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brutal-nemesis · 3 years ago

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E&T: The Price to Pay

Hello welcome back to actually whumping Erebus 💕 I missed his screams

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Ingredients: tooth whump, noncon body modification, noncon touching (unsexy)

Far too soon, Erebus found himself immobilized and staring up at Zander the rat once again. They’d let him keep his shirt on this time, but that wasn’t exactly reassuring as that made it much more likely that she was going to mess with his face or somewhere else that would be difficult to hide.

That is, if he ever even got the luxury of hiding the thing he was turning into.

Neteri came over, returning his wary gaze with a beaming smile. “How’s my favorite test subject?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m your only test subject.”

“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love ya.” She ruffled his hair affectionately, and he hated that he was starting to like it when she touched him like that. “And even if I had other ones, you’d still be my favorite.”

“That so.”

“Yeah! You’re just so cute and well-behaved.”

“I-I’m just not stupid. I know fighting doesn’t do me any good. I’m not doing it for you or anything.”

“And that’s perfectly fine, as long as the end result is the same!” She gave his head one final pat before turning and putting her gloves on. “Now, let’s get started. This should be pretty quick and easy since we’re...going to take things a little more slowly. Well okay not slowly but just...sticking to my original plan. Which means starting with the simpler procedures and working our way up. In conclusion, today really won’t be anything too bad.” She patted his cheek. “Open up.”

“I still don’t-ahh.” Erebus was expecting her to gag him again, but he felt his stomach drop when she shoved the rubber block in between his teeth instead. If she wasn’t going to do something to his tongue again, that meant...she wasn’t going to mess with his teeth, was she?

She held up a pair of pliers, confirming his worst fears. His abject terror must have shown on his face, as she gave him a sympathetic look and squeezed his hand in her gloved one. “Just two, okay? I’ll be quick, I promise. And it’s either this or I give you a tail, which I assume you don’t want a tail.” Erebus tried to shake his head, because he most certainly did not want a tail, but the strap around his forehead prevented him from moving much. “Uh, thumbs up if you don’t want a tail and thumbs down if-wait no you can’t move your wrist.” She stared into space for a moment before coming to the solution Erebus had been thinking of from the beginning, which was pulling the rubber block out of his mouth so he could speak.

“No, I don’t want a tail,” he said tiredly. “I really don’t want you to...to pull my teeth either, but if I had to pick between the two...I’d really rather not have a tail.”

“You sure? It would be a cool tail. Venomous.”

“I am now even more sure that I absolutely do not want it.”

“You’re no fun.” She shoved the block back in, and Erebus found himself a little bit calmer, because at least he sort of chose this. Not that he in any way consented to what she was about to do to him, but he preferred it over the alternative, which was guaranteed to make him feel completely inhuman. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to steady his breathing as she started to move towards his mouth.

The sensation of the pliers against his tooth was...unpleasant, to say the least. The cold, hard metal scraped against it, sending horrific echoes through his skull. His heart started beating even faster as their grip tightened and he felt her start to pull. Was she even strong enough to do this oh Drottkia there was so much pressure building up but he knew once it gave it would-

Hurt like hell, lighting up his entire face with agony oh it felt like someone had stabbed the spot his tooth used to be with a molten nail and he tried not to scream he really did there was blood dripping down into the back of his throat and already something cold and wet was pressing into the tender flesh around the hole she’d just made it was so cold and one, two, three now it was itching, burning, agonizingly white-hot and there was nothing, nothing else besides anguish as the foreign tooth wormed its way in.

At some point after the pain mostly died out, Neteri removed the block, allowing him to relax his jaw. He tried to catch his breath as he did so, his throat already raw from screaming. Hesitantly, he moved his tongue towards the new tooth, foolishly hoping it wasn’t-it was.

A fang. A long, sharp fang. He had a fang.

And in a few minutes, he was getting another one.

“You did so well, bud, halfway done,” Neteri reassured as she gently wiped some of the blood from around his mouth. “Can you bite together for me?” He begrudgingly did so, resisting the pointless urge to bite her as she examined the new tooth. It hadn’t aligned quite right, and it took a few tries for her to get it right, each time involving her painfully twisting it with the pliers.

When Erebus’s upper and lower jaws finally fit together properly, she shoved the block back in and gripped his remaining canine with the pliers. He hoped he’d never have to feel pliers in his mouth after today, they were so hard and cold and-hurt hurt hurt they hurt so much pulling pulling the pressure’s building up again I want this over with but I’m scared to feel that pain again but you chose it and you deserve it because you failed so endure it even as the agony stabs you in the skull even as you can’t stop screaming even as the magic burns and forces another fang into your mouth you have to endure because it’s all you can do anymore endure it endure it endure it

Thankfully, the second tooth didn’t need as much adjusting as the first, and soon enough Erebus found himself breathing a sigh of relief that at least the pain was over, even if the effects of what had just happened would be with him forever. Neteri patted him and praised him before calling in the guards, saying she’d come by his cell to check on him once she got everything cleaned up.

Back in the cell, Erebus stood in front of the mirror, as had become his weird sort of ritual after a procedure. The blood around his mouth was something he’d seen before, but as for what was inside...he knew they were there, he could feel them in there. A part of him knew, though, that once he saw them, there was no going back. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth.

The fangs were so, so apparent. They were noticeably longer than the teeth that had been there before had been, even if they weren’t as long as he had originally feared, but they looked as sharp as they felt. Once again, he couldn’t help but feel like he was some sort of monster, since he was certainly starting to look the part. He closed his jaw, hesitantly pulling his lips back into a smile-and oh, oh, that was horrific, no, no, absolutely no one would ever see that without wanting to run for their life. Maybe it was for the best that he never felt like smiling much these days.

When Neteri came in a few minutes later, Erebus was laying on his bed, curled around his pillow as he stared blankly ahead. She crouched in front of him, head cocked to the side. “Your mouth doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“No, it’s fi-ow.” In trying to say that he felt physically alright, he’d accidentally nicked his lower lip.

“Aw, poor thing,” Neteri chuckled sympathetically, reaching up and healing the little puncture with a tap of her finger and a spark of magic. “You’ll get used to them eventually.” Erebus elected not to respond, simply looking away. Why did she think she was in any position to feel sorry for him when she was the one causing him all this pain in the first place? And for what? He didn’t move as she stood up, but he was startled when she gently scooped up his head, sitting down in the spot where it had been before letting it drop back down. Onto her lap.

He panicked slightly, trying to sit up, but she held him down. “It’s alright, Erebus. Just lie still.” He opened his mouth to protest, but how was he supposed to explain that he didn’t want to be comforted this way, that he didn’t want to associate this feeling with her, that this was something only his mother (and Lythia, on a couple wonderful occasions) had done with him? Thoughts of both of them, of his life before all this, of his home, started to overwhelm him, and before he knew it he was crying. Again.

Neteri didn’t say a word, simply stroking his hair and rubbing his back as he clutched the pillow and sobbed about anything and everything. He missed his father and his home and his bed and his friends and the palace gardens and his freedom and having control over his own body and not being chained up all the time and how, how could Neteri act like she cared about him while she was cutting him into pieces he wished she would just stop because part of him was starting to like her and want her to do things like stroke his hair and that was wrong he shouldn’t like the person who-who owned him because he was owned he was he knew it deep down and he’d never admit it but it was true and he hated it and he wished he could hate her and he didn’t see how things would ever, ever be okay again and he was powerless to do anything but cry as the woman who was keeping him captive imitated the love of people he’d never see again.

At some point after he started to calm down, he felt one of Neteri’s hands leave him and opened his eyes to see that she was holding something in front of his face. “Here, I found this when I was going through my bag the other day. Did you want to keep it?” she said as she held out a light blue ribbon, the one she’d pulled out of his hair before cutting it off. The ribbon that had belonged to his mother. He quickly snatched it up and held it close to his chest, afraid of losing it again.

“Thanks,” Erebus said quietly, rubbing the familiar silk between his fingers. It really did mean a lot to him to have this little piece of his old life, even if his hair was nowhere near long enough to tie it in.

“Of course.” She stroked his hair a few more times before giving him a final pat and sliding out from underneath his head. He sat up and wiped the last few tears out of his eyes, not even flinching when her hand slid under his chin and tilted it up slightly. “Erebus, I just want you to know that if you ever want to talk about anything, you can just let me know, alright? I understand if you don’t want to, given, uh,” her other hand poked at the tag attached to his collar, “but if you do...I’m here, okay?” He just nodded, despite the fact that he sincerely doubted he’d ever take her up on that offer. Accepting comfort like he’d just done was bad enough.

After Neteri left, Erebus looked down at the ribbon, wondering what he should do with it. The thought of tying it to his collar crossed his mind, but he decided against it. He didn’t want something his mother had touched anywhere near that awful thing. His wrist, then? Not his right one, not on that foreign arm that he still hadn’t had any luck in transforming. He settled on his left wrist, tying it rather sloppily since he could only use one hand to make the knot.

Looking at it, thinking of everything he’d lost, Erebus realized that despite everything, despite how miserable he was, despite how much he wanted to escape this place, he still didn’t want to die. He didn’t know if it was hope that things would get better, fear of death, or something else entirely, but he realized that he wanted to live. He wanted to survive.

And if he needed to accept Neteri’s comfort every so often in order to keep himself sane, then so be it.

Tags: @dramaticcollapse @thehopelessopus @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @galaxywhump @as-a-matter-of-whump @mnmlover2002 @tears-and-lilies @yet-another-heathen @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @starnight-whump @unicornscotty @thebewilderer @kixngiggles @itallstartedwithharry @inky-whump

#i wrote something #erebus & terror #erebus #neteri #whump #tooth whump #pulling teeth #noncon body modification #noncon touching #whumper comforts whumpee #the day i dont mention rat zander is the day i die #it never came up but the fangs are from a pride demon #the tail woulda been as well it would have been like a scorpion one on the end #erebus doesnt get a tail because i dont want to imagine Ass #so once upon a time allen grabbed his own tooth with pliers for research #and i for some reason wanted it for myself for the descritpions #i used the pliers on my pocket knife and Wow don't try that at home it's awful #now erebus gets him fangies in picrews yaaaaay #with every chapter we get closer to the 3rd erebus picrew i always make (the one when he's done being experimented on)#lap pillow is totally not vaguely from re:zero hahahaha #boy finally has a good cry about the shitshow that has become his life #and we're getting into his weird attachment to neteri :) poor thing wishes he could hate her but he just cant #if he wants to survive without losing his mind he's going to have to accept her love <3 #but hey he gets momma's ribbon back which i kept forgetting to do #this was written in a van surrounded by my geology homies as we drove through utah #they were thinking about rocks and i was thinking about teeth. and also rocks

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1heartfanfics · 4 years ago

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Zander

This is a continuation of my last Nathan and Hazel fic which you can find here

Trigger warnings: mentions of past/current child abuse and neglect

“So what’s the plan again?” Jackson asked. Nathan had insisted that he’d only let Hazel do this if someone went with her, preferably someone bigger and male. She’d called Jackson, who was one of her closest friends, and explained the situation. He had been happy to help, driving over to her place within minutes, ready to go.

“Well, he doesn’t have a phone, so we can’t actually get in contact with him. Nathan has to call his parents or go through one of Zander’s friends to get a hold of him. They kind of have a system, but it’s tricky,” Hazel began.

“Right, so he doesn’t even know we’re coming,” Jackson said.

“Yeah. Which makes things a little more difficult,” Hazel sighed, wringing her hands on the wheel of her car. She was nervous, she’d admit that. It took a lot to bother her, but this was intense. Things could go really really badly.

“I want to go over it again,” Jackson said, bouncing his legs in the passenger seat. He wasn’t normally a nervous person either, but Hazel could tell he was freaking out.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked. Hazel hated to drag her friend into this.

“Yes,” Jackson nodded.

“Okay,” Hazel took a deep breath. “So you’ll knock on the door, say that your car battery died and your phone is dead, and ask if you can use their phone to call your boyfriend. You’ll call Kaiser and hold a fake conversation about him coming to get you. Meanwhile I will sneak around to the back of the house to Zander’s window and get him out that way.”

“What if they don’t let me use their phone?” he asked.

“Stall. Say that it’s really important cause your mom is in the hospital and you need to get there or something,” she said.

“Right. Any scary mean dogs that I should know about?”

“No. His dad’s the scariest thing you might encounter. Hopefully his mom will answer the door first,” Hazel said.

“And if she doesn’t?” Jackson asked.

“He’s not going to hurt a stranger for asking to use his phone. Abusers only abuse their spouse or their kids or anyone who gives them a reason I guess,” Hazel shrugged.

“Like smuggling their son out of their house?”

“Yeah like that. If anything goes wrong I’ll be the one who gets caught, not you,” Hazel sighed.

“What’s the code red plan?” Jackson asked, knowing they needed to consider the possibility of things going wrong.

“If they catch me you have to get out of there,” Hazel said, glancing over at Jackson for a second. He was looking at her worriedly. Jackson had always been protective of her ever since they’d met, like her older brothers. “I’m serious. If something goes wrong you get out and you go to the police. I’ll be okay.”

“I hate this plan,” Jackson sighed, wringing his hands.

“I don’t either. But we have to do this,”

“So what happened exactly?” Jackson asked. Hazel had been wondering how long before he’d ask that. They’d already been on the road for over an hour, they were almost there. She was surprised he’d waited this long.

“Nathan went home for the weekend, to check on Zander, cause he hadn’t heard from him in a few days,” Hazel began, “I guess things were worse than usual.”

“Meaning?”

“He came home looking totally battered, covered in bruises, black eye, I think a couple of his ribs might even be cracked or fractured. Zander had to sneak him out cause they wouldn’t let him leave, which means that he probably took a bad beating too,” she explained.

“Jesus,” Jackson breathed out.

“I didn’t even know it was this bad,” Hazel said, jaw clenched in anger against her boyfriend’s family. Her own parents were never around, but they’d also never hit her. How could someone do that to their kid?

“Another question, um, what happens if he’s not in his room?” Jackson realized another flaw in their plan.

“Then I’ll improvise,” Hazel said as she pulled up to the house, parking on the opposite side of the street, where the car could easily be seen from the front porch.

“This is a terrible plan,” Jackson said as he climbed out of the car.

“It’ll be fine,” Hazel assured him, before sneaking off into the shadows around the side of the house.

“Terrible plan,” Jackson muttered to himself as he walked reluctantly towards the house.

He took a deep breath as he walked up the steps to the door, bracing himself as he reached up to knock. He heard movement inside, then the sound of a latch unlocking, before the door opened, to reveal a women. His mom, thank the lord.

“Hi, um, I’m so sorry to bother you this late, but um, my car just crapped out on me and my phone’s dead. Is there any way I could use yours to call someone?” Jackson asked.

“Who is it?!?” a deep voice yelled from somewhere in the couch. Nathan’s dad.

“Uh, sure, come on it. What’s your name?” the woman asked, ignoring the call of her husband.

“Jacob,” Jackson said quickly, realizing it wasn’t a good idea to give her his actual name.

“It’s just a kid dear, his name’s Jacob. He’s just going to use our phone for a moment, his car broke down,” she explained to her husband as she led Jackson through the living room, past where Nathan’s dad was sitting in a recliner, beer in one hand remote in the other.

Meanwhile, Hazel had made her way around to the back of the house, where she found Zander’s window. She’d been here a few times in high school, although Nathan had done his best to keep her away from his home. She crept towards it, staying low, and peaked in. Zander was sitting on his bed, slumped against the wall.

Hazel closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as she fought back tears. Nathan had been right, the poor kid had paid for his escape. He looked even worse than Nathan had when he’d come home. And he was only 14.

Hazel straightened up, knocking gently on the window. Poor Zander was startled, jumping up off of his bed only to collapse to the floor. Once he’d recovered enough to pull himself up by his bed frame, he realized who it was and his eyes went wide.

He looked behind him to check that his door was closed, then limped across the room, supporting himself with the wall. Zander looked at Hazel, pointing down at the base of the window. Hazel looked down in confusion, then realized that the window was made to lock from the outside, probably to prevent him from escaping. She quickly unlocked and slid open the window, careful not to make any noise.

“What are you doing here?” he asked in a hushed whisper.

“I’m getting you out. We don’t have a lot of time, but pack whatever you can in your backpack and then we have to go,” she said quickly.

Zander stared at her for a second, then quickly snapped out of it. He grabbed his backpack, stumbling around his room to pack up a few things. Hazel cringed the whole time, praying that he wasn’t making enough noise to make his parents down the hall suspicious. She wondered how things were going for Jackson. She’d heard his voice a moment ago, so they must’ve agreed to let him use the phone.

“Ready?” she asked as Zander made his way back over to her.

“Yeah,”

“Alright, give me the backpack,” she said. He handed it through the window to her and she slung it onto her back. “Now come on, we gotta go,” she said, holding her hand out to him to help him through the window.

Zander nodded, draping one leg out the window, ducking his head under, then grabbing her hand. As he slid out of the window though, his shoulder hit the bottom, shoving it up to slam against the top with a loud crack. Both Hazel and Zander’s eyes went wide as they realized how loud it had been, frozen.

“ZANDER!”

Jackson heard the noise and closed his eyes, internally cursing. He knew exactly what that meant. In a flash Nathan’s dad was storming through the kitchen, where Jackson had just hung up the phone, and down the hallway towards the bedroom that both Zander and probably Hazel were currently in.

“W-well I think I’ll go wait in my car now,” Jackson said to Nathan’s mom, hoping he didn’t sound as terrified as he felt. He backed away from her, heading towards the front door.

“What did your friend say?” she asked, glancing nervously down the hall as her husband threw open the door to what Jackson assumed was Zander’s room, following Jackson towards the door.

“JENNY get the fuck in here!”

“He’ll be here in just a minute,” Jackson laughed nervously, continuing to back towards the door, her following him. Angry footsteps pounded down the hall, back towards them.

“I know you’re in on this boy!”

I’ll just get out of your hair,” Jackson said frantically, stumbling over the rug in the hall as he reached for the door handle. Before she could respond, he was out the door, running to the car, heart racing.

“Unlock the car!” Hazel hissed, appearing from the shadows along the side of the house, half running as she dragged a boy who was quite a bit taller than her, towards the car.

“Shit,” Jackson cursed, fumbling for the keys as he heard the door bang open behind him.

He managed to pull out the keys, unlocking the car and yanking open the drivers side door, climbing in as Hazel shoved Zander into the backseat, then climbed in herself. She hadn’t even shut the door before Jackson was speeding off down the dark street.

“Oh god, we did it,” Hazel breathed out, slumped in the backseat with Nathan’s brother, who was leaned against her, seeming to stunned to even respond. He looked like he’d taken a serious beating, as Hazel had predicted.

“We did it,” Jackson echoed, still feeling like his heart was about to pound out of his chest. “Do you think they’ll follow us?” he asked, glancing in his rear view.

“I don’t know. Take a few extra turns but get back on the highway quick,” she said as Nathan’s brother started to cry.

“You’re alright Zand, we’ve got you, you’re safe now,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around him and holding him close. They wouldn’t let anything else happen to him.

#tw abuse #abuse trigger warning #nathan and hazel #jackson #hazel #nathan #zander

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tara-the-quiet-bookworm-2016 · 5 years ago

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Cycle Chapter Six

Authors Note- And here we are with the sixth and final chapter of Cycle. Though I am sad that this story is coming to an end I really enjoyed working on it. But alas, all good things must come to an end. As you know this chapter will feature such things as rape, and choking, bruising as well our beloved reader, someone who still has some fight left in her trying to find away to escape from Connor. That last part isn’t really a trigger but yeah. If you don’t agree with any thing featured in this story look away now. But, if you’re okay what everything I listed then venture on friends and I hope you enjoy the story.

Chapter Six: Goodnight, My Sweet Darling

How long had it been? You thought as your stared at yourself in the mirror as you stood there clad in a fluffy white towel. How long had it been since Connor had kidnapped you and kept you captive here? A month? Two months? Maybe even more?

You didn’t know, all you did know as that it had been too long, too long in the grasp of this deranged android, and it showed. Dark circles were under your eyes, worst than when you used to work late hours at Cyberlife. Did anyone notice your absence at work? You were usually so punctual at work, never late, hardly any sick days so maybe? Did anyone notice you were missing? Your brother, or the few friends you had?

A knock on the door shook you from your thoughts. “Y/N? Are you okay in there?” You heard Connor ask.

You wanted to ignore him, but you knew he could easily break down the door if he so much as sensed something was wrong. “I’m okay.” You called out, though the truth was you were far from it.

Not like he would care, you were his. At least that’s what Connor thought. But, you on the other hand constantly wracked your brain for any way to leave this prison, you had tried to catch a glimpse of the code Connor punched into the door whenever he left, but he was cautious, constantly making sure you were nowhere near him when he did. But, still you tried, you were determined to leave this place.

“Y/N?” Connor spoke.

“Give me a moment, I’m getting dressed!” You said, letting the towel drop to the ground, and went through the motions of getting dressed in the clothes he had picked out for you. You scowled, he wanted to control every aspect of your life, didn’t he? You were amazed he let you shower without him, or even go to the bathroom.

Dragging a comb through your hair you gave yourself once last look in the mirror, before opening the door to Connor. You felt a chill run down your spine as he smiled at you, you wanted to push him away as he placed a kiss on your forehead, but you knew that never ended well. The healing bruises on your arms were indicative of that. Offering him a small smile you moved towards the living room, you’d give him one thing. Though you were a prisoner he at least let you roam around the apartment rather than keep you chained up in your bedroom.

Grabbing the book you had left on the end table you plopped yourself down on the couch and opened the book, intent on ignoring Connor as he went about his day. At least that’s what the plan had been, there were days when the two of you could go about your day hardly interacting with each other, then again Connor still had work to do so there were times when he was gone from the apartment for hours at a time.

Today was not one of those days, feeling the couch dip where Connor had sat down you bit back a groan as you glanced at him from the corner of your eye, before moving a little bit further from him. Only to have him move closer, his lips brushing against your neck, making you jerk away.

Connor’s eyes narrowed as you jerked away from him. Sighing, he watched as you moved to the other end of the couch, watching him from the corner of your eye. He tried. He tried to get you to see it his way, to see that he loved you, and he did everything he could to open your eyes to him. But nothing seemed to get through to you, and that was making him angrier and angrier with each passing day.

