenger window as he slowly drives beside her.

Paloma ignores him, determined to keep moving despite the plea. She doesn’t know where she’s headed, all she knows is that she doesn’t want to be around him. All she’ll see the second she looks into his eyes are images of him balls deep in her best friend.

The reminder has her clenching her jaw against the flood of disarray threatening to overwhelm her, straightening her posture in a futile attempt to regain her composure. The alcohol in her system blurs her vision and makes her head spin, but she continues to march obstinately along the empty road.

“I said get. In. The. Car.” Javier’s voice booms through the PA system now, sharp and authoritative, having her flinch at its suddenness. She rolls her eyes, refusing to acknowledge him, her gaze fixed ahead as if the darkness holds the answers to all her turmoil.

In response, she simply raises her middle finger, a gesture dripping with contempt. Javier’s patience for her insubordination is wearing really fucking thin.

“Last warning. If not, I will get out and put you in here my damn self,” His tone crackles with restrained anger, the lines of his face drawn tight with exasperation.

“Go fuck yourself, asshole.”

There it goes, his patience. He forcefully slams the mouthpiece of the speaker back into place before speeding up along the deserted road and haphazardly blocking the path ahead, his vehicle jolting to a stop with a gravelly skid.

He jumps out of his seat, the door swinging open as he rounds the car to approach her with determined hastiness, pissed that he has to deal with her immature ass right now.

Paloma’s instinctive flight response has her sprinting into the vast open field, her heart pounding in sync with her rapid footsteps. The tall grass brushes against her legs and she squints in an attempt to see ahead on this moonless night. All she’s focused on is getting as far away from him as possible.

Javier curses loudly and immediately chases after her through the uneven terrain. He thought he left this chasing shit back in Colombia.

Despite her intoxicated state, her desperation fuels her speed, making her a bit of a challenging target. But when she stumbles over her boots ever so slightly, he seizes the opportunity.

In a swift motion, his arm snakes around her waist, yanking her towards him before deftly hoisting her over his shoulder. Paloma squeals as he straight up manhandles her, her fists hammering against his back while she squirms in his grasp. “Put. Me. Down. You. Asshole,” she seethes between blows, each strike punctuated by a grunt from him as she hits sore spots on his lower back.

“You ran off like a fucking child,” he snaps back while stalking towards his car, irritated as all hell. The urge to land a harsh spank against the back of her thighs is there but he shows some restraint.

He glances around, relieved that the deserted stretch of road spares them from prying eyes. “Don’t do anything stupid, or I will cuff you,” he warns sternly, setting her down cautiously but keeping a firm grip on her arm.

She pushes at his chest, stumbling backwards but she catches herself, sticking her hands out to keep him from steadying her. “Don’t. Leave me the hell alone, I’m tryin’ to get home.”

“And I’m trying to make that happen. Let me drive you, you’re fucked up.”

“I’m not, and if anyone is fucked up here it’s you, you fucking dickhead,” she retorts with a bite, her words laced with venom and alcohol-fueled bravado.

Javier exhales heavily, his patience wearing thin yet again as he struggles to reason with her. “Quit being ridiculous, Paloma.” He urges, frustration simmering beneath his somewhat controlled exterior.

“Ridiculous?!” She rolls her eyes dramatically, a gust of wind tousling her hair and she angrily tucks it behind her ears. “I wanna walk home. Away from you.” she slurs, her determination punctuated by a sudden hiccup and point of her finger.

A snarky reply of his own is on the tip of his tongue but she interrupts before he can spit it out.

“I am more than capable, ‘n I’ll prove it by walkin’ a straight line while sayin’ the alphabet backwards,” The challenge in her eyes is unmistakable as she takes a few steps back.

Javier can’t help but chuckle dryly, reluctant amusement coloring his expression. He leans casually against the cruiser, arms crossed as he watches her attempt the sobriety test she’s proposed.

“Z... y... x...” Paloma begins, her attempt at reciting the alphabet faltering from the start. Her footsteps are uneven, her balance wavering with each syllable. “W... v... u...”

He shakes his head in mild disbelief, his frustration momentarily overshadowed by the absurdity of the situation.

“A.” She punctuates the letter when she reaches the end of her recitation attempt. She looks up at him, now much closer, with an insolent glint in her eyes despite the undeniable signs of intoxication.

He just raises his brows in amusement.

“Told ya.” she challenges, a triumphant smirk tugging at her lips. “Sober as a nun.”

Javier reaches for the breathalyzer on his belt, holding it up between them as he turns it on.

“You’re going to blow into this,” he begins with an authoritative tone, “and if it lights up green then you’re good to do whatever you want. If it’s red, you’re goin’ to quit fucking around and get your pretty ass in the car.”

Paloma snorts, “No way. This is just some perverted trick so you can see my lips wrap around it and pretend it’s your cock––”

His hand shoots out to cup her jaw, thick fingers digging into the soft skin of her cheeks, causing her lips to purse together.

“Nena, you’ve got a fuckin’ mouth on you.” He tuts at her and her eyes widen, pussy quivering, “It’s gonna get you in trouble.”

He brings her closer by her face, smelling the alcohol on her breath, and places the plastic tip against her puckered lips, “Blow it.”

His grip loosens enough for her to do as she’s told, and her lips encircle the hard plastic. This feels charged with an intimacy that weakens her knees, and she watches as Javier’s eyes drown with lust; their usual golden glint now gone.

The second it blinks red, he smirks and lets go of her face. As the tip is pulled out from between her lips, a thin trail of saliva comes with it which has him biting his tongue to suppress a groan. His cock stirs at the sight.

“In the car. Now.”

“No!” She pushes away from him, slapping the damn breathalyzer out of his hand and watching as it breaks against the asphalt, “I’d rather walk on glass barefoot than get in the car with you. M’goin’ back to the bar and callin’ my boyfriend to come pick me up!” The emphasis on boyfriend is said with the intent to piss Javier off but she doesn’t gloat in his reaction as she turns sharply and begins to walk away in the opposite direction.

