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jenonctcity · 4 years

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My Ending - Part 1

Differences – Na Jaemin

Part of the Bad Boy Series.

Badboy!Au, Streetracer!Au

Disclaimer: This is going to be a very dark themed story, please do not read if you are triggered easily by the mentioned subjects in the warnings.

I recommend reading Jeno’s story first so that it’s easier for you to understand the timeline and plot of this story.

Warnings: Minor Character Death, Mention of Suicide Attempts, Mental Health Issues (Depression and Anxiety), Mentions of Drug Use/Overdose, Mention of Drug Addiction Effecting Baby After Birth.

Word Count: 5k

Jaemin was used to living his life in black and white. His whole life had always been a mix of muggy grey, never having experienced enough positive emotion for a long enough period that flecks of colour could mix into his greyscale life. Of course he had happy moments, excited moments, moments of enthusiasm, and moments of hope. He wasn’t a robot. But he found that it was the sad moments, fearful moments, moments of anxiety, and moments of anger that outweighed all other emotions and lead his world to darken in colour. It all started when he was born. Born to a drug addict mother, and a father who had long since ran away from the responsibilities of raising a child. He had been born a month early with his body uncontrollably shaking, his body craving the heroin that his mother had been shooting when she was carrying him. He had been taken from her immediately and his grandmother on his fathers’ side had stepped up to take on the responsibility of raising the precious, underdeveloped baby.

The first few years of Jaemin’s life had been rough. He was significantly smaller than most of the children his age, and he didn’t start walking until he was two years old, almost a year later than he should have, and he had such a low immune system that he was constantly falling ill and being taken in and out of hospital. It was a tough challenge for his grandmother, but she adored her little miracle and did everything she could to keep him alive and happy. They’d hoped that Jaemin’s growth would catch up with him by the time he started school, but their hopes didn’t pan out, and he was still much smaller than all of the other children. On top of that, he struggled to keep up with the level of learning and was picked on by the other children for his tiny frame, lack of knowledge, and also, lack of parents. His teenage years weren’t much better. Even though he soon caught up with everybody in the height and education department, it wasn’t the bullying that bothered him anymore, it was the emotional scars that sat inside of his head like a poisonous fog, taunting him like those kids had through all of his school years.

He couldn’t understand why his mother had done what she’d done, and why she didn’t love him in the way a mother should love her son. He had seen his mother so little that he could count each encounter on one of his hands. Which is why as he walked back into the apartment, wearing his suit and holding the funeral programme that had a picture of his mother on the front, he felt numb. He let out a soft sigh as he sat down on the sofa beside Jeno, chucking the papers onto the coffee table in front of him and running a hand through his blond hair as he tried to gather his thoughts. Jeno didn’t physically react to Jaemin’s arrival apart from letting a soft smile tug at the corners of his lips. After a silence of five minutes with Jaemin just started absentmindedly into thin air, Jeno spoke up.

“How did it go?” Jeno’s voice was soft, his head still facing towards the quiet television as reruns of spongebob played.

“How did you know it was me?” Jaemin glanced at his blind friend, raising an eyebrow and trying not to put too much amusement in his tone, not feeling like he should be joking around after being to his mother’s funeral.

“Haechan is in his room, and Renjun is out picking Jiyeon up. I heard the door open and couldn’t hear Jiyeon shouting for one of her uncles so I just did the mystery solving and figured out it would be you.” He shrugged, a weak laugh vibrating off of his chest before he sighed. “You didn’t answer my question Jaem.” Jaemin sighed once more, wiping his sweaty palms on his thighs and resting his head back against the sofa.

“It was fine…” He couldn’t quite pinpoint the feelings rushing around inside of him. He felt anger, sadness, a dash of regret, but mostly relief. Anger because he was angry that she never made a proper effort with him, just brushing him aside and acting as if the drugs she owned were her precious child rather than the actual baby she’d made and given birth to. Sadness because he could never make amends with her and have the bond that most mothers and sons have. Regret because he knew once he hit the age of sixteen and was able to make sensible decisions for himself, he could have been the one to make the effort. And relief because he knew he didn’t have to spend nights worrying if the money he had sent his mother was being used to buy drugs instead of keeping food in her mouth. Relief because she couldn’t hurt herself anymore. Relief because the reason his depression was gone. Not that she took his mental health problems with her to the grave, but it gave Jaemin a horribly sick satisfaction that he could only diagnose as revenge. Which made him want to weep at how his brain could even think of something as horrid at that. Jaemin felt awful that he was thankful for Jeno’s blindness, so that he couldn’t see the tears that dribbled down his cheeks, silent sobs for the mother he spent so many nights crying over as a child, wishing for the mother he never had.

“Are you sure? It’s okay not to be okay.” Jaemin wanted to squeeze Jeno for how sweet the boy was being, but he just let out a huff of a laugh and wiped his tears away. He glanced down at his hands, gulping back the lump in his throat as his mind drifted to the nervous breakdown that Jeno had experienced only a week prior. Jeno had hit his breaking point and had expressed how much he worries about Jaemin, because of Jaemin’s previous failed suicide attempts that had clearly chipped away at Jeno’s mental stability. Jaemin felt the pit in his stomach he usually got when he was at his lowest mentally, but he didn’t want to pile more worries onto Jeno’s plate, so he faked a smile, despite Jeno’s lack of sight, it was more for himself than anyone else. Besides, it had been over two years since Jaemin had last attempted to take his own life, and he felt like he’d moved on from that stage of his life. He hoped.

“I’m fine, you haven’t got to worry about me.”

“Okay, because my kid is going to need its Uncle Nana to be a happy bastard not a moody bastard.” Jeno let out an amused laugh, trying to lighten the tone. It worked, the thought of Jeno��s unborn child bringing a big smile to his face.