And now he had enough. Growling he moved towards you, just as you moved to evade him, only to have him slam you against the wall, hand on your throat, squeezing tightly. Your eyes bulging out of your head as you clawed at his hand, trying to get him off of you. His eyes burned into yours as he pinned you against the wall.

“I’m tired of you pushing me away, Y/N.” He sighed, sounding tired, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. Releasing you he smiled as he watched you fight to catch your breath. He loved you, but he was tired or you pushing him away. And despite telling himself that he would never hurt you he found it hard to control himself, and today was no different.

Grabbing a hold of your chin he pressed his lips to yours as you let out a whimper as he jammed his knee between your legs, forcing them apart. It was safe to say that as much as he loved you, you were never going to love him, and he just had to come to terms with that. After all, as long as you were with him he could be happy.

Sliding his hands under your shirt he pulled it up over your head, before tossing it to the floor, the rest of your clothes following suit. Your hands pressing against Connor’s chest, trying to push him off.

“Let me go...” you grunted, your fingers curling around his thirium pump and pulled, only to have your hand suddenly pinned against the wall near your head, Connor squeezing your wrist, making your scream.

While Connor glared at you. LED flashing red, not caring how much pain he was causing you as he jerked your arm behind you, and forced you to face the wall, jerking your arm hard enough to make you cry out again.

“You try and try to hurt me.” Connor mused, not letting go of your arm as you heard his zipper you begged and pleaded with him to stop, no more, please no more. All of it falling on deaf ears as he pulled your pants down before pushing your panties to the side, revealing your sex to him.

No matter how you tried he never listened, and he never seemed satisfied. He always seemed to want more, and more, leaving your a quivering mess underneath him every time. Today was no different. Feeling him run the head of his cock through your folds you squeezed your eyes shut, crying out as he thrust into you. A soft sigh escaping his lips as you tightened around him.

Grabbing a hand full of you hair he jerked your head back as he pressed his lips firmly to yours as he quickened his pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room, followed by the sound of your whimpers as you reached your own climax. Connor, as always wasn’t too far behind as he sheathed himself completely inside of you, warm, sticky cum trickling down your thighs as he pulled out of you.

Pushing his hair out of his eyes he took in the sight of you. Watching as you slowly made your way to the bathroom again, obviously wanting to clean up the mess he had made of you. Grabbing a hold of your arm he pulled you close as you tried to move past him, pressing his lips to your roughly, before letting you go.

You needed to get out of here. You thought as you barricaded yourself in the bathroom. Pressing your back against the door you slid to the floor, arms wrapping around your knees as you sobbed, you hated him, hated how helpless he made you, hated how it was your fault you were in this predicament. If you had did something back then, then you wouldn’t have been a prisoner, Zander would still be alive, and...and things could be different. But now...

A knock on the door jerked you from your thoughts once more. Followed by the sound of Connor’s voice. “I have to go into the precinct I’ll be home late.” He told you, and you couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief at those words, at least you would have some time to yourself.

Opening the door a crack you listened to him enter the code on the door, followed by the sound of him leaving you alone. Finally, opening the door you moved around the living room, looking around you peered out the balcony window at Detroit.

The sun was beginning to set and it would soon be night time, you used to like nights in Detroit, the city always seemed so alive, now... Turning away from the window you continued to pace around the room, you needed to get out of here, had to get out of here. Moving towards the door you eyed the door, you could guess the passcode but what good could it do for you?

Shaking your head you moved away from the door, and headed to you bedroom. Flopping down on the bed you wracked your brain for ideas, when you got an idea, the balcony wasn’t locked was it? And it sure didn’t look like it needed a passcode to open it so maybe... Pushing yourself up you moved to the living room again and headed towards the balcony.

Pulling the sliding door open you let out a laugh as it opened, looks like Connor has slipped up. Setting out into the cool air you looked around, then looked down. You wouldn’t be able to climb down, it was too far up, and you weren’t the most agile of climbers. Biting down on your bottom lip you looked around, eyes lighting up when you saw the fire escape next to the balcony. And to make the matters better it was where you could reach it.

Peering into the living room once more you saw that Connor was still not home, and you hoped that whatever called him away would keep him away long enough for you to get far, far away. Bracing yourself you leaped towards the fire escape, and yes! Pain lanced through your knees as you landed on it. The next problem was how were going to get down? The ladder that would help you get down seemed to be missing. Great.

Worrying at your lip once more you looked around before looking up. Looks like the only way was up. Maybe there would be away off the roof once you got up there, hopefully-

“I’m home!” A voice called out from your apartment, making your heart skip a beat. Connor was home.

Wasting not another moment you quickly climbed up the fire escape, hoping that Connor wouldn’t realize you were gone yet, and would assume you were hiding in your room as he busied himself with preparing you some dinner. Sweat began to bead on your forehead as you climbed up the fire escape and towards the roof.

“Y/N? Y/N!?”

Shit! Casting a glance over your shoulder, Connor obviously had caught on that you were gone. Quickening your pace you made it to the roof, and... you had no way of getting off...great.

“Y/N! Where are you?!”

Nowhere to run. Biting down on your bottom lip you looked around, seeing a door that would lead you back into the apartment, maybe you could find away out of the apartment that way-

“The hell do you think you’re doing?” you heard Connor growl behind you.

Whirling around you gasped when you saw Connor standing there, anger etched on his face as he glared at you, hands clenched into fists as he took a step towards you.

“I want to be free, I want you to let me go.” You told him, gathering your nerve to stand your ground against him.

“Let. You. Go.” Connor ground it out, anger tinting his voice as he took a step towards you. A cruel smile on his lips as he looked at you. “Why would I do such a silly thing? When you belong to me, and the last thing I will ever do is let you go, Y/N. Especially after I worked so hard to get you.” Another step towards you, as you took a step back.

Another step toward, another step back. You kept your eyes glued on Connor, waiting for him to strike, every muscle in your body tense, ready to run if you needed to.

“You killed my boyfriend.” You whispered.

“He was in my way.”

“You kidnapped me.”

“Can you blame me? I wanted to keep you close.” He told you, inching closer.

“You raped and hurt me.”

“Are you trying to tell me you didn’t love every moment of it?” Connor asked, tilting his head to the side, a sly smile on his lips.

You shook your head furiously, tears brimming in your eyes, as you took another step back, until your back reached the door, whirling around you grabbed the knob, and turned it, your heart sinking when you found it locked it.

“Awww, poor Y/N. All you want to be is free from someone who loves you so much. Someone who worked so hard to be with you, in all honesty I think you’re just being selfish, ungrateful.” You felt Connor draw close, felt his fingers brushing against the back of your neck.

When suddenly you jerked out of his grasp and moved away from him, eyes glued to the android. Connor watched you scurry around. Smiling when he saw you look around and see that there was nowhere for you to run before turning your gaze to him once more. But as fun as toying with you was he needed to get you back inside.

Running a hand through his hair he moved toward you, and when he did get you back to the apartment he was going to make sure yo knew that there was no escaping him without punishment...

You were truly trapped weren’t you? You thought as you watched as Connor draw closer and closer. Backing away you cried out as your foot caught the edge, and suddenly you pitched backwards, and plummeted off the edge towards your death. You barely even registered the look on Connor’s face as the ground raced to meet you. At least now, you’d be free.

Connor sighed as you hit the ground with a splat, followed by the sounds of terrified screams of on-lookers reaching his ears. You were dead, but something told Connor that this was what you wanted, right?

You wanted to be free of him, and now you were. Odd, Connor’s brow furrowed he should be a lot more upset about your loss, but...he felt nothing...why? He should be heart broken, and yet...

Shaking his head he turned away from the mess below him, thoughts of you filling his mind as he disappeared into the night, tomorrow he would set about cleaning up the apartment, getting rid or anything that would indicate that you had been there. Though he would keep a few little trinkets for himself, to remind him of you.

Sticking his hand in his pocket he pulled out the dragonfly necklace he kept with him always. Thoughts going back to the first time he had met you, a pang of sorrow filling his chest, as he disappearing into the apartment once more...

#DBH #DBH Connor #Yandere Connor #afab reader #Tw rape #Tw choking #Tw death #The final chapter.#I had fun writing this #Kind of sad it's over now.#Eh #Ending is kind of weak not going to lie.

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latinegro · 6 years ago

Text

Sketchy

I am a brilliant asshole and not in a good way. I’m always putting myself in a situation that sounds great at first, but as it happens, it’s not so great at all.

I put the pencil on the paper and I begin to outline the basic layout of my model. Myra is laying on the couch in front of me. It’s old couch too, she’s probably the best thing that has happened on that couch in years.

She posed herself in a particular way so that the contours of her curves can be accentuated. I nervously erase the first mistake I make. It’s been a very long time since I’ve drawn a nude model. I’m acting like I’ve never sketched a naked woman before, it’s really not that hard. But, this is absolutely the first time I’ve drawn a woman that I’m acquainted with. It doesn’t help that I find her to be one of the sexiest women I know.

I can feel my heart racing because I know what I’m doing is wrong. I know that I shouldn’t be doing this but an opportunity presented itself and I had to take it. It does sound selfish but in a way, it really isn’t. First of all, the artist in me will not allow me to call this whole thing off. Secondly, I try to tell myself that she’s not a hot woman that I have been attracted to for a while but rather a future portrait for a client. I take a few deep breaths so I can maintain my concentration. Nervousness will only lead to a shaky hand and that’s not good for any sketch.

But, of course, I had to open my big mouth. I’m a writer at heart and by trade. I can describe what she looks like the best way I can use words and adjectives not with this damn pencil that I’m pretending was my hand going down those beautiful thick brown legs of hers. The thing is, I used to draw fairly regularly. I was one of those kids that would be so annoyingly good at drawing anything that I felt I didn’t need those pretentious art classes. I could freehand any comic book cover I see. I could draw anything or anyone if they were standing in front of me. My only weakness was I could never draw anything as I good as I wanted to from memory. My measurements were always wrong, at least that was what I was told.

At the end of the day it wasn’t big deal to me because no matter how good I was at drawing, my heart wasn’t in it. I didn’t love it like other people love it and that’s probably why I didn’t take it as seriously. I felt much more at ease using words to describe anything. I can perfectly describe how beautiful Myra is. She’s like a brown-skinned Athena from Themyscira that Wonder Woman would never talk about. Myra is the reason some would believe that God exists. When scientists talk about how we’re all made from stardust, they had Myra in mind.

I need to focus.

I have the basic shell of her body that fits perfectly on my old couch that should seat three people comfortably. Her black curly hair may be a problem for me. Myra chooses to wear it natural which makes her even more attractive but if I don’t shade it correctly this whole drawing would look like a caricature. But, alas, her big brown eyes look past me. She stares off into space truly hoping that I’m capturing this moment and indeed I am catching this very moment of her looking past me. I will consider that to be my fault. I may be good with writing words but actually speaking them to women is another thing entirely.

I met Myra first but I lacked the basic courage to kick it to her. We ended up being a little less than friends but more than just passing acquaintances. Of course, when Jules met her it was all downhill from there. I was always happy for them but mad at myself. Jules is a decent guy and when they first got together, all they did was fuck. Yes, I know that is normal because if it were me, I would hope that she would break me every damn day.

Another mistake. I may need a better eraser.

I get up and she asks, “Everything OK?”

“Sure, I just have to get another eraser,” I answer. She shrugs her bare shoulders as I walk to the desk and open the drawer. Jules is the real artist in all this. He’s one half of the team behind the independent Black comic book, The Insiders. We met at the NY Comic Con years ago and Jules and I became fast friends. Through the years we created our own comic book universe that has a plethora of characters. The excitement for this project is palpable because we’re building something important. In our universe, there are no meaningless black characters created for the sole purpose of being sidekicks. Together we’ve molded superheroes that matter; superheroes that look like us. There is a true meaning behind every page and we’re ready to take the industry by storm.

Jules has tons of different art supplies in this desk that it’s hard to keep track of all of it. But, at least I know where the erasers are. He stores most of his art supplies in my apartment since it has become our default workspace. It’s just easier this way since both of our day jobs make it hard to be the creators we are. We need a place to work and bounce our ideas off of each other. I pick one a small eraser and close the drawer. Before I walk away from the desk, my eyes focus on one of the sketches he was working on from issue #3. One thing about working with friends is, at times, it’s hard to come to a real agreement on the philosophy of a particular story. I really don’t think that the splash on page 11 is necessary but clearly, he’s working on it anyway.

I walk back to my chair and I smile at Myra before I sit down. I grab my pad and I keep going. My eyes scan slowly scan her from left to right. She’s laying on her right side with her right arm holding up her head and her left arm resting on her hip. Her breasts are a perfect size. They don’t sag at all and her tummy is a result of a lot of gym work. No visible stretch marks and no tattoos. This makes this sketch easier than what I originally anticipated.

I draw carefully. My pencil tries to mimic everything that my eyes absorb. I cannot believe that Julius’ wife is laying on this couch modeling for me. She wants this to be a present for him on their upcoming anniversary. Has it been two years already? It must be. That’s was around the time we decided to build this whole comic book company together. He’s the artist and I’m the writer. Now, look at me, doing a sketch that I may be getting more pleasure from than she is. Granted, this probably a bad idea, but how can I deny her this. I tried to convince her that perhaps it would be a better idea to dress up as a sexy gender bender of Grand Admiral Thrawn and I would make sure to get the colors right. She denied that, but I can, at least, convince myself that I tried to get her to wear the most clothes as possible.

I scan her navel trying to make sure that I can get the correct dimensions and diameter of the belly button ring. It looks like a small little pendant that sparkles from the light coming from the ceiling fan above. I scan further past her navel toward her vagina. Her legs are slightly crossed with her left leg slightly bent downward covering her right. It casts a shadow from the light.

My pencil breaks. Shit, was I pressing down that hard? She chuckles, “Having trouble?”

“Not at all,” I reply as I grab the extra pencil next to me. I want to try to be as emotionless as possible. Mentally I’m shaking my head. How did you get into this Zander? I will tell you how; I was cocky. I thought that I could talk enough shit in hopes to just flirt a little and now... my partner’s wife is my living room, nude.

Did I mention I was a brilliant asshole and not in a good way?

I remember staying over their townhouse in Brooklyn one night and while I have wondered what is that she does that allows her to own such a place, that was the night I got a glance of how skillful she was.

It was a late night of partying and they offered me a room to crash. I was so drunk that night that I just passed out as soon as I hit the bed. It must of been an hour or two later when I really had to use the bathroom. I got up and there was a long hallway that I had to navigate despite my lightheadedness. As I begin to walk down the general direction of what I thought was the bathroom, I hear noises. I slowly passed the room where it coming from and that is when I catch a glimpse of her reverse cowgirl riding Jules in a way that made me realize that twerking needs to a sport. I tried not to voyeur too long and thank God I had to piss, but all I remember was my heart beating so much that I felt it in my dick.

I need to continue on her legs and feet. I really do hate drawing feet. I can never get the right angle. I need to take my time and make sure the curvatures are correct. Shadowing will also be a problem. The lighting is pretty decent in here but I will need to at least need to define her curves with some type of shadow.

I can’t even imagine actually inking this. The good thing is that I can scan this into the computer and work on all the coloring there. I assume she wants it colored. Actually, I never asked. “Did you want this sketch in color?” I do my best to look at her eyes when I converse with her.

“Hm, You know, I think that would be a nice touch. Sure, if you can do it. But I will take one in black and white, just in case,” Myra chuckles a bit. I think she knows that coloring may be a tad difficult for me. Not only do I have to make sure that I color inside the lines, but how do I get her exact skin tone?

Then it hits me. I put the pencil down and I look at her. “So, I have an idea and it’s totally ok if you’re not willing to do it.”

“What would that be?”

I’m nervous to even suggest it. “You know what? Never mind. It’s a dumb idea. I don’t even know why I would even think of such a thing.”

“Just tell me.”

I take a deep breath, “Ok so, I want to get the shade of color just right and once I scan this in into the laptop I will need to..”

Myra laughs, “Zander, just spit it out.”

“I need to take a picture of you so that I can match your skin tone with the RGB color code.” I look down at my unfinished sketch as soon as I said it.

“You sly little devil!” Myra sits up and looks at me with a surprised look on her face as if she caught me red handed.

“What do you mean?” I ask

“Why the fuck you lyin?” She asks in a sing-songy manner. “You just want a nude picture of me!” I honestly can’t tell if she’s being serious or not, but she’s absolutely telling the truth. See how much of a brilliant bastard I am? This is how I get myself into trouble and once again I feel my heart coming through my dick.

“I mean, I would delete it as soon as I got the color correct.” Which is a lie.

“I don’t know about that. In all honesty, you can just take pictures of me with my clothes on and then screen-grab the color.” She was totally right about that. I hadn’t thought about it. Then she continues, “The reason why I am asking you to do this sketch is because I do trust you. That is why I never said anything to Jules when I saw you peeping into our room that night.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask nervously. I was never sure if she actually saw me and I assumed that since no one said anything that perhaps we were all just drunk. Of course, I cannot forget that after I went to the bathroom I returned to continue my voyeurism. Shit.

Myra gives me a smirk, “Please, do not insult my intelligence. I know you’ve seen me naked before and I am quite comfortable with my body. So I will save you more embarrassment by saying that I do want this drawing to come out correctly. So I will allow you to take a picture but I want you to delete the picture in front of me.”

I pull out my iPhone from my pocket and ask her to return to her original pose. Myra is right about this but I don’t care right now. Even if I delete all the photos from my device and the cloud, I will still have her body burned into my brain. If not, there is always the original copy of this sketch… for portfolio purposes of course. I take a few pictures with and without the flash.

Myra smiles and asks, “How many photos do you plan on taking?” I want to explain lighting and such but then she cuts me off, “I hope you have enough space on the cloud for all of these.”

I freeze, “Um…”

“I am not stupid, Zander. I fully expect you to find a way to try to keep pictures of me. Just know that…”

Bang. Bang.

We both look up. There’s a knock on the door. I look at Myra as she gets up quickly and covers herself with a robe I gave her.

“Who is it?” I ask cautiously.

“It’s Jules. Dude, let me in. We need to talk…about everything.”

Shit. I put my face in my palm. This could be four years and three issues down the drain.

#smut

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prktaeil · 6 years ago

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I promise to never fall in love with a stranger.

New York City. 2015.

chapter 1.

he had zero idea what was happening around him, the music in his earphones being too loud that it can be heard by anyone who’s within three feet radius from him. he didn’t care if it was annoying, as long as it blocked his mind out of having to listen to everyone around him.

taeil opened his locker as his group of friends gathered near him, talking amongst themselves. he wasn’t sure if he could call them friends, really, they were more like people he got along well with. but that’s when he noticed that one annoying blonde cheerleader and her friend making fun of them. taeil could only roll his eyes and ignore. these preppy people were never worth a second thought. he stopped his music and took his earphones out, stuffing them in his pocket where his phone was, and that was the moment he noticed another cheerleader around. he was surprised, to say the least, to see the head cheerleader shutting her friends up.

as him and his friends walked away, minding their own business, one of the other guys spoke up about the new kid in school, and taeil could feel all of their eyes on him. “he’s your brother, isn’t he?” he asked. taeil sighed, rolling his eyes. “... yes, idiot, we’re identical. but let’s not even associate him with me. we’re nowhere alike.” he answered in a tired tone in his voice. “yeah, no shit.” the others laughed amongst themselves, definitely seeing the difference between the pair of twins.

that same day, taeil sat in the very back of one of his classes, which just so happened to be one he had to take with his brother out of all people. all he could do was stare out the window and pretend he didn’t know him. as close as they were when they were younger, they were very different now and taeil didn’t like being around him as much as he used to. they got compared to each other a lot, and a lot of stereotypes were thrown at taeil in particular that he eventually got sick of it. ignoring the teacher, taeil rested his head against the desk, his music playing in his earphones ones again, at a lower volume to not get caught. he could pass these classes so easily anyway, even with how the teachers always thought he must be cheating.

as they sat around their usual table in the back to eat their lunch – the emo kids table, by the way – taeil noticed rosie plopping down across from him, and he raised an eyebrow at her. “didn’t know you liked talking to preppy cheerleaders.” he stated in his usual monotone, blunt voice. he saw her talking to that head cheerleader and it was honestly so weird. “she’s a friend of mine, but we never hang out.” the girl simply shrugged. “she’s been telling me about some party, so... you guys going?”

taeil leaned back in his seat, looking at the others around him. they were debating about it for a little while until they finally decided to go, and taeil looked at rosie again. “guess i’m going then.”

“okay.” she nodded, stuffing her mouth with her food, and taeil could tell that she was worried about something or was hiding something. she looked way too awkward as she looked at him, which was strange, coming from rosie. “tell zander we’re going.” he told her, knowing their friend was too much of a loner to even get talked to, let alone invited. “you’re gonna ask that weirdo to come?” one of the guys laughed, and taeil and rosie immediately looked at him with an evil glare in their eyes, shutting him up immediately.

the party didn’t seem too bad. it was filled with kids he didn’t know, mostly populars and rich kids who just so happened to have one of their houses empty and decided to have a party. taeil didn’t really care, as long as there were free drinks, he wouldn’t complain. he was sat on one of the stools in the kitchen, rosie sitting beside him as they kept pouring themselves some drinks. in that moment, is when things started to get interesting. head cheerleader – mina, was it? – walked in, dressed in all black, a color you’d never see her wearing except in rare occasions. that, along with the most tom-boy clothes he’s ever seen on her. taeil was too tipsy to keep things to himself, and just as mina stood close to them, he leaned over to rosie to whisper... maybe a little loudly. “okay, she’s hot.” rosie could only stare at him with a horrified look on her face.