“Puta madre…” It lands exactly as she intended for it to, the spark of jealousy in his chest having him leap forward, expertly pinning both of her wrists against her lower back with one hand while the other takes a hold of her shoulder, guiding her over to his car.

“You asshole!”

“Yeah, how many times are you gonna fuckin’ remind me, querida?”

She’s bent at the waist on the hood of his cruiser, the engine that’s still running leaving the surface warm as her chest gets pressed down onto it. Her ripped dress rises up revealing the curve of her ass to him.

Javier is fully hard as he reaches for his cuffs, clasping them over her wrists and she gasps when she feels the cool metal come in contact with her blazing skin. He presses his bulge against her ass and she whimpers at the pressure of him so close to her throbbing core.

Grabbing ahold of her shoulder again, he brings her up so that her back is flush against his chest, both of them heaving in unison.

“Told you that little mouth of yours would get you in fucking trouble.” He mutters into her ear, feeling the softness of her hair against his face as he takes in a deep breath of the coconut scent of her shampoo. His entire being is pulsating for her, craving to feel any part that he can.

Paloma is dizzy with arousal, hatred, and alcohol; feeling him all over except where she needs him most. Inside her weeping cunt that’s begging to get wrecked. She despises him for making her feel this way, especially after today’s revelations.

He opens the back door of the cruiser, the metallic click of the cuffs echoing in the quiet night as he pulls her into the backseat. Despite his intention to be firm yet gentle, his frustration seeps through, and he handles her a bit roughly, slamming the door shut with a resounding thud.

Paloma jolts upright, the abrupt sound snapping her out of the horny trance his restraint had put her in.

“Always have to get your way, don’t you? By any means necessary? Looks like some things never fuckin’ change.” Her words blend together, slightly slurred, as he starts driving towards her house, relieved that Romeo is working overnight and spared from witnessing this.

She was already on thin ice with him all things considered. She’s sure her father would have a cow if he saw her this drunk.

She leans forward, pressing against the partition cage separating them, her gaze locked with his in the rearview mirror. Tension crackles between them during this silent exchange. His jaw tightens when she continues her tirade.

“Is this the same arrogance that led you to Los Pepes?” The mention hits a nerve, causing him to momentarily lose his composure. She smirks, satisfied with the reaction she’s provoked. His stare darkens with intense anger, magnified by her smugness.

How the fuck did she know about that?

As if reading his mind, she continues. “I read the article from the Miami Herald. Got curious, decided to read more on the elusive yet admired Javier Peña.” Another flash of anger courses through him, his grip on the steering wheel tightening until his knuckles turn white.

“You did some fucked up stuff, agent. Gettin’ involved with killers. How are you not in prison right now?” Her words cut deep, dredging up his past in a way that feels unfair, but she’s hurt and beyond giving a fuck at the moment.

Javier struggles to find the right words, torn between defending himself and acknowledging the truth in her accusations.

“Paloma…” His voice is low with restrained frustration. “You don’t understand––”

“Don’t give me that shit, Javi,” she cuts him off bitterly, her voice cracking with emotion. “I understand enough. I trusted you.”

Each word hits him like a bullet from a gun he loaded himself and fired by yet another woman that he’s hurt. He’s rendered speechless, so much bullshit accumulating to blow up in this very moment. He hadn’t even realized that they weren’t far from her house.

“You hurt people after usin’ ‘em yet somehow the consequences never seem to reach you. And when they do, it’s nothin’ more but a slap on the wrist.”

She contributes to this so-called unfair display of punishment. She can’t bring herself to penalize him with her indefinite absence for the way he shattered her heart.

Instead, she’s acting like an idiot, handcuffed in the back of his cruiser and so pissed that it’s turned her on. Not even ten minutes ago, she was on the verge of telling him to fuck her on the side of the road, teetering on the edge of desperation.

Now she’s full on chastising him.

Javier is trying real fucking hard not to blow up on her, it’s as if she’s had a look into his mind and pulled out all the spiteful words that he repeats to himself every single day. His silence remains, the urge to defend himself faltering.

She groans in exasperation when he doesn’t reply, her shoulders tense from having her arms pinned back by the cuffs, the rough edges digging into her wrists.

She’d never understand, not even if he laid it all out to her in the most vulnerable way possible. Hell, he still can’t sort through his shit without triggering an existential crisis.

Paloma continues with her angry ramblings as they arrive at her house. He once again roughly pulls her from the backseat, fumbling for the key to unlock her handcuffs, desperate to release himself from the fraught situation and rightfully fuck off. He can’t continue to deal with this shit tonight.

Leading her up to the porch, he finally frees her from the restraints. She whirls around to confront him head-on.

“What is your deal?! I need to know. Goin’ around makin’ a girl feel special… spendin’ all your time with her then rejectin’ her just to turn around and sleep with her best friend. That’s low, Javier.”

His eyes narrow. He should have known that Sloane was the catalyst to all this. It explains her seething jealousy, her emotional outburst at the bar, her current fury.

Despite reading him to filth, he’s undeniably attracted to her and her intense antics. He shouldn’t find this possessive side of her as hot as he does.

“Last I checked, corazón, I don’t belong to you or any other woman in this town.”

Paloma’s eye twitches involuntarily at his remark, the harsh truth of it cutting through the haze of the alcohol. They don’t belong to each other; there are no ties binding them beyond their shared history and tangled feelings. Yet in this moment, with her intoxicated by both tequila and his presence–– he does belong to her. Javier is hers.

He plucks a cigarette from his pocket, needing it desperately considering the rollercoaster of emotions he’s gone through in the last however long. He lets it dangle from his lips as he digs into his back pocket for a lighter.

“That new boyfriend of yours must not be fucking you right if you’re this wound up over who I decide to stick my dick in.”

