#holding my beating heart in my hands and staring at it about zander
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all 3 of them are done :')
i might work on sprites for each of them later on. left to right is: zander, lionel, and condes
they are also open to asks *puppy eyes*
sprites were made using xamag's troll creator, plus some editing & art on my part
#zander benoni#lionel farlow#condes renate#she FINALLY HAS A NAME#holding my beating heart in my hands and staring at it about zander#grandma is my blorbo now#mikart#to some extent#they are also up on my select page but their toyhouse profiles are pretty empty atm#they have stories i just havent written em
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Number 3 for Assorted Angst Prompts?
Hehehehe I managed to finish this during my breaks
3. âI want to hear you scream.â
From This Prompt List
CW: Pet whump, dehumanization, electrocution, nonsexual nudity
***
âNormally I wouldnât do this.â Nicholas said, unlocking the muzzle that heâs forced Zander to wear the entire day. He didnât complain right away, instead taking deep breaths and trying to appreciate the relief he felt in his jaw after having the bit shoved between his teeth all day. There were marks on it from how hard heâd been biting down. âIn fact, Iâd really rather not give you the chance to run your mouth, I know you canât keep quiet and youâre awfully annoying whenever you get the chance to speak.â He said, stepping away to grab something.
âDamn, then why donât you just gag me againâŚ?â He muttered sarcastically, rolling his eyes. He was sat on his knees in Nicholasâ basement, his wrists had been cuffed together and his arms were outstretched above his head, the cuffs locked to a chain hanging from the ceiling, just short enough that Zander was forced to sit up straight to avoid discomfort. He wished his arms were free, heâd been forced to strip down to his underwear and it was absolutely freezing down there.
âBecause,â Nicholas said matter of factly, and Zander felt something jab against the small of his back, âI want to hear you scream.â
He didnât have time to prepare himself for the shock, a quick but painful zap of electricity. Nicholas quickly got what he was hoping for, his back arched away from the tool as he screamed, his eyes screwed shut. It didnât last long but that didnât change how much it hurt, leaving him struggling to catch his breath. Ever since Cain had stopped using a shock collar on him heâd been even more sensitive to electric shocks, he was never prepared for them and they always hurt way more than he remembered.
âFuck! You- you canât-!â
âDonât tell me what I can and canât do, mutt.â Nicholas snapped, this time it was jabbed into his side and the shock lasted longer, leaving him shrieking in pain. His hands were clenched into fists, so tight his nails were close to drawing blood, his whole body now taught with fear and anticipation. âDarling said I couldnât use a shock collar. He said nothing about this.â He finally stepped into Zanderâs line of sight and he got a look at what he was using on him, squinting for a moment before he got it.
âIs that a fucking cattle prod?!â
âIt is. Iâve heard this one is a bit⌠stronger, than what somebody would use on livestock. I wouldnât know though, how about you tell me?â He said, this time jabbing the end into his ribs. Zander wasnât ready when he hit the button, his jaw snapped shut as his muscles seized up, he couldnât even scream properly until Nicholas had pulled it away, trying to channel it into shouting obscenities instead.
âFuck! Fuck you- fuck that thing, get the fuck away from me!â He yelled, desperately trying to yank his hands free of the cuffs, but getting absolutely nowhere. On instinct he started to try to stand up, try to figure a way out of this himself, but he was just jabbed and shocked again, falling right back to his knees. It was getting harder to hold back any tears, he hated crying in front of Nicholas, but he was in so much pain and he had no idea how long this would last- or more importantly, how long he could last.
âIf you ask nicely, maybe Iâll stop.â Nicholas said, sounding amused as he jabbed the device into his inner thigh, dragging another scream out of him. He kept his eyes shut, tears had begun to stream down his face but he focused on catching his breath and keeping it even enough to speak.
âP-pleaseâŚâ He finally said, sounding as though it took all his strength to say the one word. âPlease s-stop⌠I canât do this, please, sir...â It killed him to admit defeat, but he knew if he didnât then the torture itself might literally kill him. It was rare for his self preservation instincts to kick in at a time like this, but he was so genuinely terrified of being electrocuted he couldnât help but break down and beg. Cain wasnât there to stop him from going too far, this was his only choice.
âAww, so you do know your manners.â Nicholas laughed, and Zanderâs eyes went wide as it was pressed to his side, his protests cut off as he shrieked in agony. The shock didnât last long thankfully, he was beginning to panic, his breathing frantic, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. Everything hurt, everything felt like static, he just wanted a break.
âB-but-! Y-you said if I-I⌠you s-said youâd st-stopâŚâ He could barely get the sentence out, his eyes wide with fear as he stared up at him, but his heart sank as Nicholas just smiled at him.
âYou should learn to listen better, mutt,â He said with a cruel grin, âI said maybe.â
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E&T: The Price to Pay
Hello welcome back to actually whumping Erebus đ I missed his screams
âPrevious - Masterlist - Nextâ
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. Theyâd let him keep his shirt on this time, but that wasnât 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.Â
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. âHowâs my favorite test subject?â
âIâm pretty sure Iâm your only test subject.â
âWell, yeah, but that doesnât mean I donât love ya.â She ruffled his hair affectionately, and he hated that he was starting to like it when she touched him like that. âAnd even if I had other ones, youâd still be my favorite.â
âThat so.â
âYeah! Youâre just so cute and well-behaved.âÂ
âI-Iâm just not stupid. I know fighting doesnât do me any good. Iâm not doing it for you or anything.â
âAnd thatâs perfectly fine, as long as the end result is the same!â She gave his head one final pat before turning and putting her gloves on. âNow, letâs get started. This should be pretty quick and easy since weâre...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 wonât be anything too bad.â She patted his cheek. âOpen up.â
âI still donât-ahh.â 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 wasnât going to do something to his tongue again, that meant...she wasnât going to mess with his teeth, was she?Â
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. âJust two, okay? Iâll be quick, I promise. And itâs either this or I give you a tail, which I assume you donât want a tail.â 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. âUh, thumbs up if you donât want a tail and thumbs down if-wait no you canât move your wrist.â 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.
âNo, I donât want a tail,â he said tiredly. âI really donât want you to...to pull my teeth either, but if I had to pick between the two...Iâd really rather not have a tail.â
âYou sure? It would be a cool tail. Venomous.â
âI am now even more sure that I absolutely do not want it.â
âYouâre no fun.â 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 sheâd 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 wasnât-it was.
A fang. A long, sharp fang. He had a fang.Â
And in a few minutes, he was getting another one.
âYou did so well, bud, halfway done,â Neteri reassured as she gently wiped some of the blood from around his mouth. âCan you bite together for me?â He begrudgingly did so, resisting the pointless urge to bite her as she examined the new tooth. It hadnât 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 Erebusâs upper and lower jaws finally fit together properly, she shoved the block back in and gripped his remaining canine with the pliers. He hoped heâd 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 pressureâs building up again I want this over with but Iâm 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 canât stop screaming even as the magic burns and forces another fang into your mouth you have to endure because itâs all you can do anymore endure it endure it endure it
Thankfully, the second tooth didnât 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 sheâd 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 heâd 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 werenât as long as he had originally feared, but they looked as sharp as they felt. Once again, he couldnât 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.Â
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. âYour mouth doesnât hurt, does it?â
âNo, itâs fi-ow.â In trying to say that he felt physically alright, heâd accidentally nicked his lower lip.
âAw, poor thing,â Neteri chuckled sympathetically, reaching up and healing the little puncture with a tap of her finger and a spark of magic. âYouâll get used to them eventually.â 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 didnât 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. âItâs alright, Erebus. Just lie still.â He opened his mouth to protest, but how was he supposed to explain that he didnât want to be comforted this way, that he didnât 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 didnât 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 shouldnât like the person who-who owned him because he was owned he was he knew it deep down and heâd never admit it but it was true and he hated it and he wished he could hate her and he didnât 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 heâd never see again.
At some point after he started to calm down, he felt one of Neteriâs hands leave him and opened his eyes to see that she was holding something in front of his face. âHere, I found this when I was going through my bag the other day. Did you want to keep it?â she said as she held out a light blue ribbon, the one sheâd 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.Â
âThanks,â 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.Â
âOf course.â 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. âErebus, 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 donât want to, given, uh,â her other hand poked at the tag attached to his collar, âbut if you do...Iâm here, okay?â He just nodded, despite the fact that he sincerely doubted heâd ever take her up on that offer. Accepting comfort like heâd 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 didnât 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 hadnât 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.Â
Looking at it, thinking of everything heâd lost, Erebus realized that despite everything, despite how miserable he was, despite how much he wanted to escape this place, he still didnât want to die. He didnât 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 Neteriâs comfort every so often in order to keep himself sane, then so be it.
Nextâ
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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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 neglectÂ
âSo whatâs the plan again?â Jackson asked. Nathan had insisted that heâd only let Hazel do this if someone went with her, preferably someone bigger and male. Sheâd 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.Â
âWell, he doesnât have a phone, so we canât actually get in contact with him. Nathan has to call his parents or go through one of Zanderâs friends to get a hold of him. They kind of have a system, but itâs tricky,â Hazel began.Â
âRight, so he doesnât even know weâre coming,â Jackson said.
âYeah. Which makes things a little more difficult,â Hazel sighed, wringing her hands on the wheel of her car. She was nervous, sheâd admit that. It took a lot to bother her, but this was intense. Things could go really really badly.Â
âI want to go over it again,â Jackson said, bouncing his legs in the passenger seat. He wasnât normally a nervous person either, but Hazel could tell he was freaking out.
âAre you sure you want to do this?â she asked. Hazel hated to drag her friend into this.
âYes,â Jackson nodded.Â
âOkay,â Hazel took a deep breath. âSo youâll 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. Youâll 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 Zanderâs window and get him out that way.â
âWhat if they donât let me use their phone?â he asked.Â
âStall. Say that itâs really important cause your mom is in the hospital and you need to get there or something,â she said.
âRight. Any scary mean dogs that I should know about?âÂ
âNo. His dadâs the scariest thing you might encounter. Hopefully his mom will answer the door first,â Hazel said.Â
âAnd if she doesnât?â Jackson asked.
âHeâs 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,â Hazel shrugged.
âLike smuggling their son out of their house?âÂ
âYeah like that. If anything goes wrong Iâll be the one who gets caught, not you,â Hazel sighed.Â
âWhatâs the code red plan?â Jackson asked, knowing they needed to consider the possibility of things going wrong.
âIf they catch me you have to get out of there,â Hazel said, glancing over at Jackson for a second. He was looking at her worriedly. Jackson had always been protective of her ever since theyâd met, like her older brothers. âIâm serious. If something goes wrong you get out and you go to the police. Iâll be okay.â
âI hate this plan,â Jackson sighed, wringing his hands.Â
âI donât either. But we have to do this,âÂ
âSo what happened exactly?â Jackson asked. Hazel had been wondering how long before heâd ask that. Theyâd already been on the road for over an hour, they were almost there. She was surprised heâd waited this long.Â
âNathan went home for the weekend, to check on Zander, cause he hadnât heard from him in a few days,â Hazel began, âI guess things were worse than usual.â
âMeaning?â
âHe 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 wouldnât let him leave, which means that he probably took a bad beating too,â she explained.Â
âJesus,â Jackson breathed out.Â
âI didnât even know it was this bad,â Hazel said, jaw clenched in anger against her boyfriendâs family. Her own parents were never around, but theyâd also never hit her. How could someone do that to their kid?
âAnother question, um, what happens if heâs not in his room?â Jackson realized another flaw in their plan.Â
âThen Iâll improvise,â 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.Â
âThis is a terrible plan,â Jackson said as he climbed out of the car.Â
âItâll be fine,â Hazel assured him, before sneaking off into the shadows around the side of the house.