“Uncle Nana is going to be its favourite per-” Jaemin was cut off by the sound of his phone ringing in his pocket. He fished it out of his blazer pocket and answered it quickly when he saw the caller ID. “Hello?”

“Hello, is this Mr Na?” An unfamiliar male voice sounded through the phone, the voice calm and deep.

“It is.”

“I’m just calling to inform you that your grandmother has had a fall, the paramedics are with her now and the carer who was there when it happened is still there. I’ve been told that there hasn’t been any extensive damage, but I thought it would be best to let you know, as you’re the emergency contact.” Jaemin felt his world almost crumble in on him for a moment, the words about her not having much damage cooled him down slightly, but the panicked fire burning in his stomach was still very much alight.

“Okay, thank you for letting me know.” He hung up the call and gulped down the fireball of anxiety blazing in his throat. He was on his feet before he knew it, digging his keys out of his pocket. “My grandma fell over; I’ll be back soon.” He mumbled to Jeno, his mind foggy so he didn’t even hear Jeno’s gasp and quick ‘Is she okay!?’ before he was out of the door, sprinting down the stairs, and practically jumping into his car. He didn’t even look at the speed he was driving at because he didn’t care, all he cared about was seeing his grandmother and confirming the man on the phones statement that she was okay. He stopped out the front of her house and ran to the door, letting himself in with shaky hands and looking at the paramedics as they packed up their stuff in the entranceway.

“I’m her grandson, is she okay?!” His words came out so fast that the paramedic he’d aimed the question at almost didn’t understand what he’d said. “Is she?!” He repeated, a sheen of sweat on his forehead from his panic.

“She is, son,” The male paramedic addressed Jaemin, giving him a calming smile and pat on the arm. “We’ve given her some pain medication, and she’ll have a large bruise on her hip, but she didn’t fall hard enough to break anything. She’s just gone to sleep; I would leave it a little while before you disturb her though.” Jaemin nodded along, taking in all of the information with a small sigh of relief.

“Okay, thank you so much for taking care of her.” They bid their goodbyes and left, shutting the door behind them as Jaemin made his way into the kitchen. He stopped dead in his tracks in the doorway, his eyes trained on you stood by the kitchen sink with your back to him, wearing what looked like hospital scrubs over the tops of a long-sleeved floral top. Your shoulders were shaking gently as you let out all of your emotions, having assumed you were now alone in the house seeing as you heard the front door shut. Jaemin cleared his throat, causing you to squeal in surprise and turn around fast, a spatula that you’d grabbed out of the washing up bowl now in your hand being held up as a weapon.

“Who are you?!” Your eyes were wide, and if it wasn’t so comical, Jaemin would have been absolutely speechless from how stunning he found your features. He had an amused smile on his face as he quickly held his hands up in surrender.

“My name is Jaemin, I’m the grandson! Please don’t…spatula me.” You sighed in relief, lowering the spatula onto the drying rack. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I apologise.” He stepped forward, giving you a small bow. You bowed back and smiled politely, trying to ignore the heat that flooded your cheeks from the embarrassing encounter, also he was gorgeous, and it took you by surprise. You suddenly remembered your wet cheeks, using the back of your hand to wipe your tears away. “Are you okay?”

“Apology accepted, I’m (Y/N), I’m fine…it was just, really…hard to watch you know?” You nodded, sending him a weak smile with a quick nod. He tilted his head and poked his tongue into his cheek in thought.

“You’re my grandma’s carer?” He took a seat at the dining table, fiddling with the tablemat as he kept his eyes on you. The more you looked at him, the more you recognised him from the photos that were dotted around the house. He looked a lot different though, more mature and with more tattoos. One of the tattoos that you noticed were the roman numerals vertically written on his neck, just underneath his left ear, you were curious as to what the number was and to what it meant. He looked handsome in his suit, and you wondered what the occasion was as to why he was wearing such formal wear.

“I am, I haven’t seen you here before…she talks about you a lot.”

“All good things I hope.” He chuckled, giving you a cheeky wink. You felt the wink inside of your stomach and giggled nervously.

“She adores you!” You sat opposite him at the table, brushing some of your hair behind your ear as you thought about all the stories, she’d told you over the past few months that you’d been one of her carers. “I’m surprised I haven’t bumped into you before; she says you visit her a lot.” You furrowed your eyebrows, not being able to understand why you hadn’t seen him in person before.

“I usually visit in the evening times, but I have met a few of the other carers who stop by.” You were only one of the carers from the company who stopped by her house daily. Jaemin was incredibly thankful to the people who took care of his grandma when he couldn’t. He had moved out of her house on his own accord just after Jeno was arrested. He knew he was getting too much of a burden on his grandma, coming home late, throwing up on the carpet when he was too drunk and scaring her when he would admit to being high. And for good reason, considering how he was born addicted to heroin. But despite how much shit Jaemin had gone through in his life, he’d promised his grandmother that he’d never consume heroin. He didn’t want his grandma to be stressed over him, so when the opportunity came about to move in with his friends, he snatched it up as soon as he could. A year after moving out, his grandma stopped being able to get around as much as she could before, and the simplest of tasks got too much for her. So Jaemin took it upon him to hire a carer company to come in throughout the day and cook her meals, wash her clothes, and keep her house tidy. He felt bad that he couldn’t do it himself, but with his dodgy job, he either didn’t have the time, or didn’t want anything bad to happen which could be traced back to his grandma’s house. He dealt with a lot of dangerous people in illegal street racing, and he couldn’t risk his grandmother’s life, that’s why his visits were scarce and in the evening times when it was less likely he was being tracked by anyone. “I must say, you’re definitely the beautiful one.” He winked shamelessly, causing your face to flush. You had to stop yourself from letting out a whine at the compliment, not used to being complimented like that by men you’d only just met.