His petty remark hovers in the air like a volatile spark waiting to ignite. Her chest heaves with indignation, whole body vibrating with the raw intensity of her feelings. She doesn’t hesitate, her hand moving swiftly to deliver a resounding slap across his cheek. The unlit cigarette drops from his lips, forgotten as it lands on the ground beside them. Javier remains still as he absorbs the sting of her palm against his skin.

They lock eyes in a tense standoff, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy between them. Her breaths come in rapid bursts, her heart pounding in her chest. Without warning, she lunges forward, her lips crashing against his in a desperate, fervent kiss.

His initial surprise gives way to instinct as he responds to her, his lips moving against hers with a hunger born from their shared, toxic yearning. But as her mouth opens to deepen the kiss, the taste of tequila lingers on her tongue, a reminder of her intoxicated state. He pulls back gently.

“No, please don’t do this to me again…” She whimpers out softly, her eyes filling with tears as her hands cling to the fabric of his shirt.

“We can’t… not now, cariño you’re really drunk.” The instant switch in her tone and body language is enough to trigger his tenderness, his hands coming up to rest atop of her balled up fists against his chest.

The pure vexation and trepidation from before begins to simmer out, both of them having reached the peak of their respective moods and now suffering from the declining slope that follows.

His rejection this time around doesn’t sting as much as the last. There’s a bittersweet clarity in knowing that he’s choosing restraint over indulgence, respect over desire.

“I-If I wasn’t drunk… would you have fucked me?” She blurts out, bottom lip quivering slightly as she waits for his response, her eyes searching his face for any sign of what he might say.

He hesitates, a myriad of emotions flickering across his features. He leans forward instinctively, steadying her as she wobbles on unsteady legs.

“Let’s get you inside and in the shower. You need to sober up a little before getting into bed.” Javier ignores her question all together, removing her hands from his chest as he carefully maneuvers her towards the front door.

“I got it.” She tells him with her head hung low, reaching over to a nearby flower pot and digging out the spare house key.

She, in fact, does not got it when her attempts to unlock the door fail as she struggles to get the key in. Javier takes over gently, letting them both inside.

Getting her up the stairs proves to be more of a struggle than he anticipated. She clings to him, her grip tight and insistent, bombarding him with questions about his night with Sloane.

Am I as pretty as her?

Did she do it better than me?

Do you have feelings for her?

Again, he ignores her because it’s all ridiculous and she’s too drunk for him to thoroughly explain that he doesn’t see Sloane like that at all.

She was a mistake. A lapse in his judgment. A reminder of how he’s no good for Paloma.

They reach the bathroom and he gently lowers her onto the closed toilet seat. He turns on the shower, the sound of running water filling the room with a soothing rhythm. When he turns back, she is already beginning to undress, her movements slow and unsteady.

He averts his eyes quickly, a flush creeping up his neck at the proximity and intimacy of the moment. Clearing his throat, he steps out right as the last article of clothing is shed.

“Gonna get you some water. Please be careful in there.” He’s hesitant to move from his spot at the door in case she falls over.

She grumbles out a brief ‘okay’ and after a few more seconds of hovering, he quickly goes to the kitchen to get her some water and painkillers.

He’s back in her room now, turning the bedside lamp on to get everything ready for her to get some sleep.

Javi pauses for a moment. It’s the first time he’s ever been in this space and he feels like he’s intruding on her. He gets a sense of déjà vu, recalling the day he had been in Jessica Valadez’s room and the similarities between her and Paloma.

He rummages through her dresser until he finds a t-shirt and some shorts, walking down the hallway to the bathroom where she’s just shut off the shower.

“Got some clothes for you. Here.” He sticks his hand through the cracked door and not long after does she take them from him silently, shutting the door. Javier lets out a shaky sigh, leaning against the wall and giving himself a second to breathe.

She stares at her reflection with teary eyes, feeling a little lighter after her shower. If it were up to her, she would have stayed in there all night; comforted by the warm water hitting her skin.

With him on the other side of the door, she doesn’t know what to make of everything that’s transpired. Why does she always have to do this when she’s under the influence? She’s already starting to hate herself for it now, she knows the embarrassment will only be worse when she wakes up tomorrow with a killer hangover.

After getting dressed in the clothes he brought her (a sweet gesture that makes her want to wring his neck) and brushing her teeth, she emerges from the bathroom, her hair damp. She walks past him without a word, heading straight to her bedroom.

Javier hesitates, torn between leaving now and staying a bit longer to ensure she’s okay.

His feet carry him to her bedroom door before his mind catches up. “I’m headed out,” he announces awkwardly, his gaze fixed on her as she crawls into bed. “Drink some water and take those pills.”

Paloma nods faintly, doing as he instructed, her eyes avoiding him as she curls up under the blankets.

He wants to say more, to fix things somehow, but he knows he can’t. Not tonight, not like this.

“Can you come here, please?”

Her words carry a vulnerable tone that tugs at his heartstrings, having him walk over to her.

“What is it?”

“Why don’t you want me Javi?” Her voice trembles slightly, head sinking deeper into the pillow. Her sad, twinkling brown eyes plead with him, searching for answers that have eluded her for too long “What don’t I have that all the others do?”

He feels a pang in his chest, kneeling beside the bed and bringing himself to eye level with her. He can’t bear to see her like this, questioning her worth because of his shortcomings. He knows it’s not about what she lacks—it’s about his own fears and insecurities.

“Cariño, you have so fucking much,” he murmurs sincerely. His fingers reach out, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. She’s so beautiful. “You have this warmth, this passion... It scares me, Paloma. How strongly I feel about you.”

He searches her eyes, hoping she’ll understand, hoping she’ll see that it’s his own tensions holding him back, not any fault of hers. But he knows words alone won’t heal the wounds he’s inflicted. He wishes he could erase the pain he’s caused, the doubts he’s planted in her heart.

Her gaze holds his, a mixture of longing and hurt swirling in his mesmerizing brown eyes. She doesn’t verbally say anything, but her stare speaks volumes—pleading for an explanation.

“But why?”

“‘Cause shit has never worked out for me.”

“So you just gave up entirely?”