âTerrible plan,â Jackson muttered to himself as he walked reluctantly towards the house.Â
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.Â
âHi, um, Iâm so sorry to bother you this late, but um, my car just crapped out on me and my phoneâs dead. Is there any way I could use yours to call someone?â Jackson asked.Â
âWho is it?!?â a deep voice yelled from somewhere in the couch. Nathanâs dad.Â
âUh, sure, come on it. Whatâs your name?â the woman asked, ignoring the call of her husband.Â
âJacob,â Jackson said quickly, realizing it wasnât a good idea to give her his actual name.Â
âItâs just a kid dear, his nameâs Jacob. Heâs just going to use our phone for a moment, his car broke down,â she explained to her husband as she led Jackson through the living room, past where Nathanâs dad was sitting in a recliner, beer in one hand remote in the other.Â
Meanwhile, Hazel had made her way around to the back of the house, where she found Zanderâs window. Sheâd 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.Â
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 heâd come home. And he was only 14.Â
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 heâd recovered enough to pull himself up by his bed frame, he realized who it was and his eyes went wide.Â
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.Â
âWhat are you doing here?â he asked in a hushed whisper.
âIâm getting you out. We donât have a lot of time, but pack whatever you can in your backpack and then we have to go,â 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 wasnât making enough noise to make his parents down the hall suspicious. She wondered how things were going for Jackson. Sheâd heard his voice a moment ago, so they mustâve agreed to let him use the phone.Â
âReady?â she asked as Zander made his way back over to her.Â
âYeah,âÂ
âAlright, give me the backpack,â she said. He handed it through the window to her and she slung it onto her back. âNow come on, we gotta go,â she said, holding her hand out to him to help him through the window.Â
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 Zanderâs eyes went wide as they realized how loud it had been, frozen.Â
âZANDER!âÂ
Jackson heard the noise and closed his eyes, internally cursing. He knew exactly what that meant. In a flash Nathanâs 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.Â
âW-well I think Iâll go wait in my car now,â Jackson said to Nathanâs mom, hoping he didnât sound as terrified as he felt. He backed away from her, heading towards the front door.Â
âWhat did your friend say?â she asked, glancing nervously down the hall as her husband threw open the door to what Jackson assumed was Zanderâs room, following Jackson towards the door.
âJENNY get the fuck in here!âÂ
âHeâll be here in just a minute,â Jackson laughed nervously, continuing to back towards the door, her following him. Angry footsteps pounded down the hall, back towards them.
âI know youâre in on this boy!â
Iâll just get out of your hair,â 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.
âUnlock the car!â 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.Â
âShit,â Jackson cursed, fumbling for the keys as he heard the door bang open behind him.Â
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 hadnât even shut the door before Jackson was speeding off down the dark street.Â
âOh god, we did it,â Hazel breathed out, slumped in the backseat with Nathanâs brother, who was leaned against her, seeming to stunned to even respond. He looked like heâd taken a serious beating, as Hazel had predicted.Â
âWe did it,â Jackson echoed, still feeling like his heart was about to pound out of his chest. âDo you think theyâll follow us?â he asked, glancing in his rear view.
âI donât know. Take a few extra turns but get back on the highway quick,â she said as Nathanâs brother started to cry.
âYouâre alright Zand, weâve got you, youâre safe now,â she whispered, wrapping her arms around him and holding him close. They wouldnât let anything else happen to him.Â
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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 isnât really a trigger but yeah. If you donât agree with any thing featured in this story look away now. But, if youâre 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 didnât 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. âY/N? Are you okay in there?â 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. âIâm okay.â You called out, though the truth was you were far from it.
Not like he would care, you were his. At least thatâs 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.
âY/N?â Connor spoke.
âGive me a moment, Iâm getting dressed!â 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, didnât 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, youâd 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 thatâs 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.Â
Connorâs 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.
âIâm tired of you pushing me away, Y/N.â 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 Connorâs chest, trying to push him off.Â
âLet me go...â 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.Â
âYou try and try to hurt me.â 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 wasnât 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 wouldnât 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 Connorâs voice. âI have to go into the precinct Iâll be home late.â He told you, and you couldnât 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 wasnât locked was it? And it sure didnât 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 wouldnât be able to climb down, it was too far up, and you werenât 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-
âIâm home!â A voice called out from your apartment, making your heart skip a beat. Connor was home.Â
Wasting not another moment you quickly climbed up the fire escape, hoping that Connor wouldnât 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.Â
âY/N? Y/N!?âÂ
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.
âY/N! Where are you?!â
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-
âThe hell do you think youâre doing?â you heard Connor growl behind you.Â
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.
âI want to be free, I want you to let me go.â You told him, gathering your nerve to stand your ground against him.
âLet. You. Go.â 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. âWhy 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.â 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.Â
âYou killed my boyfriend.â You whispered.
âHe was in my way.â
âYou kidnapped me.â
âCan you blame me? I wanted to keep you close.â He told you, inching closer.
âYou raped and hurt me.â
âAre you trying to tell me you didnât love every moment of it?â 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.
âAwww, 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 youâre just being selfish, ungrateful.â 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 werenât 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 Connorâs face as the ground raced to meet you. At least now, youâd 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, Connorâs 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.Â
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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Sketchy
I am a brilliant asshole and not in a good way. Iâm always putting myself in a situation that sounds great at first, but as it happens, itâs not so great at all.Â
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. Itâs old couch too, sheâs 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. Itâs been a very long time since Iâve drawn a nude model. Iâm acting like Iâve never sketched a naked woman before, itâs really not that hard. But, this is absolutely the first time Iâve drawn a woman that Iâm acquainted with. It doesnât help that I find her to be one of the sexiest women I know.
I can feel my heart racing because I know what Iâm doing is wrong. I know that I shouldnât be doing this but an opportunity presented itself and I had to take it. It does sound selfish but in a way, it really isnât. First of all, the artist in me will not allow me to call this whole thing off. Secondly, I try to tell myself that sheâs 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 thatâs not good for any sketch.
But, of course, I had to open my big mouth. Iâm 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 Iâm 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 didnât 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 wasnât big deal to me because no matter how good I was at drawing, my heart wasnât in it. I didnât love it like other people love it and thatâs probably why I didnât take it as seriously. I felt much more at ease using words to describe anything. I can perfectly describe how beautiful Myra is. Sheâs 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 weâre 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 donât 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 Iâm 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, âEverything OK?â
âSure, I just have to get another eraser,â 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. Heâs 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 weâre building something important. In our universe, there are no meaningless black characters created for the sole purpose of being sidekicks. Together weâve molded superheroes that matter; superheroes that look like us. There is a true meaning behind every page and weâre ready to take the industry by storm.
Jules has tons of different art supplies in this desk that itâs 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. Itâs 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, itâs hard to come to a real agreement on the philosophy of a particular story. I really donât think that the splash on page 11 is necessary but clearly, heâs 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. Sheâs 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 donât 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 Juliusâ 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. Thatâs was around the time we decided to build this whole comic book company together. Heâs the artist and Iâm 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, âHaving trouble?â
âNot at all,â I reply as I grab the extra pencil next to me. I want to try to be as emotionless as possible. Mentally Iâm 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 partnerâs 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 canât 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. âDid you want this sketch in color?â I do my best to look at her eyes when I converse with her.
âHm, 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,â 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. âSo, I have an idea and itâs totally ok if youâre not willing to do it.â
âWhat would that be?â
Iâm nervous to even suggest it. âYou know what? Never mind. Itâs a dumb idea. I donât even know why I would even think of such a thing.â
âJust tell me.â
I take a deep breath, âOk so, I want to get the shade of color just right and once I scan this in into the laptop I will need to..â
Myra laughs, âZander, just spit it out.â
âI need to take a picture of you so that I can match your skin tone with the RGB color code.â I look down at my unfinished sketch as soon as I said it.
âYou sly little devil!â Myra sits up and looks at me with a surprised look on her face as if she caught me red handed.
âWhat do you mean?â I ask
âWhy the fuck you lyin?â She asks in a sing-songy manner. âYou just want a nude picture of me!â I honestly canât tell if sheâs being serious or not, but sheâs 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.
âI mean, I would delete it as soon as I got the color correct.â Which is a lie.
âI donât know about that. In all honesty, you can just take pictures of me with my clothes on and then screen-grab the color.â She was totally right about that. I hadnât thought about it. Then she continues, âThe 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.â
âWhat are you talking about?â 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. Â
Myra gives me a smirk, âPlease, do not insult my intelligence. I know youâve 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.â
I pull out my iPhone from my pocket and ask her to return to her original pose. Myra is right about this but I donât 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, âHow many photos do you plan on taking?â I want to explain lighting and such but then she cuts me off, âI hope you have enough space on the cloud for all of these.â
I freeze, âUmâŚâ
âI am not stupid, Zander. I fully expect you to find a way to try to keep pictures of me. Just know thatâŚâ
Bang. Bang.
We both look up. Thereâs a knock on the door. I look at Myra as she gets up quickly and covers herself with a robe I gave her.
âWho is it?â I ask cautiously.
âItâs Jules. Dude, let me in. We need to talkâŚabout everything.â
Shit. I put my face in my palm. This could be four years and three issues down the drain.
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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 whoâs within three feet radius from him. he didnât care if it was annoying, as long as it blocked his mind out of having to listen to everyone around him.Â
taeil opened his locker as his group of friends gathered near him, talking amongst themselves. he wasnât sure if he could call them friends, really, they were more like people he got along well with. but thatâs 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. âheâs your brother, isnât he?â he asked. taeil sighed, rolling his eyes. â... yes, idiot, weâre identical. but letâs not even associate him with me. weâre nowhere alike.â he answered in a tired tone in his voice. âyeah, no shit.â the others laughed amongst themselves, definitely seeing the difference between the pair of twins.Â
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 didnât know him. as close as they were when they were younger, they were very different now and taeil didnât 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.Â
as they sat around their usual table in the back to eat their lunch â the emo kids table, by the way â taeil noticed rosie plopping down across from him, and he raised an eyebrow at her. âdidnât know you liked talking to preppy cheerleaders.â he stated in his usual monotone, blunt voice. he saw her talking to that head cheerleader and it was honestly so weird. âsheâs a friend of mine, but we never hang out.â the girl simply shrugged. âsheâs been telling me about some party, so... you guys going?âÂ
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. âguess iâm going then.â
âokay.â 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. âtell zander weâre going.â he told her, knowing their friend was too much of a loner to even get talked to, let alone invited. âyouâre gonna ask that weirdo to come?â one of the guys laughed, and taeil and rosie immediately looked at him with an evil glare in their eyes, shutting him up immediately.Â
the party didnât seem too bad. it was filled with kids he didnât know, mostly populars and rich kids who just so happened to have one of their houses empty and decided to have a party. taeil didnât really care, as long as there were free drinks, he wouldnât 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 â mina, was it? â walked in, dressed in all black, a color youâd never see her wearing except in rare occasions. that, along with the most tom-boy clothes heâs 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. âokay, sheâs hot.â rosie could only stare at him with a horrified look on her face.Â
âyou think iâm hot?â mina asked, leaning against the island with a smug smile on her face. âi guess so.â taeil said casually and shrugged a shoulder like he didnât care. meanwhile, rosie was sat there looking between them, looking very surprised at the odds of this happening. âwell, i think youâre hot too.â the conversation kept going like that, but minaâs smile didnât 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. âyou know, i'd say we could take this upstairs, but people would talk.â she said, tucking back a strand of her hair. taeil put down his drink and smirked. âlet them.â 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. âwhat... the fuck?â 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. heâs 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 didnât know what to do with himself.Â
jinwoo took a deep breath. âyou-... 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.â he immediately ran off that minho really had no idea what had just happened. did jinwoo just call me hot?! his mind screamed. âhey, wait!!â he screamed, putting his cup down and running after him.Â
âwhat the fuck was that?â yubin sighed, shaking his head in disappointment as he watched jinwoo run off with minho right behind him. âgay panic.â 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 wasnât asked for it. âwhere the fuck did you come from...?â yubin looked at him weirdly. zander? was it? looked at him with a dopey smile, obviously high. âright behind you. anyway, youâre that hot dude in the dance troop, right?âÂ
â... what is happening right now?â yubin just stared at him, not knowing what to do. âyou ask way too many questions, hot guy. let me get you a drink.â and before yubin knew it, zander was pouring vodka in a plastic cup â yubinâs least favorite, actually â and handed it over to him with a smile. âuh...â the taller stared at the contents of the cup, then looked at the other again. âthanks. you can... go now.âÂ
âhey, wait up!â minho finally caught up to jinwoo outside the house. âare you okay?â he asked, and only got a nod from the other as he kept staring at the ground like he was about to cry. âcan i... can i talk to you? i really want to...â minho asked carefully, not knowing what to say to not be too much on the boy. âplease?â he smiled sweetly.Â
jinwoo looked up at him and nodded once again. minhoâs smile widened and he immediately reached over to take the other boyâs hand. he could feel how tense he was and he understood, because he was feeling his heart about to jump out of his chest. âyouâre so cute! what the hell?!â 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. âi-i-i... i-i am?â and minho laughed, nodding enthusiastically. âyou are.âÂ
âi-i-i- oh- oh my- g-god.â 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. âso, you said i was hot?â that question only made jinwoo blush more and hide his face, somehow getting more nervous than he already was. thatâs when he gave another nod in response instead of speaking.Â
âwell, guess what? i think youâre hot too. also cute, extremely fucking adorable and really damn beautiful.â minho confessed bluntly, thinking he might as well just tell him what heâs been holding back. jinwoo didnât think he could handle what was happening right now.Â
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 otherâs faces. minhoâs heart was threatening to fly out of his chest at any moment and he didnât think he could handle this.Â
âpromise youâll talk to me more often in school?â minho asked, smiling softly at him. jinwoo nodded shyly, and minho even got him to exchange numbers. âand you also have to promise to text me.â he demanded, getting jinwoo to laugh a little. âi-i-i will.âÂ
âdo you want to stay at the party? because iâm not really feeling it anymore.â minho asked, thumb pointing back to the house. jinwoo shook his head and minho stood up, offering him his hand again. âlet me walk you home then.âÂ
#ââ ** au ]#ââ ** self para ]#ââ ** i promise to never fall in love with a stranger | au ]
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WIP tag
List all the things youâre currently working on in as much or as little detail as youâd like, then tag some friends to see what theyâre working on. This can be writing, art, vids, gifsets, fanwork, or original work!