“you think i’m hot?” mina asked, leaning against the island with a smug smile on her face. “i guess so.” taeil said casually and shrugged a shoulder like he didn’t care. meanwhile, rosie was sat there looking between them, looking very surprised at the odds of this happening. “well, i think you’re hot too.” the conversation kept going like that, but mina’s smile didn’t resemble anything near trying to get into bed with him. it was a soft one and taeil found himself warming up, despite his usual asshole-ish attitude where he kept more to himself and had a blunt tone in his voice. “you know, i'd say we could take this upstairs, but people would talk.” she said, tucking back a strand of her hair. taeil put down his drink and smirked. “let them.” before they knew it, they both got up, with mina dragging him upstairs, all while rosie stared at them with wide eyes as they left. “what... the fuck?” she muttered to herself.

while all of that was happening, minho was standing there on the other side of the kitchen, watching the interaction between mina and taeil unfold with a knowing smile on his face. as he was watching, his eyes were also traveling to where two other people were standing, talking to each other. one of them, yubin, was encouraging his friend to do something. while the other, jinwoo, was rubbing his arm nervously as he kept looking between yubin and the floor. eventually, minho saw him nod and bravely go to knock back a shot. once he did that, minho noticed him coming towards him and his heart started to beat a little faster. he’s always seen the boy in some of his classes and also subtly stared at him, but never had the courage to speak much to him despite being one of the most social people in the school. and now the nervous kid was walking up to him and he didn’t know what to do with himself.

jinwoo took a deep breath. “you-... you look, uh r-r-really good-... like in- in a-... like... h-hot? i-... you know what d-d-don't worry about it, have a good- good night.” he immediately ran off that minho really had no idea what had just happened. did jinwoo just call me hot?! his mind screamed. “hey, wait!!” he screamed, putting his cup down and running after him.

“what the fuck was that?” yubin sighed, shaking his head in disappointment as he watched jinwoo run off with minho right behind him. “gay panic.” someone suddenly spoke. yubin looked up, only to see a boy with colorful hair standing next to him. he recognized him as that one loner that everyone found so annoying because he always spoke his mind when he wasn’t asked for it. “where the fuck did you come from...?” yubin looked at him weirdly. zander? was it? looked at him with a dopey smile, obviously high. “right behind you. anyway, you’re that hot dude in the dance troop, right?”

“... what is happening right now?” yubin just stared at him, not knowing what to do. “you ask way too many questions, hot guy. let me get you a drink.” and before yubin knew it, zander was pouring vodka in a plastic cup – yubin’s least favorite, actually – and handed it over to him with a smile. “uh...” the taller stared at the contents of the cup, then looked at the other again. “thanks. you can... go now.”

“hey, wait up!” minho finally caught up to jinwoo outside the house. “are you okay?” he asked, and only got a nod from the other as he kept staring at the ground like he was about to cry. “can i... can i talk to you? i really want to...” minho asked carefully, not knowing what to say to not be too much on the boy. “please?” he smiled sweetly.

jinwoo looked up at him and nodded once again. minho’s smile widened and he immediately reached over to take the other boy’s hand. he could feel how tense he was and he understood, because he was feeling his heart about to jump out of his chest. “you’re so cute! what the hell?!” minho blurted out as he dragged the taller boy over to a garden swing nearby. jinwoo simply stared at him in shock, like his brain was about to explode. “i-i-i... i-i am?” and minho laughed, nodding enthusiastically. “you are.”

“i-i-i- oh- oh my- g-god.” he was blushing so much, minho felt the need to squeal. instead, he had the widest, most in-love smile on his face that he ever had. “so, you said i was hot?” that question only made jinwoo blush more and hide his face, somehow getting more nervous than he already was. that’s when he gave another nod in response instead of speaking.

“well, guess what? i think you’re hot too. also cute, extremely fucking adorable and really damn beautiful.” minho confessed bluntly, thinking he might as well just tell him what he’s been holding back. jinwoo didn’t think he could handle what was happening right now.

as they sat out there, away from the noise and the music, even if there were some drunken teenagers nearby, minho talked to him, trying to start a conversation. jinwoo eventually got more and more comfortable, despite his nervous stutter, and minho was grateful for what he was getting. he kept holding his hand and had turned to look at jinwoo properly as he talked, wanting to give him his full attention. at some point, they found themselves leaning in close to each other, until they stopped and pulled away, looking at anything but each other’s faces. minho’s heart was threatening to fly out of his chest at any moment and he didn’t think he could handle this.

“promise you’ll talk to me more often in school?” minho asked, smiling softly at him. jinwoo nodded shyly, and minho even got him to exchange numbers. “and you also have to promise to text me.” he demanded, getting jinwoo to laugh a little. “i-i-i will.”

“do you want to stay at the party? because i’m not really feeling it anymore.” minho asked, thumb pointing back to the house. jinwoo shook his head and minho stood up, offering him his hand again. “let me walk you home then.”

#–– ** au ]#–– ** self para ]#–– ** i promise to never fall in love with a stranger | au ]

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carrotcouple · 7 years ago

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WIP tag

List all the things you’re currently working on in as much or as little detail as you’d like, then tag some friends to see what they’re working on. This can be writing, art, vids, gifsets, fanwork, or original work!

I was tagged by the wonderful @peachchanvidel

1) Haruka/Seiko ‘Lovely Complex’ Fanfiction.

“I’m sorry to cut this short, but I have to go somewhere.” Seiko smiled.

“Of course! Don’t let us keep you!” The first girl nodded.

“Ah, Seiko, wait!” Haruka said loudly all of a sudden. Seiko blinked at him in surprise and didn’t miss the way he easily pulled out of the first girl’s grip and also didn’t miss the way her heart warmed at that harmless action. “It’s already late and if you’re going to Risa’s place you’ll have to go across that street where the streetlights are being fixed, I’ll go with you. It’s too dangerous for you to go alone.”

2) Murtagh/Nasuada ‘Inheritance Cycle Fanfiction

“Will you allow me to heal you?”

“Yes…”

“Where are they going?!”

“Away.”

A sob made its way out of her throat. Her heart hurt.

“Try not to burn down Aroughs, would you? Cities are rather hard to replace.”

Everything around her was on fire. People who meant the world to her were burning. Tears were streaming down her face. The air was vibrating around her in a way that made her teeth jar. It was as if the wind was beating down on them in punishment and yet the fire did not cease. She fell to her knees, screaming, screaming, screaming someone’s name. To save her, to save the people around her, to see her one last time. She was dying, her body was on fire, her blood burned like oil. It hurt, it burned, it was the most agonizing thing she had felt in her life and through the fear and pain devouring her mind, she heard someone scream her name.

3) Jaeki Assasin AU.

“You look adorable.” Jaeha chuckled.

“Hah?” Kija made a noise of confused outrage.

“So this is what an artist’s workshop is like.” Jaeha moved on and looked around, still holding Kija’s face in his hands.

“It’s a mess,” Kija blurted. Jaeha looked back down at Kija.

“I was about to say it looked artistic.” Jaeha shrugged, that playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

4) Little Miracles (Teen Dad!Kagutsuchi AU)

“He’s coming this way!” Kagutsuchi shot to his feet and dived behind the sofa. He watched with narrowed eyes as the baby crawled over to Yata and the duffel bag.

“Kagu, can you stop being terrified of your own kid?” Yata asked, watching as the baby rubbed his face experimentally against Yata’s school uniform pants.

“Maybe he’s scared cause Take’s really small?” Sakuya suggested, crawling closer to the baby.

“I-I’m not scared!” Kagutsuchi hissed like a cornered cat. “Also, what the hell is that smell?”

5) Hanakotoba Gone Wrong (based off a conversation I had with @mokomokuren)

“I will inform her at once.” Kunimi turned and walked out. Ebisu sighed and sank back into his chair. It was exhausting, all this thinking of gifts and what someone would like most. If it had just been some random normal gift, he would have sent an envelope of cash or some check. But this wasn’t the kind if situation in which he could do that. It was a time that required ‘delicacy and sharp thinking’ as one of his female shinki had told him once when he was a child.

Ebisu grumbled under his breath and bent down to pick up all of the books. As he straightened up to put the last book on his desk, he slammed his head into the table. Letting out a muffled howl, Ebisu curled up on the ground and rubbed the back on his head. It was then he noticed the open magazine near his face. It was a section for women and it talked about western flower meanings. Ebisu sat up, crouched underneath his desk and grabbed the magazine.

6) Shin Soukoku Fanfiction

There was a sudden crackle in the air and then Rashoumon went right past his face and hit something behind Atsushi. Atsushi felt blood splatter against him and he fell to his knees, suddenly able to breathe. He looked up and saw Akutagawa walking towards him, his face contorted with pure rage. Atsushi ignored the cries of pain and terror behind him and leaned heavily on Akutagawa’s legs when he came and stood next to him. Rashoumon was doing all the work. Atsushi felt exhausted. He was tired and he wanted to both laugh and cry.

How ironic did they look? Special Task Force Detective leaning for support on The Black Beast? How did Atsushi’s face look, torn between sobbing his eyes out at the amount of fear that had hit him and laughing because he felt so relieved that Akutagawa had come to save him? Atsushi squeezed his eyes shut. A tendril of Rashoumon slowly curled around Atsushi, warm and pulsing with life and comfort.

7) Through Your Eyes (Blind!Kiun Takiun Fanfiction)

“Daddy! Look! Isn’t that man running there from Mom’s picture frame? Look at him dad-”

“Kiun! Get down!”

Kiun only briefly saw a truck run into the man he had been looking at a moment ago and his father swerved violently to the right to avoid crashing into the truck. Someone smashed into their car and for a moment Kiun saw the shards of glass from his window hang motionlessly in the air and then they rained down on him.

“DADDY!”

8) Zoe and Zander Universe (Original Story)

“Don’t I?” Zander grinned. “Anyway, now that we’re done with breakfast, we should get moving, Princess. We need to outrun our pursuers and find you new clothes.” Zander got to his feet and threw the apple core somewhere behind him. She got to her feet too and Zander barely had enough time to draw his dagger and block her. She growled in frustration as she tried to overpower him and stab him. “I thought we weren’t going to do this so early in the morning?” Zander asked. She glared up at him.

“You said you didn’t have breakfast, so I let you have breakfast,” was her answer. Zander wanted to slam his forehead into the nearest tree. Why was he stuck escorting this wild creature?

9) Lawlu (Vampire!Luffy Fanfiction)

Law stared, and the boy stared back. It took two seconds for the boy to recognize him.

“Geh,” The boy made a noise in between a gasp and a sound of disgust. “Got to run!” Law was ready this time. The boy had obviously been born with fast reflexes, but he wasn’t escaping from him this time. Law grabbed the back of the boy’s shirt.

“Oh no, little heartless boy, you’re not running anywhere.” Law said in his darkest voice.

“Why can’t I? I can do what I want! I have my rights!” The boy flailed his legs around wildly as Law held him up by the back of his glaringly red shirt.

“Little heartless boys are dead. And dead walking people don’t have rights.” Law replied. He allowed a manic glint to grace his eyes as he ran his tongue across his bottom lip. “You’re going to become my research subject, Mugiwara-ya.”

“EH?!”

Lesson of the day? I have too many WIPs.

Anyway, I tag @sapphiredragonprincess @rest-in-bees, @scarfblogs, @themusicalbookworm, @vida-connor and @pocketflutter

#sunny was tagged #wip game #i got like five more wips I just thought up #but try finding out about them a week later #kay?#sunny writes

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anavoliselenu · 7 years ago

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Aced chapter 11

I lose my train of thought. Get lost in the feel of her body against mine, and how much I miss physical intimacy between us. Because physical is my barometer. Makes me feel closer to her and at the same time tells me we’re okay. And without it, I hate not knowing if we’re okay.

“Sorry,” I say, pulling myself from my thoughts. “I was daydreaming about being on the beach with you.”

“Thank you.”

Her voice is so faint but I hear it immediately. I squeeze my eyes shut, overwhelmed from those two simple words.

Gathering her a little tighter, I rest my chin on the curve of her shoulder. I look down in front of her where Ace has fallen asleep, and I know I need to put him in his bassinet but I don’t. Not yet. This feels a little too normal when we’ve had anything but, so I want to make it last a little bit longer. Just the three of us.

There are so many things I want to say to her, so many reasons why she doesn’t need to thank me, but I don’t. I was given two glimpses of my wife tonight. That’s enough to tell me more is coming soon.

So I do what I think is best. I continue on. “Don’t thank me yet, Selena. This island doesn’t have any indoor plumbing. Or Diet Coke. And I know how you love your Diet Coke. But they do have . . .” I continue on. My rambling evening entertainment.

Anything for my Selena.

Hi sweetheart. Just checking in to see how you’re doing. I love you. I’m here for you. I’ll be up later this week.

THE TEXT FROM MY MOM sits on my phone. The screen is lit up. My insides are still so very dark.

I miss the outside world.

Lazy walks on the beach. Trips to the farmers market in town where I get to laugh at Justin with his hat pulled low to avoid attention. The roar of the racetrack and vibration of the engine in my chest as I sit in the infield and answer emails while Justin tests the car. The incessant chatter, sound of kitchen chairs scooting over worn linoleum, complaints about homework, and sly smiles given behind one another’s back that are a constant at The House from my boys.

I miss everything that makes me feel alive.

But I’m not ready yet. I miss the idea of everything but not the reality. Because with the reality comes the chaos. The intrusive cameras and judging eyes. The scrutiny and the exposure. The lack of any control or privacy. The never-ending sense of vulnerability.

Besides, how can I begin to want any of those things when I can’t even look at my beautiful baby boy and feel that soul-shifting love I should for him? Sure it’s there, hidden deep down and buried beneath the haze. I know it is. I’ve felt it before. And that almost makes it worse. To want something and never have it is one thing but to have something, lose it, and know what you’re missing is brutal.

And I’m missing Ace. Not him, per se, because he’s here and I feed him, but rather the emotion. Brief moments of intense joy and overwhelming love peek through every now and again. The want to have them return consumes me to the point they drive me back into the warped and silent comfort of the darkness.

And then when I resurface, there is Justin. The songs he texts to help me remember. And to help me forget.

It’s when the sky is the darkest that you can tell which stars are the brightest. There’s only one star I see: Justin’s light shines the brightest to me. Maybe because he’s the one saving me.

I wish I could feel the amusement I know is beneath the surface when I watch him deal with Ace in his adorably awkward way. The made-up lullabies about car parts and superheroes he sings to stop Ace from crying are so sweet. I try to dredge it up, hold on to my smile, but it’s a constant battle between the darkness and light.

Then there’s the night. When he pulls me into him and tells me about the silly places he is going to take me, the memories we are going to make, and lifts that lead curtain for a bit so I can lose myself in his voice and humor. I can look down to Ace at my breast and have Justin’s body against my back and know I can beat this.

And so I fight, winning little pieces of myself back day by day. Moment by moment. Because it’s the things we love most that destroy us. Break us down. Tear us apart. But they are also the things that build us back up. Heal us. Make us complete again.

“Hey, man!” Justin’s voice rings down the hallway, interrupting my thoughts. I immediately start to rise from the couch, bothered I was actually enjoying sitting beside Ace in the bouncer, and start to head upstairs because the unexpected usually triggers uncontrollable anxiety. And that anxiety inevitably leads to another trip down the rabbit hole.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call first, but I was driving back to school and needed to stop by. Can I speak to you and Selena for a moment?”

Shane’s voice echoes down the foyer and makes me falter. And it’s not what he says that stops me from standing but rather the tone in his voice—formal, businesslike, and anxious—that makes me sit at attention.

“Not a problem. Let me go tell Selena that you’re here first,” Justin says, followed by the lowering of their voices. They say something I can’t hear but can assume it is the typical question of how I am doing that gets asked when they arrive. “Be right back.” Footsteps. “Hey, Selena?”

“Yeah?” My voice is shaky as I answer, and I hate that the anxiety surges within me when it’s just Shane. He’s the boy who has been with me the longest. The one I have watched grow into a man.

“Shane stopped by. Okay?” Justin’s eyes hold mine. They’re telling me that Shane’s coming in and to prepare for it. My two-minute warning. I force a swallow down my throat as I try to reason with myself that this is Shane; he poses no threat to Ace or me, or my little world.

I nod my head.

“Come on in,” Justin yells as he stands there with eyes locked on mine and waits for Shane to close the distance.

C’mon, Selena. You scared him last time. Show him that you’re not his mother. That this beast can be conquered. Be the you he knows. Try, baby. Please.

And as much as I prepare myself, when Shane walks into the living room, my heart races out of control and body breaks out in a cold sweat. And I detest that I can’t muster up more than a forced smile when our eyes meet. I open my mouth to say hi, but the word doesn’t come out.

I see concern in his expression, and he glances over to Justin, blatantly telling him he lied, that I’m not better like he’d said moments before at the door. Justin nods to trust him.

“So you’re heading back to campus?” Justin says, saving me from having to speak as he leads the way into the living room and motions for him to sit down.

“Yes. Yeah. I spent the night at The House with the gang.” His eyes flicker back and forth between the two of us as he sits down on the edge of the chair before landing on Ace sleeping contently in the bouncer. “He’s getting so big.”

“Yeah. It’s crazy,” Justin says. He stares at Shane as he watches Ace, and I can see him narrow his eyes to try and figure out the same thing I am: why does Shane seem so nervous?

I want to ask so many things: how is school, how is Zander, is Auggie hanging in there? Do you miss me? But my restlessness only adds to the awkward silence filling the room. Justin finally speaks. “That was cool of you to hang out with the boys. I was thinking maybe in a week or two when Selena is feeling a little better, we’ll have all you guys over for a barbecue.”

And as much as I know Justin is trying to make Shane feel more comfortable, it feels like hands are squeezing my lungs at the mere thought of so many people being in my space at once. He said a few weeks, though. Maybe by then . . .

“Yeah, uh . . .” Shane shifts and rubs his palms down the thighs of his pants. “Well, I stayed with the boys because we had a little house meeting and um, I came here because I wanted to let you know about it.”

I vaguely hear him over the roar of my heartbeat. My curiosity is piqued and internal instinct overrides the depression’s pull trying to yank me back from the edge and protect me from whatever it is that is making him so nervous. Justin’s eyes meet mine and something flashes in them—a moment of unexpected clarity—that worries me.

“Go on,” Justin says cautiously.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said, Justin, and after looking at Zander’s situation from all sides, I think you’re right.” Shane wrings his hands and keeps his eyes focused on them as Justin sighs loudly.

“What thing did I say, Shane?” he asks, voice searching, body language pensive as if he fears he already knows.

“About Zander.”

Justin scrunches up his nose in a show of regret and I’m completely lost. My body wants to shut down but my mind fights the allure to find out what’s going on. I look back to Shane, trying to find the words to ask an explanation when I catch Justin mouth out of the words, “Not now,” with a shake of his head.

Panic, my one constant, returns, jolting through my system as I look back and forth form Justin to Shane, both of them realizing I saw the exchanged warning. Something’s going on, and it’s about Zander. I need to know now or else I’m going to go crazier than I already feel. I open my mouth, shut it, then open it again, willing my frenzied thoughts to find the voice that’s been silent for so very long.

“No,” Shane says, standing up to Justin, causing us both to snap our heads to him. “She deserves to know that we’ve voted, and we’re okay with it.”

I blink my eyes rapidly as I try to understand his cryptic comment. I feel like I’ve just walked into a movie halfway through and I’m lost in the plot. As much as I want to be angry at Justin, he obviously fears that whatever Shane has to say is going to knock me back a few of the steps I’ve gained these past few days.

“What?” My voice breaks. It sounds foreign to my ears. My eyes widen as I search their faces for answers. Now it’s their turn to both look at me.

“I’m just trying to fix everything I started,” he says, and I don’t understand what he means. He looks at me with little boy’s eyes in a grown man’s body, begging me to let him help me. “It’s my fault.”

“What are you talking about?” Justin asks, voice demanding yet sounding just as confused as I am.

“I told you about Zander’s meeting with his uncle at The House that day when I shouldn’t have. I should have known better. But how was I to know Zander was going to say things that would cause you to get so upset you’d go into labor? And then we came here to meet Ace. You were fine one minute and then you talked to Z and . . .” His voice drifts off, and I strain to remember bits and pieces from when the boys came. But I can’t—just flashes of wide eyes and scared faces—and I know I obviously frightened them somehow. “I just want you to get better, Selena. And I want Zander to stay in our family where he’s safe. We all want these things. And I kept thinking if you knew Zander was safe then maybe you’d get better.”

A part of me awakens when I hear his words. I want to tell him it’s so much more than that but the love and concern lacing his tone somehow weave into and wrap around me, warming up the places this postpartum depression has left so very cold. It’s scary and foreign and exciting to feel these things even if it’s just a fraction of what is normal.

“Then I remembered the comment you made, Justin. The one about how you’d adopt Zander if it would fix the situation and—”

“No!” I shout, standing up in protest. Both of them stare at me as I struggle to make my point and understand why that sudden flicker of warmth I felt moments ago is now gone. In seconds, my mind spins in a tornado of thoughts with clarity sharper than I’ve felt in weeks.

Shane’s not nervous; he’s upset. Upset and hurt that in his darkest hour I never thought to adopt him, choose him, and now all of a sudden Zander’s in this situation and Justin obviously told him his suggestion when never in a million years would I even consider it.

The twister spins out of control. Anger, betrayal, compassion, despair, love. They all whirl inside me. I can’t catch my breath. I can’t speak. And yet the feelings within me are so violent, crashing into one another without recourse, that I can’t process them. I begin to shut down. Crawl with my tail between my legs into the darkness because obviously I thought I was stronger when I’m not.

I need my bed. To pull the covers over me and to try and quiet the riot in my head, but I don’t move. Instead I start to hyperventilate, my lungs convulsing as panic takes over my body, so all I can do is sag back down into the couch to try and catch my breath.

Justin’s at my side in an instant. His eyes are alarmed, but hands are gentle as he rubs my back and tells me he’s there. My body burns for oxygen, my blood on fire, and my head starts to become dizzy. I clutch my head in my hands, desperate for some kind of control.

“No peeking, Scooter!” Shane’s voice sounds off. How can it be in front of me when he’s beside me? Regardless, the sound of it pulls me to the present. I open my eyes and he’s holding his cell phone so I can see a video playing on the screen. The camera pans across the room and six heads are bowed down: Connor, Aiden, Ricky, Kyle, Scooter, and Auggie. Curiosity pulls my head above water; the sight of my boys keeps it there as my breathing slowly evens.

“Okay. You ready?” It’s Shane’s voice on the phone, his hand recording, as an array of yeses sound. “We all know that Zander was told today his uncle has been approved to foster him.”

“What?” Justin says in shock, hand stilling on my back, the same time the breath I just got back catches in my chest. My eyes, mesmerized by the sight of my boys again, sting with unwanted tears. Disbelief courses right alongside the panic.