“Thank you.” A smile tugged at your lips, your hands coming to rest on your hot cheeks. Jaemin smirked and bit his bottom lip, his eyes flicking over your face subtly as he checked you out. You felt your phone ding in your pocket, signifying that you had finished your time at that house and had to move onto the next. “Oh, I have to get going. It was nice meeting you.” You jumped up from the table, grabbing your jacket from the coat rack by the front door and slipping it on. Jaemin followed you and dug his hands into his pockets.

“Likewise.” He opened the door for you and motioned for you to go through first. “I should get going anyway.” He had a race tonight and he needed to get himself ready for it, mentally and physically. He locked the door behind you both and walked down the path to his car. You paused, your mouth popping open as you laid eyes on his expensive looking car.

“Woah…is that yours?!” You almost squeaked, your eyes flicking from the Navy-Blue Mustang Shelby GT350, back to Jaemin. He looked very proud, his posture straightening out and a wide smile on his face.

“Yep!”

“Woooow…” You looked over at your own car, it was super cheap, and you were probably the fifth owner of the run-down looking thing. “It a lot nicer than mine.” You laughed awkwardly, getting out your key to unlock the door, you put your key in the hole and jiggled it around, trying desperately to unlock the old piece of crap. The door almost flew open after you’d succeeded in opening it, and Jaemin smiled kindly at you. “Anyway, see ya around Jaemin!” You hopped into your car, not giving him a chance to reply as you started the rickety engine and slowly drove away. Jaemin got in his own car and let out a soft sigh as he thought back on your slightly odd exchange. He didn’t know you, but he knew he wanted to know you. And he had the perfect plan.

---

Jaemin probably should have felt bad that he was only visiting his grandma twice as much as he normally would because he was hoping and praying to run into you again. His grandma had sensed something was up, and he didn’t even have to admit to her, she already knew that he had the hots for you. Many of his attempts of being at her house when you were there were successful, and he’d helped you in your daily tasks of helping around the house until you heard the familiar sound of your phone alerting you that it was time to leave. He hated that sound. You saw Jaemin as a happy, positive soul, who would do anything to make you laugh. It worked, he often had you in absolute stitches with his comical stories about his friends and the pranks they played on each other. He found out a lot about your life, like how you came from a large family, the oldest of four children and you still lived with your parents due to your job not paying a huge amount of money. He was curious to know why you didn’t bother going to university, instead jumping straight into work life. When he’d asked, you’d simply told him that you just couldn’t wait to start your life, not wanting to spend anymore time in education. It was when you expressed your want to get married and have kids within the next ten years that had Jaemin’s head confirming what his heart was thinking. He had a huge crush on you. It was after you’d found out that the numbers written on his neck signified the date of his grandmothers’ birth, that you realised you had a big fat crush on him too. Jaemin always wore long sleeves shirts, or hoodies, so you didn’t know if he had anymore tattoos on his body apart from the neck tattoo and the rose tattoo on the back of his right hand. But you were curious to find out.

With a stomach full of butterflies, a whole month after your first encounter, Jaemin had finally asked you out. So that’s why you found yourself sat opposite the beautiful boy in a café at 1pm on your day off. His hair was now a light pink, and you thought it suited his face and personality perfectly. He had on a long-sleeved white shirt, with black skinny jeans and a leather jacket. It completing his aesthetic off flawlessly. Also you’d gotten to ride in his fancy car, which was exciting in its own, since you’d never been in a car that expensive before. Jaemin sipped at his black coffee, his eyes meeting your own and causing a tender smile to tug at his lips as he continued on with his story.

“And Jiyeon, Renjun’s daughter, threatened to pee on the floor if she didn’t get a cookie. You should have seen Chenle’s face, it was a comedy gold!” He laughed at the memory, picking at the muffin between you both. He had told you about all of his friends, so you were kind of keeping up with the names. He talked about Chenle a lot.

“Did she get the cookie?” You needed to know how the story finished, your eyes sparkling as you found out more and more about the mysterious boy opposite you. So far all you knew was that his grandmother raised him because his mother was a drug abuser, she died recently, and he lived with the boys he saw as brothers, which included the kids and girlfriends of said brothers. He’d also dished out the gossip on Haechan’s current girlfriend being Jeno’s ex-girlfriend, and Jeno now being blind with a baby on the way. Quite the scandal.

“Of course she did! Uncle Nana gave it to her.” He smiled widely and raised his eyebrows. You titled your head in confusion.

“Uncle Nana?” You asked, curiosity in your tone about this mysterious Uncle Nana.

“That’s me, my last name is Na, so I got the nickname Nana when I was growing up. Nana is easier to say than Jaemin when you’re a toddler.” He popped some of the muffin into his mouth and licked his lips.

“Cute!” Your eyebrows raised and you gazed at him with adoration in your eyes.

“You think so?” He winked, loving all the attention you bestowed upon him, even if cute wasn’t really the image he was going for.

“Mhm!” You sipped at your lemonade and gazed out of the window, seeing Jaemin’s car parked where you’d both left it and turning back to Jaemin. “You must have a good job to afford a car that…wow!” You didn’t miss the way Jaemin’s eyes avoided your gaze, leading you to believe there was more to him owning the car than just a normal job.