I was tagged by the wonderful @peachchanvidelâ
1) Haruka/Seiko âLovely Complexâ Fanfiction.
âIâm sorry to cut this short, but I have to go somewhere.â Seiko smiled.
âOf course! Donât let us keep you!â The first girl nodded.
âAh, Seiko, wait!â Haruka said loudly all of a sudden. Seiko blinked at him in surprise and didnât miss the way he easily pulled out of the first girlâs grip and also didnât miss the way her heart warmed at that harmless action. âItâs already late and if youâre going to Risaâs place youâll have to go across that street where the streetlights are being fixed, Iâll go with you. Itâs too dangerous for you to go alone.â
2) Murtagh/Nasuada âInheritance Cycle Fanfiction
âWill you allow me to heal you?â
âYesâŚâ
âWhere are they going?!â
âAway.â
A sob made its way out of her throat. Her heart hurt.
âTry not to burn down Aroughs, would you? Cities are rather hard to replace.â
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 someoneâs 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.
âYou look adorable.â Jaeha chuckled.
âHah?â Kija made a noise of confused outrage.
âSo this is what an artistâs workshop is like.â Jaeha moved on and looked around, still holding Kijaâs face in his hands.
âItâs a mess,â Kija blurted. Jaeha looked back down at Kija.
âI was about to say it looked artistic.â Jaeha shrugged, that playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips.
4) Little Miracles (Teen Dad!Kagutsuchi AU)
âHeâs coming this way!â 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.
âKagu, can you stop being terrified of your own kid?â Yata asked, watching as the baby rubbed his face experimentally against Yataâs school uniform pants.
âMaybe heâs scared cause Takeâs really small?â Sakuya suggested, crawling closer to the baby.
âI-Iâm not scared!â Kagutsuchi hissed like a cornered cat. âAlso, what the hell is that smell?â
5) Hanakotoba Gone Wrong (based off a conversation I had with @mokomokuren)
âI will inform her at once.â 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 wasnât the kind if situation in which he could do that. It was a time that required âdelicacy and sharp thinkingâ 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 Akutagawaâs 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 Atsushiâs 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)
âDaddy! Look! Isnât that man running there from Momâs picture frame? Look at him dad-â
âKiun! Get down!â
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.
âDADDY!â
8) Zoe and Zander Universe (Original Story)
âDonât I?â Zander grinned. âAnyway, now that weâre done with breakfast, we should get moving, Princess. We need to outrun our pursuers and find you new clothes.â 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. âI thought we werenât going to do this so early in the morning?â Zander asked. She glared up at him.
âYou said you didnât have breakfast, so I let you have breakfast,â 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.
âGeh,â The boy made a noise in between a gasp and a sound of disgust. âGot to run!â Law was ready this time. The boy had obviously been born with fast reflexes, but he wasnât escaping from him this time. Law grabbed the back of the boyâs shirt.
âOh no, little heartless boy, youâre not running anywhere.â Law said in his darkest voice.
âWhy canât I? I can do what I want! I have my rights!â The boy flailed his legs around wildly as Law held him up by the back of his glaringly red shirt.
âLittle heartless boys are dead. And dead walking people donât have rights.â Law replied. He allowed a manic glint to grace his eyes as he ran his tongue across his bottom lip. âYouâre going to become my research subject, Mugiwara-ya.â
âEH?!â
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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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 weâre okay. And without it, I hate not knowing if weâre okay.
âSorry,â I say, pulling myself from my thoughts. âI was daydreaming about being on the beach with you.â
âThank you.â
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 donât. Not yet. This feels a little too normal when weâve 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 doesnât need to thank me, but I donât. I was given two glimpses of my wife tonight. Thatâs enough to tell me more is coming soon.
So I do what I think is best. I continue on. âDonât thank me yet, Selena. This island doesnât have any indoor plumbing. Or Diet Coke. And I know how you love your Diet Coke. But they do have . . .â I continue on. My rambling evening entertainment.
Anything for my Selena.
Hi sweetheart. Just checking in to see how youâre doing. I love you. Iâm here for you. Iâll 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 anotherâs back that are a constant at The House from my boys.
I miss everything that makes me feel alive.
But Iâm 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 canât even look at my beautiful baby boy and feel that soul-shifting love I should for him? Sure itâs there, hidden deep down and buried beneath the haze. I know it is. Iâve 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 youâre missing is brutal.
And Iâm missing Ace. Not him, per se, because heâs 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.
Itâs when the sky is the darkest that you can tell which stars are the brightest. Thereâs only one star I see: Justinâs light shines the brightest to me. Maybe because heâs 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 itâs a constant battle between the darkness and light.
Then thereâs 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 Justinâs 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 itâs 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.
âHey, man!â Justinâs 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.
âIâm sorry I didnât call first, but I was driving back to school and needed to stop by. Can I speak to you and Selena for a moment?â
Shaneâs voice echoes down the foyer and makes me falter. And itâs not what he says that stops me from standing but rather the tone in his voiceâformal, businesslike, and anxiousâthat makes me sit at attention.
âNot a problem. Let me go tell Selena that youâre here first,â Justin says, followed by the lowering of their voices. They say something I canât hear but can assume it is the typical question of how I am doing that gets asked when they arrive. âBe right back.â Footsteps. âHey, Selena?â
âYeah?â My voice is shaky as I answer, and I hate that the anxiety surges within me when itâs just Shane. Heâs the boy who has been with me the longest. The one I have watched grow into a man.
âShane stopped by. Okay?â Justinâs eyes hold mine. Theyâre telling me that Shaneâs 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.
âCome on in,â Justin yells as he stands there with eyes locked on mine and waits for Shane to close the distance.
Câmon, Selena. You scared him last time. Show him that youâre 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 canât muster up more than a forced smile when our eyes meet. I open my mouth to say hi, but the word doesnât come out.
I see concern in his expression, and he glances over to Justin, blatantly telling him he lied, that Iâm not better like heâd said moments before at the door. Justin nods to trust him.
âSo youâre heading back to campus?â Justin says, saving me from having to speak as he leads the way into the living room and motions for him to sit down.
âYes. Yeah. I spent the night at The House with the gang.â 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. âHeâs getting so big.â
âYeah. Itâs crazy,â 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. âThat 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, weâll have all you guys over for a barbecue.â
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 . . .
âYeah, uh . . .â Shane shifts and rubs his palms down the thighs of his pants. âWell, 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.â
I vaguely hear him over the roar of my heartbeat. My curiosity is piqued and internal instinct overrides the depressionâs pull trying to yank me back from the edge and protect me from whatever it is that is making him so nervous. Justinâs eyes meet mine and something flashes in themâa moment of unexpected clarityâthat worries me.
âGo on,â Justin says cautiously.
âIâve been thinking about what you said, Justin, and after looking at Zanderâs situation from all sides, I think youâre right.â Shane wrings his hands and keeps his eyes focused on them as Justin sighs loudly.
âWhat thing did I say, Shane?â he asks, voice searching, body language pensive as if he fears he already knows.
âAbout Zander.â
Justin scrunches up his nose in a show of regret and Iâm completely lost. My body wants to shut down but my mind fights the allure to find out whatâs 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, âNot now,â 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. Somethingâs going on, and itâs about Zander. I need to know now or else Iâm 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 thatâs been silent for so very long.
âNo,â Shane says, standing up to Justin, causing us both to snap our heads to him. âShe deserves to know that weâve voted, and weâre okay with it.â
I blink my eyes rapidly as I try to understand his cryptic comment. I feel like Iâve just walked into a movie halfway through and Iâm 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 Iâve gained these past few days.
âWhat?â My voice breaks. It sounds foreign to my ears. My eyes widen as I search their faces for answers. Now itâs their turn to both look at me.
âIâm just trying to fix everything I started,â he says, and I donât understand what he means. He looks at me with little boyâs eyes in a grown manâs body, begging me to let him help me. âItâs my fault.â
âWhat are you talking about?â Justin asks, voice demanding yet sounding just as confused as I am.
âI told you about Zanderâs meeting with his uncle at The House that day when I shouldnât 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 youâd go into labor? And then we came here to meet Ace. You were fine one minute and then you talked to Z and . . .â His voice drifts off, and I strain to remember bits and pieces from when the boys came. But I canâtâjust flashes of wide eyes and scared facesâand I know I obviously frightened them somehow. âI just want you to get better, Selena. And I want Zander to stay in our family where heâs safe. We all want these things. And I kept thinking if you knew Zander was safe then maybe youâd get better.â
A part of me awakens when I hear his words. I want to tell him itâs 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. Itâs scary and foreign and exciting to feel these things even if itâs just a fraction of what is normal.
âThen I remembered the comment you made, Justin. The one about how youâd adopt Zander if it would fix the situation andââ
âNo!â 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 Iâve felt in weeks.
Shaneâs not nervous; heâs upset. Upset and hurt that in his darkest hour I never thought to adopt him, choose him, and now all of a sudden Zanderâs 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 canât catch my breath. I canât speak. And yet the feelings within me are so violent, crashing into one another without recourse, that I canât 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 Iâm not.
I need my bed. To pull the covers over me and to try and quiet the riot in my head, but I donât 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.
Justinâs at my side in an instant. His eyes are alarmed, but hands are gentle as he rubs my back and tells me heâs 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.
âNo peeking, Scooter!â Shaneâs voice sounds off. How can it be in front of me when heâs beside me? Regardless, the sound of it pulls me to the present. I open my eyes and heâs 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.
âOkay. You ready?â Itâs Shaneâs voice on the phone, his hand recording, as an array of yeses sound. âWe all know that Zander was told today his uncle has been approved to foster him.â
âWhat?â 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.
âJust listen,â Shane urges, his voice giving me a focal point to cling to.
The video continues. âWho is in favor and completely okay and know that it has nothing to do with playing favoritesââ
âJesus. We got it, dude!â Aiden says. âWe all know weâre Donavans. We donât need a formal adoption process or the official name change to tell us that. Itâs a given. Just take the vote, Shane.â
Justin sucks in a breath beside me. My pulse starts to race again. A little at first. Then a lot. But this time itâs not from anxiety. The lack of panic and the presence of disbelieved hope pull me a little closer toward the surface.
âShut it, Aid!â
âAlways the boss,â Aiden says, eyes rolling, as Connor elbows him.
âWho is in favor of Selena and Justin filing a petition to adopt Zander?â Six arms rise in the air without a momentâs hesitation. Shane flips the camera lens onto him to show his hand in the air. âAnd itâs a landslide,â he says, angling it back to my crew where theyâve all raised their heads, smiles on their faces, and patience gone.