Spiral. Twist. Slide. Back down into the dark.

“Just listen,” Shane urges, his voice giving me a focal point to cling to.

The video continues. “Who is in favor and completely okay and know that it has nothing to do with playing favorites—”

“Jesus. We got it, dude!” Aiden says. “We all know we’re Donavans. We don’t need a formal adoption process or the official name change to tell us that. It’s a given. Just take the vote, Shane.”

Justin sucks in a breath beside me. My pulse starts to race again. A little at first. Then a lot. But this time it’s not from anxiety. The lack of panic and the presence of disbelieved hope pull me a little closer toward the surface.

“Shut it, Aid!”

“Always the boss,” Aiden says, eyes rolling, as Connor elbows him.

“Who is in favor of Selena and Justin filing a petition to adopt Zander?” Six arms rise in the air without a moment’s hesitation. Shane flips the camera lens onto him to show his hand in the air. “And it’s a landslide,” he says, angling it back to my crew where they’ve all raised their heads, smiles on their faces, and patience gone.

I’m transfixed with the images as a few of them give a shout out to me until a scuffle ensues over hogging the spotlight and then the video stops. But when Shane goes to pull his hand holding the phone away, I reach out in reflex and grab it, my eyes lifting up to meet his.

I don’t know what to say. All I know is how I feel. And how I feel is that I actually feel something when there’s been nothing in so long. A sudden rainstorm in an arid desert.

My hand squeezes his wrist as I scramble to mouth the words backing up like a dam in my mind. Nothing comes out but I can’t let go of him. And I can’t look away.

Justin runs his hand up and down the length of my spine in reassurance as Shane lowers to his knees in front of me and puts his free hand on top of mine, holding steadfast to his. Eyes laced with concern and swimming with love meet mine.

“We know you’re not choosing Zander over us. You’re doing what you’ve always done. You’re trying to save him just like you have done for each one of us.” His voice breaks and tears well, despite him trying to hold it together. “We didn’t tell Zander about the vote, didn’t want to get his hopes up if you guys decide not to pursue it . . . but we also didn’t want you to throw the idea out because you thought it would upset us.”

“I don’t even know what to say,” Justin says, his voice thick with emotion.

“There’s nothing to say.” He shrugs, bringing back thoughts of the little boy I first met. “I’ll admit when you first told me about it, I was a little shocked. Surprised. But at the same time, it’s what you said after telling me you’d adopt Zander that I heard the loudest.”

Justin looks back and forth between us and shakes his head as he tries to recall what Shane’s talking about.

“You told me Selena nixed the idea because it would make the rest of us feel bad. That spoke louder to me than anything. She was willing to hurt him to spare our feelings. It didn’t sit right with me. Selena, you raised us to look out for one another, take care of each other. Be a family. Well, Zander’s our family. So I mentioned it to Aiden. Played it down. Pretended I’d had a dream about it happening to see what he’d say. He thought it was brilliant. Didn’t have a problem with it. We went from there.” His voice fades off, but I hear hope in his tone and see optimism in his eyes.

“Shane.” It’s the sound of Justin’s stilted voice that causes the first tear to slide over.

“I just wanted to try to make things right.”

The curtain lifts. Huge body-wracking sobs take over my body as the curtain lifts to the highest it’s been since my mind fell into this depression. And I still can’t speak. All I can do is show them that the smile on my face is not forced anymore—a break in the black clouds. A ray of light flooding me with the knowledge there is still good in the world. That I’ve raised seven boys who came to me damaged and beyond hope—with all odds stacked against them—and have turned them into compassionate, loving individuals who have formed a family.

My family. Their family.

“Selena? Baby, look at me.” It’s Justin’s voice that pulls me out of this storm of emotion. I actually want to stay in it though, because it feels so damn good to feel something other than the weight of sadness. But I look at him anyway. I want him to see the glimpse of the real me peeking through because I know as good as this feels, as long as it has lasted, it will probably be gone soon. In my compromised psyche, I know you don’t snap out of postpartum depression so easily.

But it gives me hope. Tells me I can do this. That the glimpse will turn into more. Baby steps as Justin says.

“These are happy tears, right?” he asks as I glance over to Shane and then back to him. Both of their eyes hold a cautious optimism.

“Yes.”

I might not be broken after all.

FUCKIN’ BECKETT.

He knows just how to push my buttons. Get me where I need to be. Even if it takes a few fibs as he calls them. More like bald-faced lies.

But who’s the fool? I fell for them. I’m right where he wants me. On the track. In the car and just hitting my stride on my thirtieth lap after some new adjustments.

God, I needed this. Everything about it: the routine, the camaraderie with the crew, the vibration of the car all around me, the control and response when everything else has felt so chaotic.

The freedom.

I shift, coming into turn one. Let my car own the track since I’m alone on it, getting a feel if the last adjustment was right or wrong.

“Wood?” No other words need to be said to know what he’s asking me.

“Feels good. Ass end’s not sliding as I come outta the bank.” I take a sip of water from the tube. It’s piss-warm. Fuck.

“Okay. Open her up then for a few laps once you hit the line. Push to pass. Let me see what the gauges say when we do that.”

“Open her up? You get some last night, Daniels? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say those words.” Hands grip the wheel, body braced for the force as I come out of turn four toward the start/finish line.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He chuckles. That’s an affirmative on getting laid. “Let’s see what she can do.”

I drop the hammer. Race the motherfucking wind. Let the vibration of the car and the fight of the wheel own my mind and body: escape from the worry about Selena—the constant responsibility of Ace, the everything that feels like it has been on my shoulders—and just be.

The car and me. Machine and man. Speed against skill. Chaos versus control.

Each lap peels away the world around me a little bit more. Pulls me into the blur. Lets me become a part of the car, hear each rattle, feel every vibration, and listen to what she’s saying to me.

If she’s going to be a whore or a wife for the next race: let me use her, abuse her until I get mine at the start/finish line, or if I need to praise her, stroke her with foreplay, and hope she gets off by the time the checkered flag is waved.

“Gauges are looking good. How’s she feel?”

“A good mix.” He knows I mean she’s a little bit of both—whore and wife—the perfect mix to win a race.

“We need a little more whore for the next race. Push her harder. See if she sucks or swallows.”

I laugh into the open mic as I head into turn three. Routine entry, down shift, gaze drops down to the gauges one last time before the track and car own them with the concentration the turn takes.

The ass end slides high, fishtails at the topside of the curve. Rubber tires hit a rash of pellets. I hydroplane across them, slick tires over balls of rubber.

FUCK!

Split seconds of time. Increments of thoughts. Routine of movements.

The nose end turn turns high. Arms tense fighting the wheel. A flash of concrete wall.

Ace. An image of him flashes before my eyes. A slideshow of frames. His cry is in the whine of the engine.

Releasing the wheel. Crossing my arms so I can hold onto the harness.

Selena. Soft smile. Big heart. Incredible strength. Just when she’s coming back to me.

Shoulders shoving into the seat. The car spins. Nosecone hits the wall. Metal sparking as it shreds.

“Wood!”

Spinning. Hands grip seatbelts tight. Waiting for the second impact.

Nothing.

C’mon. C’mon. C’mon

Spinning.

Slipping down the track.

Spinning.

Grass flying as I hit the infield.

Coming to a stop.

Taking a breath.

Hands stiff from holding tight to the seatbelts.

“Goddammit, Justin! Answer me.”

Sound comes back. Adrenaline takes over. My heart pounds. My mouth is dry.

But I’m fine.

“I’m good. Fine,” I rasp as my body starts to tremble from the aftereffects. “Fucked up the nosecone and front right side.”

“You’re good?” His voice is shaky.

“I’m good.” Well, I will be. After I have a stiff drink.

“Fuck, Justin! I told you to open her up, not tear her up and slam her into the goddamn wall!” he yells through the mic as I unpin the wheel to get out.

My chuckle fills the connection—the tinge of hysteria in it clear as fucking day.

I’m grateful for his comment. For getting me back to the norm when a part of me is so lost in my own head over shit I never allow myself to think about.

And yet sometimes when you’re forced to close your eyes, everything else becomes so much clearer.

“Justin?”

“Can I come in?” I look at my dad. There are so many things I want to say. No, need to say to him.

My mind hasn’t stopped since I left the track. The wreck made my mortality front and fucking center like never before. I have a kid now. Responsibilities. People that matter to me when before the only person I cared about besides my parents, Quin, and Becks was me, myself, and I.

I got out of the car needing to call Selena. Talk to her. Hear her voice. Get home so I could hold Ace. But know I can’t.

It was just another day at the track. I spun out. A job hazard. I couldn’t call her because even though she’s making huge strides, she’s still not one hundred percent, and I didn’t want to do anything to trigger her to pull away.

So I drove. Aimlessly. Ended up at the beach. Then drove some more. Checked in with Haddie to make sure Selena was good and ended up here. Fucking full circles.

“Come in. Everything okay? Selena and Ace?” he asks as I follow him into the house I grew up in.

“Yes. Yeah.” Shit. He’s worried. “Sorry. They’re fine. It’s all good.” We walk past the stairs I used to slide down on cardboard, and the liquor cabinet I used to sneak bottles from in high school. I focus on that shit because all of a sudden I’m antsy, nervous. Feel stupid for coming here but need to tell him nonetheless.

“It’s good to see you out and about,” he says.

“Haddie’s with Selena,” I explain when he doesn’t ask. “I had to get some time at the track.”

“How’d it go?”

“Good. Fine. Hit the wall.”

Fight or flight time, Justin. Say what you need to say.

“Justin?”

I snap from my thoughts. The shit that I’m here to say but have now lost the words for. “Sorry.” I sigh, lift my hat and run a hand through my hair.

“I said hitting the wall doesn’t sound like it went well. Are you okay?” His grey eyes look at me in that way he has since I was a kid. Checking for ghosts he’s not going to find.

“Yes. No.” I shake my head. “Fuck if I know.” I laugh and can hear the nerves in it as I watch him sit down and lean back on the couch, expression guarded, eyes an open fucking door that say, “Talk to me, son.”

I shove up out of the seat I’ve just sat in and walk toward the mantle where it is littered with picture frames of Q and me as kids. A house that has been featured in every style magazine known to man, and my mom keeps our homemade frames sitting on the mantle like they fit right in with the Louis whatever chair I was never allowed to sit on. I’m restless, fidgety, and just need to get this the fuck over with so I can stop thinking about it and get home.

“I had no right to ask you to go with me the other day.” That wasn’t what I was expecting to say but, fuck it, might as well go with it. He stares at me, father to son, body and eyes warring between asking for more and letting it come to me.

“I’m not following you.”

Of course you’re not going to make this easy on me, are you? Fuck. I sigh. Move. Pace. Hand through hair again.

“When I asked you to drive me so I could see my . . . uh . . .” Fuck. I can’t say the word. Can’t use the same term for that piece of shit as I do for this man in front of me, my endgame superhero.

“Dad. You can say it, Justin. I’m confident with my place in your life.”

“I know but it was a slap in your face, and it’s been eating at me. I shouldn’t have asked you to go,” I say as I turn around and meet his eyes again. “Or I should have told you where we were going. Given you a choice.”

“It’s never a slap in my face when you want to spend time with me, son. The fact you wanted me there with you tells me more than you’ll ever know.”

I stare at him, jaw clenched, and head a mess. I don’t deserve him. Never have. But sure as shit, I’m not letting him go.

“It was chickenshit of me.” It’s all I can say.

“It’s only natural for you to wonder. What you need to ask yourself is, did you get what you wanted out of it?”

“Yes. No. Fuckin’A straight I’m so angry but I don’t know why.” I pace again. Pissed I’m still bugged by it all.

“Why? Because you wanted him to see you, pull you into a hug, and start a relationship?” he goads, knowing damn well that wasn’t what I wanted. “Have a get-to-know-you session?”

“No,” I shout, hand banging down on the table beside me. The sound echoes around the room while I rein in my temper. I don’t want to have emotion over the loser. None. So why do I feel so fucked up when I thought I had it all under wraps? “I didn’t want shit from him other than to see him so I could look at the fucking reflection of what I never want to be to Ace. You happy?”

“Perfectly,” he says with a ghost of a smile that taunts me. I’ve punched guys for less. But I force myself to breathe. Unclench my fists. Redirect my anger. Try to at least.

“Really? My fucked-up head makes you happy?” I grate out between gritted teeth.

“Nope. But you’ve been through a lot of shit this month, Justin. Taken on a lot of responsibilities and haven’t really gotten to deal with any of this, so here I am. Scream and yell. That vase right next to you? Throw it. Watch it break against the wall. I’ll cover for you with your mom. Tell her I fell or something.” He pauses and lifts his eyebrows.

“What? She’d kill you. That’s like some antique-ey thing we were never allowed to touch.”

“Even better. Expensive shit sounds better when it breaks.”

“You’re fucking crazy.” I laugh, not really sure what else to say because he looks dead serious. What is going on here?

“Yeah, well, you have to be crazy to be a good parent.” His lips curl up, eyes flash with something, and I know I’m about to get schooled. Too bad I have no idea what the lesson covers. So I just stare at him and wait, knowing from experience that something else is coming. The difference is that as a kid, I’d let it go in one ear and out the other. This time, I’m fairly certain I won’t be so blasé.

“Connect the dots here, Dad, because I’m lost.” White flag is waving. Help me out.

“Being a parent is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It’s made me question my sanity more times than you can imagine,” he says dryly, and I know many of those times were because of me. “And there are times that you have to bite your tongue so hard you’re not sure if it’s going to be in one or two pieces when you open your mouth. It’s exhausting and you’re constantly doubting yourself, wondering if you’re doing the right thing, saying the right thing, being the right thing.”

I look at him like he’s crazy and yet every single thing he says is gold. So damn true I can’t argue a single point.

“But then there are those moments, Justin, when you watch your child do something and are so damn proud of them you are left speechless. And those moments take every single doubt and fear and heartache and moment of insanity you’ve ever had and wipe the slate clean. That’s how I felt watching you go to see your dad. That’s how I feel knowing you and Selena are going to adopt Zander. That’s how I feel watching you be a father. Hell, son, when you stepped up to the plate after Selena got sick and swung it out of the goddamn park by taking care of Ace? I’ve never been prouder.”

My eyes sting with tears I don’t want to shed from the praise I never like to receive. Yet at the same time understand completely now that I’m a father.

“I’ve never been more proud to be your father than I am right now. That man,” he says, pointing over his shoulder to tell me he’s referring to my biological father, “doesn’t deserve to get to know the incredible person you are.”

The lump in my throat feels like it is the size of a football. “Thank you.” I feel like a shy little kid, unworthy of the no-holds-barred love he’s given me my whole life when I haven’t always been easy. Fuck. Who am I kidding? I’ve been a nightmare. And yet the quip that’s on my tongue dies when I look back to his eyes. I see love and approval and pride and shit that makes me uncomfortable to see. I know Ace needs to see it every day of his life so he can know exactly what I feel right now.

“No need to thank me, son.” We stare at each other for a moment, years of unspoken words traded in the span of silence. “Now . . . I’m sure you didn’t stop by to hear me blather on. What can I do for you?”

Just like him to lay down the law and then act like we’re not even in court.

“Believe it or not, you gave me the answer anyway.”

And he did. Tons of answers, in fact. He turned wounds into wisdom.

The most important thing is that he let me be who I needed to be, guided me when I needed it, and let me figure shit out on my own when I was too stubborn to ask for help. Regardless, he let me grow, let me experience, let me chase the goddamn wind as I raced, and the fact he was by my side without judgment the whole time, made me the man I am today.

Now I can’t wait to be that exact same man for Ace.

I STARTLE AWAKE.

Justin’s arms have fallen off me in sleep, and I struggle to remember the last time I slept this deeply. The last thing I remember was memory number who knows what that had to do with zip-lining through the forests of Costa Rica.

Naked.

I seem to think every one of his memories had to do with me being naked. It’s kind of funny. Kind of not.

I sit up and look at Ace asleep in the bassinet. His hands are up over his head, lips are suckling even in his sleep. I stare and wonder what type of person he’ll be. What will his future hold? Images that are so crystal clear slide through my head: first smiles, first steps, first day of school, first date. So many of them have this little boy with dark hair and green eyes and freckles over the bridge of his nose it’s almost as if I’ve seen a picture of what he’s going to look like before.

But the one thing I don’t expect, don’t even notice until it hits me like a lightning strike, is that the oppressive weight of dread and doom doesn’t come. It doesn’t drop one single time to darken my thoughts or steal my calm.

I wait for it. Hope for the best, expect for the worst for a while. But the panic, the sweat, the fingers clawing at my throat and squeezing my heart, don’t come.

All that does is a soft smile on my lips. Not one forced or laced with guilt that comes because I need to show I’m improving, but rather because I really feel it.

Tears well. Big fat tears slide down my cheeks. And the funny thing is the taste of the salt as it hits my lips is like a smelling salt waking me up from passing out. And I’m not sure how long this is going to last but for the first time in the six weeks since Ace’s birth, I feel optimistic, hopeful . . . like me.

So I sit in this mass of a bed with my sweet baby boy beside me—who I desperately want to pick up but was fussy and difficult for Justin to put down tonight. I want to pull him tight to my chest and tell him he’s been my heartbeat throughout this mess. Apologize to him. Say words about events he’s never going to even know or remember but that will make me feel a little better.

I’m transfixed by him, feeling like I’m looking at him for the first time and in a sense I am, because he’s already grown and changed so much. I feel like I have to make up for lost time, although I know I have a whole lifetime to do that with him. Hesitantly, I reach out to touch him and then pull back when he squirms, smelling the milk on me.

And even though I shift back onto the bed, I can’t take my eyes off him. He’s so beautiful. Everything I’ve ever wanted. My ace in a loaded deck of cards.

The thought makes me smile. Memories colliding of that first encounter between Justin and me—jammed closets and first kisses and fear over how strong the chemistry was between the player and this good girl—when I first called him Ace.

A chance encounter that lead to this moment. Right here. Right now. Where so much love fills me that I’m swamped by it. And I’ll take being swamped by love because I’ve been drowning in sadness for what feels like forever.

I look at him now. My achingly handsome husband. His dark hair is a little longer than normal, falling over his forehead. Dark lashes fan on bronze skin. That perfectly imperfect nose of his. And those lips that have murmured memories he wants to make with me every single night over the past five-plus weeks.

Rogue, rebel, reckless. Those words still apply to him. As do so many others that would make him blush, roll his eyes, and play them off because they make this stoic man uncomfortable. My rock is the one I can’t seem to get out of my head. Because that’s exactly what he has been to me.

My everything.

Just like with Ace, I reach out my hand and pull it back. He deserves a good night’s sleep. Some peace and quiet since he has been the one handling all of my noise. And yet I can’t resist. Never can when it comes to him.

I lean forward and press a soft kiss to his lips, wanting nothing more than this connection with him. My body is still recovering, and the thought of sex is the furthest thing from my battered mind, and yet this simple touch, lips to lips, completes the sensation that something is still missing.

It’s probably bogus, my mind still playing tricks on me, and yet the spark that hits when I kiss him jumpstarts every part of my body drugged by the postpartum depression back to life.

My hands frame his cheeks as I brush my lips to his again, need becoming want, want becoming all-consuming. The desire to feel his touch in a way that’s not to soothe but rather to sate a need.

A gasp of breath. A flash open of startled eyes. A reach of his hands to grab onto mine holding him.

“Selena.” His voice. That sexy, sleep-drugged voice that calls to me as he says my name and owns my soul.

“Yeah. It’s me.” And I mean it in every sense of the word. His emerald eyes widen and lips part in shock as he pulls me into him. One arm wraps around my back and the other cradles the back of my head as he presses me into his chest.

Our hearts connect. His feels like it wants to jump out of his chest and collide with mine as it beats an erratic yet familiar rhythm that is one hundred percent ours.

His hands hold me tight and don’t let go. He’s already lost me once, and I love the knowledge he’s going to make damn sure I’m not going to leave again.

The scrape of his stubble as he rubs his cheek against mine, a subtle sting of coarse to soft tells me this is real, this is him, and I am loved. Irrevocably.

The scent of soap and shampoo still lingers from his shower. The smell of home, of comfort . . . of safety as I breathe him in.

Everything seems so new and yet so familiar all at the same time. Whoever said the only way to find yourself is to get completely lost, knew exactly what they were talking about.

His hand fists my hair and pulls my head back. Emerald eyes own my soul when they meet mine. They ask if this is a dream, if I’m really here, and I do the only thing I can. I lean forward and take a sip from his lips—the taste of his kiss is seared into my soul, one I’ll never forget—and it reawakens my senses the minute it hits my tongue.

We move in the darkness.

Two soulmates reuniting.

Two best friends grateful to have their other half.

Two lovers rediscovering each other in an intimate dance of tongues and the slide of fingertips over thirst-starved flesh.

Two parts of a puzzle finally realizing their piece of peace they’ve been missing has been found.

Once again.

PART 1

Eight months later

THE TURBULENCE JOLTS ME AWAKE.

Well, that’s what I’ll tell the twenty or so people on the other side of the door. Because it sure as shit isn’t the turbulence that wakes me up. No. It’s Selena’s hand sliding into my pants, fingernails tickling my nuts, and soft-as-fuck lips, kissing the underside of my jaw.

“Selena . . .” I sigh.

“Be quiet,” she warns against my skin, my body already fully alert at this unexpected wake-up call. Her other hand slides up beneath my shirt. Nails against bare skin. Teeth nipping my earlobe. Hot breath against my neck. “Your mom has Ace. You were asleep. And I was horny.”

Well, damn.

I glance at the cabin door, visually make sure the latch is set to lock before I lay my head back and close my eyes. Her tongue then does something to me that sends a jolt of electricity straight down my spine connecting to where her fingers are slowly stroking me.

“Horny is good.” Her lips meet mine as she climbs astride me. Tongues and teeth. Greed and need. Wet against hard. Goddamn she’s hot. Sexy fucking hot. “But it’s going to take a whole helluva lot more to get me to tell you where we are going.”

The stutter in her movement tells me I’m right, know her angle: confession by orgasm. Not a bad way to be tortured but my lips are sealed.

Maybe I’ll wait to tell her though. I’ve been to a lot of places with her, but the mile-high club isn’t one of them.