“I…okay I’m going to be transparent with you.” He sat up in his chair, leaning in closer to you across the table so that he could lower his voice, audible for only you to hear. “I race cars. That’s not my only car, I have a garage with four other cars in it and I race them to earn my living.” He kept his eyes locked with yours, trying to determine your reaction simply from the look in your eyes. Jaemin liked to think he was good at reading people. He’d been doing it his whole life, having experienced plenty of different emotions from people throughout his life. He couldn’t see anything other than question in your eyes as your narrowed them, trying to wrap your head around it.

“Oh!...is it…legal?” You whispered, running your hand up and down your glass, the condensation on the cold glass smearing and forming little droplets of water under the ministrations of your fingertips. He shook his head, an awkward smile marring his beautiful features.

“No, it’s not. If you get caught racing, you get fined. If you get caught racing more than once, you get your vehicle seized and fined. Then its three strikes and you’re out. Prison time is the punishment for getting caught a third time.” His words had your mouth opening in shock, a little gasp leaving your throat.

“Have you ever been caught?” You didn’t really know how to feel about his confession. You hadn’t ever thought about your opinions on illegal street racing, and it wasn’t fair for you to make a quick judgement about something you knew nothing about, despite it being illegal. It wasn’t really any of your business, so you didn’t care too much. The way you saw it, if you didn’t do anything illegal yourself, then you weren’t in the wrong.

“Nope, I have come close, but no, I’m pretty good at outrunning the police.” He smirked, clearly proud of himself as he sipped at his coffee. “If you aren’t comfortable with it, then we haven’t got to talk about it. I can keep it quiet from you, or we could…go our separate ways after I take you home. It’s your decision.” He sounded slightly sad as he spoke the last words, his head lowering slightly to watch your fingers playing with your glass.

“Oh, no! I…er…like you a lot, and I want to see you again, obviously only if you want to!” Your cheeks felt like they were about to burst into flames, your heart suddenly making you aware of its existence in your chest.

“I want to.” His voice was soft, and his hand snaked across the table to detach your hand from your glass. He wound your fingers together and a pink tinge that resembled the pink rose tattoo on the back of his hand flared up on his cheeks.

“Cool!” You blurted out and then used your free hand to face palm, cringing at your random word vomit.

“Very cool.” Jaemin laughed with you, grabbing your hand to pull it away from your face. “I guess we’re both just super cool!” You both visibly cringed at that and sniggered.

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The next week was a complete rush for you. But a good rush, a rush you wouldn’t change. You had work five days out of seven, and as soon as your shift had finished, Jaemin would pick you up from your house, and whisk you away on a date. So far, you’d eaten in 7 different restaurants and had enjoyed every single minute of your time with your new boyfriend. That’s right, boyfriend. The two of you made it official on date number three after you both realised that you were basically perfect for each other. The night had ended in a sweet kiss and a long cuddle on your doorstep, which your siblings had roasted you for when you’d walked through the door, because obviously they’d been spying on your from the window as soon as they heard the loud purr of Jaemin’s car stop outside. And on your two days off, Jaemin had spent the both of days entertaining you and impressing you with his date spots. One of your favourite moments was when Jaemin had asked you if you trusted him whilst he was driving. You didn’t even hesitate to give him a quick nod and utter ‘yes’. You felt such a rush inside of you when the car speed up so fast that you felt yourself being pushed into your seat. You also felt a rush at how quickly you’d put your trust in a man you had only known for a month, a man who had admitted to doing illegal things. Jaemin had kept glancing at you, his heart blooming with an unfamiliar feeling when he saw the look of pure joy etched on your angelic face as you found elation in his passion. Of course he kept his driving on the safer side in order not to scare you, and even though he was confident in his driving abilities, keeping you safe was his new priority.

Day number 8 of your date streak found you sitting in Jaemin’s bedroom, legs folded underneath you as you sat opposite Jaemin with a glass of wine in your hand, one of his large hoodies covering up your cocktail dress to keep you warm. You’d been to a bar with him hours earlier, and you’d both drank a little bit too much. So his invite for you to join him in his bedroom had quickly been accepted, and there you sat, sipping at your wine as you laughed at a corny joke he’d cracked.

“Jaemiiiin,” You whined endearingly, leaning your forehead on his shoulder and hiccupping. “I want to know more about you, we should play never have I ever!” Your tipsy brain had you thinking that was the best idea ever, and Jaemin seemed to think the same thing, as he jumped at the opportunity, causing you to sit back again and grin at him.

“Okay! Me first.” He cleared his throat and took a quick mouthful of beer. “Okay, never have I ever…tried oysters.” You sniggered at his choice of words, furrowing your eyebrows at him and not raising your glass.

“I haven’t either! Okay, never have I ever…smoked a cigarette.” He rolled his eyes and raised his bottle of beer to his lips, gulping down a mouthful before pausing to rack his brain for things he hadn’t ever done.

“Never have I ever worn high heels!”

“Oh come on that’s not fair!” You squeal but didn’t hesitate to take a big swig of your wine. “Fine, I’m turning the heat up. Never have I ever had sex anywhere other than on a bed.” You were actually taken aback when he made no effort to drink, a smirk growing on his face. “You haven’t?!” You raised your eyebrows, placing your glass of wine on his bedside table and shuffling closer to him on your knees. He shook his head, biting his bottom lip as he placed his hands gently on your hips, guiding you into his lap.

“You’re surprised.” He laughed softly at his observation, his eyes flicking down to your lips before he leaned in and placed a lingering, hot kiss to your parted lips.

“You’re so hot and kind, I just thought you’d be…kind of experienced in that department.” His lips nipped at your own lips, drawing a silkey kiss between you with his tongue coming out to trace the lining on your bottom lip. “Your turn.” You whispered, sitting all of your weight onto his crotch, confident with how he pulled you closer to his own, warm body. He took a deep breath, a deep laugh vibrating from his chest as he kissed down to your jaw, leaving hot kisses on your smooth skin. His next confession had your heart pounding in adoration and your mouth popping open in surprise.