“Isn’t that what you did?”

“Yeah. Until I met you and realized how lonely it is giving up.” Paloma hiccups softly, her words tinged with vulnerability, nuzzling into his touch against her cheek. “Do you like being lonely, Javi?”

There’s a long pause.

“…No.” He’s never been this honest before.

She scoots closer to him, closing the gap between them. Her hand reaches up tentatively, fingers brushing against his. “Then don’t be. I’m right here.”

Javi looks down, pulling his hand back. “You need to sleep this off baby.”

Her brow furrows slightly, frustration clear in her expression. She wants him to stay, to talk, to unravel the complexities between them. But she knows he’s holding back, keeping his distance for reasons she can’t fully grasp.

“Don’t fuckin’ dismiss me—”

“I’m not dismissing you. We’ll talk about it another time when you’re sober. Right now you need to sleep.”

“Promise me.” Her voice is insistent now, “Promise me that you’ll actually talk and be honest when we speak again.”

He knows he owes her that much—honesty, vulnerability, a chance to mend the fractures he’s caused. He nods slowly.

“Si, te lo prometo. Pero ahorita, mi palomita, tienes que descansar (Yes, I promise you, but right now, my little dove, you need to rest).”

He reaches out again, this time his hand finding hers on the bedspread. Their fingers intertwine briefly, a silent reassurance passing between them. He squeezes gently before standing.

Her lips curl up into a small yet sweet smile, feeling newfound hope at the prospect of making amends with Javier and finally getting what she actually wants.

No fantastical tales of peace and power, no outlandish adventures and sneaking around, no deceit.

All she desires is to be wanted by him.

He lingers by the door again. “We’ll talk soon.”

Paloma nods, “Goodnight, Javi.” Her eyes follow him as he leaves the room. Alone now, she curls up under the blankets, drunken thoughts swirling in her head. She wants to believe in his promise, to hope that their next conversation will bring clarity and maybe even something more.

Now outside, Javier bends down to pick up his discarded cigarette, leaning against the car and lighting it. He runs a hand through his hair as he exhales the smoke heavily. He’s committed now, committed to confronting his own fears after half-assing it for so long. It won’t be easy, but for Paloma, he’s willing to try.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #javier peña smut #javier pena fic #javier pena fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfic #javier peña fic #narcos fanfiction #javier peña x ofc #narcos fic #javier pena smut #pedro pascal smut #javier peña fanfiction #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier peña narcos

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stories-from-the-shaded-moon · 8 months

Text

THIS IS SPARTA

Mr. Lon cleared his throat. “Is everyone done with their test?” He heard a chorus of answers, all of which were akin to yes.

“Well, I don’t have anything else for you to do. So, you have…” he looked at the ticking clock, “thirty minutes of free time.” He heard sighs of relief and smiled.

“Truely, a test on Greece couldn’t be that hard,” he laughed. “It was mostly wars, Persian and Pelopponesian, you lot like wars, don’t you?”

Then he saw a hand raised. It was Sky, one of his best students. “Yes Sky?”

“Well,” he laughed a little, “like, Sparta right?”

A wider smile rose on Mr. Lon’s face. This is why he loved his job. The thing about history is that there are so many interesting things about it. The thing about being a history teacher is that you can rant about it, and outside sources think that you’re teaching.

“What about Sparta?” Time felt the little guy inside of him start to jump.

“Are there more things about it?”

“Well, I’ve told you a lot. However, If you’d like to hear me…rant…about Sparta, I am more than happy to!” Time internally begged them to let him.

Then another hand raised. “Yes Twilight?”

“You said that their last training thingy before they became military was…killing a slave?”

“They called their slaves Helots, and yes. The last or near last thing they had to do to be considered a man, was to kill a slave. They also couldn’t be found out, or they’d get into reasonable trouble.”

“That’s…”

“Today, if there was a city or state who did that, someone would eventually burn it down for crimes against humanity…Well,” Time tapped his chin, his hand on his hip. “maybe it’d actually be about them killing disabled babies.”

Another one of his students caught their laugh in their hand, his royal blue beanie coming off of his head. “That’s going in the quotebook.”

Sky’s head was on his desk, his shoulders shaking. “Agreed.”

“Live abortion…” Twilight lightly chuckled. “That’s not funny guys.”

“Well, on a sadder note. The only graves that got marked, or had names on it, were those of soldiers who died for Sparta in battle, and women who died during childbirth,” Time thought about this ‘quotebook’ silently.

“On one note, Sparta is pretty barbaric, but Athens was honestly worse. Well, in my opinion.” Mr. Lon began walking in circles. “Yes, Sparta threw babies and killed them or killed slaves as a test, but women were actually appreciated and somewhat equal with the men. They were educated and learned how to fight. In the event that someone came to Sparta to invade and the men weren’t present, it was up to the women to fight. They had to know how to fight to protect Sparta.”

“That’s another thing, everyone in Sparta was under Sparta. The rich in Sparta were still under Sparta and fought to protect Sparta. That connection is probably why I don’t consider Sparta barbaric.”

Mr. Lon laughed. “Athens, on the other hand, was a hot mess. The poor were, in many cases, three years behind the rich. The Romans followed a good deal after Athens, which is probably why Rome fell the way it did.” He stopped at the boys’ table. “I feel like Rome took the bad aspects of Sparta and the average bits of Athens…”

“Isn’t it crazy that they called the ones who respected women, the savages?” A girl asked from some tables away.

“Well, Dawn, I find that ironic. But there are some barbaric aspects to the Spartans, no matter how beautiful I paint them.”

“But they basically saved Athens during the Persian war. They’d be dust without Sparta.” Dawn’s eyes looked bored, but Time could tell that she was challenging him again. She did this thing where she’d bring up a topic, and they’d debate about it for some time. Well, she was the captain of the debate team, he was the teacher responsible for the debate team. It’s only natural that she’d want to win. Well, she’s won one debate against him. Though, how was he supposed to know the message of My Little Pony other than Friendship is Magic?