Iâm 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 donât know what to say. All I know is how I feel. And how I feel is that I actually feel something when thereâs 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 canât let go of him. And I canât 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.
âWe know youâre not choosing Zander over us. Youâre doing what youâve always done. Youâre trying to save him just like you have done for each one of us.â His voice breaks and tears well, despite him trying to hold it together. âWe didnât tell Zander about the vote, didnât want to get his hopes up if you guys decide not to pursue it . . . but we also didnât want you to throw the idea out because you thought it would upset us.â
âI donât even know what to say,â Justin says, his voice thick with emotion.
âThereâs nothing to say.â He shrugs, bringing back thoughts of the little boy I first met. âIâll admit when you first told me about it, I was a little shocked. Surprised. But at the same time, itâs what you said after telling me youâd adopt Zander that I heard the loudest.â
Justin looks back and forth between us and shakes his head as he tries to recall what Shaneâs talking about.
âYou 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 didnât sit right with me. Selena, you raised us to look out for one another, take care of each other. Be a family. Well, Zanderâs our family. So I mentioned it to Aiden. Played it down. Pretended Iâd had a dream about it happening to see what heâd say. He thought it was brilliant. Didnât have a problem with it. We went from there.â His voice fades off, but I hear hope in his tone and see optimism in his eyes.
âShane.â Itâs the sound of Justinâs stilted voice that causes the first tear to slide over.
âI just wanted to try to make things right.â
The curtain lifts. Huge body-wracking sobs take over my body as the curtain lifts to the highest itâs been since my mind fell into this depression. And I still canât speak. All I can do is show them that the smile on my face is not forced anymoreâa break in the black clouds. A ray of light flooding me with the knowledge there is still good in the world. That Iâve raised seven boys who came to me damaged and beyond hopeâwith all odds stacked against themâand have turned them into compassionate, loving individuals who have formed a family.
My family. Their family.
âSelena? Baby, look at me.â Itâs Justinâs 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 donât 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.
âThese are happy tears, right?â he asks as I glance over to Shane and then back to him. Both of their eyes hold a cautious optimism.
âYes.â
I might not be broken after all.
FUCKINâ 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 whoâs the fool? I fell for them. Iâm 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 Iâm alone on it, getting a feel if the last adjustment was right or wrong.
âWood?â No other words need to be said to know what heâs asking me.
âFeels good. Ass endâs not sliding as I come outta the bank.â I take a sip of water from the tube. Itâs piss-warm. Fuck.
âOkay. 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.â
âOpen her up? You get some last night, Daniels? I donât think Iâve ever heard you say those words.â Hands grip the wheel, body braced for the force as I come out of turn four toward the start/finish line.
âWouldnât you like to know?â He chuckles. Thatâs an affirmative on getting laid. âLetâs see what she can do.â
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 Selenaâthe constant responsibility of Ace, the everything that feels like it has been on my shouldersâand 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 sheâs saying to me.
If sheâs 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.
âGauges are looking good. Howâs she feel?â
âA good mix.â He knows I mean sheâs a little bit of bothâwhore and wifeâthe perfect mix to win a race.
âWe need a little more whore for the next race. Push her harder. See if she sucks or swallows.â
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 sheâs coming back to me.
Shoulders shoving into the seat. The car spins. Nosecone hits the wall. Metal sparking as it shreds.
âWood!â
Spinning. Hands grip seatbelts tight. Waiting for the second impact.
Nothing.
Câmon. Câmon. Câmon
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.
âGoddammit, Justin! Answer me.â
Sound comes back. Adrenaline takes over. My heart pounds. My mouth is dry.
But Iâm fine.
âIâm good. Fine,â I rasp as my body starts to tremble from the aftereffects. âFucked up the nosecone and front right side.â
âYouâre good?â His voice is shaky.
âIâm good.â Well, I will be. After I have a stiff drink.
âFuck, Justin! I told you to open her up, not tear her up and slam her into the goddamn wall!â he yells through the mic as I unpin the wheel to get out.
My chuckle fills the connectionâthe tinge of hysteria in it clear as fucking day.
Iâm 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 youâre forced to close your eyes, everything else becomes so much clearer.
âJustin?â
âCan I come in?â I look at my dad. There are so many things I want to say. No, need to say to him.
My mind hasnât 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 canât.
It was just another day at the track. I spun out. A job hazard. I couldnât call her because even though sheâs making huge strides, sheâs still not one hundred percent, and I didnât 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.
âCome in. Everything okay? Selena and Ace?â he asks as I follow him into the house I grew up in.
âYes. Yeah.â Shit. Heâs worried. âSorry. Theyâre fine. Itâs all good.â 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 Iâm antsy, nervous. Feel stupid for coming here but need to tell him nonetheless.
âItâs good to see you out and about,â he says.
âHaddieâs with Selena,â I explain when he doesnât ask. âI had to get some time at the track.â
âHowâd it go?â
âGood. Fine. Hit the wall.â
Fight or flight time, Justin. Say what you need to say.
âJustin?â
I snap from my thoughts. The shit that Iâm here to say but have now lost the words for. âSorry.â I sigh, lift my hat and run a hand through my hair.
âI said hitting the wall doesnât sound like it went well. Are you okay?â His grey eyes look at me in that way he has since I was a kid. Checking for ghosts heâs not going to find.
âYes. No.â I shake my head. âFuck if I know.â 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, âTalk to me, son.â
I shove up out of the seat Iâve 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. Iâm restless, fidgety, and just need to get this the fuck over with so I can stop thinking about it and get home.
âI had no right to ask you to go with me the other day.â That wasnât 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.
âIâm not following you.â
Of course youâre not going to make this easy on me, are you? Fuck. I sigh. Move. Pace. Hand through hair again.
âWhen I asked you to drive me so I could see my . . . uh . . .â Fuck. I canât say the word. Canât use the same term for that piece of shit as I do for this man in front of me, my endgame superhero.
âDad. You can say it, Justin. Iâm confident with my place in your life.â
âI know but it was a slap in your face, and itâs been eating at me. I shouldnât have asked you to go,â I say as I turn around and meet his eyes again. âOr I should have told you where we were going. Given you a choice.â
âItâs 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 youâll ever know.â
I stare at him, jaw clenched, and head a mess. I donât deserve him. Never have. But sure as shit, Iâm not letting him go.
âIt was chickenshit of me.â Itâs all I can say.
âItâs only natural for you to wonder. What you need to ask yourself is, did you get what you wanted out of it?â
âYes. No. FuckinâA straight Iâm so angry but I donât know why.â I pace again. Pissed Iâm still bugged by it all.
âWhy? Because you wanted him to see you, pull you into a hug, and start a relationship?â he goads, knowing damn well that wasnât what I wanted. âHave a get-to-know-you session?â
âNo,â I shout, hand banging down on the table beside me. The sound echoes around the room while I rein in my temper. I donât 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? âI didnât 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?â
âPerfectly,â he says with a ghost of a smile that taunts me. Iâve punched guys for less. But I force myself to breathe. Unclench my fists. Redirect my anger. Try to at least.
âReally? My fucked-up head makes you happy?â I grate out between gritted teeth.
âNope. But youâve been through a lot of shit this month, Justin. Taken on a lot of responsibilities and havenât 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. Iâll cover for you with your mom. Tell her I fell or something.â He pauses and lifts his eyebrows.
âWhat? Sheâd kill you. Thatâs like some antique-ey thing we were never allowed to touch.â
âEven better. Expensive shit sounds better when it breaks.â
âYouâre fucking crazy.â I laugh, not really sure what else to say because he looks dead serious. What is going on here?
âYeah, well, you have to be crazy to be a good parent.â His lips curl up, eyes flash with something, and I know Iâm 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, Iâd let it go in one ear and out the other. This time, Iâm fairly certain I wonât be so blasĂŠ.
âConnect the dots here, Dad, because Iâm lost.â White flag is waving. Help me out.
âBeing a parent is the hardest thing Iâve ever done. Itâs made me question my sanity more times than you can imagine,â he says dryly, and I know many of those times were because of me. âAnd there are times that you have to bite your tongue so hard youâre not sure if itâs going to be in one or two pieces when you open your mouth. Itâs exhausting and youâre constantly doubting yourself, wondering if youâre doing the right thing, saying the right thing, being the right thing.â
I look at him like heâs crazy and yet every single thing he says is gold. So damn true I canât argue a single point.
âBut 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 youâve ever had and wipe the slate clean. Thatâs how I felt watching you go to see your dad. Thatâs how I feel knowing you and Selena are going to adopt Zander. Thatâs 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? Iâve never been prouder.â
My eyes sting with tears I donât want to shed from the praise I never like to receive. Yet at the same time understand completely now that Iâm a father.
âIâve never been more proud to be your father than I am right now. That man,â he says, pointing over his shoulder to tell me heâs referring to my biological father, âdoesnât deserve to get to know the incredible person you are.â
The lump in my throat feels like it is the size of a football. âThank you.â I feel like a shy little kid, unworthy of the no-holds-barred love heâs given me my whole life when I havenât always been easy. Fuck. Who am I kidding? Iâve been a nightmare. And yet the quip thatâs 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.
âNo need to thank me, son.â We stare at each other for a moment, years of unspoken words traded in the span of silence. âNow . . . Iâm sure you didnât stop by to hear me blather on. What can I do for you?â
Just like him to lay down the law and then act like weâre not even in court.
âBelieve it or not, you gave me the answer anyway.â
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 canât wait to be that exact same man for Ace.
I STARTLE AWAKE.
Justinâs 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. Itâs 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 heâll 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 itâs almost as if Iâve seen a picture of what heâs going to look like before.
But the one thing I donât expect, donât even notice until it hits me like a lightning strike, is that the oppressive weight of dread and doom doesnât come. It doesnât 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, donât 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 Iâm 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 Iâm not sure how long this is going to last but for the first time in the six weeks since Aceâs birth, I feel optimistic, hopeful . . . like me.
So I sit in this mass of a bed with my sweet baby boy beside meâwho 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 heâs been my heartbeat throughout this mess. Apologize to him. Say words about events heâs never going to even know or remember but that will make me feel a little better.
Iâm transfixed by him, feeling like Iâm looking at him for the first time and in a sense I am, because heâs 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 canât take my eyes off him. Heâs so beautiful. Everything Iâve ever wanted. My ace in a loaded deck of cards.
The thought makes me smile. Memories colliding of that first encounter between Justin and meâjammed closets and first kisses and fear over how strong the chemistry was between the player and this good girlâwhen I first called him Ace.
A chance encounter that lead to this moment. Right here. Right now. Where so much love fills me that Iâm swamped by it. And Iâll take being swamped by love because Iâve 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 canât seem to get out of my head. Because thatâs 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 nightâs sleep. Some peace and quiet since he has been the one handling all of my noise. And yet I canât 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.
Itâs 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 thatâs 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.
âSelena.â His voice. That sexy, sleep-drugged voice that calls to me as he says my name and owns my soul.
âYeah. Itâs me.â 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 donât let go. Heâs already lost me once, and I love the knowledge heâs going to make damn sure Iâm 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 Iâm really here, and I do the only thing I can. I lean forward and take a sip from his lipsâthe taste of his kiss is seared into my soul, one Iâll never forgetâand 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 theyâve been missing has been found.
Once again.
PART 1
Eight months later
THE TURBULENCE JOLTS ME AWAKE.
Well, thatâs what Iâll tell the twenty or so people on the other side of the door. Because it sure as shit isnât the turbulence that wakes me up. No. Itâs Selenaâs hand sliding into my pants, fingernails tickling my nuts, and soft-as-fuck lips, kissing the underside of my jaw.
âSelena . . .â I sigh.
âBe quiet,â 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. âYour mom has Ace. You were asleep. And I was horny.â
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.
âHorny is good.â Her lips meet mine as she climbs astride me. Tongues and teeth. Greed and need. Wet against hard. Goddamn sheâs hot. Sexy fucking hot. âBut itâs going to take a whole helluva lot more to get me to tell you where we are going.â
The stutter in her movement tells me Iâm right, know her angle: confession by orgasm. Not a bad way to be tortured but my lips are sealed.
Maybe Iâll wait to tell her though. Iâve been to a lot of places with her, but the mile-high club isnât one of them.
Maybe itâs 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 sheâs game to change my mind.