Maybe it’s time to venture there.

She sits up, a taunt in her eye and determination on her face. But that pout on her lips tells me she’s game to change my mind.

Change away, Selena.

“Guess I’ll just have to take care of myself then.”

Don’t you dare. My eyes say it but lips don’t. I’m too goddamn focused on her hands traveling over her tits, hard nipples visible through the thin cotton, down to where her fingers pull up her loose skirt inch by fucking inch. And then they disappear beneath the flowy fabric so I can’t see shit.

But I sure as fuck see her head fall back, lips fall open, and hear the sigh fall from her lips as her hands begin to move in a motion I know all too well. Quick strokes of her finger to add friction to her clit.

Motherfucker.

Another quiet moan. Her back arches. Tits push forward. Hands move quicker, harder. Her skirt inches up farther so I can see the slick arousal on her fingers.

She’s playing me and I don’t even have a ball in her court. Playing with fire when I want to be the only one striking the goddamn matchstick.

My stick’s out all right. Now I just need to light the flame.

Within a beat I have Selena flipped over, hands cuffed beside her head, and our faces inches apart. “You’re playing with fire, sweetheart,” I tease between teeth gritted in restraint.

The scent of her arousal on her fingers fills my nose. Temptation at its fucking finest. Two can play this game, sweetheart. I lower my mouth, take the tips of her fingers between my lips and suck. Tongue laving over them, savoring her addictive taste. Her body squirms beneath me. A moan hums in the back of her throat.

“Don’t make a sound,” I whisper around her fingers.

One final suck. One last taste. One last hit. I look down at her beneath me. Her lips are parted, cheeks are flushed, and her eyes are heavy with desire. Goddamn sex personified.

And thank fuck for that because I’m digging in and taking what’s mine. Her orgasm. Her moans. Her scratch marks. And every damn thing in between.

“Burn, baby, burn,” she taunts with a gleam in her eyes as I release her hands so I can free my dick. And before I can pull my pants down far enough to free my thighs, her hand is pulling up her skirt, and bringing herself back to the brink of climax.

It’s such a turn-on. Watching her own her sexuality. Getting herself off. But it’s too damn much—the need to have, to take, to claim—and so I do just that.

With one hand on her throat and my dick in her pussy, I dive head first into the addiction that is everything about her. And at thirty-eight thousand feet above the middle of nowhere, she comes quickly—legs tensed, eyes locked on mine, and lips pulled tight—with my hand over her mouth to muffle her moans. The look on her face and her pussy pulsing around my dick pulls me over the edge so I can chase her.

When I catch my breath and look down at her all I can do is shake my head. “That’s one hell of an effort,” I whisper, leaning down to press my lips to hers, “but even your voodoo pussy isn’t magic enough to get me to tell you.”

She laughs. That’s all she can do.

Goddamn, I’m a lucky man.

PART 2

THE AIRPORT WAS A THATCH hut. We walked straight from the private jet to the awaiting cars, and the road we’re on is rutted dirt that requires serious suspension. Ben Montague plays on the radio as I take in the foliage, thick and green around us, causing my curiosity to grow with each passing bump along the road.

Where in the hell is he taking me?

I think back to the look on our boys’ faces when we deplaned on the tarmac. Their incessant chatter filled the air. My parents’ laughter as they became caught up in Justin’s mysterious family vacation. The knowing glance between Becks and Justin, and Haddie’s squeeze of my hand before we all loaded into our waiting vehicles. The shower of kisses rained down upon Ace by his adopted brother and his six other brothers—who claim him simply because we unceremoniously claim them—before we separate in three separate car arrangements. The happiness in my heart when Zander looked up and met my eyes. Unspoken words passed between us. Thank yous to Justin and I for saving him and at the same time allowing him to still be a part of the family he’d made with the boys. The slight smile on his lips and lift of his head to ask if it’s okay to ride with them instead of us was all I needed to know we made the right choice. That we didn’t harm the others by saving Zander.

And off we went.

Two vans: one driven by Becks and Haddie with the boys, and the other driven by Andy with the rest of our family. A whole lot of smiles as the doors closed and not much explanation by Justin on the two-way radios other than “we’re almost there.”

And then there’s the three of us in our Jeep. The SUV jostles in the terrain and pulls me back to the sights around us, all the while reminding me how fortunate I am to have everyone here. My boys. My family. My husband.

My everything.

Well, everything except for not knowing where we are, why we’ve been divided, or where we’re headed.

I glance over to Justin. I know it’s useless to ask again because he’s not going to give me an answer.

Live dangerously with me, Selena.

His words to me flicker through my memory, and I can’t help but smile. I want to tell him I’ll live dangerously a million times over so long as he never gives up on me. But I know I don’t have to worry about that happening. He’s already proven he won’t. So I do the only thing I can. I shake my head in disbelief and accept how full of love my heart is for him.

We’ve been through so much in the last year. Things I never thought we’d have to face hit us head-on, blindsided us, and knocked us flat on our asses. Yet here we are, stronger because of it. And I’m not oblivious to the fact we survived when so many other couples wouldn’t have.

How could we not have? It’s permanent, right?

And I glance back to check on Ace, the reason we fought so hard to find our piece of peace again. He seems completely unfazed by this rough ride. I take in his dark hair with a bit of a wave at the ends—the perfect combination of Justin’s color and my texture—and my smile is automatic. Green eyes look up and steal my heart like they do every single time they meet mine. Just like his father’s.

He babbles something incoherently, chubby cheeks bulging and hands waving in emphasis. I may have no idea where we are going, but I know he’s going to be in heaven having all of his brothers, his grandparents, and aunts and uncles here to play with and give him nonstop attention.

“We’ve lost them,” I say, as alarm moves through me when I glance up from Ace and notice the vans aren’t behind us.

“Becks knows where he’s going. They’re fine.” It’s all he says. Nothing else. I’d love to wrap my hands around that sexy neck of his and force him to tell me where we are and where he’s taking me.

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

Gah! I tried sex on the plane, sweet-talking, and just about anything else I could imagine but nope, the man won’t budge. I just hope wherever the hell we are, my clothes are suitable, because it’s not like he gave me a chance to pack. Who knew Justin would surprise us all after the first race of the season by flying us from St. Petersburg to wherever we are now?

Definitely not me.

I look back at Ace to see his eyes closing. The rocking of the car has lulled him to sleep. When I turn around, the view out the windshield hijacks my breath: white sand, palm trees swaying in the breeze, and a small hut on stilts stretched out over the crystal clear water.

“Justin!” I glance over to him and then back to the sight before me, and then back to him. A slow, shy smile turns up one corner of his mouth—dimple winking—but it’s the look in his eyes that holds me rapt.

And something fires in my mind, covered somewhere in cobwebs but I must be crazy trying to figure it out when all of this is in front of me.

Justin opens the door and I glance back, deciding to leave Ace sleeping for a moment while I admire the view. I get out of the car as Justin comes around the front, a knowing smile still on his lips, and love in his eyes.

“Do you know this place?” he asks, head angled, hands reaching out to pull me against him.

“What? Justin! This is just . . .” I’m shocked, curious, floored, and grateful as I look up at him with confusion in my eyes.

“I wanted to take a family vacation. We all deserve it after this year, don’t you think?” he asks. I know him well enough to know he’s holding something back. What it is though, I don’t know.

“This place is incredible.” I’m still in his arms but my head swivels from side to side to take it all in.

“And secluded,” he adds, causing my focus to turn back on him.

“I like secluded,” I murmur.

“And bathing suits are optional.”

The laugh comes freely. “I’m sure they are,” I respond as my mind fires again, but this time it all comes back to me. Knocks me flat on my ass. Takes hold of my heart and squeezes so damn tight my chest hurts from love.

My eyes flash up to his—violet to green—and the words fall from my mouth in a whisper. “This . . . this is from . . .” He nods his head, smile spreading, and waits as my words pause and mind recalls. “When I was sick. This is one of the memories you said you wanted to make with me.” Awe owns my voice as I try to comprehend that he did this for me.

“Yes,” he whispers and brushes his lips against mine in the most tender of kisses. The kind that owns your soul and completes your heart. “It’s the first of many of those memories I plan to make come true for you. We’re going to have to buy a lot more frames to put them in.”

“Justin . . .” Tears well in my eyes as I pull him closer, the moment so poignant I’m at a loss for words.

“And yes, there is a very skimpy bikini on the bed in there for you that is for my eyes only. Or you can skip it and just run around naked.”

“Run around naked?” I say as I look back toward the car where Ace sleeps.

“And that’s why our family is at a huge house about three miles down the road. Babysitters,” he says with a quirk of his eyebrows.

“You’ve thought of everything,” I murmur against his lips.

“Mm-hmm,” he says as he presses a kiss to my nose.

“I can’t wait to see you in that loincloth.”

He throws his head back and laughs, the vibrations of it echoing in my chest, and all I can do is stare at him. And then laugh with him. Because if we’ve learned one thing in our marriage it’s that we need to laugh as much as we breathe and love like we are the air that allows us to do both.

I stare at him—stubbled cheeks, emerald eyes, and dark hair—and all I see is happiness. All I feel is love. All I know is completeness. All I want is forever with him.

My husband.

My rock.

My piece of peace.

My memory maker.

My happily ever after.

THE END

0 notes

spookyboywhump · 4 years ago

Text

Oooh boy, this got LONG (3,036 words), and the whumpiest part ain’t even till towards the end, my bad

It’s Valentine’s day in the Bad Timeline and nobody is really vibing

CW: Pet whump, creepy whumper, intimate whump, very brief nsfw mention, brief emeto mention, hand whump, beating, strangulation, nonsexual noncon touch

***

He had a bad feeling about this, staring down at the boxes in front of him. Nicholas had presented them to him that morning before locking him and Cain in the bedroom, after warning him it would be in his best interest to accept the gifts and be looking presentable in the next few hours. Hours had passed though and he still hadn’t done much but stare at the white boxes, decorated with blue silk ribbons.

“You should be thankful,” Cain said, and Wren almost hit him, “The last gift he gave me was my fucking collar.” He said bitterly.

“I don’t think any of this is going to be better than a collar.” He muttered.

“He’s going to be back any minute now, you might as well get it over with.” He hated to admit it but he knew he was right, he wasn’t in the mood to deal with more than Nicholas’ attitude. Finally, he started opening the gifts, discarding the ribbons to the side, which Cain didn’t hesitate to pick up and start fidgeting with. Wren could tell he was bitter that Nicholas hadn’t left him anything, and he would’ve felt bad for him if not for the fact that he already knew he didn’t want a single one of these gifts.

Inside the boxes he found a new outfit to add to the growing wardrobe Nicholas had for him. More pretty clothing that he only hated because it came from Nicholas, and he wasn’t particularly fond of the new earrings, or the headband with a bow hanging off it, however, he did like the idea of kicking Nicholas with the new shoes he’d been given. Nicholas had gotten rid of his beloved red converse a long time ago, and barefoot kicks simply weren’t cutting it.

“He’s disgusting…” He muttered more to himself.

“It could be worse.” Cain said. “You’ve seen the kind of things other owners will make their pets wear. I think we’re lucky he’s not that bad.”

“Would you stop making excuses for him?” He snapped at him. “I know you have some sick crush on him but I don’t, and I don’t give a damn how good he is compared to other owners.” He said, not looking up at Cain as he looked over the envelope Nicholas had left him, addressed to Love. He opened it, and cringed at what looked like a typical flowery Valentine’s Day card. He didn’t even bother reading it, opening the card to see if there was anything worthwhile inside. A part of him thought it would be really funny to find money, but instead he found something else, he found photos. His breath caught in his throat, he dropped the card and frantically shuffled through the photos, Cara, Lila, Alec, Zander, even Alondra. They were all clearly taken without the subject’s knowledge, they were all recent, and Wren swore he was going to be sick. Cain had picked up the card when he’d dropped it, but now he was holding it out to him.

“You might want to read this…” He said softly, and Wren snatched it from him. Nicholas hadn’t written anything exceptionally creepy, not in the way Wren expected anyway. Instead he’d just left a simple, direct message.

”Behave and you can keep the photos- and keep the people in them safe.”

Out of anger, he dropped the photos and tore the card in half, tearing it up into small pieces before getting to his feet, angrily pacing the room. He was more scared than anything really, his heart pounding away in his chest.

“That fucking creep.” He muttered angrily. “I’m so-so fucking sick of him! What the fuck is he gonna do, he- he can’t- he can’t hurt them-!”

“If he got you, then he can get them.” Cain said, looking through the photos. “Fuck- Zander looks like a wreck.” He muttered, and Wren stormed over, snatching the photos from him. He held them close to his chest for a moment, anxiously looking around the room before going over to the bookshelf, grabbing a random book off it and sticking the photos between the pages, memorizing the title before putting it back where he’d gotten it. He’d never seen Nicholas touch any of those books, and he knew that his safest bet to keep the photos would be to keep them out of sight. Even if Nicholas wanted to take them he likely wouldn’t be able to find them, and while he couldn’t do much to keep the actual people safe, it did make him feel a little better.

He knew he was running out of time so he finally changed into the clothes Nicholas had left for him, swearing and muttering the entire time. He felt ridiculous when he looked at himself in the mirror, though he was glad it wasn’t one of the more revealing looks, he still didn’t like the big bow hanging off the shirt, he thought the headband was a bit too much, and he got so frustrated trying to get the earrings he was wearing out to switch them that Cain had to get up and help him. He hated letting him near him, he was still getting used to the shift in their dynamic, really he wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to it at all.

He’d just barely finished getting ready when Nicholas returned, the sound of the door unlocking startling both of them. Cain backed off of him, and for now, Wren tried to play nice with his new owner. He didn’t flash him a big fake smile and greet him with love and adoration in his voice, but he did tone down the glare he gave him, keeping his hands behind his back for now so Nicholas wouldn’t see his hands clenched into fists. The man smiled as he looked him over, he seemed pleased with his work and that was enough to make Wren angry all over again, though he kept his face blank.

“You look beautiful, Love.” He said as he approached him, and Wren held still as he stood in front of him, reaching up to tilt his chin up.

“Thank you.” He said through gritted teeth, and Nicholas seemed more amused than anything.

“You’ll behave for me, right?” He asked, and Wren nodded as he subtly pulled away from him.

“Of course, sir.” He said, having to force himself back into the behavior he’d exhibited with Cain. Nicholas slipped his arm around his shoulders, and spared a glance at Cain.

“We’ll be back later, darling.” He told him, and Wren could see the way his face fell. He didn’t like it, but he couldn’t help but feel slightly bad for him. He knew if they could trade places he’d gladly return him to Nicholas’ attention. For now he was stuck with him, led away to simply be a pretty accessory to the man for the time being.

***

He knew he shouldn’t have been angry at him, he didn’t have a say in it, he didn’t want to be here, but Cain couldn’t help it. He sat on Nicholas’ bed with his knees pulled up to his chest, struggling to blink back tears.

Things weren’t good before. He was still a pet, Nicholas treated him like a toy at the best of times and like a horrible, misbehaving mutt at the worst of times. But the longer that Wren was here, the more he was beginning to feel that maybe, being a toy wasn’t so bad. It hadn’t even been that long but he missed Nicholas’ affection, he missed being held by him and he missed the feeling of his hand carding through his hair. He wasn’t sure if he was doing it to hurt Cain on purpose, but it was obvious which pet he liked more. Wren was at his side more often, Wren was treated like a delicate, fragile thing when he behaved, and when he was good Nicholas would let him sleep next to him- more like he forced him to, really- while Cain was confined to a cage. At this point, he only gave Cain attention when he wanted to hurt him or when he wanted to fuck him, though the two often overlapped.

He reached up and angrily wiped at his eyes. He never once thought he’d be this hurt and jealous over Wren of all people. He’d been jealous of Zander before, incredibly so, and really he knew that Nicholas was unnaturally, creepily interested in the boy since the beginning. He didn’t think it would turn into this though, and he should’ve felt bad for Wren, he should’ve wanted him safe but he hardly cared about the circumstances, he just wanted him gone.

He hated to admit it, but he wanted his master back.

***

He had been walking on eggshells the entire time he’d been with Nicholas. It was easy through his meeting, if not a little embarrassing to kneel at his side like an obedient dog. He’d tried to keep some distance between them but Nicholas had grabbed him by the hair, forcing him to rest his head against his leg and let him play with his hair, the most attention he gave him while he talked with the other man. He couldn’t stand to be so pliant with him, typically he’d have acted out the first chance he got, but Nicholas hadn’t really given him much reason to. Aside from tugging on his hair, he’d been almost nice to him. Wren couldn’t stand it.

He managed to last through the rest of the day, for once keeping his mouth shut, wearily watching Nicholas’ every move, waiting for him to snap, waiting for him to just do something. His fear and anxiety finally got the best of him that evening, not only had Nicholas been generous enough to feed him, he was letting him sit at the table, something he’d never done before in Wren’s short time here.

“What’s the point of all this?” He finally asked, failing to hide the irritation in his voice.

“What do you mean, Love?” Nicholas asked him, as though this was all completely normal.

“All… all of this.” He said, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. “The- The gifts, the keeping me at your side all day, and now this.” He said, gesturing to the table now. “What’s the catch, huh? What are you fucking doing?”

“I’m just treating my love the way I should.” He said with a laugh. “I must say, I didn’t expect you to behave the entire time. I like it though, obedience suits you.” He said, and Wren glared at him. His questioning was interrupted when dinner was finally served to them, and it had been so long since he’d eaten that he couldn’t help but eagerly go to dig in. He paused though, the fork halfway to his mouth before he looked at Nicholas, who didn’t seem to find anything wrong.

“You try it first.” He said, holding the fork out to him.

“Why?” Nicholas asked, one eyebrow raised.

“So I know you aren’t trying to fuck with me. How am I supposed to know whether or not you had them slip something into my food specifically?” He said seriously.

“You’re far too paranoid, but fine.” Nicholas said, allowing Wren to feed him the bite of food, and it took all his self control to not shove the fork down his throat. It did ease his fears though, now that he knew it was safe he finally started eating. At one point Nicholas had to warn him to slow down, he was eating as though it would be taken from him at any moment, he couldn’t help it though. He’d just barely been getting accustomed to eating whenever and however much he liked when Nicholas had taken him, leaving him starving more often than not.

He sat back in his chair when he was done, though he couldn’t bring himself to relax. He knew something was coming, he could feel it, he just didn’t know what. Typically he tried to ignore Nicholas, but he found himself talking to him before he could remind himself to shut up.

“You really don’t have something fucked up planned?” He asked.

“I do not.” Nicholas said, that amused look on his face again. Wren wanted to hit him.

“You want something.” He said bluntly. “The gifts, the card, the fucking photos. You want something and I’m not going to fucking give it to you.” He said, sitting up straight again. It made his skin crawl to think about the things he knew Nicholas wanted from him, but even then if he wanted that so bad he could’ve drugged him, and he didn’t.

“All I want from you is your obedience.” Nicholas told him. “You were perfect for me today, that’s all that I want from you. You just need to be my sweet, well behaved Love.” He said. “My quiet, lovely pet.” Wren was quickly getting sick of this, that rage and defiance he’d buried all day finally bubbling up. He abruptly got to his feet, his hands slamming down on the table.

“I’m not your fucking pet!” He snapped. “I’m not your pet, I’m not your “Love”, I’m sure as hell not your fucking doll! You can’t fucking keep me like this!”

“Can’t I?” Nicholas smiled at him. “Nobody is looking for you. It was all too easy for their miserable, alcoholic friend to simply disappear, likely an accident. Nobody is going to stop me, and nobody is going to rescue you.” He said, speaking calmly, which only further angered Wren.

“I don’t need somebody to rescue me, I’ll get out of this place myself if I fucking have to. You don’t, and you never will own me.” He snarled.

“Are you done?” Nicholas asked him. “You know, I really don’t like lying, Love.” He said, and Wren noticed him grab the steak-knife too late, before he could move Nicholas plunged the blade into his hand, pinning his hand to the table. Wren clapped his other hand over his mouth to muffle his scream, the pain so severe he nearly collapsed, his legs feeling weak all of a sudden. Nicholas stood up now, roughly grabbing Wren by the wrist, pulling his hand away from his face. He leaned in close to him, that cruel smile on his face now. “And saying I don’t own you is a terrible lie.” He let go of his wrist, and Wren sobbed as he wrenched the knife out of his hand. He instinctively pulled his hand close to his chest, struggling to hold back his cries, but Nicholas was quick to drag him away from the table, throwing him to the floor, angry enough to carry out his punishment there in the dining room.

All Wren could do was try to cover his head as Nicholas kicked him over and over again, a particularly well placed blow to the stomach almost causing him to vomit. He tried to get up before it could get worse, but Nicholas hit him hard enough to knock him back down, hard enough he swore he blacked out for a moment. He didn’t get a chance to defend himself, Nicholas got down on the floor with him, straddling his waist and landing another hit on his face, causing his nose to bleed.

“Is this what you wanted me to do to you?” He snarled, his hands wrapping around Wren’s throat, the boy desperately grabbing and clawing at his wrists in an attempt to make him let go. “Do you want me to treat you like a disobedient little bitch? You were doing so well all day long, what do you gain by ruining that?” His grip around his throat got tighter and tighter, cutting off his cries for help, effectively silencing him, only the slightest wheeze escaping his mouth. His vision was going dark, finally his arms fell limply at his sides, and that was when Nicholas let go of him, not moving from his spot on top of him though. Wren gasped for air, taking deep, heaving breaths, only stopping when a cough would wrack his body.

“You stupid, ungrateful bitch.” Nicholas muttered, looking down on him disdainfully. “I’ve been nothing but kind to you all day and you still reject it. And look- you got blood all over your new clothes, you really are good for nothing, aren’t you?” He said, finally getting off him. Wren didn’t move though, he laid there trying to catch his breath, holding his still bleeding hand close to his chest.

He’d been worried, waiting for something to happen all day, he’d been so sure that Nicholas planned to harm in, and in the end it was all his own, stupid fault he got hurt.

***

He stared his reflection down, shuddering as Nicholas trailed a hand down his bare back. His torso was painted with bruises, dark, ugly splotches against his skin, the punishment he earned for daring to lie to his master. On some level he considered himself lucky, he hadn’t been allowed back in the bedroom the night before and when he saw Cain he looked rough, but that didn’t change the fact that he was in so much pain, sore and aching after the beating. There were even bruises around his throat where Nicholas had strangled him, his pretty blue collar doing nothing to hide them.