But then again, how was she supposed to know that Alexander the Great and Hephaestion or Achilles and Patroclus were definitely not straight for each other?

“Ah, but Sparta would be dust without Athens in that sense. Yes, the Battle of Thermopylae was a Sparta stand for Athens. And, yes, without King Leonidas holding out for…three days, the Athenians wouldn’t have had time to evacuate to Salamis for the final fight, but if you really think about it, the Persian wars wouldn’t have been won by Greece without Sparta and-“

“The Persian Wars wouldn’t have happened if Athens didn’t send their ships.” Dawn cut him off. Time chuckled.

“Good point, however-“

“And after the wars, Athens decided that they wanted to fill themselves with hubris, which is why Sparta attacked them, which is why the Peloponnesian War happened, which allowed Alexander the Great to conquer Greece.” Dawn’s face grew a smirk, the same one she’d pull when she knew she’d won.

And, suddenly, Time found himself losing a debate about history in his own history class.

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howtodrawyourdragon · 6 months

Text

Looking Out For The Twins

Summary: Set in a Modern AU. While waiting for the twins, Hiccup has an unexpected talk with their mother that leads to a promise.

Warnings: /

Rating: General

Words: 1 035

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Characters: Hiccup, Ruffnut, Tuffnut, Ruff and Tuff's mother

Pairing: /

Author's Notes: Wrote this on a whim (as I do with most of my fics) Came kind of out of nowhere, but I was in need of a slightly fluffier fic.

Enjoy!

-XOXOX-

The house of the Thorston Twins isn’t a place Hiccup frequents. He’s been here once or twice before, he’s there now as he waits for Ruffnut and Tuffnut to get dressed for the day- though he told them the evening before to be ready- and so he finds himself in their living room.

He feels awkward as he sits on one end of the couch, a cup of coffee in hand. It’s the kind of awkward someone feels when they’re in a house they’re not familiar with, like he’s intruding even though he has permission to be here. The mother of his friends let him in.

Mother Thorston sits on the other end of the couch, sipping on her own cup. Just like the house, she’s not too familiar to him. He knows what she looks like- she is just as blond as Ruff and Tuff, though her eyes lean more towards the latter’s- what her first and last names are, that she works two or three jobs to support them all and their grandfather and the house is inherited, but that’s where his knowledge of her ends.

“So,” she starts. “How is school? Ruffnut and Tuffnut mentioned you were graduating this year.”

“Uh ya-yeah, I am. I don’t think exams are going to give me too much trouble,” Hiccup is surprised by her show of interest. Though, it’s probably one of those topics people bring up in order to fill in the silence by being polite when a teenager is involved in the conversation. Like asking someone what the weather is like.

The awkwardness growing, he tries to distract himself by taking a sip of his cup of coffee. He neglected to ask for sugar or milk, yet the taste still catches him by surprise. He hopes he doesn’t make it too obvious.

“They told me you’re smart, smarter than most,” the older woman continues and Hiccup can see where the twins get their directness from.

“Uh, I guess… Though in what way, that’s entirely up for debate,” that last part is mostly muttered. He supposes nobody can deny that he’s smart, but there are certain parts of his personality that sometimes cancel out all that gray matter of his.5“You help them with their homework and their school projects,” she states.

“I mean, so does Fishlegs.”

“You keep them straight.”

“I’m, ah… going to keep my thoughts to myself.”

“I was so surprised when my twins told me they wanted to go to the library when they were 14 to loan books,” their mother states with a fond expression. “The only reason they used to go there was to vandalize the place, but now the only misschief they get up to there now is to see how many books they can get away with. And they read them, too!”

There’s a loud bang that comes from upstairs and Tuffnut groans whils Ruffnut laughs.

Hiccup puts his cup down, feeling like this conversation isn’t just random.

“Mrs. Thorston, is there something you want to talk about?” His awkwardness disappears, it’s a Haddock trait to be good in confrontations.

“Hiccup,” she breathes. “I’m sure you have your own plans after graduation, but… do you think you can you find the time to look after them still?”

Hiccup’s brow raises in surprise.

“You know how old they were when they first got arrested? They were 11 years old! They were caught stealing candy bars and chocolate from the gas station,” she reminisces, telling him something he already knows. Berk isn’t a large town, after all. It’s just barely above a village. Until Hiccup’s generation, they didn’t even have internet!

Mother Thorston places her cup down as well and observes the serious, but attentive, look in his eyes. With her twins, she can’t tell half the time if they’re paying attention or not, but with Hiccup you know he’s there, his gears turning.

“It was only downhill from there. They would get in trouble at school, cheat, bully Sven’s poor sheep, vandalize… And when they told me they were hanging around Stoick’s boy, “with his one leg and his geeky brain,” I thought; here we go some more,” the mother sags in her seat, her fingers pressing on some imminent pounding in her skull.

“And then… some time after, they went to the library, but not to vandalize it?” Hiccup wonders, hoping to finish the tale for her.

She nods, smiling at their guest.

“They changed. They changed and started talking about you, about their other friends, and they weren’t getting into nearly as much trouble as they used to. But in all honesty, Hiccup, I-”

“You’re afraid that once I graduate, I won’t be in their lives anymore and they’ll slip,” he doesn’t mean to cut her off, but he does.

“Yes,” she releases a deep sigh.

Hiccup smiles at her and she recognizes what kind simply because Ruffnut and Tuffnut mention him so often. It’s the kind that tells her not to worry.

“It’s true that I do have my own plans for the future,” plans he and Astrid are making with each other in mind. “But I have no intentions of leaving anyone behind. Don’t worry, Mrs. Thorston, I’ll look out for them.”

His promise brings a smile of relief to her face, melting away the tiredness he hadn’t even noticed was there until it lifted. That’s how much of a part of her it’s become.

“Thank you,” she tells him, sighing for the final time. Unlike her children, she’s somewhat quiet.