Change away, Selena.
âGuess Iâll just have to take care of myself then.â
Donât you dare. My eyes say it but lips donât. Iâm 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 canât 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.
Sheâs playing me and I donât even have a ball in her court. Playing with fire when I want to be the only one striking the goddamn matchstick.
My stickâs 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. âYouâre playing with fire, sweetheart,â 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.
âDonât make a sound,â 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 Iâm digging in and taking whatâs mine. Her orgasm. Her moans. Her scratch marks. And every damn thing in between.
âBurn, baby, burn,â 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.
Itâs such a turn-on. Watching her own her sexuality. Getting herself off. But itâs too damn muchâthe need to have, to take, to claimâand 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 quicklyâlegs tensed, eyes locked on mine, and lips pulled tightâwith 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. âThatâs one hell of an effort,â I whisper, leaning down to press my lips to hers, âbut even your voodoo pussy isnât magic enough to get me to tell you.â
She laughs. Thatâs all she can do.
Goddamn, Iâm 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 weâre 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 boysâ faces when we deplaned on the tarmac. Their incessant chatter filled the air. My parentsâ laughter as they became caught up in Justinâs mysterious family vacation. The knowing glance between Becks and Justin, and Haddieâs 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 brothersâwho claim him simply because we unceremoniously claim themâbefore 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 heâd made with the boys. The slight smile on his lips and lift of his head to ask if itâs okay to ride with them instead of us was all I needed to know we made the right choice. That we didnât 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 âweâre almost there.â
And then thereâs 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 weâve been divided, or where weâre headed.
I glance over to Justin. I know itâs useless to ask again because heâs not going to give me an answer.
Live dangerously with me, Selena.
His words to me flicker through my memory, and I canât help but smile. I want to tell him Iâll live dangerously a million times over so long as he never gives up on me. But I know I donât have to worry about that happening. Heâs already proven he wonât. 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.
Weâve been through so much in the last year. Things I never thought weâd 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 Iâm not oblivious to the fact we survived when so many other couples wouldnât have.
How could we not have? Itâs 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 endsâthe perfect combination of Justinâs color and my textureâand my smile is automatic. Green eyes look up and steal my heart like they do every single time they meet mine. Just like his fatherâs.
He babbles something incoherently, chubby cheeks bulging and hands waving in emphasis. I may have no idea where we are going, but I know heâs 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.
âWeâve lost them,â I say, as alarm moves through me when I glance up from Ace and notice the vans arenât behind us.
âBecks knows where heâs going. Theyâre fine.â Itâs all he says. Nothing else. Iâd love to wrap my hands around that sexy neck of his and force him to tell me where we are and where heâs taking me.
âYou sure?â
âYep.â
Gah! I tried sex on the plane, sweet-talking, and just about anything else I could imagine but nope, the man wonât budge. I just hope wherever the hell we are, my clothes are suitable, because itâs 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.
âJustin!â 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 mouthâdimple winkingâbut itâs 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.
âDo you know this place?â he asks, head angled, hands reaching out to pull me against him.
âWhat? Justin! This is just . . .â Iâm shocked, curious, floored, and grateful as I look up at him with confusion in my eyes.
âI wanted to take a family vacation. We all deserve it after this year, donât you think?â he asks. I know him well enough to know heâs holding something back. What it is though, I donât know.
âThis place is incredible.â Iâm still in his arms but my head swivels from side to side to take it all in.
âAnd secluded,â he adds, causing my focus to turn back on him.
âI like secluded,â I murmur.
âAnd bathing suits are optional.â
The laugh comes freely. âIâm sure they are,â 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 hisâviolet to greenâand the words fall from my mouth in a whisper. âThis . . . this is from . . .â He nods his head, smile spreading, and waits as my words pause and mind recalls. âWhen I was sick. This is one of the memories you said you wanted to make with me.â Awe owns my voice as I try to comprehend that he did this for me.
âYes,â he whispers and brushes his lips against mine in the most tender of kisses. The kind that owns your soul and completes your heart. âItâs the first of many of those memories I plan to make come true for you. Weâre going to have to buy a lot more frames to put them in.â
âJustin . . .â Tears well in my eyes as I pull him closer, the moment so poignant Iâm at a loss for words.
âAnd 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.â
âRun around naked?â I say as I look back toward the car where Ace sleeps.
âAnd thatâs why our family is at a huge house about three miles down the road. Babysitters,â he says with a quirk of his eyebrows.
âYouâve thought of everything,â I murmur against his lips.
âMm-hmm,â he says as he presses a kiss to my nose.
âI canât wait to see you in that loincloth.â
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 weâve learned one thing in our marriage itâs 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 himâstubbled cheeks, emerald eyes, and dark hairâand 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
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Oooh boy, this got LONG (3,036 words), and the whumpiest part ainât even till towards the end, my bad
 Itâs Valentineâs 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 hadnât done much but stare at the white boxes, decorated with blue silk ribbons.Â
 âYou should be thankful,â Cain said, and Wren almost hit him, âThe last gift he gave me was my fucking collar.â He said bitterly.
 âI donât think any of this is going to be better than a collar.â He muttered.
 âHeâs going to be back any minute now, you might as well get it over with.â He hated to admit it but he knew he was right, he wasnât in the mood to deal with more than Nicholasâ attitude. Finally, he started opening the gifts, discarding the ribbons to the side, which Cain didnât hesitate to pick up and start fidgeting with. Wren could tell he was bitter that Nicholas hadnât left him anything, and he wouldâve felt bad for him if not for the fact that he already knew he didnât want a single one of these gifts.Â
 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 wasnât 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 heâd been given. Nicholas had gotten rid of his beloved red converse a long time ago, and barefoot kicks simply werenât cutting it.Â
 âHeâs disgustingâŚâ He muttered more to himself.
 âIt could be worse.â Cain said. âYouâve seen the kind of things other owners will make their pets wear. I think weâre lucky heâs not that bad.â
 âWould you stop making excuses for him?â He snapped at him. âI know you have some sick crush on him but I donât, and I donât give a damn how good he is compared to other owners.â 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 Valentineâs Day card. He didnât 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 subjectâs knowledge, they were all recent, and Wren swore he was going to be sick. Cain had picked up the card when heâd dropped it, but now he was holding it out to him.
 âYou might want to read thisâŚâ He said softly, and Wren snatched it from him. Nicholas hadnât written anything exceptionally creepy, not in the way Wren expected anyway. Instead heâd just left a simple, direct message.
 âBehave and you can keep the photos- and keep the people in them safe.â
 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.
 âThat fucking creep.â He muttered angrily. âIâm so-so fucking sick of him! What the fuck is he gonna do, he- he canât- he canât hurt them-!â
 âIf he got you, then he can get them.â Cain said, looking through the photos. âFuck- Zander looks like a wreck.â 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 heâd gotten it. Heâd 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 wouldnât be able to find them, and while he couldnât do much to keep the actual people safe, it did make him feel a little better.Â
 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 wasnât one of the more revealing looks, he still didnât 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 wasnât sure heâd ever get used to it at all.Â
 Heâd 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 didnât 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 wouldnât 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.Â
 âYou look beautiful, Love.â He said as he approached him, and Wren held still as he stood in front of him, reaching up to tilt his chin up.Â
 âThank you.â He said through gritted teeth, and Nicholas seemed more amused than anything.Â
 âYouâll behave for me, right?â He asked, and Wren nodded as he subtly pulled away from him.
 âOf course, sir.â He said, having to force himself back into the behavior heâd exhibited with Cain. Nicholas slipped his arm around his shoulders, and spared a glance at Cain.Â
 âWeâll be back later, darling.â He told him, and Wren could see the way his face fell. He didnât like it, but he couldnât help but feel slightly bad for him. He knew if they could trade places heâd gladly return him to Nicholasâ 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 shouldnât have been angry at him, he didnât have a say in it, he didnât want to be here, but Cain couldnât help it. He sat on Nicholasâ bed with his knees pulled up to his chest, struggling to blink back tears.Â
 Things werenât 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 wasnât so bad. It hadnât even been that long but he missed Nicholasâ affection, he missed being held by him and he missed the feeling of his hand carding through his hair. He wasnât 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.Â
 He reached up and angrily wiped at his eyes. He never once thought heâd be this hurt and jealous over Wren of all people. Heâd been jealous of Zander before, incredibly so, and really he knew that Nicholas was unnaturally, creepily interested in the boy since the beginning. He didnât think it would turn into this though, and he shouldâve felt bad for Wren, he shouldâve wanted him safe but he hardly cared about the circumstances, he just wanted him gone.Â
 He hated to admit it, but he wanted his master back.
 ***
 He had been walking on eggshells the entire time heâd been with Nicholas. It was easy through his meeting, if not a little embarrassing to kneel at his side like an obedient dog. Heâd 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 couldnât stand to be so pliant with him, typically heâd have acted out the first chance he got, but Nicholas hadnât really given him much reason to. Aside from tugging on his hair, heâd been almost nice to him. Wren couldnât stand it.Â
 He managed to last through the rest of the day, for once keeping his mouth shut, wearily watching Nicholasâ 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 heâd never done before in Wrenâs short time here.Â
 âWhatâs the point of all this?â He finally asked, failing to hide the irritation in his voice.Â
 âWhat do you mean, Love?â Nicholas asked him, as though this was all completely normal.
 âAll⌠all of this.â He said, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. âThe- The gifts, the keeping me at your side all day, and now this.â He said, gesturing to the table now. âWhatâs the catch, huh? What are you fucking doing?âÂ
 âIâm just treating my love the way I should.â He said with a laugh. âI must say, I didnât expect you to behave the entire time. I like it though, obedience suits you.â 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 heâd eaten that he couldnât help but eagerly go to dig in. He paused though, the fork halfway to his mouth before he looked at Nicholas, who didnât seem to find anything wrong.Â
 âYou try it first.â He said, holding the fork out to him.
 âWhy?â Nicholas asked, one eyebrow raised.
 âSo I know you arenât trying to fuck with me. How am I supposed to know whether or not you had them slip something into my food specifically?â He said seriously.Â
 âYouâre far too paranoid, but fine.â 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 couldnât help it though. Heâd 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.Â
 He sat back in his chair when he was done, though he couldnât bring himself to relax. He knew something was coming, he could feel it, he just didnât know what. Typically he tried to ignore Nicholas, but he found himself talking to him before he could remind himself to shut up.Â
 âYou really donât have something fucked up planned?â He asked.
 âI do not.â Nicholas said, that amused look on his face again. Wren wanted to hit him.Â
 âYou want something.â He said bluntly. âThe gifts, the card, the fucking photos. You want something and Iâm not going to fucking give it to you.â 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 couldâve drugged him, and he didnât.Â
 âAll I want from you is your obedience.â Nicholas told him. âYou were perfect for me today, thatâs all that I want from you. You just need to be my sweet, well behaved Love.â He said. âMy quiet, lovely pet.â Wren was quickly getting sick of this, that rage and defiance heâd buried all day finally bubbling up. He abruptly got to his feet, his hands slamming down on the table.
 âIâm not your fucking pet!â He snapped. âIâm not your pet, Iâm not your âLoveâ, Iâm sure as hell not your fucking doll! You canât fucking keep me like this!â
 âCanât I?â Nicholas smiled at him. âNobody 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.â He said, speaking calmly, which only further angered Wren.Â
 âI donât need somebody to rescue me, Iâll get out of this place myself if I fucking have to. You donât, and you never will own me.â He snarled.
 âAre you done?â Nicholas asked him. âYou know, I really donât like lying, Love.â 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. âAnd saying I donât own you is a terrible lie.â 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 didnât 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.Â
 âIs this what you wanted me to do to you?â He snarled, his hands wrapping around Wrenâs throat, the boy desperately grabbing and clawing at his wrists in an attempt to make him let go. âDo 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?â 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.Â
 âYou stupid, ungrateful bitch.â Nicholas muttered, looking down on him disdainfully. âIâve 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, arenât you?â He said, finally getting off him. Wren didnât move though, he laid there trying to catch his breath, holding his still bleeding hand close to his chest.
 Heâd been worried, waiting for something to happen all day, heâd 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 hadnât been allowed back in the bedroom the night before and when he saw Cain he looked rough, but that didnât 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.Â
 âItâs a shame you made me do this to you, Love.â 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.