“Never have I ever…had sex.”

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So this is the start to the end main parts of the series! What are we thinking is going to happen? Let me know! (Please be nice lol) <3

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windscattered · 3 years

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Previously

Orlando tensed, ready for sudden movements. Slowly, he looked to Daniel, to measure his reaction to figure out the next move.

Daniel looked horrified. His face had fallen pale and his posture was like a cornered animal’s. Just when Orlando thought he’d faint, his eyes slowly looked down and glazed over, his shoulders drooping in utter defeat.

Orlando decided to try and salvage this. “I am not sure what you’re thinking, but I’m here to just pick up some stuff…” Orlando hesitated. Should he use Daniel’s real name? “... he donated to charity,” Orlando said, putting on his just-a-regular-citizen voice. “Yesterday he donated a coffee maker and a microwave, today it’s some clothes he doesn’t wear anymore.”

The woman’s eyes snapped to Orlando and he immediately understood why Daniel looked so terrified. Her gaze felt like a hawk zeroing in on a mouse. “And who are you?”

Good thing Orlando had learned to mask his emotions from a young age. “My name is Basil. I work for Christine’s Shelter for the Homeless.”

The woman raised her eyebrows. “Mm. And you were here yesterday as well?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The woman smiled, sickeningly sweet and hiding a dangerous edge. “Interesting. And why did you feel the need to shut my security cameras off while you were here?”

Orlando put a confused look on his face. “The cameras? I… I’m afraid I have no idea what that’s about.”

She narrowed her eyes and stared at Orlando for a long time. “Leave,” she said coldly. “Or I’ll call the police on you.”

“Okay, sheesh,” Orlando said, pretending to be surprised and only slightly peeved. “No need to get so testy.” He left the house and let the brief disguise drop.

This was bad. If the woman was anything like Orlando knew abusive people to be, she would tighten her grip on Daniel now that she’s witnessed an escape attempt. Orlando did manage to play it off as something else, but he was fairly sure she hadn’t bought it. Only an idiot would have looked at the scene right at the front door and thought it was nothing but illicit. Orlando’s stomach twisted as he thought how the woman would treat Daniel from now on… He felt awful for having to leave Daniel there for one more day, but it was either that or risk getting arrested.

Orlando racked his brain for a new plan. Now he not only had to sneak Daniel out of the house, he had to make sure the woman wouldn’t track them down and find him again. Of course, it was surprisingly easy to disappear into the lower levels and be almost completely untracked. Orlando had an advantage in this, since he’s been trained since childhood to track other people while avoiding to be tracked himself.

The hardest part, however, would be getting Daniel and Fang out of the house… The only way Orlando saw how to do that was to wait until the woman was at work and then try again, while hoping it’d work this time.

Orlando sighed and rubbed his forehead.

As soon as Orlando got home, he texted Daniel, asking if he was okay and reassuring him he was willing to try again if he needed to. He didn’t get an answer in a few days.

On the third day, he finally got a response.

Daniel: Hey sorry for that

Orlando scrambled to reply as fast as he could.

Me: Don’t worry about it! Are you okay?

Daniel: This isnt delano tho sorry

Daniel: This is the guy with the mohawk do you remember me

Me: Oh, yes, I do

Daniel: My names adriano btw

Daniel: Anyway delanos… hes not fine

Daniel: Delanos like… idk how to describe it its like he gave up on escaping its like hes just going to accept that this is his life now

Daniel: Its scary as fuck dude

Daniel: Mom took his phone away like hes a teenager thats so fucking messed up

Daniel: I stole his phone back but he insisted i have it just in case

Daniel: Im fucking terrified moms literally holding him as a prisoner here

Daniel: I never knew mom could do something like this

Daniel: We cant stay here

Daniel: You gotta help us

The texts popped up one after another in rapid succession. Orlando waited until he was done.

Me: Okay. Let me make some things clear. Does Delano still want out?

Daniel: Idk man he’s so defeated

Daniel: Im going to drag him out tho

Daniel: My moms a psycho this place is killing him

Me: Alright. I’ll drag him out too, if you want me to

Daniel: Why is that even a question of course i want you to get us the fuck out of here

Daniel: Theres no way i can trust mom again now that ive seen what shes really like

Me: Of course. And you want to come along too?

Daniel: Yeah

Orlando frowned. Hiding two people and a dog might be tricky. But he would at least try.

Me: I’ll do what I can

Daniel: Delano said you need to talk to lillith

Orlando frowned. Lillith? The founder of the Sex Workers’ Union? The Queen of the Low Levels? Wait, why was Orlando surprised that Daniel knew her? Daniel was a sex worker, of course he would belong in the Union.

Contacting Lillith would be a good call, though. She was notoriously protective of sex workers. If they were lucky, she could help with this situation…

Me: I’ll do that. Thank you

Me: I’ll contact you when I have a plan

Me: Try to hold on until then

Daniel: Thank you

Daniel: Well do our best

Orlando had worked for Lillith a few times before, but he didn’t know her personally. He had to wonder if she would respond well to him asking a favour, as he wasn’t a part of the union. Figuring he had to at least try, he sent Lillith a text.

Me: Hello, Miss Lillith. I am contacting you today on behalf of one of your workers. He is currently held against his will by an abusive person and he needs help getting out. He and I both would appreciate your help.

Lillith took a short time to reply.

Miss Lilly: What’s the worker’s name? Do you have an address?

Me: I believe his name is Delano

Orlando also sent the address to her.