As they wait for the twins, they find other topics to talk about, Hiccup makes another attempt at drinking the coffee he was kindly offered and when they finally come down Tuffnut makes a comment about “mom and dad sitting in the same living room together being awkward.” Hiccup and their mother wear a very similar expression at that comment.

The three of them bid the twins’ mother goodbye before they leave through the front door to meet Astrid, Fishlegs and Snotlout somewhere she doesn’t know. Despite this, there’s no need to worry, because her children have people they can rely on who care enough to keep them out of trouble.

#httyd fics #httyd movies #rtte #race to the edge #au #alternate universe #modern au #hiccup haddock #ruffnut thorston #tuffnut thorston #hiccup and the dragon riders #httyd ocs #my fanfics #looking out for the twins

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pjisskullourful · 2 years

Text

𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

🏳️‍🌈 Thomas × reader

NSFW 🔥 lovedup adults doing nasty adult things to one another

° Thomas Raggi & female reader insert

° you've never had a boyfriend support your queer identity before, but now thomas wants to accompany you to your first ever gay rights rally

wordcount:::: 3,721

° thanks to everyone who voted for this to be brought out of the vault💋 [commissions are priority! there are currently 4 commissions in cue!]

"You're remindin' me of a fly- hoverin' around like this." Thomas said. "Why don't you just sit down on my lap, like you usually do when you're doing my makeup?"

You dipped your brush back into the square of pink pigment, shaking your head as you walked in front of the chair your boyfriend was seated in, the morning sunshine illuminating his face as you looked at him from a different angle. "No, I don't think we'll be doing that, baby." You bent down, considering how to get this application to match what you had done on his other eye. "This isn't like going out to dinner with your friends, where you can distract me with your cuteness and maybe we fool around a bit 'cause if we arrive late, the most important thing we'll miss is the garlic bread.

"This is a gay rights protest- it has a set starting time and I don't wanna miss any of it. It's my first time protesting and what if we arrive late and we miss out on learning the chants?"

"This tense interest in time management- is this the gay agenda that I'm always hearing about?" He asked with a cheeky grin.

You swept the pink eyeshadow into the inner corner of his eye, pleased when he took you seriously enough to hold still. The significance of this day was making you nervous.

It had been inspiring nerves in you ever since you had first learnt of the event. Victoria had sent you a photo of a flyer found taped up in the city - she insisted you had to go and scream extra loud for her (she would be out of town, visiting family the same weekend, unable to attend).

You had never been in the closet with the members of Måneskin - when you had first met Thomas a little over a year ago, your phone case had been covered in the colours of the bisexual pride flag. There hadn’t been a wasted effort of trying to hide it. He had never questioned you on it or made any comments that made you feel unsupported. You were the first queer woman he had dated, but you were far from the first gay girl he had cared for in his inner-circle. He didn't need you to go over the basics with him, he didn't need a big, serious talk about what this meant or how it affected him - he had simply nodded his head, he gave your hand a comforting squeeze and told you to correct him without hesitation if he ever did anything unbefitting of an ally.

He was the exact opposite of your last boyfriend who had been stuck in the attitude of homophobia. He used slurs in private, to everyone else he would pretend his attitude was less aggressive, always quick to say that he didn't mind if people were gay - he just wished they wouldn't rub it in his face.

You had ignored his every comment, avoiding any kind of discussion around the topic. Because it hadn't mattered that you thought you might be bisexual. Nothing could be explored while you were in a relationship with a man, and you thought you didn't need the label.

But Thomas wanted you to express how you felt, he loved how you lit up whenever you got to talking about your sexuality and the community you were slowly discovering. He left you with no reason to hold yourself back. You could find where you belonged, with him giving you a supportive nod and thumbs-up every step of the way.

Now you were painting the colours of the bisexual flag across his eyelids, preparing to march through the streets of Rome with him.

You felt extra appreciative of him at this moment. This wasn't something that you had thought you would ever get to experience.

You couldn’t help yourself, swooping down to kiss him on the lips. He placed a hand to your cheek, seeking to deepen the kiss as he gently drew your bottom lip into his mouth. Feeling his tongue sweep over your lip made you forget of those anxieties, in a fleeting moment that made you want to rock your body into his.

Instead you willed yourself to lean away, licking your lips as you straightened up. You cleared your throat, trying to ignore how you could see him in your peripheral vision as you looked at your eyeshadow palette. You covered the brush bristles in more pink, glittery powder.

“I thought I was being the problem child, distractin’ you from being ready on time and all that.” He said, smirking. “I’m not allowed to invite you to sit on my lap, but you’re allowed to kiss me?”

You were trying to stop yourself from smiling, because you knew it would undermine any authority you were hoping to gain. "Shut up, it's part of my process. You wouldn't understand it, you're not a makeup artist."

He laughed. "You can just say that you wanted to kiss me."

"Fine." You said, his eyes shutting as he became still when you came towards him with the brush again. "I wanted to kiss you, and I considered my options and realised that I would have time to kiss you if I didn't need time to do some sort of graphic eyeliner extravaganza on you. I think you're gonna agree that you don't need the liner, 'cause you already look spectacular.

"In fact, I couldn't take you if you looked any more spectacular. I don't need to be upstaged by my own boyfriend."

"No chance of that happening." He said. "But just so you know…" He hooked his finger through one of your belt loops. "... if you need some more assistance with your artistic process, I'm happy to kiss you again. Or we could do more than kissing. For the sake of your artistic process, of course."

"Great, thanks, I'll keep that in mind." You said sarcastically. "Okay, I think the only thing left is kajal and mascara. Are you comfortable with me doing those, or do you wanna do that yourself?"

"I can handle those."

"Okay, I'm gonna get my lipstick on. But I'll be right over there if you need help."

He picked up a hand mirror. "Hey, I may not have any kind of sophisticated artistic process, but I can put on mascara and eyeliner. You just go and do whatever you need to do to make sure you're prepped for serving the gay agenda."

— — —

The sky was getting darker by the time you returned home, hand-in-hand with your boyfriend. You didn't have much voice left, all of the chanting and screaming had left you quite hoarse.