 âI didnât make you do anythingâŚâ He muttered, glancing down at his bandaged hand. He couldnât believe that simply snapping at him got him all this, he hadnât 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 didnât 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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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, hereâs the first part of it.
 Cathal and Clement belong to @ihaventwritteninsolong, who was VERY encouraging of this idea.Â
 Three bastards hang out, itâs 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 wouldnât do anything too bad, nothing worse than Cain would do anyway, and while he couldnât stop it, he knew it would be better than anything heâd do on his own. Now though, Cain wasnât there to keep him in check, Cain wasnât there and Wren was too close to Nicholas for comfort and that fucker kept looking at Cathal, the same way heâd looked at Wren, and Zander wanted nothing more than to punch him in the face.Â
 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 Cainâs âno pets on the furniture ruleâ. 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 mustâve been exhausted and he felt awful that he had to be dragged here during that.Â
 Wren was closer to Nicholas, he hadnât been chained to an anchor in the floor like Zander was, his wrists werenât even restrained behind his back like Zanderâs 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 wasnât currently on Wren, it only meant he was focusing *too* much on Cathal, which certainly wasnât any better.Â
 âClement, could I see your puppy for a moment?â Nicholas asked, and Zander was already glaring at him. He hoped that just once Clementâs 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 shouldnât 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 Zanderâs heart, but Clement was insistent on this.
 âHe asked so nicely, darling, go see what he wants.â He told him, and Cathal seemed to understand that he wouldnât 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.Â
 Nicholas moved quickly, as soon as he was near he took hold of Cathalâs wrist, pulling him down onto his lap. He couldnât 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.
 âDonât look at me like that baby, all you have to do is sit nice and pretty for him.â Clement said, sounding almost annoyed with him. âNot that you could do much more right now, of course.â Cathal nodded tiredly, leaning against Nicholas when he pulled him closer.
 â âM sorryâŚâ 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 shouldâve kept his mouth shut, it never got him anywhere good, but he couldnât just let him put his hands on Cathal. Heâd 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.Â
 âAre you now?â Nicholas asked him, almost sounding amused. His hand came to rest on Cathalâs thigh, and Zander swore that if he couldâve, he wouldâve killed him then and there.Â
 âY-yes, I-Iâm- Iâm suh-sorryâŚâ 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 couldnât 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.Â
 âThatâs adorable.â 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.
 âW-wait-â He started, but Nicholas was quick to shush him.Â
 âJust relax dear, youâre fine.â He said gently, even though Cathal was whimpering, trembling in his arms. Zander couldnât stand to watch it, couldnât stand to just do nothing.
 âAre you just going to let that bastard do whatever the fuck he wants with him?!â He snapped at Clement, who looked irritated as soon as he opened his mouth.Â
 âDo you really think you get any say in what happens to him?â He asked, and Zander wanted nothing more than to beat the shit out of him once again.
 âIâve found itâs better to not bother wasting your time on that one.â Nicholas sighed. âHonestly, at this point Cain should just have him put down, heâs far more trouble than heâs worth.â
 âYeah well Iâd like to fucking have you put down motherfucker!â Zander snarled at him, and Nicholas rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to Cathal.Â
 âOh, but Iâm sure you wouldnât want that, would you puppy?â 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.
 âHe asked you a question, baby.â He said, a warning edge to his tone. âIt would be rude not to answer him.â
 âI-I⌠no-no I donât- I would-wouldnât want th-thatâŚâ He whimpered, and Nicholas smiled at him.
 âI thought not. Youâre just so much better than that stupid mutt over there, arenât you?â 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 didnât particularly mind. âYouâre just a sweet, pretty thing, not as fucking annoying as that one.â
 âOh youâre one to talk you fucking annoying son of a bitch.â Zander snapped at him, but it apparently wasnât enough to draw Nicholasâ 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 couldnât be quiet while Nicholas had his hands on Cathal.Â
 Nicholas didnât 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 wasnât any escape though, Nicholas made sure of that, but that didnât stop him from trying.
 âCome on puppy, even you should be able to just sit still.â Nicholas said sternly, and Cathal whined softly, squeezing his eyes shut as he gave into the fact that he just couldnât get away from him. He couldnât relax, but he could stop squirming at least, no matter how badly he didnât want to just accept this.Â
 âGet your fucking hands off him!â 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.Â
 âKeep the fuck away from him, mutt.â Clement warned him, but as Zander got more and more worked up he barely thought before snapping at him.
 âOh shut the fuck up you fucking bastard!â He snarled, almost desperately searching for a way to get his hands free. If he could do that much then the chain wouldnât 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.Â
 âYou must be feeling bold tonight if youâre going to speak to both of us that way.â Clement said, and Zander glared at him.
 âIâm not fucking scared of you- either of you, Iâll say whatever I fucking want.âÂ
 âThe puppy sure seems afraid though.â 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 Nicholasâ hand was doing more than just resting between his legs, and suddenly Zander really didnât care about the consequences of anything he did- more so than usual anyway.
 âStop fucking touching him!â He shouted, trying so hard to fight against the chain, trying so hard just to get to Nicholas. He didnât know what he would do if he could get free, but that didnât matter as much as the need to get Cathal away from him. âGet your hands off him, you canât just touch him however you fucking want you fucking disgusting bastard!â He was ready to scream himself hoarse if it meant Nicholas would just leave Cathal alone, Zander didnât 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.
 âW-wait- wait Iâm s-sorry, I-Iâll be g-good, I swear, Iâm-Iâm so s-sorry!â 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 didnât want Nicholas to hold him or touch him, he didnât have the energy for much of anything else right now. Nicholas wasnât impressed by his begging though, harshly kicking him off of him.
 âSit there and be quiet for a moment,â He said sternly, glaring at him before he stepped away, ignoring him to focus on Zander now. âI need to teach this fucking mutt a lesson.â
#whump#my writing#my oc's#other people's oc's#Zander#Wren#Nicholas#Cathal#Clement#creepy whump#creepy whumper#pet whump#dehumanization#noncon touching#sleep deprivation mentioned#yeah#okay this happened#i fucking hate nicholas but he's so much fun to write#number one bastard over here#yeah he probably likes cathal a bit#too much#zander shut your mouth challenge
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Hurt
Directly follows this piece (Iâm pretty sure anyway)
 Clement and Cathal belong to @ihaventwritteninsolongâ! I have gotten! Very attached to this collab it runs my life!!!
(am I tagging people in this? I donât know if people want to be tagged in side/collab stuff my brain is very empty)
 Summary: Poor Cathal
 ***
 âP-please- please j-just st-stop!â He begged, and it broke Zanderâs heart that he couldnât. He couldnât stop, not until Cathal couldnât take anymore, he couldnât even apologize, explain why he was doing this, explain that he didnât 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 couldnât have hurt more than the beating that heâd been putting him through. He didnât doubt heâd be covered in bruises tomorrow, and it made him guilty just to imagine it.Â
 âI-I⌠I c-canât t-take any-anymore, p-please just st-stopâŚâ He whimpered, and he wished that he could, wished he could at least tell him why he couldnât, but he didnât 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.
 âItâs only fair.â 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.Â
 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 couldnât handle much more, Zander knew it, but he didnât 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 wouldnât be hurting, but he wasnât so lucky, his fist connected with his jaw and he dropped him once again, almost desperate to stop touching him.Â
 This shouldâve been his limit, he didnât 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.
 âL-let-let g-go!â 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.Â
 Zander didnât like hurting people at the best of times, but at least when he was fighting they could fight back, they werenât 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 didnât even know why. Cathal certainly hadnât done anything wrong, and Zander had already taken his punishment for punching Clement- and he fucking wished he could do that again- so he didnât see the point of this.
 He had refused at first, of course. He had sworn at them and probably wouldâve hit Clement again if heâd been unrestrained at that point, he told them he couldnât 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 wouldnât apologize or explain otherwise theyâd get the same horrible treatment.
 He didnât really have a choice. He knew that whatever they did to them would be way worse than what he did to Cathal now, it wasnât 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 wouldnât 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 wasnât safe, Zander wasnât safe to be around, and they were locked up together again and Wren wasnât 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 shouldâve never trusted Zander. He shouldâve never thought he wouldnât hurt him. He shouldâve listened to Clement.
 âH-he was-was r-rightâŚâ 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 couldnât right now, not after what he did to him, not after he hurt him so bad.
 âHuhâŚ?â
 âHe⌠he w-was r-right⌠he suh-said th-that you w-would hurt-hurt me t-too, he w-was rightâŚâ He whimpered, tears spilling down his cheeks that he didnât even bother to wipe away. Of course he was right, he was always right, he shouldâve believed him from the beginning, he was stupid to ever think that anyone besides Clement would ever care about him.Â
 Zander shouldâve just been quiet. He shouldâve 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 couldnât imagine ever being angry at Cathal and heâd 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.Â
 âHeâs not fucking right.â 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. âThat fucking bastard isnât right about anything, he might have told you that but I didnât want to hurt you! I donât want to hurt anybody except for him!âÂ
 âH-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, heâs al-always r-right!â He cried, and Zander really shouldâve calmed down, he really shouldnât have raised his voice, but he was so upset he just couldnât stop himself.
 âHeâs wrong!â He snapped. âI didnât want to hurt you, I am so, so sorry for what I did, Cathal, I had to because if I didnât it would be so much worse! I would never want to hurt you, I only did so that he wouldnât fuck you up worse than I did- you and Wren!â He told him. âClement is a fucking asshole, heâs 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 heâs done!âÂ
 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, heâd put him through more than enough, he couldnât make things harder now. He couldnât 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.
 âI⌠Iâm sorry, Cathal.â He said, softer this time, trying to be gentle. âI didnât want to hurt you but⌠but I did. I canât change that, no matter what the reason was, I hurt you⌠Iâm sorry, and I want to help you but⌠I understand, that you donât want me to⌠at this point I really havenât done anything good for you, huhâŚ? Iâll⌠Iâll stay away, okay? I donât⌠want to make anything worseâŚâ 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.
 âYou⌠y-youâre n-not supposed to- to do th-thatâŚâ
 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.Â
 âY-youâre not- not s-supposed to t-tell m-me you h-hurt meâŚâ He said softly. âY-youâŚ. Youâre suh-supposed t-to p-pretend you did-didnât⌠o-or t-tell me th-that I- I deserved i-itâŚâ
 âIt did happen though.â He told him. âIt happened, and, fuck, Cathal, you didnât deserve that, you didnât deserve any of that.â 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 didnât react so strongly this time, not visibly anyway.
 âI- I always d-deserve i-it⌠it- itâs m-meant to m-make m-me b-betterâŚâ He whimpered, and Zander hoped that he didnât look as pissed off as he felt right now. âYou⌠you d-donât w-want m-me to be dif-differentâŚ?â He asked, voice cracking as he spoke.Â
 âNo, no of course not.â He assured him. âYou shouldnât⌠this canât make you âbetterâ, it just⌠hurts you. You donât⌠deserve to be hurt, Cathal, no matter what Clement tells you. Heâs wrong.â
 âB-but⌠he-he said th-that y-you would h-hurt m-me⌠a-and you- you d-didâŚâ He said, though this time he sounded much less sure of himself.
 âHe made me hurt you. Him, and Cain, they made me do that, it wouldâve been so, so much worse if I hadnâtâŚâ He frowned, looking away from him. âThatâs not an excuse⌠I still did it, but I didnât want to. He probably told you that knowing they were planning this, just to fuck around with you more.â 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.Â
 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 mustâve felt awful, heâd 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.Â
 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.Â
 âYou⌠youâre covered in blood, and⌠I wonât touch you more than necessary, but if youâd be okay with it I can help you clean upâŚâ He offered. Cathal hesitated, seemed to think it over, before nodding.
 âO-okayâŚ. Th-thatâs fineâŚâ 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 didnât deserve it wouldnât 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.Â
 He wished that he could just do something for him that wouldnât get him hurt.
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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 Beckettâs shoulder as they walk down the pathway. I shake my head, overwhelmed by the dayâs events, and head over to collect my excited but very tired boys for the long ride home.