“It’s a shame you made me do this to you, Love.” Nicholas said, his voice excessively gentle compared to the way he dug his fingers into a bruise on his ribs, causing Wren to wince in pain, screwing his eyes shut.

“I didn’t make you do anything…” He muttered, glancing down at his bandaged hand. He couldn’t believe that simply snapping at him got him all this, he hadn’t even bit him or tried to hit him like he had in the past. He had a feeling that Nicholas was getting tired of him, his defiance was losing its charm and though he didn’t want to admit it, Wren was terrified of what would happen when Nicholas was finally and completely over him.

#valentine's day #whump #my writing #my oc's #wren #cain #nicholas #pet whump #dehumanization #strangulation #hand whump #beating #bad timeline

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spookyboywhump · 4 years ago

Text

What is THIS??? Content???? Actual writing???????? Holy shit.

Okay so. Remember those threads of doc bullshit we had been posting? That WIP is kicking my ass so I decided to split it up, here’s the first part of it.

Cathal and Clement belong to @ihaventwritteninsolong, who was VERY encouraging of this idea.

Three bastards hang out, it’s a bad time for the poor dogs.

CW: Pet whumpee(s), non con touching, dehumanization, drugging mention, sleep deprivation, in general Nicholas is fucking creepy

***

As soon as Cain left the room Zander got nervous, more so than he already was. As long as Cain was there, Nicholas wouldn’t do anything too bad, nothing worse than Cain would do anyway, and while he couldn’t stop it, he knew it would be better than anything he’d do on his own. Now though, Cain wasn’t there to keep him in check, Cain wasn’t there and Wren was too close to Nicholas for comfort and that fucker kept looking at Cathal, the same way he’d looked at Wren, and Zander wanted nothing more than to punch him in the face.

He glanced worriedly at Cathal, who had been… off all night. He was curled up on the couch next to Clement, the man holding him close with an arm around him. Somehow he had been allowed to break Cain’s “no pets on the furniture rule”. He only had to look at him once to tell what was wrong though, he recognized the wide, tired red eyes, the way he winced when the men got too loud and how he squinted and tried to shield his eyes from the bright lights of the room. He had been victim to that drug far too many times, he knew that poor Cathal must’ve been exhausted and he felt awful that he had to be dragged here during that.

Wren was closer to Nicholas, he hadn’t been chained to an anchor in the floor like Zander was, his wrists weren’t even restrained behind his back like Zander’s were. When Cain was there, it was fine, even though he sat next to Nicholas, Wren was away from him, and that was really all that mattered. Now that he was gone though, Zander had more than enough reason to be worried, even if his attention wasn’t currently on Wren, it only meant he was focusing *too* much on Cathal, which certainly wasn’t any better.

“Clement, could I see your puppy for a moment?” Nicholas asked, and Zander was already glaring at him. He hoped that just once Clement’s possessiveness would keep Cathal away from him, that just this one time Clement could do something to protect him, but he quickly remembered that he really shouldn’t be hoping at all. Whenever he thought these people were at their worst they somehow always managed to prove him wrong, prove they could and would get even more terrible, which is exactly what Clement did when he moved his arm, nudging Cathal to coax him into standing. Cathal whined at first, and the sound broke Zander’s heart, but Clement was insistent on this.

“He asked so nicely, darling, go see what he wants.” He told him, and Cathal seemed to understand that he wouldn’t be able to get out of this. He moved slowly from the couch, Zander could see clearly that he was off balance. He knew how disorienting that drug could be, and he felt another pang of sympathy watching Cathal cross the small distance to get to Nicholas.

Nicholas moved quickly, as soon as he was near he took hold of Cathal’s wrist, pulling him down onto his lap. He couldn’t have even tried to resist, it was clear that he was already unsteady and weak. He positioned him the way he wanted him, and Cathal really had no choice but to go along with it, at one point glancing up at Clement, almost pleading with his eyes to just take him back.

“Don’t look at me like that baby, all you have to do is sit nice and pretty for him.” Clement said, sounding almost annoyed with him. “Not that you could do much more right now, of course.” Cathal nodded tiredly, leaning against Nicholas when he pulled him closer.

“ ‘M sorry…” He murmured, trying to relax as much as he could. Zander could see that he was uncomfortable, could see that Nicholas was enjoying the fact he was uncomfortable, and it just made him even more angry. He knew he should’ve kept his mouth shut, it never got him anywhere good, but he couldn’t just let him put his hands on Cathal. He’d already been unable to protect them once, and he was still sick with guilt over it. Even if all he could do was yell and further irritate him, it was better than having his attention on Cathal or Wren.

“Are you now?” Nicholas asked him, almost sounding amused. His hand came to rest on Cathal’s thigh, and Zander swore that if he could’ve, he would’ve killed him then and there.

“Y-yes, I-I’m- I’m suh-sorry…” He stammered out, and Nicholas laughed, as if he found his stuttering, his discomfort funny. Knowing that son of a bitch, he probably did, and Zander couldn’t even stop himself from growling again, earning him a disapproving look from Nicholas, but nothing more as he quickly turned his attention back to Cathal.

“That’s adorable.” Nicholas said, and Cathal jumped when he forced his legs apart, glancing worriedly from Nicholas to Clement, as if waiting for one of them to stop this.

“W-wait-” He started, but Nicholas was quick to shush him.

“Just relax dear, you’re fine.” He said gently, even though Cathal was whimpering, trembling in his arms. Zander couldn’t stand to watch it, couldn’t stand to just do nothing.

“Are you just going to let that bastard do whatever the fuck he wants with him?!” He snapped at Clement, who looked irritated as soon as he opened his mouth.

“Do you really think you get any say in what happens to him?” He asked, and Zander wanted nothing more than to beat the shit out of him once again.

“I’ve found it’s better to not bother wasting your time on that one.” Nicholas sighed. “Honestly, at this point Cain should just have him put down, he’s far more trouble than he’s worth.”

“Yeah well I’d like to fucking have you put down motherfucker!” Zander snarled at him, and Nicholas rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to Cathal.

“Oh, but I’m sure you wouldn’t want that, would you puppy?” He asked, his hand leaving his thigh to tilt his chin up, forcing him to look him in the eye. For a moment Cathal just stared at him, but Clement was quick to speak up.

“He asked you a question, baby.” He said, a warning edge to his tone. “It would be rude not to answer him.”

“I-I… no-no I don’t- I would-wouldn’t want th-that…” He whimpered, and Nicholas smiled at him.

“I thought not. You’re just so much better than that stupid mutt over there, aren’t you?” As he spoke his hand returned to his thigh, and though Cathal tried to shift away from him, as subtly as he could anyway, he just ended up pressing himself closer against Nicholas, who didn’t particularly mind. “You’re just a sweet, pretty thing, not as fucking annoying as that one.”

“Oh you’re one to talk you fucking annoying son of a bitch.” Zander snapped at him, but it apparently wasn’t enough to draw Nicholas’ attention back to him. From the corner of his eye he could see Wren looking at him like he was crazy, mouthing at him to stop but he just couldn’t be quiet while Nicholas had his hands on Cathal.

Nicholas didn’t even look at him though, focused entirely on Cathal as his hand slipped between his thighs, causing him to jump and try to squirm away. There wasn’t any escape though, Nicholas made sure of that, but that didn’t stop him from trying.

“Come on puppy, even you should be able to just sit still.” Nicholas said sternly, and Cathal whined softly, squeezing his eyes shut as he gave into the fact that he just couldn’t get away from him. He couldn’t relax, but he could stop squirming at least, no matter how badly he didn’t want to just accept this.

“Get your fucking hands off him!” Zander snapped, not even thinking when he tried to jump to his feet, only to be yanked back down by the short chain holding him to the floor.

“Keep the fuck away from him, mutt.” Clement warned him, but as Zander got more and more worked up he barely thought before snapping at him.

“Oh shut the fuck up you fucking bastard!” He snarled, almost desperately searching for a way to get his hands free. If he could do that much then the chain wouldn’t even be a problem, he could get his collar off long enough to at least get Cathal away from him, but as it was he was stuck there, unable to help, unable to do anything while Nicholas still had his hands on him.

“You must be feeling bold tonight if you’re going to speak to both of us that way.” Clement said, and Zander glared at him.

“I’m not fucking scared of you- either of you, I’ll say whatever I fucking want.”

“The puppy sure seems afraid though.” Nicholas commented, and Zander was quick to turn his attention back to them. Cathal looked terrified, of course, but he looked so uncomfortable and it just made Zander even more upset to see. His face was bright red, his eyes screwed shut as he tried so hard to stay still. His hands were clenched into fists, he was nearly holding his breath, while Nicholas’ hand was doing more than just resting between his legs, and suddenly Zander really didn’t care about the consequences of anything he did- more so than usual anyway.

“Stop fucking touching him!” He shouted, trying so hard to fight against the chain, trying so hard just to get to Nicholas. He didn’t know what he would do if he could get free, but that didn’t matter as much as the need to get Cathal away from him. “Get your hands off him, you can’t just touch him however you fucking want you fucking disgusting bastard!” He was ready to scream himself hoarse if it meant Nicholas would just leave Cathal alone, Zander didn’t even care if he suffered for it, he just wanted him to stop.

Nicholas moved abruptly, shoving Cathal to the floor carelessly. It shocked Zander into silence for just a moment anyway, he was more worried about Cathal, who almost seemed panicked, staring up at Nicholas with a terrified look in his eyes.

“W-wait- wait I’m s-sorry, I-I’ll be g-good, I swear, I’m-I’m so s-sorry!” He stammered out, pleading with him as if he had done anything wrong. Before Nicholas could step away he desperately grabbed on to his leg, clinging to him in hopes it would help him avoid punishment. He was so tired, he was exhausted, and even though he didn’t want Nicholas to hold him or touch him, he didn’t have the energy for much of anything else right now. Nicholas wasn’t impressed by his begging though, harshly kicking him off of him.

“Sit there and be quiet for a moment,” He said sternly, glaring at him before he stepped away, ignoring him to focus on Zander now. “I need to teach this fucking mutt a lesson.”

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spookyboywhump · 5 years ago

Text

Hurt

Directly follows this piece (I’m pretty sure anyway)

Clement and Cathal belong to @ihaventwritteninsolong! I have gotten! Very attached to this collab it runs my life!!!

(am I tagging people in this? I don’t know if people want to be tagged in side/collab stuff my brain is very empty)

Summary: Poor Cathal

***

“P-please- please j-just st-stop!” He begged, and it broke Zander’s heart that he couldn’t. He couldn’t stop, not until Cathal couldn’t take anymore, he couldn’t even apologize, explain why he was doing this, explain that he didn’t want to.

Cathal collapsed when he hit him again, fist connecting with his nose and causing a sickening sound that turned his stomach. For a moment, he just looked at him, on the floor with one hand over his nose, shaking and sobbing. It almost hurt to look at him, knowing that he did this, but he knew it couldn’t have hurt more than the beating that he’d been putting him through. He didn’t doubt he’d be covered in bruises tomorrow, and it made him guilty just to imagine it.

“I-I… I c-can’t t-take any-anymore, p-please just st-stop…” He whimpered, and he wished that he could, wished he could at least tell him why he couldn’t, but he didn’t have that choice. He had to do this at least two more times- Clement had been very specific, no less than five hits to the face.

“It’s only fair.” He had said, with that fucking smug look on his face, and Zander wanted nothing more than to smack that awful smirk right off it.

He grabbed him by the shirt, dragging him back up, forced himself to ignore the blood and tears on his face, the terrified look in his eyes, he hit him again and his head snapped back, he couldn’t handle much more, Zander knew it, but he didn’t have the option to stop. He almost hoped the last blow to the face would knock him out, aimed specifically to make that happen, he could stop then an at least for a little bit Cathal wouldn’t be hurting, but he wasn’t so lucky, his fist connected with his jaw and he dropped him once again, almost desperate to stop touching him.

This should’ve been his limit, he didn’t knock him out but Cathal was so clearly dazed and in so much pain, trying to back away from him, but as long as he could move Zander would have to keep going. He was quick to grab him by the hair, hold him in place, god he just wanted this to be over.

“L-let-let g-go!” Cathal cried, desperately grabbing at his arm, trying to make him let go but Zander held tightly, regretting it already as he pulled back and kicked him hard in the ribs. Cathal yelped in pain, but his grip was still tight on his arm, nails digging into skin, the pain so minor that Zander barely even noticed it, kicking him again, over and over until Cathal finally let go of his arm, trying to use his arms to protect himself.

Zander didn’t like hurting people at the best of times, but at least when he was fighting they could fight back, they weren’t as completely helpless as Cathal was now. This was just another one of their fucked up games, another thing they forced him to do- and he didn’t even know why. Cathal certainly hadn’t done anything wrong, and Zander had already taken his punishment for punching Clement- and he fucking wished he could do that again- so he didn’t see the point of this.

He had refused at first, of course. He had sworn at them and probably would’ve hit Clement again if he’d been unrestrained at that point, he told them he couldn’t do it, but Cain had made it very, very clear to him. Either he could do this, needlessly and brutally hurt Cathal, or they would do much worse to Cathal and Wren, a threat that Cain knew he would take very seriously. If he wanted Wren left out of it, wanted Cathal to be spared worse treatment, he would do this, and he wouldn’t apologize or explain otherwise they’d get the same horrible treatment.

He didn’t really have a choice. He knew that whatever they did to them would be way worse than what he did to Cathal now, it wasn’t a decision he wanted to make, but he had to do this. All he could hope for, as he grabbed Cathal again, as he got ready to make him hurt worse than he already did, is that somehow Cathal would be able to forgive him.

***

It was stupid, he was stupid to have trusted him, to have believed that he was safe, that he wouldn’t hurt him. He had pushed himself into a corner again, as far away from Zander as he could get in that little room, rocking back and forth as he held himself. He wasn’t safe, Zander wasn’t safe to be around, and they were locked up together again and Wren wasn’t there this time, it was only him and Zander and everything hurt and everything hurt because of Zander and he just wished that he could leave.

He should’ve never trusted Zander. He should’ve never thought he wouldn’t hurt him. He should’ve listened to Clement.

“H-he was-was r-right…” The words left his mouth before he really thought about it, soft and sad and broken. Zander looked up from where he sat, a few feet away. He had tried to talk to him but Cathal just couldn’t right now, not after what he did to him, not after he hurt him so bad.

“Huh…?”

“He… he w-was r-right… he suh-said th-that you w-would hurt-hurt me t-too, he w-was right…” He whimpered, tears spilling down his cheeks that he didn’t even bother to wipe away. Of course he was right, he was always right, he should’ve believed him from the beginning, he was stupid to ever think that anyone besides Clement would ever care about him.

Zander should’ve just been quiet. He should’ve kept his mouth shut, all he was good for it seemed was making things worse for Cathal but it made him so fucking angry to hear him say that. Not at Cathal of course, he couldn’t imagine ever being angry at Cathal and he’d only known him for a short time, he was angry at Clement, angry at him and Cain for making him do this to the poor kid.

“He’s not fucking right.” He said, serious and stern and probably scarier than he intended to. Cathal shook his head, hiding his face in his arms. Zander got to his feet, anxiously pacing back and forth. “That fucking bastard isn’t right about anything, he might have told you that but I didn’t want to hurt you! I don’t want to hurt anybody except for him!”

“H-he s-said th-that you w-would hurt- hurt me, a-and y-you did! Y-you hurt m-me, a-again, h-he was- was right, he’s al-always r-right!” He cried, and Zander really should’ve calmed down, he really shouldn’t have raised his voice, but he was so upset he just couldn’t stop himself.

“He’s wrong!” He snapped. “I didn’t want to hurt you, I am so, so sorry for what I did, Cathal, I had to because if I didn’t it would be so much worse! I would never want to hurt you, I only did so that he wouldn’t fuck you up worse than I did- you and Wren!” He told him. “Clement is a fucking asshole, he’s a fucking terrible son of a bitch and if I could get my hands on him again I would make him fucking pay for everything he’s done!”

Cathal flinched when he started almost yelling, choking on a sob, anger was bad, his anger would just get him hurt again, he kept getting him hurt. Just like Clement had said, of course he would hurt him, it was as if he wanted him to be hurt, everyone wanted to hurt him.

Zander realized his mistake when he heard him sob, realized that once again he was just making things worse. He stopped pacing, lowered himself to his knees again, farther from Cathal, not that he could get much farther in this tiny room. He took a deep breath, forced himself to calm down. Cathal had been through enough, he’d put him through more than enough, he couldn’t make things harder now. He couldn’t help but wish Wren were here, he would probably scare Cathal a lot less right now. He hoped he was okay with Cain and Clement, better off than Cathal was with him anyway.

“I… I’m sorry, Cathal.” He said, softer this time, trying to be gentle. “I didn’t want to hurt you but… but I did. I can’t change that, no matter what the reason was, I hurt you… I’m sorry, and I want to help you but… I understand, that you don’t want me to… at this point I really haven’t done anything good for you, huh…? I’ll… I’ll stay away, okay? I don’t… want to make anything worse…” He sighed, staring at the floor as he spoke. It killed him to not even try to help him, but at this point he was probably better off just keeping his distance. It seemed like he only ever brought him pain after all.

“You… y-you’re n-not supposed to- to do th-that…”

Zander looked up at him, as he lowered his arms, looking at him with wide eyes. He felt another pang of guilt as he looked at his face, covered in blood, nose crooked and surely broken, bound to be bruised to hell and back by the morning.

“Y-you’re not- not s-supposed to t-tell m-me you h-hurt me…” He said softly. “Y-you…. You’re suh-supposed t-to p-pretend you did-didn’t… o-or t-tell me th-that I- I deserved i-it…”

“It did happen though.” He told him. “It happened, and, fuck, Cathal, you didn’t deserve that, you didn’t deserve any of that.” He said, all sincerity in his voice. Nobody deserved what Cathal had been through, and for this to be so… normal for him, to the point he expects to be told something so specific about how he deserved it, it just upset him more but he made sure he didn’t react so strongly this time, not visibly anyway.

“I- I always d-deserve i-it… it- it’s m-meant to m-make m-me b-better…” He whimpered, and Zander hoped that he didn’t look as pissed off as he felt right now. “You… you d-don’t w-want m-me to be dif-different…?” He asked, voice cracking as he spoke.

“No, no of course not.” He assured him. “You shouldn’t… this can’t make you “better”, it just… hurts you. You don’t… deserve to be hurt, Cathal, no matter what Clement tells you. He’s wrong.”

“B-but… he-he said th-that y-you would h-hurt m-me… a-and you- you d-did…” He said, though this time he sounded much less sure of himself.

“He made me hurt you. Him, and Cain, they made me do that, it would’ve been so, so much worse if I hadn’t…” He frowned, looking away from him. “That’s not an excuse… I still did it, but I didn’t want to. He probably told you that knowing they were planning this, just to fuck around with you more.” That scowl of his returned at the thought of it, of planning something so horrible just to mess with his head more. He fucking hated Clement so much right now.

He looked back at Cathal, still visibly scared and uneasy, watching him anxiously. He kept focusing on the blood covering his face, internally cringing knowing that he caused that damage. He knew it must’ve felt awful, he’d always hated the feeling of dried blood on his skin. He thought it over for a moment before getting to his feet, silently going into the bathroom and finding a washcloth, soaking it with water.

He came back and approached him slowly, kneeling down in front of him. Cathal flinched away when he got close and he tried to ignore that way it upset him, focus on helping him for now.

“You… you’re covered in blood, and… I won’t touch you more than necessary, but if you’d be okay with it I can help you clean up…” He offered. Cathal hesitated, seemed to think it over, before nodding.

“O-okay…. Th-that’s fine…” He said softly. Though he was still trembling, he allowed Zander to cup his cheek with one hand, gently cleaning away the blood smeared on his face. He whimpered when he got too close to his nose but it was necessary, he made sure to be as careful as possible, murmuring apologies as he went about it.

He had hurt him, so bad, and he felt awful for it. He felt awful that Cathal had to endure this at all, that he was stuck with that fucking creep of an owner, that he seemed to believe he deserved to be hurt. He knew that this was a difficult situation, that simply telling him he didn’t deserve it wouldn’t make him believe it, but god he wished it was enough, he wished that he could convince him in a single night that Clement is wrong, Clement is evil and Cathal deserved so much better than what Clement did to him.

He wished that he could just do something for him that wouldn’t get him hurt.

#whump #my writing #my oc's #other people's oc's #Zander #Cathal #physical whump #beating #broken nose

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anavoliselenu · 7 years ago

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Driven chapter 20

I tug his hat down on my head, adjusting my now-wrecked ponytail, and watch as he throws a playful arm around Beckett’s shoulder as they walk down the pathway. I shake my head, overwhelmed by the day’s events, and head over to collect my excited but very tired boys for the long ride home.

CHAPTER 21

“Check it out!” Dane throws a newspaper proof onto my desk as he walks by my office at Corporate Cares. “Your cleavage is going to be in the newspaper and we’re going to get some good press.”

I whip my head up to look at him, confused at what he means before glancing down at the paper. On the lower half of the cover of the sports section is a side-by-side picture of our outing at the track and accompanying article. The picture on the left is a picture of Justin’s car with all of the boys kneeling in front of it with Justin in the middle of them. The picture to the right is a close up of Zander, Ricky and myself. I am in between the two, and unfortunately, the way my arms are positioned, my cleavage is defined and on display in the V of my snug t-shirt. “Lovely! Oh, my God, that’s embarrassing!”

“C’mon, Selena, you look hot. And the girls look great!”

I throw my pencil at him, laughing. “When does this go to print? Can we ask him to change the picture?”

“Yeah, right! You know they picked it so that the guys that open up the sports page will read the article and not flip past it.” I roll my eyes, feeling the flush of embarrassment creep into my cheeks. “Besides, just think of it as taking one for the team—”

“What?”

“It’s a really good article that’s going to give us good press. Your boobs are going to get people to read it.” He laughs out loud. “Hell, if I was into playing for your team, I’d keep the picture for late night fun!”

“Oh, shut up!” I shout at him, unable to keep the laughter from bubbling up.