You were without your voice, and there were other things you had lost during the course of the day. The weight of all of those nerves that had made you feel like you were facing your first day of high school had dissipated. You had lost your anxieties and your stress.

But the best thing to lose were your uncertainties.

Some things had been gained. People selling handmade pins had gotten Thomas’ attention and admiration, an array of new accessories decorating his button-up shirt. Before the actual march could begin, amongst the people handing out flyers, he had found someone selling a full-size bisexual flag, for what you were sure was an inflated price.

But the price hadn’t mattered to him - his mood was too good to be spoiled by anything.

While you had been internally taking the whole scene in, he had set into the experience with immediate enthusiasm. He hadn’t held back, it was like when he was the first member of the friend group to head for the dance floor, dragging you along because he couldn’t simply enjoy himself standing still. It drew you in every time, making you feel the rush that could block out your self-doubt. The thoughts that could slow you down were drowned out as his confidence brought you into fully-inhabiting the moment with him.

It magnetised others and intoxicated you.

And it didn't stop as you walked into the apartment - he had so genuinely enjoyed his day, this high might hold on. You weren't sure that you had the most fun, even though the event had held such significance to you.

“The question is- what kind of sign would we make?” He asked, making you pause as you wondered what steps in the conversation you had missed because his query had come after a period of silence. This didn’t relate to the last thing you had said. Had he been carrying on a conversation with himself, carefully mulling the decision over?

You watched him lock the door, waiting for him to clue you in on this conversation. He turned around to face you. "What are you talking about?"

"The next march that we go to, we've gotta have a sign, but, like, what type?" He asked, pausing to unlace and remove his shoes. "There were so many great ones, I didn't realise there were all these different types of protest signs.

“Do you think we should do a funny one, like, a meme or a Simpsons reference? Or some kind of artistic one?” He asked as he came towards where you were leaning against the wall. “Of course, being the superior drawer, you would have to take the lead on that. But I would help you out with the brainstorming, happy to…”

He didn’t get to finish making his point because you couldn’t keep yourself from pouncing on him. You put an arm around his neck and pulled him in closer, placing your hand to his cheek so that you could guide him in for a kiss.

It was the kind of kiss that it seemed like you had been waiting all day to give him. It was the kind of kiss that completely disregarded the preservation of makeup. It was the kind of kiss that existed outside of time. You sank into it, pressing your chest against him as his arms wound around your waist. His tongue teased your lips apart and you couldn’t hold back a little moan, you were so keen to get to indulge.

You leaned away, seeing a smile on his face even before he’d had the opportunity to open his eyes. “I love you, baby.”

He gasped, feigning surprise. “That’s crazy, I was literally just about to say that same thing to you. It’s like you read my mind, or somethin’. How did you do that?”

You laughed, nuzzling your nose against his. “I’d love to tell you, but there’s certain secrets of the gay agenda that I simply cannot share. Not yet, at least…”

His eyes moved slowly over the details of your face, as if he hadn’t spent the whole day with you in his line of sight. “Oh-no, sorry.” He curled your hair behind your ear. “I messed up your lipstick.”

“I couldn’t care less. This makeup has been well-documented, and that’s such an understatement, it’s not even funny.” You said.

This day would forever remain with clarity due to the copious amount of photos that you had taken, capturing it from all perspectives. There were cute selfies, your cheeks pressed together as he wanted to try seemingly every filter on Snapchat. You had taken photos of him standing alongside the protestors with the signs he thought were the best. He had taken photos and short videos of you marching with the crowd. Something that felt as thorough as a photoshoot had taken place with his phone camera pointed at you as he instructed you on how to pose with your new flag - you would be surprised if there was any memory space left on the device after that.

“Do you want me to take your makeup off?” You asked.

“Yes, please. All of the times that I wanted to rub my eye, but I couldn’t.” He said, following you over to the desk where most of your beauty supplies were stored. “I’ve been literally dying.”

You smiled, positioning yourself in front of the chair he had sat upon. “My poor baby.” You brought forward the pack of cleansing wipes, pulling one out. “But it was worth it, right?” You started by cleaning around his mouth, wiping away the mess made by your bright lipstick. “You were swimming in compliments, like so many people.”

He couldn’t keep his hands to himself, resting one on your hip, his thumb stroking tenderly. “Only because of the makeup that you did.”

“Thank you. Thank you for this whole day.”

He shut his eyes, allowing you to wipe away the colours that had been decorating his eyelids. “I gotta thank you, and not just for the kick-ass makeup that everyone loved…” The bright colours lifted away from his pale skin, but some flecks of glitter remained. “Thank you for trusting me enough to share this stuff with me.

“You never shut me out…” He said and opened his eyes to look at you now that you were cleaning the highlight off his cheekbones. “And I’m so grateful to know you, all of you.”

You took the makeup wipe away from his face, letting that arm go limp as you gazed upon him. He blinked at you, seemingly waiting for you to say something. But you couldn’t speak, just feeling your heart swelling up in your chest. You were flooded with emotion, propping yourself up on the edge of the desk. You didn’t think you had the correct words, nothing was fitting for this significant moment.

“You’re…” You put the wipe aside and placed your hands on his cheeks. “You’re just the…” He smiled as you fumbled through your thoughts. “You’re the best boyfriend ever, do you know that?”

He pushed his fingers through your hair, leaning in closer. “Only the best for my babygirl. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He lifted his ass from the seat, drawing in until he could kiss you. You sharply inhaled before melting into the kiss. You caressed your fingers over his cheeks as he wrapped his arms around your middle.

You never wanted this kiss to end because it finally gave your emotions a place to land. You tilted your head, following him deeper as you wrapped an arm around his neck.

You didn’t distress over the words that wouldn’t come. Now he was drawing whimpers from you as his tongue glided into your mouth.

You arched your back, pressing yourself firmly to his chest. You only pulled back when you felt his hands on the bottom of your tank top, seeking to get under it. You let him remove it from over your head, before instantly resuming kissing.