CHAPTER 21
âCheck it out!â Dane throws a newspaper proof onto my desk as he walks by my office at Corporate Cares. âYour cleavage is going to be in the newspaper and weâre going to get some good press.â
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 Justinâs 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. âLovely! Oh, my God, thatâs embarrassing!â
âCâmon, Selena, you look hot. And the girls look great!â
I throw my pencil at him, laughing. âWhen does this go to print? Can we ask him to change the picture?â
âYeah, 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.â I roll my eyes, feeling the flush of embarrassment creep into my cheeks. âBesides, just think of it as taking one for the teamââ
âWhat?â
âItâs a really good article thatâs going to give us good press. Your boobs are going to get people to read it.â He laughs out loud. âHell, if I was into playing for your team, Iâd keep the picture for late night fun!â
âOh, shut up!â I shout at him, unable to keep the laughter from bubbling up.
âCâmon, Selenaâread it. Youâre gonna like what it says.â
âReally?â I raise an eyebrow as I skim through it, pleased with what I see so far.
âSeriously. It is.â He tells me taking a seat in the chair in front of my desk. âA lot of good info about The House and about corporate and the new facilities.â
âWhenâs it running?â
âThis Sunday, and the OC Register most likely will run then too, but I havenât seen their proof yet.â
âHmmm, not bad.â I set it down on the side of my desk where I can read it more thoroughly later without an audience.
âHow was your interview?â 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.
âWhat? 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 Iâm going to make her an offer. I think the boys will really take to her. Iâll need you to help me train her butââ The ringing of my cell phone interrupts me. I glance down to see who is calling. âItâs Teddy,â I tell him.
Dane rises from the chair and mouths heâll come back later as I answer the phone. âHey, Teddy!â
âSelena! Heard we got a good article from the LA Times. Great job!â
âYouâre breaking up on me, Teddy.â The phone line crackles and then sounds digitalized on his last words.
âI need to talk to youââ The call drops and the line goes dead.
I wait a second looking at my phone to ring again and when it doesnât, 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.
âHello?â
âSelena Thomas, please,â a monotone male voice says over the phone.
âThis is she.â
âHi, Ms. Thomas, this is Abel Baldwin.â
Oh, crap! What boy is it this time? âGood afternoon, Principal Baldwin. What can I do for you today?â
âWell, it seems to me that Aiden canât seem to keep his hands to himself lately. He was in yet another fight last period, Ms. Thomas.â Disdain fills his voice at the mention of having to deal with this again.
This is Aidenâs 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. âWhat happened?â
âNot quite sure. He wonât really talk with me about it.â And I really donât think you care, either.
âWhat about the other kid?â A question that I ask every time and always get a less than satisfactory answer to.
âThey said it was a simple misunderstanding.â
âThey?â Thereâs more than one? âI hope that they are in your office as well, Mr. Baldwin.â
He clears his throat. âNot exactly. They are in class andââ
âWhat?â I shout at him, perplexed at his obvious bias.
âAnd I think itâs better if you come and pick up Aidenââ
âHeâs suspended?â I ask through gritted teeth.
âNo, heâs not.â I can hear the irritation in his voice at having me question him. âIf youâd let me finish Ms. Thomasââ
âHeâs not suspended, but you want me to come get him while the other boys get to stay in class?â My rising frustration is more than evident in my voice. âSurely you can understand why Iâm upset at what seems to be favoritism here.â
 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.â When he senses that I am about to jump in during his pregnant pause, he continues. âIn addition, Aiden has blood on his clothing and seeing as itâs against school policy for him to walk around with it there, I think itâs in the schoolâs best interest to send him home for the afternoon.â
I sigh loudly, biting my tongue from telling this less-than-stellar principal just exactly what I think of him. âIâll be right there.â
***
Aiden has been silent all the way home from school. My shift at The House doesnât 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 havenât 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 heâs 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.
âI know you donât want to talk about it, buddy, but you have to tell me what happened.â 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.
âThey were just being jerks,â he grumbles.
âWho started it, Aiden?â When he doesnât respond, I prompt again. âAiden? Who threw the first punch?â
âI did.â 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.
âTalk to me, Aiden. Who was it and what did they do to make you want to hit them?â
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. âThey called me a liar,â he mumbles, his bottom lip quivering. âAshton Smitty and Grant Montgomery.â
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. âWhat did they say you were
lying about?â
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. âThey told me I lied about going to the track on Sunday. That I didnât really meet Justin or know him âŚâ
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 didnât. 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 thatâs obviously not the most responsible way to react. âOh, Aiden ⌠Iâm sorry, buddy. Sorry they didnât 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.â
He reluctantly nods his head. âI know, butââ
âAiden,â I scold sternly, âthere are no buts here ⌠you canât use your fists to fix problems.â
âI know, but I tried to tell Ms. McAdams when they started pushing and shoving and she wouldnât listen to me.â
I can see another tear threaten to fall from his thick lashes. âWell then, Iâm going to make an appointment to speak with her and Baldwin about this.â His head whips up and his eyes are wide open in fear. âIâm not going to make it worse, Aiden. Iâm 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. Iâll make sure that the other kids donât know, Aiden, but I need to make sure that it doesnât happen again.â
He nods his head, a noncommittal grunt. âAm I in trouble?â 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 thatâs known so much hurt and abandonment in its short time. I hold him to me, trying to reassure him and let him know that itâs okay. That getting in trouble doesnât mean a severe beating and food withheld for days, as heâs known in the past. âYeah, bud, you are ⌠but I think that icky feeling you have might just be the worst of it.â I feel his shoulders sag in relief as a plan forms in my head.
âI knew you couldnât stay away from me for long.â Justinâs 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 Aidenâs self-confidence and self-image at school into motion.
âIâm not calling for me, Justin.â I keep my voice all business for I know that he can distract me so easily, and I want him to know Iâm serious.
âOoooh, I love it when youâre all business and straight to the point. Itâs such a turn on, Selena.â
âWhatever!â I say but I canât help the slow smile that creeps over my face.
âNo, seriously, whatâs up, sweetheart?â
Why do I love when he calls me that? Why does it make me feel like Iâm special to him?
âItâs Aiden,â I tell him filling in the details as he listens attentively despite the various voices I hear in the background. âIs it possible that I can get some kind of signed picture of you or something he can bring to school tomorrow to prove that heâs met you and actually was there on Sunday?â
Justin laughs loudly, and Iâm confused at his reaction. âThatâs only going to get his teeth knocked in, Selena. Thatâs something only a geek would do ⌠those brats would eat him alive.â
âOh ⌠um ⌠I had no idea.â
âYou wouldnât,â Justin chuckles, slightly offending me.
âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
âAnd please donât go have a conference with the teacher or principal,â he groans. âInevitably someone will see you and then it will only make things harder for Aiden.â
âI wasnâtââ
âOh yes, you were,â he kids me, and Iâm shocked he has me pegged so well. âI 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 âinâ 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.â
Iâm 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 donât respond to him, he laughs again at me. âYou were like that, werenât you?â
âMaybe,â I answer slowly, heat flushing my cheeks despite the fact that he canât see me.
âItâs nothing to be embarrassed about, Selena ⌠itâs just different for kids like Aiden.â
And like you were. âWhat do you suggest I do then since I obviously donât understand?â I try to hide the hurt in my voice at the idea that I donât know whatâs best when it comes to Aiden.
âAre you on shift there tomorrow?â
âYeah ⌠what does that have to do with anything?â When he remains silent, I prompt him. âJustin?â
âGive me a second to think,â he snips at me and I blanche at his tone. I hear someone call his name in the background. Of
course itâs a female. âWhat time do you leave for school in the morning?â
âAt eight. Why?â
âIâm tied up right now,â he says innocently, but my mind drifts to braided velvet ropes and cold counters. I jolt from my thoughts, chastising myself at their direction. âOkay. Iâll have something for him at The House before you leave.â
âWhat are youââ
âRelax, control freak,â he sighs, âI have something in mind. I just have to move some things around to make it happen.â
âOh, butââ I protest wanting to know what heâs bringing.
âSelena,â he interrupts, âthis is the part where you let someone else handle the details. All you have to say is âThank you, Justin. I owe you one,â and hang up.â
I pause momentarily, knowing he is right but wanting to know anyway. âThank you Justin,â I acquiesce.
âAnd?â 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. âAnd I owe you one.â
âAnd you can bet Iâll collect on it.â His seductive laugh fills the phone until I hear the dial tone on the other end.
CHAPTER 22
Damn it! I knew I shouldnât have said anything to Aiden. I shouldnât have told him that I had something to fix what had happened yesterday. I shouldnât have depended on someone like Justin to come through when I am so used to relying on myself. He hasnât even answered my texts or calls this morning.
I glance at the clock and another minute has ticked by. Itâs seven fifty-two and I need to get the boys into action in order to get them to school on time. Mikeâs already left to take Shane and Connor to high school. Bailey has already come and left to take Zander to his therapistâs appointment and Kyle to the eye doctor before dropping him back off at school. Iâm 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 itâs seven fifty-three now. Shit! âSelena, are you going to tell me yet what it is yet?â Aiden begs again with hope in his eyes.
âNot yet, Aiden. Itâs a surprise.â 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 isnât a promise of getting laid at the end of the deal then heâs not going to follow through. I pound a fist on the table, the silverware on it rattling, knowing Iâm overreacting after how much he did for the boys in taking them to the track. But at the same time, heâs letting down one of my boys and therefore heâs letting me down too.
, my little helper, leaves the kitchen to go see what they are up to.
When after a few minutes I donât hear the usual scurry of feet, I sigh in frustration and head out toward the hallway. âRicky, Scooter ⌠Câmon, guys, its time to go!â 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.
âSo, Aiden,â Justin says and I can see his subtle appraisal of the bruises on Aidenâs sweet little face, âare you ready for school today?â
âWhat?â he asks bemused before looking back at me, a mix of anticipation and realization on his face. I look back at Justin, wondering what heâs brought to help the situation.
Justin cocks his head to the side, realizing that no one gets what heâs doing here. âIâm taking you guys to school,â 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 Justinâs. He steps forward and kneels down in front of Aiden. âHey, buddy, what do you say that we go show those bullies that theyâre wrong and they can take a hike?â Aidenâs eyes widen, moisture pooling at the corners as he nods excitedly. âGo get your backpacks then,â Justin instructs them as he stands back up.
My eyes follow his ascent, and it is in this momentâhis dark features haloed by the bright light of the sun, when heâs come to stand up for children that no one else cares to stand up for anymoreâthat I know Iâve fallen for Justin. That he has penetrated my heartâs 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. âSelena?â
I shake my head, leaving my thoughts silent. Pushing them down as far theyâll go so they stay hidden. âSorry,â I shake my head and smile at him as the three boys come barreling back down the hallway toward the front door.
âI guess theyâre ready,â 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. Iâm 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. Iâm 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 heâd love to floor the gas pedal and make a grand entrance, but he refrains. He pulls up right in front of the schoolâs 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 driverâs 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 Justinâs 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, âDo you see the bullies, buddy?â 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. âWell, champ, itâs time to go prove a point.â
We move as a unit toward the two boys, their eyes widening with each step. Iâm 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.
âHey, guys!â 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, âHey, Aid, are these the boys that didnât believe your were my buddy?â
I wish I had a camera to take a picture of the complete reverence on Aidenâs face as he looks up toward Justin. His eyes are alive with disbelief, and I can see the pride brimming in them. âYeah âŚâ Aidenâs voice comes out in a croak. The crowd around us has grown.
âOh, man,â Justin says to Aston and Grant, âYou shouldâve 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,â he shakes his head, âand boy, were they the biggest help to me! We had so much fun!â
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. âToo bad you guys arenât friends of his,â Justin said, shaking his head, âor maybe you couldâve gone too!â
The school bell buzzes around us and yet the color still has not returned to Ashton and Grantâs 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. âBye, boys! Make sure you say âhiâ to my man Aiden here when you see him in class!â They just nod their heads at Principal Baldwin, forcing themselves to take their eyes off of Justin so that they donât 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.
âBoys, you too,â 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, âOne moment please, sir. I just need to say bye to my boys.â I didnât think it was possible for the grins to get wider on the boysâ faces, but they do. Justin turns to talk to the boys and then turns back in second thought to
address Principal Baldwin again. âNext time sir, itâd be best to remember that Aiden is telling the truth. Itâs the bullies that need to be sent home, not good kids like Aiden here. He may not be perfect, but just because he doesnât come from a traditional home, doesnât mean that heâs at fault.â He holds his gaze and then turns his back on the wide-eyed principal, effectively dismissing him. The flustered look on Principal Baldwinâs face is priceless.