Miss Lilly: Jesus fucking christ

Miss Lilly: He just had to go piss of that bitch out of all people

Me: What do you mean?

Miss Lilly: It’s going to be bitch and a half busting him out, is what I mean

Miss Lilly: I’ve heard rumours that this woman has no chill

Orlando thought back when she had looked at him when he had been at her house. He could believe that.

Me: I am not surprised

Miss Lilly: Yeah. I need more info on the sitch. Can I text Delano? Does he have his phone?

Me: His phone is secured, but he doesn’t have access to it. You can text the number and get an answer, though

Miss Lilly: Wdym? Who has his phone?

Me: We can trust him. He’s also stuck in the house with Delano. We need to get him out as well

Miss Lilly: So there’s two people we need to get out?

Me: Two people and a dog

Miss Lilly: Hmm. It’s going to be tricky, but possible

Miss Lilly: How much stuff are they going to have?

Me: I got most of Delano’s stuff out, so only a little of his, but most of Adriano’s. I believe he has a guitar that he’s going to want to take along.

Me: Delano also has a broken arm at the moment

Miss Lilly: God damn

Miss Lilly: Okay. No panic. I have a plan

***

And so, a few days later, Orlando was headed back to the house, with four sex workers (Ana, Sara, Jessie and Rosa, as Orlando learned) sent by Lillith. “To help carry stuff,” one of them had explained. Orlando hadn’t complained.

“How do we know she won’t appear to interrupt us again?” Orlando asked, while the group were in an elevator, on their way to the upper levels.

“Lils got it,” Jessie said.

“If Lils says she got it, she got it,” Sara agreed.

“We trust Lils,” Rosa said with a nod.

Orlando nodded slowly. He supposed he should trust her too, then.

The group arrived at the house and put on masks that would scramble their faces on any cameras that caught them.

“Let’s go, girls,” Ana said with a grin. “And boy, I guess.”

The group marched to the door and rang the doorbell before Orlando could protest.

“Relax, we’re wearing masks,” Jessie said, waving her hand.

“Yes, but I’d still like to avoid getting caught on security cameras,” Orlando muttered as Rosa hammered the doorbell.

The door opened and Adriano was behind it, looking irritated. “For fuck’s sake, I heard you the fir…” he trailed off as Rosa and Ana screamed.

“Oh my gawd, you’re cuuute!”

Adriano flushed up to his ears, immediately matching his hair. He looked like he was panicking as his eyes landed on Orlando. “Be… BG?”

“It’s me,” Orlando said with a sheepish smile that Adriano didn’t even see. “I got some extra help with me this time.”

“Alright…” Adriano let the group in.

“Jesus christ, this place is fancy as shit,” Sara said as they stepped in.

“God daaaamn,” Ana breathed. “I wouldn’t mind switching places with Delano.”

“Why did you bring sex workers here?” Adriano whispered to Orlando.

“They’re here to help,” Orlando whispered back. “Be respectful.”

Daniel appeared and the girls screamed. “DELANOOOO!”

Daniel looked like a deer in the headlights as the girls rushed him, all talking over each other.

“Where have you been?”

“I missed youuu!”

“When did you get a sugar daddy?”

“Can I have him once you’re done with him?”

Adriano stared at this unfolding with utter disbelief.

Orlando clapped his hands to gain everyone’s attention. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but we’re on a schedule here.”

“Agreed,” Jessie said. “Let’s get a move on. We can talk while walking. Where’s your stuff?”

So the group dispersed to gather the luggage they needed, spiced with chaotic chattering from the girls.

“Can we steal something?”

“We should steal something!”

“I really don’t care if you do,” Adriano said.

“Oh shit, really?!” Rosa said, eyes wide. “I was just joking!”

“Go fucking nuts,” Adriano said, “cause as much grief to her as you can.”

The girls exchanged looks. “Let’s steal her shampoo!” They ran off. Adriano followed, for some reason.

“Jesus christ,” Delano sighed.

“Everything okay?” Orlando asked.

“Yeah,” Delano said. “Just overwhelmed. I haven’t even thought about sex work for the whole time I’ve been here. It all feels so distant now.”

Orlando nodded slowly. “Are you going to continue doing it once you’re free?”

Delano was quiet for a moment. Just as he drew a breath to answer, the girls and Adriano returned.

“Thanks for letting us rob your mom, sweetie,” Sara said, pinching Adriano’s cheek. “We don’t have to buy skincare for a few weeks now.”

Adriano was blushing again. “No problem.”

As the groups got ready to leave again, Orlando noticed that Delano freezed. “What’s wrong?”

Delano shifted his weight. “I… I just have a bad feeling, is all.”

Orlando nodded again. Last time they had gotten this far, their plan had failed at this same step.

“Don’t worry,” Jessie grinned, giving him a thumbs-up. “Lils said she’s making sure we’ll get to the lower levels safely.”

“Yeah, trust Lils,” Ana said.

Delano looked down at Fang on her leash, who was looking up at him, tail wagging. Finally, Delano nodded and looked back up at the group. “Let’s go.”

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cxgan · 6 years

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Kinktober 2018 Day 2: Begging & Watersports

SHIP: Cegan [Carl Grimes/Negan]

SUMMARY: FILTH. PURE UNADULTERATED FILTH. Companion to my fic Nicotine [modern!au, Carl and Negan in the kink community if you haven’t read it]. Set two years into their relationship. Carl is nasty and likes nasty things done to him and Negan is always happy to oblige.