“C’mon, Selena—read it. You’re gonna like what it says.”

“Really?” I raise an eyebrow as I skim through it, pleased with what I see so far.

“Seriously. It is.” He tells me taking a seat in the chair in front of my desk. “A lot of good info about The House and about corporate and the new facilities.”

“When’s it running?”

“This Sunday, and the OC Register most likely will run then too, but I haven’t seen their proof yet.”

“Hmmm, not bad.” I set it down on the side of my desk where I can read it more thoroughly later without an audience.

“How was your interview?” he asks, referring to the one good resume I had for the open counselor position at The House. I had interviewed her earlier in the day and was quite impressed.

“What? Oh, Avery something or other? She was actually really good. Almost too good to be true really, but her references check

out, and I think I’m going to make her an offer. I think the boys will really take to her. I’ll need you to help me train her but—” The ringing of my cell phone interrupts me. I glance down to see who is calling. “It’s Teddy,” I tell him.

Dane rises from the chair and mouths he’ll come back later as I answer the phone. “Hey, Teddy!”

“Selena! Heard we got a good article from the LA Times. Great job!”

“You’re breaking up on me, Teddy.” The phone line crackles and then sounds digitalized on his last words.

“I need to talk to you—” The call drops and the line goes dead.

I wait a second looking at my phone to ring again and when it doesn’t, I go back to looking at the budgetary numbers I was working on before Dane had interrupted. I just start getting into figuring out a discrepancy I was having trouble pinpointing when my cell rings again.

“Hello?”

“Selena Thomas, please,” a monotone male voice says over the phone.

“This is she.”

“Hi, Ms. Thomas, this is Abel Baldwin.”

Oh, crap! What boy is it this time? “Good afternoon, Principal Baldwin. What can I do for you today?”

“Well, it seems to me that Aiden can’t seem to keep his hands to himself lately. He was in yet another fight last period, Ms. Thomas.” Disdain fills his voice at the mention of having to deal with this again.

This is Aiden’s third fight in as many months that has been caught by school authorities. I have a feeling that there has actually been a couple more that have gone unnoticed as well. Oh, Aiden. “What happened?”

“Not quite sure. He won’t really talk with me about it.” And I really don’t think you care, either.

“What about the other kid?” A question that I ask every time and always get a less than satisfactory answer to.

“They said it was a simple misunderstanding.”

“They?” There’s more than one? “I hope that they are in your office as well, Mr. Baldwin.”

He clears his throat. “Not exactly. They are in class and—”

“What?” I shout at him, perplexed at his obvious bias.

“And I think it’s better if you come and pick up Aiden—”

“He’s suspended?” I ask through gritted teeth.

“No, he’s not.” I can hear the irritation in his voice at having me question him. “If you’d let me finish Ms. Thomas—”

“He’s not suspended, but you want me to come get him while the other boys get to stay in class?” My rising frustration is more than evident in my voice. “Surely you can understand why I’m upset at what seems to be favoritism here.”

is unfounded and serves no purpose here. Now I would appreciate if you could come collect Aiden so that we can let the two parties simmer down. This in no way indicates that Aiden is at fault in this matter.” When he senses that I am about to jump in during his pregnant pause, he continues. “In addition, Aiden has blood on his clothing and seeing as it’s against school policy for him to walk around with it there, I think it’s in the school’s best interest to send him home for the afternoon.”

I sigh loudly, biting my tongue from telling this less-than-stellar principal just exactly what I think of him. “I’ll be right there.”

***

Aiden has been silent all the way home from school. My shift at The House doesn’t start for another three hours, but I think that Aiden and I need to have a little alone time to talk about what happened. I haven’t pushed him to tell me what took place, but I need to know. Is he being bullied? Is he starting fights looking for attention that he’s not getting? Is he releasing frustration due to memories from his past? I need him to tell me so that I can figure out how to help.

Before we walk into the house, I motion for him to sit down on the front porch step next to me. He rolls his eyes but he obeys reluctantly. He stares at me as I take in the swollen lip with dried blood at the corner, the dark red mark on his right cheek and the beginnings of bruising on the left eye. His cheeks flush deeply under my scrutiny.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it, buddy, but you have to tell me what happened.” I reach out and grab his hand while he lowers his head and watches an ant crawl slowly on the step beneath us. We sit in silence, and I allow it for a bit but then finally squeeze his hand, letting him know he needs to talk.

“They were just being jerks,” he grumbles.

“Who started it, Aiden?” When he doesn’t respond, I prompt again. “Aiden? Who threw the first punch?”

“I did.” His voice is so soft, so sad with shame that it breaks my heart. I see a fat tear silently slide down his swollen cheek, and I know that something is off.

“Talk to me, Aiden. Who was it and what did they do to make you want to hit them?”

He reaches up to dash away the fallen tear with the back of his hand and as only an eleven-year-old boy can, leaves a smear of dirt in its path. “They called me a liar,” he mumbles, his bottom lip quivering. “Ashton Smitty and Grant Montgomery.”

Little punks! The know-it-all, privileged, popular kids from his grade whose parents who never seem to be around. I wrap my arm around his shoulder and pull him to my side, kissing the top of his head. “What did they say you were

lying about?”

I feel his body stiffen and my head is thinking numerous things as I wait for his response. When it finally comes, his voice is barely audible. “They told me I lied about going to the track on Sunday. That I didn’t really meet Justin or know him …”

My heart squeezes at his words. He was so excited to go to school and tell all his friends about his experience. So excited to be cool for once and have something that the other kids didn’t. And his enthusiasm turned into a fight. In my head I can see how it went; they pushed and pushed Aiden until he lashed back. I sigh loudly, squeezing him again. I want to tell him that the little punks deserved it and that he did the right thing, but that’s obviously not the most responsible way to react. “Oh, Aiden … I’m sorry, buddy. Sorry they didn’t believe you. Sorry they pushed you … but Aiden, fighting somebody with your fists is not the way to solve it. It only ends up making things worse.”

He reluctantly nods his head. “I know, but—”

“Aiden,” I scold sternly, “there are no buts here … you can’t use your fists to fix problems.”

“I know, but I tried to tell Ms. McAdams when they started pushing and shoving and she wouldn’t listen to me.”

I can see another tear threaten to fall from his thick lashes. “Well then, I’m going to make an appointment to speak with her and Baldwin about this.” His head whips up and his eyes are wide open in fear. “I’m not going to make it worse, Aiden. I’m just going to ask them to keep their eyes open a little more. To make sure that they do not allow the circumstances to arise for this to happen again. I’ll make sure that the other kids don’t know, Aiden, but I need to make sure that it doesn’t happen again.”

He nods his head, a noncommittal grunt. “Am I in trouble?” He looks up at me from beneath lashes spiked wet from tears with trepidation in eyes.

I wrap both my arms around him and squeeze his little body that’s known so much hurt and abandonment in its short time. I hold him to me, trying to reassure him and let him know that it’s okay. That getting in trouble doesn’t mean a severe beating and food withheld for days, as he’s known in the past. “Yeah, bud, you are … but I think that icky feeling you have might just be the worst of it.” I feel his shoulders sag in relief as a plan forms in my head.

“I knew you couldn’t stay away from me for long.” Justin’s resonate voice fills the other end of the telephone line, arrogance redefined. His sexy voice alone makes my pulse race, but I have to put how I feel aside as I put my plan to help restore Aiden’s self-confidence and self-image at school into motion.

“I’m not calling for me, Justin.” I keep my voice all business for I know that he can distract me so easily, and I want him to know I’m serious.

“Ooooh, I love it when you’re all business and straight to the point. It’s such a turn on, Selena.”

“Whatever!” I say but I can’t help the slow smile that creeps over my face.

“No, seriously, what’s up, sweetheart?”

Why do I love when he calls me that? Why does it make me feel like I’m special to him?

“It’s Aiden,” I tell him filling in the details as he listens attentively despite the various voices I hear in the background. “Is it possible that I can get some kind of signed picture of you or something he can bring to school tomorrow to prove that he’s met you and actually was there on Sunday?”

Justin laughs loudly, and I’m confused at his reaction. “That’s only going to get his teeth knocked in, Selena. That’s something only a geek would do … those brats would eat him alive.”

“Oh … um … I had no idea.”

“You wouldn’t,” Justin chuckles, slightly offending me.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“And please don’t go have a conference with the teacher or principal,” he groans. “Inevitably someone will see you and then it will only make things harder for Aiden.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Oh yes, you were,” he kids me, and I’m shocked he has me pegged so well. “I just know you were one of those preppy kids who had their homework done before it was due, helped the teacher in class, and was part of the ‘in’ crowd. No offense, Selena, but you have no idea what it is to be a misfit kid on the verge of puberty who gets the crap beat out of him just because.”

I’m flustered that he has such a good read on me, but more than that, his words about understanding the misfit crowd give me more insight to him as a child. To his state of mind. When I don’t respond to him, he laughs again at me. “You were like that, weren’t you?”

“Maybe,” I answer slowly, heat flushing my cheeks despite the fact that he can’t see me.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Selena … it’s just different for kids like Aiden.”

And like you were. “What do you suggest I do then since I obviously don’t understand?” I try to hide the hurt in my voice at the idea that I don’t know what’s best when it comes to Aiden.

“Are you on shift there tomorrow?”

“Yeah … what does that have to do with anything?” When he remains silent, I prompt him. “Justin?”

“Give me a second to think,” he snips at me and I blanche at his tone. I hear someone call his name in the background. Of

course it’s a female. “What time do you leave for school in the morning?”

“At eight. Why?”

“I’m tied up right now,” he says innocently, but my mind drifts to braided velvet ropes and cold counters. I jolt from my thoughts, chastising myself at their direction. “Okay. I’ll have something for him at The House before you leave.”

“What are you—”

“Relax, control freak,” he sighs, “I have something in mind. I just have to move some things around to make it happen.”

“Oh, but—” I protest wanting to know what he’s bringing.

“Selena,” he interrupts, “this is the part where you let someone else handle the details. All you have to say is ‘Thank you, Justin. I owe you one,’ and hang up.”

I pause momentarily, knowing he is right but wanting to know anyway. “Thank you Justin,” I acquiesce.

“And?” he prompts.

I remain silent for a few moments. I can almost feel the smirk I know he is smiling through the open phone line. “And I owe you one.”

“And you can bet I’ll collect on it.” His seductive laugh fills the phone until I hear the dial tone on the other end.

CHAPTER 22

Damn it! I knew I shouldn’t have said anything to Aiden. I shouldn’t have told him that I had something to fix what had happened yesterday. I shouldn’t have depended on someone like Justin to come through when I am so used to relying on myself. He hasn’t even answered my texts or calls this morning.

I glance at the clock and another minute has ticked by. It’s seven fifty-two and I need to get the boys into action in order to get them to school on time. Mike’s already left to take Shane and Connor to high school. Bailey has already come and left to take Zander to his therapist’s appointment and Kyle to the eye doctor before dropping him back off at school. I’m left with the remaining three elementary school kids and I know that getting them in the car should have started ten minutes ago.

I glance at the clock again and it’s seven fifty-three now. Shit! “Selena, are you going to tell me yet what it is yet?” Aiden begs again with hope in his eyes.

“Not yet, Aiden. It’s a surprise.” Now I have to scramble to think of something to do to make up for an empty promise.

I could strangle Justin right now. What did I expect from a careless playboy? I guess if there isn’t a promise of getting laid at the end of the deal then he’s not going to follow through. I pound a fist on the table, the silverware on it rattling, knowing I’m overreacting after how much he did for the boys in taking them to the track. But at the same time, he’s letting down one of my boys and therefore he’s letting me down too.

, my little helper, leaves the kitchen to go see what they are up to.

When after a few minutes I don’t hear the usual scurry of feet, I sigh in frustration and head out toward the hallway. “Ricky, Scooter … C’mon, guys, its time to go!” I turn the corner to the hallway and do a double take when I see Justin standing in the foyer with the door open behind him. The sun is at his back, casting his body and dark features in a halo of light. Three little boys stand in front of him, their backs are to me, but I can see all of their heads angled up to look at him. He steps further in the room smiling briefly at me before turning his attention to Aiden.

“So, Aiden,” Justin says and I can see his subtle appraisal of the bruises on Aiden’s sweet little face, “are you ready for school today?”

“What?” he asks bemused before looking back at me, a mix of anticipation and realization on his face. I look back at Justin, wondering what he’s brought to help the situation.

Justin cocks his head to the side, realizing that no one gets what he’s doing here. “I’m taking you guys to school,” he says as silence fills the house before dawning into a realization that causes the boys to start whooping and jumping around like loons. Their excitement is contagious as I feel my own smile widen to match that of Justin’s. He steps forward and kneels down in front of Aiden. “Hey, buddy, what do you say that we go show those bullies that they’re wrong and they can take a hike?” Aiden’s eyes widen, moisture pooling at the corners as he nods excitedly. “Go get your backpacks then,” Justin instructs them as he stands back up.

My eyes follow his ascent, and it is in this moment—his dark features haloed by the bright light of the sun, when he’s come to stand up for children that no one else cares to stand up for anymore—that I know I’ve fallen for Justin. That he has penetrated my heart’s protective exterior and made me love him. I lift my hand and press the heel of it against my breastbone, trying to rub at the sudden ache there. Trying to will his self-professed, ending-filled devastation and hurt away. Trying to tell myself that I cannot let this come to fruition.

Justin looks questioningly at me. “Selena?”

I shake my head, leaving my thoughts silent. Pushing them down as far they’ll go so they stay hidden. “Sorry,” I shake my head and smile at him as the three boys come barreling back down the hallway toward the front door.

“I guess they’re ready,” he laughs as he ushers the boys out of the house.

***

Justin purposefully revs the engine of the Aston Martin as I direct him into the

school parking lot. I’m sitting in the front and the three boys are squeezed tightly together in the backseat, grins on their faces and bodies bristling with excitement. I glance over at Justin and he has a half-smile on his lips as if he is remembering a grade-school memory of his own. I’m about to tell him he can take the shortcut to the drop-off section in front of the school but I bite my tongue. I realize that he is taking a long, slow cruise through the parking lot, gunning the sexy purr of the motor every chance he gets, so that he gets the attention of everyone in the area.

We finally make it to the drop-off line where you are to pull up, let your child out while you stay in the car, and then drive away once your child is walked in to the school gates. Justin swerves around the long line of cars and carefully cruises down a narrow passage between the line and the sidewalk despite the dirty looks given to him. I know he’d love to floor the gas pedal and make a grand entrance, but he refrains. He pulls up right in front of the school’s entrance, angling the car so that the passenger door of the car faces the large crowd of students milling out front before the bell rings. He revs the engine a couple more times, its sound purring in the peacefully quiet morning air, before sliding out of the driver’s seat.

He unfolds his long limbs gracefully and stands a moment in the angle of the opened car door. I can see him raising his arms over his head, stretching with a loud groan, making sure that all available eyes are on him. Recognizing him and who is with him. I glance around and notice the slack jaws of several of the moms near us as they stare openly. I laugh as I watch them try and pat their bed-ridden hair now pulled back into sloppy ponytails into more presentable coifs.

Justin shuts the door and struts slowly around the front of the car toward my side. He opens the door for me and I exit, catching the amusement in his eyes and the gratified smirk on his lips. He squats down on his haunches and flips the seat forward so the boys can exit one at a time.

The looks on their faces are priceless as they take in the surmounting crowd around them. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Principal Baldwin break through the far side of the crowd and his stern face startles at the sight of a car parked improperly in his strictly rule enforced parking zone. I can hear whispers of Justin’s name within the crowd and my smile widens. Justin shuts the door and places himself with Aiden on one side and Ricky and Scooter on the other. He places his forearms and hands on their shoulders, acting as if he is oblivious to the attention. He leans over and I hear him say to Aiden, “Do you see the bullies, buddy?” Aiden looks around the sea of faces, and I see him stiffen when he sees the boys. I follow his line of sight as does Justin to see the stunned expressions of Ashton and Grant. “Well, champ, it’s time to go prove a point.”

We move as a unit toward the two boys, their eyes widening with each step. I’m curious what Justin plans on doing once we reach them. I glance over to see his face relaxed in a huge, approachable grin as we come to a stop in front of Ashton and Grant. In the periphery of my vision, I notice Principal Baldwin scurrying over to us to try and stop any confrontation before it starts.

“Hey, guys!” Justin says enthusiastically and I get the feeling he is going the kill-them-with-kindness route. Both boys just stand here gawking at Justin. He turns to Aiden, “Hey, Aid, are these the boys that didn’t believe your were my buddy?”

I wish I had a camera to take a picture of the complete reverence on Aiden’s face as he looks up toward Justin. His eyes are alive with disbelief, and I can see the pride brimming in them. “Yeah …” Aiden’s voice comes out in a croak. The crowd around us has grown.

“Oh, man,” Justin says to Aston and Grant, “You should’ve seen Aiden on Sunday. I let him bring six of his friends, including Ricky and Scooter here, with him to the track to test out the car,” he shakes his head, “and boy, were they the biggest help to me! We had so much fun!”

I see Ricky and Scooter bristle with pride now as well, and I wonder if Justin has any idea what he is doing, not only to their self-esteem but also to their status here at school. “Too bad you guys aren’t friends of his,” Justin said, shaking his head, “or maybe you could’ve gone too!”

The school bell buzzes around us and yet the color still has not returned to Ashton and Grant’s faces. Principal Baldwin reaches us, slightly out of breath from his exertion, and tries to disperse the crowd by ushering everyone to the doors. He looks down at the boys who are still motionless staring at Justin before giving them a stern look and clearing his throat, making them snap out of it. Justin flashes his mega-watt, no-holds-barred smile and winks at them. “Bye, boys! Make sure you say ‘hi’ to my man Aiden here when you see him in class!” They just nod their heads at Principal Baldwin, forcing themselves to take their eyes off of Justin so that they don’t walk into a wall.

With their children safely inside, mothers remain outside with various inane excuses. The retying of tennis shoes that are already tied, though for some reason their eyes are not on their shoes. The foraging in oversize purses for something that they will never see because their eyes are locked on Justin.

“Boys, you too,” Principal Baldwin tells my three.

Justin looks over at me with question in his eyes and I nod subtly, letting him know this is the dipshit I told him about who favors everyone opposite of Aiden. Justin flashes the same mega-watt smile at him and says, “One moment please, sir. I just need to say bye to my boys.” I didn’t think it was possible for the grins to get wider on the boys’ faces, but they do. Justin turns to talk to the boys and then turns back in second thought to

address Principal Baldwin again. “Next time sir, it’d be best to remember that Aiden is telling the truth. It’s the bullies that need to be sent home, not good kids like Aiden here. He may not be perfect, but just because he doesn’t come from a traditional home, doesn’t mean that he’s at fault.” He holds his gaze and then turns his back on the wide-eyed principal, effectively dismissing him. The flustered look on Principal Baldwin’s face is priceless.

Justin kneels down, bringing Ricky, Aiden, and Scooter around in front of him. He raises his eyebrows and grins at them, “I don’t think they’ll be bugging you anymore, Aiden.” He reaches out and ruffles his hair. “In fact, I don’t think anyone will be bugging any of you any more. If so, you let me know, okay?”

All three nod eagerly as Justin rises. “Time to get to class,” I tell them, unable to hide the gratitude in my voice for what Justin has just done. Where I usually get grumbling with those words, today they all obey and seem actually eager to enter the building.

Justin and I stand side by side as the boys walk through the door to the school that Principal Baldwin is holding open for them. Nosy bystanders scurry by, pretending they are not watching. Aiden stops in the doorway and turns around, awe still on his face and says, “Thanks, Justin,” before disappearing inside the building.

When we turn to go back to the car, I catch a look of accomplishment and pride on Justin’s face. I have a feeling mine looks the same way.

***

“Why did you agree to come here if you don’t like coffee?”

Against my better judgment, I’ve agreed to go get some coffee with Justin after leaving the school. I’m still floored at Justin’s actions and feel I at least owe him my time in return for what he’s just done. I can still see the look on Aiden’s face in my head. I don’t think I will ever forget it.

“I may not like the coffee part, but Starbucks has some damn good food for you that is oh-so-bad for you,” I laugh as he shakes his head at me. Kind of like you, Justin.

We place our order amid the furtive glances of the other patrons as Justin is sans baseball hat and not incognito. We shuffle over to a corner that luckily has an empty table with two deep, comfortable-looking chairs on either side of it. We sit down and Justin pulls our muffins out of the bag and sets mine before me.

“You know that after what you did today, you’ve most likely reached idol status with the boys now.”

He rolls his eyes at me and picks a piece of his muffin off and places it in his mouth. I watch it clear his lips and see his tongue dart out to lick a crumb. A flash of desire sears through me. I see the corner of his mouth twist up, and I force myself to look up to his eyes, which have taken notice of where my attention is focused. We stare at each other, unspoken words igniting the heat between us.

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anavoliselenu · 7 years ago

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Driven chapter 6

Justin turns around to see what I’m reacting to. He starts to ask me a question, and I raise my hand up forcefully telling him to be quiet. Fortunately, he complies. The other boys in the room have all turned to watch, expectant expressions on their faces for this is the first time that Zander has ever purposely taken the initiative to interact with someone.

Zander walks up to us, staring at Justin, his mouth opening slightly and closing several times. His eyes are saucers in his pale face. I kneel down to be at eye level with him. I sense Justin next to me trying to grasp the seriousness of my reaction.

“Hi there,” I hear Justin say gently.

Zander stops and just stares. I fear that something about Justin’s looks or that he is wearing has triggered a reaction in Zander. Some negative memory that is forcing him to come see for himself if it’s real. I’m waiting for the fallout to start—the screaming, the fighting, and the terror to fill his eyes.

“Zander. It’s okay, baby,” I croon to him, wanting to break through his trance, letting him know that a familiar, comforting voice is nearby. I turn my head slightly toward Justin, locking my eyes with his, “You need to leave now!” I order him, afraid of what Zander sees in him.

Against my wish, Justin steps forward and slowly crouches down beside me. I hear his boots squeak on the tile for the house is quiet. One of the boys must have muted the television.

“Hey, buddy,” he soothes, “How ya doin’? You okay?”