Justin kneels down, bringing Ricky, Aiden, and Scooter around in front of him. He raises his eyebrows and grins at them, âI donât think theyâll be bugging you anymore, Aiden.â He reaches out and ruffles his hair. âIn fact, I donât think anyone will be bugging any of you any more. If so, you let me know, okay?â
All three nod eagerly as Justin rises. âTime to get to class,â 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, âThanks, Justin,â before disappearing inside the building.
When we turn to go back to the car, I catch a look of accomplishment and pride on Justinâs face. I have a feeling mine looks the same way.
***
âWhy did you agree to come here if you donât like coffee?â
Against my better judgment, Iâve agreed to go get some coffee with Justin after leaving the school. Iâm still floored at Justinâs actions and feel I at least owe him my time in return for what heâs just done. I can still see the look on Aidenâs face in my head. I donât think I will ever forget it.
âI may not like the coffee part, but Starbucks has some damn good food for you that is oh-so-bad for you,â 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.
âYou know that after what you did today, youâve most likely reached idol status with the boys now.â
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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Driven chapter 6
Justin turns around to see what Iâm 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.
âHi there,â I hear Justin say gently.
Zander stops and just stares. I fear that something about Justinâs 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 itâs real. Iâm waiting for the fallout to startâthe screaming, the fighting, and the terror to fill his eyes.
âZander. Itâs okay, baby,â 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, âYou need to leave now!â 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.
âHey, buddy,â he soothes, âHow ya doinâ? You okay?â
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.
âZander is it?â Haunted eyes meet Justinâs, 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. âSo Zander, do you like racing?â
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, âNice to meet you, Zander. My name is Justin.â
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 Zanderâs 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.
âIâll tell you what, Zander, if Selena here agrees to the date with me that sheâs trying to get out of,â Justin says never breaking eye contact with him, âthen Iâll take you as my personal guest to the track the next time we test. Howâs that?â
A ghost of a smile returns to Zanderâs 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 didnât listen to me. All because heâs using one of my kids to blackmail me into going out with him. I could kiss him right now! Well, I guess Iâve already done that, but I could do it again. At this point, Iâll do anything Justin asks me to do just to see the smile on Zanderâs face again.
Justin squeezes Zanderâs hand again and shakes it. âItâs a deal then, buddy.â He releases his hand and leans in closer, âI promise,â he whispers.
Zanderâs lips curve into a smile. Small dimples form in his cheeks. Dimples I didnât even know he had because Iâve never seen him smile. He slowly withdraws his hand from Justinâs, 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.
âZander, sweetie?â He moves his eyes from Justinâs and looks over to me. âJustin 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?â I ask softly, my voice petting him gently as I would a scared animal.
Zanderâs eyes glance rapidly back and forth over the both of us before Justin interrupts, âHey, buddy, Iâm 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 Iâve missed when weâre done?â
Zander nods slightly, locking eyes with Justin once again gauging if heâs sincere or not. He must believe him because he clenches his stuffed doggy tighter and heads back to the couch. Shaneâs 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 itâs not every day that a celebrity is in our house. Justin notices the pairs of eyes on him and gives them a heartfelt smile. âDonât worry,â he says to them shaking his head in understanding of their awestruck looks, âyou can all come too when I take Zander to the track.â
A large cacophony of whoops ring out as excitement electrifies the boys. âOkay, okay,â I placate. âYou guys got what you wanted, please turn around and pay attention to the game so that Justin and I can discuss some matters.â
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 weekâs time Iâve 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.
âThank you.â I whisper. Itâs only two words, but the look on his face tells me that he understands how much is behind them.
He nods, âItâs the least I can do,â his voice gruff when he responds. âWe all have our stories.â 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.
âYou got that right,â 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.
âJustin!â 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. âIâm off in ten minutes,â I say and he looks at me as if he is not following my train of thought, so I continue, âI owe you a date, so letâs go on a date.â
He shakes his head as if trying to make sure I said the words he heard. âOhâ okay,â he stumbles, and I love the fact that Iâve taken him by surprise. He starts to rise, the corners of his lips curving. âI donât have any reservations orââ
âWho cares?â I motion with my hands, âIâm not high maintenance. Simplicity is rewarding. Iâm good with a burger or anything really.â I watch his eyes widen in disbelief. âBesides, you paid enough for the date, who needs to drop a bunch of money on food that we eat anyway?â
He stares at me for a beat, and I sense that he is trying to figure out if Iâm being serious or not. When I just look at him like heâs being dense, he continues. âYou are incredible. You know that right?â 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. âIâll be right back.â
I return in moments to find Mike staring awestruck, shaking Justinâs hand in the kitchen. Justin turns to me when he hears me, âYou ready?â he asks.
I hold up my finger indicating one second. âIâm outta here,â 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 Iâm 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 Iâm 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, Iâve caught him off guard so that he canât do any extensive planning. Extensive planning might equal overstated indulgences and premeditated seduction. Two things that I definitely do not need. Itâs hard enough to resist him as it is.
âWeâll take my car,â 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.
âNice ride,â I grant him, although I try not to show any interest. Iâm sure heâs used to women fawning all over him and his car. Not me. Let the games begin, I think.
âThanks.â He opens the passenger door for me, and I slide onto the black leather, admiring the crafted interior and complete opulence. âI thought it was beautiful day to drive with the top down,â he says rounding the back of the car and sliding in next to me. âI just didnât realize I was also going to be taking you out in it, too. An added bonus!â He admits, giving me a megawatt grin as he puts on his sunglasses.
I canât help but give him a smile back as his is infectious. âWhatever happened to good olâ fashioned pickup trucks?â 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 âFirestoneâ 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 âincognitoâ look, but all I can think is he looks sexy as hell. All smoldering, edgy bad boy wrapped up in a drool-worthy body. Iâm 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.
âDonât worry, I have a truck too,â he chuckles before the car roars to life, the vibration of the engine reverberating through my body and sending a thrill through me. âHold on!â 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 shouldnât be surprised at his skill maneuvering the car for this is how he makes his living, but I am. I shouldnât 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 thatâs 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. Itâs a catchy little pop tune that I have heard on Shaneâs 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.
âYou make me feel so right, even if its so wrong, I wanna scream out loud, boy I just bite my tongue,â 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 meâsinging out loud, letting looseâbut 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, âIt feels so good, but youâre so bad for me!â Justin hears the words and laughs good-naturedly at them.
I continue singing the song, with less gusto since the carâs purring engine is quieter now that we are on Fourth Street. I can see Justin gauging the streetâs parking availability and my curiosity is peaked because weâve not discussed where weâre 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. âYou okay to sit tight for a sec?â He asks, flashing me an earnest grin that affects me more than I care to admit.
âSure,â 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.
âIâll be right back!â 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. âHey, Selena?â
âYeah, Ace?â
âI told you you wouldnât be able to resist me.â 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 canât 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 heâs going and what his intentions are. He exudes virility, evokes desire, and commands attention all with a single look from his stunning eyes. Heâs 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 Justinâs 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, âWow!â 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 canât 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 Justinâs cell phone sitting in the console startles me. I glance down to see the name âTawnyâ flashing across the screen. A pang of irritation flickers in me at a girlâs 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.
âWeâre all set,â 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 phoneâs missed-call message on the screen and thumbs to it. An enigmatic look crosses his face as he sees the callerâs 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. Iâm 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 weâre pulling into the view ourselves.
Justin pulls up to a spot in the nearly empty parking lot. Iâm surprised there are so few people here considering the weather is unusually warm for this time of year. âWeâre here,â 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 âdateâ 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 doesnât 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.
âCome,â 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 Iâve followed him. The rough calluses on his palms against my smooth skin are a welcome feeling. Almost like being pinched to make sure Iâm 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 Justinâs intensity? Over his proximity?
When we get about ten feet from the wet sand, Justin finally speaks. âHow about right here?â
âSure, although I wouldâve brought my swim suit if Iâd known we were coming to the beach,â 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, âWho said anything about suits? Iâm all for skinny dipping.â
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 heâs 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. âRelax, Selena. Iâm not going to eat you alive. You said you wanted casual, so Iâm giving you casual. I thought we could take advantage of the unusually warm weather,â he says releasing my chin and handing me the brown bag so that he can lay a large Pendleton blanket on the sand. âBesides, when I get you naked, itâs 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.â 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. Thatâs definitely not a good sign, seeing as how if he keeps it up Iâll 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. âTake a seat, Selena. I promise, I donât bite,â he smirks.
âWeâll see about that,â 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. âItâs beautiful out here. Iâm so glad the cloud cover stayed away today.â
âMmm-hmm,â he murmurs as he reaches into the brown bag from Fourth Street. âAre you hungry?â 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. âVoila,â he announces. âA very sophisticated dinner of salami, provolone cheese, French bread, and some wine.â 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, heâs the one begging me for a date, although Iâm still not sure why. âWell, itâs not the Ritz,â I say dryly, rolling my eyes, âbut itâll have to do,â 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. âTo simplicity!â he toasts good-humoredly.
âTo simplicity,â I agree, tapping his cup and taking a sip of the sweet, flavorful wine. âWow, a girl could get used to this,â I admit. When he eyes me with doubt, I continue, âWhat more could I ask for? Sun, sand, foodââ
âA handsome date?â 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. Iâve forgotten how hungry I am.
âThank you,â I tell him, as I take the food from him. âFor the food, for the donation, for ZanderâŚâ
âWhatâs the story there?â
I relay the gist of the story to him, his face remaining impassive at the details. âAnd today, with you, is the first time heâs purposely interacted with anybody, so thank you. Iâm more grateful than you will ever know,â I conclude, looking down sheepishly, a blush spreading across my cheeks as Iâm 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. âThis is really good!â
He nods in agreement with me. âIâve been going to that deli forever. Itâs definitely better and more my speed than caviar,â he shrugs unapologetically. âSo why Corporate Cares?â he asks, his mouth parting slightly as he watches me savor my food.
âSo many reasons,â I admit, finishing my bite. âThe 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 âŚâ I sigh, not having enough words to express the feelings I have. âThere are so many things that I canât even begin to explain.â
âYou are very passionate about it. I admire you for that.â His tone is earnest and sincere.
âThank you,â I reply, taking another sip of wine, meeting his eye. âYou were quite impressive yourself today. Almost as if you knew what to do despite me telling you to leave,â I admit sheepishly. âYou were good with Zander.â
âNah,â he denies grabbing another piece of cheese, folding it in the bread, âIâm not good with kids at all. Thatâs why Iâm never having them,â his statement determined and his expression blank.
Iâm taken aback by his comment. âThatâs a bold statement for someone so young. Iâm sure at some point youâll change your mind.â I reply, my eyes narrowing as I watch him, wishing I still had the option to make a choice like his.
âAbsolutely not,â 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. âNot really,â he says with what I sense is a resigned sadness in his voice. âIâm 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,â he shrugs nonchalantly, belying how affected he is by the hidden truth behind his words. âIt happens daily. Kids fucked up and abandoned because of their motherâs selfish choices. Iâd never put a child in that kind of position,â he shakes his head emphatically, still refusing to meet my eyes, his gaze following the surfer riding the wave a ways out. âRegardless, Iâd probably fuck them up as much as I was as a kid.â 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.
âWhat do you mean? I donât understand,â 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. âMy past is basic public knowledge,â he states, my furrowed brow showing my confusion. âFame makes people dig out ugly truths.â
âSorry,â I say raising my eyebrows, âI donât make it a habit of researching my dates.â 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. âYou really should, Selena,â his steely voice warns. âYou just never know whoâs dangerous. Whoâs going to hurt you when you least expect it.â
Iâm taken aback by his sudden comment. Is he warning me about him? Warning me away from him? Iâm confused. Pursue me and then push me away? This is the second time today heâs 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 heâs 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 tameâif they had a chance.
And heâs sitting here. With me. Itâs mind-boggling, and Iâm 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. âSo, how âbout them Lakers?â 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. âA little heavy?â
I nod, pursing my lips, as I grab for another piece of cheese. Time for a change in topic. âI know itâs 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?â
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