WARNINGS: watersports (if you don’t know what that is please urban dictionary it and then proceed with caution), age gap (both over 18 tho)

W/C: 1743

A/N: @God I’m so sorry I have strayed so far from your light. loljk I’m not. I originally wasn’t going to put this in the cegan tag because I don’t want y’all to think I’m gross but then I decided ah fuck it. So just deal with my filth and if you don’t like it don’t read it. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

"Beg for it," Negan's voice echoed off the walls of the bathroom similar to the way it bounced between the spaces of Carl's ribs and filled up his lungs, suffocating him.

The Dominant had always had the ability to make Carl blush - it was something he was really quite proud of much to the boy's dismay... But it had been awhile since he had been able to reduce him to this much of a humiliated mess and the submissive could just tell that the older male was eating it right up. His ever present smug as hell grin was enough evidence of that. He supposed the older male had the right to be a little cocky in that moment - two years together had made it so Carl was very difficult to embarrass after hearing almost every piece of dirty talk Negan had in the book. He still flushed bright red at times and stammered when he didn't know what to say back, but this time... this time he truly was embarrassed instead of just putting on a cute show. Because this was different. This was dirty. And he wanted it.

And god damn it Negan was going to make him beg for it.

"Daddy, please, please don't make me say it," he grit out in a whine, ripping his gaze away from the other man when he couldn't handle looking into that arrogant expression anymore. He was too ashamed at the entire situation. "I already said I wanted to do it," he damn near whispered out. "Why do I have to beg?" The fact that he was naked, on his knees in the shower, bright red and achingly hard for what was to come was horrible enough.

"'Cause maybe I like hearin' that pretty little voice say all the nasty, filthy shit that I know goes on in that noggin'a yours." To emphasize his point, he leaned down and literally knocked on the top of Carl's head which made the boy shoot a daring glare up at him. "Oh boy, wouldn't look at me like that if I were you. Not in your position. I'll fuckin' make ya drink it if ya piss me off enough. Heh. Get it. Piss me off?" Carl would have shot him another glare for the stupid pun but was a little more scared of the ramifications so he kept his expressions to himself, opting to count the lines in the stone beneath his knees as a more solid distraction. "Now do what I fuckin' said."

"Please," Carl started, voice raw and wavering just a little bit. For a moment he almost considered pleading with the man again to not say it but he knew he had to if he was going to get what he wanted. He stared at the thick leather boots before him and gnawed at the inside of his bottom lip. "Give me..." he continued, nails digging into his flesh where his hands rested on his thighs. "Your... p-piss..." the last word was stuttered out, his voice barely above a whisper as he clenched his eyes shut. This was so humiliating. Wrong on so many levels. So why was his dick harder than ever where it rested flush up against his belly? He had been humiliated a lot over the last few years in the older male's company, but this... this was on a whole new level.

"Sorry, what? Couldn't quite hear ya there, sugar. You're gonna hafta speak up. And fuckin' look at me when you're talkin' - you know damn well I hate that shit."

Carl whined in frustration - a low, pathetic sound that forced it's way up his throat without warning. He steadied his breathing and tried to focus his vocal cords into properly working this time. He cleared his throat and finally opened his eyes to look up at his Dominant, trying his best not to glare at the smirk he was met with. "Please piss on me, Daddy," he said softly. It was louder this time, a little more sure of himself but no less embarrassed by what he wanted.

If it was possible for Negan's grin to grow it definitely did. Carl tried to hold back his whimper at the sound of the older man undoing his belt and jeans. "See, was that so hard, baby doll? All ya had to do was admit how much of a dirty fuckin slut you are and Daddy'll give ya what ya need." He tugged his half hard cock out of his underwear and the boy instinctively licked his lips, wiggling his ass in anticipation. Negan chuckled, stroking himself a few times just to tease the kid. "Gonna be a lot. I've been savin' it for ya." And if it was possible for Carl to turn a darker shade of red, he did.

"Here it comes," Negan grunted, positioning himself over the boy. The hot, yellowed stream of piss fell from the man's cock head like a god damn waterfall, and Carl whimpered when it struck his chest. It streamed down his torso, coating him in the wet warmth and his hand twitched against his thigh. Negan seemed to notice, though, and grunted out a quick, "Go on and touch it, boy." And almost immediately he wrapped said hand around his aching (and now dripping) cock.

Negan had been right, there was... a lot. So much that Carl was surprised it was still coming (not that he was complaining). It was so wrong. So dirty and horrible on so many levels but that just turned Carl on more. He pumped himself eagerly as the stream continued to splash against his chest and trickle downward, covering his hand and cock in the process before dripping off of him and sliding down the drain.

The humiliation of it all was overwhelming. He had never felt more filthy in his entire life than he did in that moment, jerking off like a fucking teenager while his Dominant relieved himself all over him. "Yeah, you love this shit, don'tcha, kid? Fuckin' nasty. My dirty little slut, playin' with his teeny cock while Daddy pisses all over him." Carl moaned at his words, and without much thought or warning his head fell forward and the stream was directed toward the top of his head, soaking into his hair and dripping down his face when he finally looked back up. "Oh, Jesus Christ!" Negan exclaimed, clearly shocked that the boy had gone so far. Carl was a bit shocked he did it himself but as the liquid hit him in the face (his eyes now closed, of course) and the scent and feeling took over him he almost came and had to rip his hand away from his dick to stop it. He bucked his hips up and whined at the loss of contact. "You really are a fuckin' dirty whore, god damn, baby. You're fuckin' disgusting - hard as hell and moaning like a little bitch cause I'm pissin' on your face - fuck." The stream faltered for a second and Negan grunted, causing the boy to open his eyes and look up at him curiously. "I ain't done. Open your mouth."