Zander takes a step closer to Justin and a smile ghosts his mouth. My eyes widen. He is not scared but rather likes Justin. I quickly glance to Justin, afraid to miss anything Zander does, and he holds my gaze, nodding his head in acknowledgement. He understands that something is happening. Something important. Something that he needs to be careful and take caution with.

“Zander is it?” Haunted eyes meet Justin’s, and then he moves his head in a small, discernible nod. I suck in my breath, tears threatening as I watch a small breakthrough happening. “So Zander, do you like racing?”

I can hear the boys in the family begin murmuring excitedly as realization of who stands in their house dawns on them. The boys get louder until they see me staring intensely at them, and they become silent.

Justin holds his hand out to Zander, “Nice to meet you, Zander. My name is Justin.”

For the second time in three days, I am rendered speechless. My head is reeling at the sight of little Zander slowly reaching out and placing his hand to shake the hand of the man next to me.

I watch the first steps of a little boy breaking free from the devastating grasp of a violent trauma. His first time initiating physical contact with someone in over three months.

Justin holds Zander’s small hand in his, shaking it gently. When they finish their greeting, Zander keeps his hand there with no indication that he wants to move it. Justin obliges and just holds the tiny hand, a soft smile on his face.

Tears burn as I hold them back. I want to jump up and shout in excitement at this breakthrough. I want to grab Zander and hug him and tell him how proud I am of him. I do none of these for the power of this moment is so much greater than any of these things put together.

“I’ll tell you what, Zander, if Selena here agrees to the date with me that she’s trying to get out of,” Justin says never breaking eye contact with him, “then I’ll take you as my personal guest to the track the next time we test. How’s that?”

A ghost of a smile returns to Zander’s lips, his eyes lighting up for the first time, as he nods his head yes.

I hold my hand over my heart to press on the ache there as joy races through me. Finally! And all because Justin followed me in the house. All because he didn’t listen to me. All because he’s using one of my kids to blackmail me into going out with him. I could kiss him right now! Well, I guess I’ve already done that, but I could do it again. At this point, I’ll do anything Justin asks me to do just to see the smile on Zander’s face again.

Justin squeezes Zander’s hand again and shakes it. “It’s a deal then, buddy.” He releases his hand and leans in closer, “I promise,” he whispers.

Zander’s lips curve into a smile. Small dimples form in his cheeks. Dimples I didn’t even know he had because I’ve never seen him smile. He slowly withdraws his hand from Justin’s, but continues to look at him expectantly, as if to ask when this will take place. Justin glances over at me for help, and I step up.

“Zander, sweetie?” He moves his eyes from Justin’s and looks over to me. “Justin and I are going to go over and sit in the kitchen and plan a time, would you like to join us or would you like to go finish watching the basketball game with the boys?” I ask softly, my voice petting him gently as I would a scared animal.

Zander’s eyes glance rapidly back and forth over the both of us before Justin interrupts, “Hey, buddy, I’m gonna stay right here in the kitchen for a couple of minutes with Selena. Can you go watch the game for me to let me know what I’ve missed when we’re done?”

Zander nods slightly, locking eyes with Justin once again gauging if he’s sincere or not. He must believe him because he clenches his stuffed doggy tighter and heads back to the couch. Shane’s eyes catch mine, his face blanketed with disbelief before he picks up the remote and turns the sound back up.

I rise from the floor, noticing that all of the boys except Zander have their attention still focused on Justin for it’s not every day that a celebrity is in our house. Justin notices the pairs of eyes on him and gives them a heartfelt smile. “Don’t worry,” he says to them shaking his head in understanding of their awestruck looks, “you can all come too when I take Zander to the track.”

A large cacophony of whoops ring out as excitement electrifies the boys. “Okay, okay,” I placate. “You guys got what you wanted, please turn around and pay attention to the game so that Justin and I can discuss some matters.”

They obey for the most part with several furtive glances our way as we move to the barstools in the kitchen. I offer Justin a seat, and I walk around the island so that I can face him. I notice Shane still observing us though, a protective look on his face, wondering why Justin has upset me.

For the myriad of emotions that Justin has made me feel in the week’s time I’ve known him, the gratitude I have for him at this moment trumps them all.

I look up at him and meet his eyes, trying unsuccessfully to keep the tears from filling mine.

“Thank you.” I whisper. It’s only two words, but the look on his face tells me that he understands how much is behind them.

He nods, “It’s the least I can do,” his voice gruff when he responds. “We all have our stories.” He offers as his way of understanding the magnitude of what has happened before looking down at his folded hands, more to himself than to me.

“You got that right,” I say still overwhelmed by the situation. I look over to Zander and smile. He did it. He really did it today. He took a step out from under the fog. And suddenly I feel elated with hope. I feel impulsive from the possibilities.

“Justin!” I jolt him out of his thoughts. He whips his head up, startled at my urgency in calling his name. I know I will regret this later, but I decide to go with my instinct. I decide to be impulsive and act in the moment. “I’m off in ten minutes,” I say and he looks at me as if he is not following my train of thought, so I continue, “I owe you a date, so let’s go on a date.”

He shakes his head as if trying to make sure I said the words he heard. “Oh— okay,” he stumbles, and I love the fact that I’ve taken him by surprise. He starts to rise, the corners of his lips curving. “I don’t have any reservations or—”

“Who cares?” I motion with my hands, “I’m not high maintenance. Simplicity is rewarding. I’m good with a burger or anything really.” I watch his eyes widen in disbelief. “Besides, you paid enough for the date, who needs to drop a bunch of money on food that we eat anyway?”

He stares at me for a beat, and I sense that he is trying to figure out if I’m being serious or not. When I just look at him like he’s being dense, he continues. “You are incredible. You know that right?” His simple words go straight to my heart for the incredulity in his voice tells me he is sincere.

I flash a grin over my shoulder as I head for my quarters to grab my things and freshen up. “I’ll be right back.”

I return in moments to find Mike staring awestruck, shaking Justin’s hand in the kitchen. Justin turns to me when he hears me, “You ready?” he asks.

I hold up my finger indicating one second. “I’m outta here,” I announce to the boys as they rise from their various locations and come and give me hugs goodbye. I think the presence of Justin and my acquaintance with him has all of the sudden has elevated me to rock-star status with them by the way they are hugging me tightly.

As I’m receiving my hugs, I notice Justin walk over to the couch and squat down on his haunches in front of Zander. He says something to him but I’m unsure what it is.

CHAPTER 8

As Justin and I stroll out of the house, an odd feeling of calm settles over me. I think this may be the best approach for a date with Justin. Unexpectedly, I’ve caught him off guard so that he can’t do any extensive planning. Extensive planning might equal overstated indulgences and premeditated seduction. Two things that I definitely do not need. It’s hard enough to resist him as it is.

“We’ll take my car,” he says placing a hand on my back, the warmth of his hand there comforting, as he steers me toward a sleek, carbon-black convertible parked at the curb. The Aston Martin is beautiful and looks as if it is meticulously taken care of. It looks like it can really fly and for just an instant, I imagine getting behind the wheel, flooring the pedal, and leaving all my ghosts behind.

“Nice ride,” I grant him, although I try not to show any interest. I’m sure he’s used to women fawning all over him and his car. Not me. Let the games begin, I think.

“Thanks.” He opens the passenger door for me, and I slide onto the black leather, admiring the crafted interior and complete opulence. “I thought it was beautiful day to drive with the top down,” he says rounding the back of the car and sliding in next to me. “I just didn’t realize I was also going to be taking you out in it, too. An added bonus!” He admits, giving me a megawatt grin as he puts on his sunglasses.

I can’t help but give him a smile back as his is infectious. “Whatever happened to good ol’ fashioned pickup trucks?” I ask as he leans forward, opening the glove box in front of me, brushing his arm across my thigh and laughing loudly at my comment. His touch is electrifying, even when it is accidental. He pulls out a worn, molded baseball hat with “Firestone” emblazoned across the bridge and puts it on his head, his dark hair curling out from under it at the nape of his neck. He pulls the brim down low enough to touch his sunglasses.

I guess this is his “incognito” look, but all I can think is he looks sexy as hell. All smoldering, edgy bad boy wrapped up in a drool-worthy body. I’m seriously fucked here if I actually think that my willpower will prevent me from giving in to any request from him. He reaches over and gives my thigh a quick squeeze before pressing a button on the dash in the center console.

“Don’t worry, I have a truck too,” he chuckles before the car roars to life, the vibration of the engine reverberating through my body and sending a thrill through me. “Hold on!” he says as he zooms out of the neighborhood, the excited look of a little boy on his face.

Boys and their toys, I think as I watch him from behind my aviators. I shouldn’t be surprised at his skill maneuvering the car for this is how he makes his living, but I am. I shouldn’t be turned on by his complete competence either, as he weaves smoothly in and out of traffic, the car accelerating quickly, but I find myself wanting to reach out and touch him. Connect with him despite knowing that’s a dangerous line for me to cross for my own sake.

The roar of the engine is loud enough and mixed with the whipping wind; talking is not a feasible option. I sit back, enjoying the feeling of freedom as the wind dances through my hair and the sun warms my skin. I lean my head back and give in to the urge to raise my hands over my head as we zip onto Interstate 10 heading west.

I glance over to see him watching me, a curious look on his face. He subtly shakes his head, a diminutive smile on his lips before he looks back toward the road. After a beat, he pushes a button and music springs to life in the car, surrounding us with the fast tempo of a song.

The song ends and another begins. I throw my head back, laughing out loud at the song. It’s a catchy little pop tune that I have heard on Shane’s radio enough times. In my periphery I notice Justin give me a quizzical look, so despite my average voice, I belt out the chorus, hoping he hears the words.

“You make me feel so right, even if its so wrong, I wanna scream out loud, boy I just bite my tongue,” I raise my arms again over my head, letting myself go, reveling in feeling that I am telling Justin how I feel without telling him. This is so unlike me—singing out loud, letting loose—but something about being with him, sitting next to him in this flashy sports car, has lowered my inhibitions. As we exit the freeway, I finish the chorus with gusto, “It feels so good, but you’re so bad for me!” Justin hears the words and laughs good-naturedly at them.

I continue singing the song, with less gusto since the car’s purring engine is quieter now that we are on Fourth Street. I can see Justin gauging the street’s parking availability and my curiosity is peaked because we’ve not discussed where we’re going. He swerves abruptly and parks the car with adept precision along the curb.

I glance around trying to figure out where we are as he pushes a button in the sleek dashboard and the sexy purr of the engine ceases. “You okay to sit tight for a sec?” He asks, flashing me an earnest grin that affects me more than I care to admit.

“Sure,” I answer, and I know at this moment I am saying yes to so much more than just sitting patiently in the car. I push the fear out of my mind and vow to embrace the idea of feeling again. Of wanting to feel again. I flick my eyes from his, down to his mouth, and back up, salacious thoughts running rampant through my mind. His smile widens further as he notices my prolonged attention.

“I’ll be right back!” he announces before unfolding himself gracefully out of the car and standing deliberately to give me an incredible view of his ass in snug jeans. I bite my lip to suppress the various urges whipping through my body. He glances over his shoulder at me and laughs, knowing full well the impact of his actions. “Hey, Selena?”

“Yeah, Ace?”

“I told you you wouldn’t be able to resist me.” He flashes me a disarming smile before hopping up on the curb and walking briskly down the block, long legs eating up the sidewalk, without a look back.

I can’t help but grin as I watch him walk away. The man is captivating in every way and the epitome of sexy. From that boyish grin that disarms me in seconds to his sexy swagger that says he knows exactly where he’s going and what his intentions are. He exudes virility, evokes desire, and commands attention all with a single look from his stunning eyes. He’s edgy and reckless and you want to go along for the ride hoping to get a glimpse of his tender side that breaks through every now and again. The bad boy with a touch of vulnerability who leaves you breathless and steals your heart.

I shake myself from my thoughts to admire the view of Justin’s broad shoulders and sexy swagger as he strides down the sidewalk. He tugs down on his baseball cap before he walks past two women. They both turn their heads as he passes by and admire him before turning back to each other and giggling, one mouthing the word, “Wow!” to the other.

I know how they feel multiplied by a hundred. I watch as Justin stops and disappears into a doorway. From my vantage point in the car, I can’t see the sign above the entrance on the worn down façade.

I pass the time admiring the sleek interior of the vehicle and watching the various people walking by at the car and staring at it. The ring of Justin’s cell phone sitting in the console startles me. I glance down to see the name ‘Tawny’ flashing across the screen. A pang of irritation flickers in me at a girl’s name on his phone before I rein in my unexpected jealousy. Of course he has women calling him, I tell myself.

Probably all the time.

“We’re all set,” Justin says startling me as he places a paper grocery bag behind me. He walks around the car and slides into his seat. As he buckles his seatbelt, he notices his phone’s missed-call message on the screen and thumbs to it. An enigmatic look crosses his face as he sees the caller’s name, and I chastise myself for hoping he would scowl when he saw it.

A girl can hope anyway.

Within moments we are back on the road and headed up Pacific Coast Highway. I’m admiring the sight of the surf crashing on the beach with the sun in the background slowly ebbing toward the horizon before I realize that we’re pulling into the view ourselves.

Justin pulls up to a spot in the nearly empty parking lot. I’m surprised there are so few people here considering the weather is unusually warm for this time of year. “We’re here,” he says, pushing a button that has the top of the car lifting and closing in over us before he turns off the car. I look at him, surprise showing on my face; I was hoping for a non-romantic “date” and yet he has given me my favorite place on earth. A near-empty beach close to sunset. He simply is not playing fair, but then again, he doesn’t know me well enough to know my preferences so I just chalk it up to luck on his part.

He grabs the bag behind my seat and then exits the car. He then collects a blanket from the trunk before coming around to my side. He opens the door with a playful flair as he reaches for my hand to help me out of the car.

“Come,” he demands as he tugs on my hand, a thousand sensations seducing me as he pulls me toward the sand and surf. I am slightly giddy with the fact that he continues to hold my hand in his even though I’ve followed him. The rough calluses on his palms against my smooth skin are a welcome feeling. Almost like being pinched to make sure I’m not dreaming.

We walk out onto the beach past a pile of towels and clothes that I assume belong to the two surfers out a ways in the water. We walk in silence, both taking in our surroundings as I try to figure out what to say. Why am I all of the sudden nervous over Justin’s intensity? Over his proximity?

When we get about ten feet from the wet sand, Justin finally speaks. “How about right here?”

“Sure, although I would’ve brought my swim suit if I’d known we were coming to the beach,” I respond flippantly, my nerves giving way to stupid humor as it usually does. If I could roll my eyes at myself right now, I would.

Sensing my lack of bravado and heightened nerves now that we really are alone, just him and I, Justin quips, “Who said anything about suits? I’m all for skinny dipping.”

I freeze at the comment, eyes wide, and swallow loudly. Odd that the idea of stripping down naked with this ruggedly handsome man unnerves me despite the fact he’s had his hands on me.

His perfection next to my ordinary.

Justin reaches out with his free hand and puts a finger under my chin, raising my head so that I can meet his gentle eyes. “Relax, Selena. I’m not going to eat you alive. You said you wanted casual, so I’m giving you casual. I thought we could take advantage of the unusually warm weather,” he says releasing my chin and handing me the brown bag so that he can lay a large Pendleton blanket on the sand. “Besides, when I get you naked, it’s going to be somewhere a lot more private so that I can enjoy every slow and maddening second of it. So I can take my time and show you exactly what that sexy body of yours was made for.” He glances up, eyes flashing desire and mouth turning up in a wicked grin.

I sigh and shake my head, unsure of myself, of my reaction to him, and how I should proceed. The man can seduce me with words alone. That’s definitely not a good sign, seeing as how if he keeps it up I’ll be handing over my panties to him in no time at all.

I fidget under the intensity of his stare and the direction my thoughts have taken. “Take a seat, Selena. I promise, I don’t bite,” he smirks.

“We’ll see about that,” I snort in jest, but I oblige him and sit down on the blanket, distracting myself from my nerves by unzipping my ankle boots. I pull off my socks, free my feet, and wiggle my toes, which are painted fire-engine red, in the sand. I pull my knees up, and wrap my arms around them, hugging them to my chest. “It’s beautiful out here. I’m so glad the cloud cover stayed away today.”

“Mmm-hmm,” he murmurs as he reaches into the brown bag from Fourth Street. “Are you hungry?” he asks producing two packages wrapped in white deli paper, followed by a loaf of French bread, a bottle of wine, and two paper cups. “Voila,” he announces. “A very sophisticated dinner of salami, provolone cheese, French bread, and some wine.” The corners of his mouth turn up slightly as if he is testing me. As if he is checking to see if I really am okay with a casual, no-frills dinner such as this in a land of Hollywood glitz, glamour, and pretension.

I eye him warily, not liking games or being tested, but I guess someone in his shoes is probably wary of others. Then again, he’s the one begging me for a date, although I’m still not sure why. “Well, it’s not the Ritz,” I say dryly, rolling my eyes, “but it’ll have to do,” I huff out.

He laughs loudly, as he pulls the cork out of the wine, pours it in the paper cups, and hands one to me. “To simplicity!” he toasts good-humoredly.

“To simplicity,” I agree, tapping his cup and taking a sip of the sweet, flavorful wine. “Wow, a girl could get used to this,” I admit. When he eyes me with doubt, I continue, “What more could I ask for? Sun, sand, food—”

“A handsome date?” He jokes as he breaks off a piece of bread, layers it with provolone and thin-sliced salami, and hands it to me on a paper napkin. I accept it graciously, my stomach growling. I’ve forgotten how hungry I am.

“Thank you,” I tell him, as I take the food from him. “For the food, for the donation, for Zander…”

“What’s the story there?”

I relay the gist of the story to him, his face remaining impassive at the details. “And today, with you, is the first time he’s purposely interacted with anybody, so thank you. I’m more grateful than you will ever know,” I conclude, looking down sheepishly, a blush spreading across my cheeks as I’m suddenly uncomfortable again at his direct and undivided attention. I take a bite of the makeshift sandwich, and moan appreciatively at the mixture of fresh bread and deli fare. “This is really good!”

He nods in agreement with me. “I’ve been going to that deli forever. It’s definitely better and more my speed than caviar,” he shrugs unapologetically. “So why Corporate Cares?” he asks, his mouth parting slightly as he watches me savor my food.

“So many reasons,” I admit, finishing my bite. “The ability to make a difference, the chance to be part of a breakthrough such as Zander today, or the feeling I get when a child left behind is made to feel like he matters again …” I sigh, not having enough words to express the feelings I have. “There are so many things that I can’t even begin to explain.”

“You are very passionate about it. I admire you for that.” His tone is earnest and sincere.

“Thank you,” I reply, taking another sip of wine, meeting his eye. “You were quite impressive yourself today. Almost as if you knew what to do despite me telling you to leave,” I admit sheepishly. “You were good with Zander.”

“Nah,” he denies grabbing another piece of cheese, folding it in the bread, “I’m not good with kids at all. That’s why I’m never having them,” his statement determined and his expression blank.

I’m taken aback by his comment. “That’s a bold statement for someone so young. I’m sure at some point you’ll change your mind.” I reply, my eyes narrowing as I watch him, wishing I still had the option to make a choice like his.

“Absolutely not,” he states emphatically before averting his eyes from my gaze for the first time since meeting him. I can sense his discomfort with this topic of conversation. An oddity for a man so confident and sure of himself in all other areas of life. He looks out toward the tumultuous ocean and is quiet for a few moments, an unreadable look on his rugged features.

I think that my questioning statement will go unanswered, until he breaks the silence. “Not really,” he says with what I sense is a resigned sadness in his voice. “I’m sure you experience it first hand every day, Selena. People use kids as pawns in this world. Too many women try to trap men with them and then hate the kid when the man leaves. People foster kids just to get the monthly government stipend. It goes on and on,” he shrugs nonchalantly, belying how affected he is by the hidden truth behind his words. “It happens daily. Kids fucked up and abandoned because of their mother’s selfish choices. I’d never put a child in that kind of position,” he shakes his head emphatically, still refusing to meet my eyes, his gaze following the surfer riding the wave a ways out. “Regardless, I’d probably fuck them up as much as I was as a kid.” He breathes deeply with his last statement and removes his cap with one hand while running his other hand through his hair in what I interpret as agitation.

“What do you mean? I don’t understand,” I falter as I start to ask without thinking. This conversation has unexpectedly gotten heavy quickly.

Annoyance flashes across his face momentarily before I watch him knowingly rein it in. “My past is basic public knowledge,” he states, my furrowed brow showing my confusion. “Fame makes people dig out ugly truths.”

“Sorry,” I say raising my eyebrows, “I don’t make it a habit of researching my dates.” I hide the unease I feel with this conversation in the sarcasm of my tone.

His concentrated green eyes lock onto mine, muscle pulsing in his clenched jaw. “You really should, Selena,” his steely voice warns. “You just never know who’s dangerous. Who’s going to hurt you when you least expect it.”

I’m taken aback by his sudden comment. Is he warning me about him? Warning me away from him? I’m confused. Pursue me and then push me away? This is the second time today he’s issued a statement like this. What should I make of it?

And what the hell is with his comments about being messed up as a kid? His parents are practically Hollywood royalty. Is he saying that they did something to him? The fixer in me wants to probe but I can tell how unwelcome that prospect is by his reaction.

I cautiously glance over at him, to see his attention turned back toward the surf. It is in this moment I can see the pictures painted by the media of him. Dark and brooding, a little rugged with the dark shadow of hair on his jaw, and an intensity to his eyes that makes you feel as if he’s unapproachable. Unpredictable. The broad shoulders and sexy swagger. The bad boy who is too handsome for his own good mixed with a whole lot of reckless. The rebel women swoon over and swear they could tame—if they had a chance.

And he’s sitting here. With me. It’s mind-boggling, and I’m still unclear as to how this all happened and why it happened to me.

I clear my throat, trying to dispel the awkwardness that has descended on our picnic. “So, how ’bout them Lakers?” I deadpan.

He throws his head back and laughs loudly before turning back to me. All traces of Brooding Justin have been replaced by Relaxed Justin with eyes full of humor and a megawatt smile. “A little heavy?”

I nod, pursing my lips, as I grab for another piece of cheese. Time for a change in topic. “I know it’s an unoriginal question, but what made you get into racing? I mean why hurl yourself around a track at close to two hundred miles an hour for fun?”

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