This passion was punctuated by your efforts to remove clothes, until you were equally naked before each other. You positioned your ass on the desk, parting your knees as you faced him.

His eyes drank in the sight of you, sweeping up-and-down to rediscover all of those parts that he favoured. You put your hands to his sides, feeling up the ridges of his thin figure as he moved in closer, close enough for you to feel his body heat again. His hands went to your cheeks, brushing his fingers softly over your face with his thumb moving across your bottom lip. You parted your lips, anticipating a kiss.

Instead he moved away a little. “I’m gonna grab a rubber, be right back.”

In addition to catching your breath, you took this time to wipe off your remaining makeup. You couldn’t imagine that its current state would be very seductive to your boyfriend.

You had remained on the desk, not wanting to rupture this perfect moment - although unplanned, this was clearly the fitting conclusion to this wonderful day. When he returned, it was to place himself between your legs again. Your hands went to his cheeks as his mouth captured yours in a kiss.

His hands ghosted down your sides, making you feel so small, so ready to be consumed. His hands kept moving lower until he was grasping at your bare legs. He fit his fingers into the ditch behind your knees, beginning to lift. You allowed your body weight to be shifted back as your legs went up. Your ankles went onto his bony shoulders, kept here to rest. You felt your wet cunt opening as you kept covering his lips in kisses.

His hands went to your waist and he whined against your mouth as he leaned in closer. You tilted your pelvis as he grinded into you, his skin pressed to yours. The muscles in your legs started to tense when you felt his tip lining up with your slicked entrance.

He started to sink inside, his body pushing against your legs and you were rapidly losing your breath. Your walls fluttered excitedly as he stroked in deeper. You were soon feeling his hip bones digging into the squishiness of your thighs. You put one hand into his hair and used the other to hold onto the edge of the desk, hoping to brace yourself.

He let you set the pace, tensing your body so that you could swing your hips up. You broke the kiss, gasping for air as you concentrated on your movements. Your hand gripped into a fist around his hair as the pressure inside of you grew. You were thrilled by the sensations swarming your body, absolutely ready to come undone for him.

“Fuck.” You sobbed as his hips snapped into you faster.

You looked at him and found that his eyes were mostly shut, the lids rapidly fluttering as he got lost in ecstasy. But when he saw you were watching, he fought harder to get his eyes open, to meet your gaze. His features, that were marked by effort, became lit up with a smile and you could see sparks in his hazel eyes.

This extra level of connection gave him some inspiration and you felt his thrusts come in faster again. This new pace had your gut clenching and you started to bite into your bottom lip as your chest heaved. You twitched and writhed into him, listening to the quick collisions of skin-on-skin.

“Ah, Thomas.” You whimpered.

There was a strain in your leg muscles, with the limbs being unnaturally pinned to your bare chest. But this discomfort, and any other thoughts, were banished from your mind when he found a way to bury the head of his cock in deep enough to collide with your g-spot.

You let out a surprised cry as your hips (working of their own accord) leapt up higher, your ass leaving the desk momentarily.

Your inner-walls spasmed and for a moment the world stopped, with you almost seeing the control leaving your body. It was replaced by impulses and excitement.

“Yes.” He moaned, pressing his body weight into you.

He savoured this new depth, moving his dick in sensual strokes, with his head lingering at your sweet spot. He spent less time rocking back, maintaining the friction was no longer the priority.

This new, more thorough tempo had you squeezing your eyes shut as tremors raced through the muscles in your legs. He was getting you to that place of too much, your toes curling as your body kept at that tempo with everything you had.

“Please.” You wailed. “Please don’t stop, babe.”

You twitched as the pressure in your cunt and your chest increased, taking you over. You listened to his raspy moans as you concentrated on the connection between your bodies.

The brightest and most spectacular colours danced in the darkness behind your eyelids as you started to dissolve into the pleasure. With this most intimate massage, he took you up to and then over the edge. You cried out as you let go entirely.

You flinched and shook, your limbs aching to be repositioned. Clumsily, you brought your ankles down from his shoulders to wrap your legs around his waist. You clenched your thighs and arched your back, bucking into him quicker, with renewed vigour. Your whole body was filled with tingles as you chased his orgasm.

“Yeah, oh fuck…” He whispered, beginning to match the jerking of his hips to his words of praise. “Yes, yes, oh yes, yes, yuh- yes, yes.”

You grabbed for his shoulders with both hands, clinging to him as your body was rocked by incredibly powerful aftershocks. You were quivering but you refused to be taken down, your heart thundering in your ears. You kept moving your body to serve that desperate speed. His breath was hot on the side of your face and his hands gripped your hips.

“Yes, yes, yes, oh yes.” He whined as he continuously guided you along his shaft. “God. I love you, oh babe…”

“I love you too.” You responded, this sentence punctuated by a needy moan that came from deep in your chest.

“Fuck, I’m so close.” He said through heavy breaths. “Oh, fuck.”

You did your best to meet every one of his thrusts, even as he plunged into a faster, frenzied tempo. You ignored the unhappy creaks of the desk as you put your hands to either side of his face.

You started to kiss him, getting weak kisses back as he struggled for breath. Your pussy kept clenching around him, the sensitive walls so receptive to the strokes from his cock’s swollen head. He hummed and groaned against your mouth.

With a couple more jolts into you, he reached the climax and fell out of the rhythm. You covered his mouth in more lasting kisses as you felt his body slumping a little. He leaned against the desk for support as he wrapped his arms loosely around your torso.

“Fuck.” He croaked, resting his head against your shoulder as the two of you struggled to get your breath back.

“I love you.” You rushed to say. “I love you so much, Tommy.”

He looked at you, strands of hair stuck to the sweat on his face and he smiled. “I love you too.” He gave you a quick peck on the lips. “Let’s shower, yeah?”

“Genius idea.” You said.

“And we can talk some more about the kind of sign we need for the next protest.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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