Carl gave him a sharp look followed by one of hesitancy. Yeah, he was gross, but he didn't know if he was that gross. Negan chuckled. "You ain't gotta swallow it - not yet at least - but c'mon, you just made me piss on your face. Ya can't tell me you don't wanna taste it." Maybe it was curiosity that had him slowly opening his mouth, maybe it was the fact he just trusted the man above him with everything he was. Regardless of what compelled him to do it, he closed off his throat and braced himself for what was to come.

The stream that started up was slower than before, and the moment his mouth was filled up he spat it out rather harshly, coughing and gagging. He didn't know if it was the taste or the action that he thought was more vile but whatever the case he spit it out as soon as he could. Negan, the useless prick, laughed above him. "Aw, c'mon, sugar, it ain’t that bad." Carl glared at him and wiped his mouth off. "You'll get used to it." He was met with a sultry wink that had his stomach flip flopping at the prospect.

The older man finished himself off on Carl's chest and the boy resumed his furious pumping of his own cock. Exhaling in relief, Negan tucked himself back in his jeans and Carl was a bit disappointed he didn't have his dick to look at anymore. "Can I...?" Carl managed to get out, slumping to the side and pressing his head into the stone wall of the shower. He was literally dripping with urine, that fact both making him a little nauseous and spurring him on even more.

Negan ignored him and walked in place a few times, his boots squelching. "Fuck, this is disgusting." He bent over and with practiced hands undid his boots in under a minute, stepping out of them and out of the shower itself to protect his socked feet. "Cum on those," he gestured toward the boots he left next to the boy. "And then clean the fuck out of them. First with your mouth, then with whatever. I don't give a fuck. If you do a good enough job there might be a reward. And then take a fuckin' shower." Carl was nodding along like a damn robot, less focused on what he was instructed to do and more on the fact he had been given permission to cum. On Negan's boots, nonetheless. And then lick them clean. Was he in heaven? Probably.

"Be a good boy, and then come find me when you're done. Alright?"

He was a bit sad the man wasn't staying for the show but at this point he wanted him to leave so he could get on with it. "Yes, Daddy," he grit out, grip tightening around his cock.

The shower door slowly closed but it opened one last time last minute. "And Carl?" The boy looked up, eyes glossy and biting his bottom lip. "I always knew you were secretly a piss slut." And with that he shut the door, leaving the boy to almost immediately start cumming and yelping when he almost missed his target.

TAGGING: NO ONE OMFG I am not subjecting my readership to this filth if they do not want to read it. k thx.

#cegan #narl #carl x negan #negan x carl #im the worst thanks #nicotine;#kinktober 2018 #HEY DAD DONT READ THIS ONE

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yes-dal456 · 8 years

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Autism And Police: My Plan To Protect My Driving-Age Son (And Yours)

The nightmare ends the same way every time: I drive up on my house and see police cars with lights on. Policemen with guns drawn. I see a young man in a red hoodie lying face down. Bleeding. Shot. I approach the person on the ground ― cops yell to stop, but I push past them. I roll him over and pull off the hood... and it’s RJ, my teenaged son with autism.

Parents of a child on the autism spectrum have similar dreams. And nightmares.

Since my RJ was was diagnosed with autism in 2000 at age 3, our journey on the “autism express,” as we call it, has been filled with high-highs, low-lows and countless small wins.

On diagnosis day, or “the Never Day,” a pediatrician rattled off an exhaustive, hope-starved laundry list of things he would “never” do: develop language, attend a mainstream school, have meaningful friendships, play team sports, drive, self-advocate, live on his own or say “I love you” unprompted. It was a devastating and suffocating day.

When RJ was a toddler through elementary school, I hovered over him like a relentless momma bear trying to keep him safe and understood. He had very little language until he was almost 10, so I was always on alert because he couldn’t articulate what happened to him when I was not around.

Eventually, he developed language, thank God. But he was still so misunderstood by the world around him. I was there to navigate that world. I was a “snow plow mom,” meaning I just plowed away all of RJ’s life obstacles. (Autism moms, I often like to half-joke, can be gangsta! We are our kids’ most loyal and ferocious advocates, so we have to be thick-skinned and often blunt.)

Our family ― or, Team RJ ― has fought diligently to help him overcome obstacles and check many of those “nevers” off of that list! I get weepy when I think about how far he has come. He speaks, has some friends, got a job and now he is actually driving! He got his license at 19 after being demoralized by failing the test several times. But, when I tell you this kid wanted to drive so badly, I am not even exaggerating one bit. He kept proclaiming, “That doctor said I would never drive. So, I have to make her wrong, Mom. She was wrong about a lot of things, right?”

RJ is amazing behind the wheel. He is relaxed and focused and determined. His fantastic brain came equipped with a built in GPS. RJ driving is a huge, huge win.

All his life, we have been preparing RJ to live independently, to turn him over to the world. Now I am petrified to do just that.

What happens when he gets pulled over by police? Will he get nervous or scared? Will he process the officer’s cues properly? If not, will the officer not see my sweet special son, but instead perceive him as a threat or a “bad dude”? Has the officer ever been around someone with autism? Will he mistake RJ’s quirkiness or difficulty making eye-contact for non-compliance? RJ loves to wear his hoodies ― sensorily, he loves the way the hoods feel on his head. Will that cause an officer to stereotype him? RJ stims. (That is short for self-stimulating.) It can include flapping and tics and sudden movements, which petrify me for him when I imagine him one-on-one with a cop. Will the officer know what “stimming” is?

Earlier this month would have been the 22nd birthday of Trayvon Martin, a young man who was minding his own business walking home from the store when his fate was sealed by the blatant racial profiling of an overzealous neighborhood watchman who we came to know as George Zimmerman.

For myself ― a mom of three sons ― and for practically every other mother of a black boy, Trayvon’s senseless murder and the ensuing vindication of Zimmerman haunts us in every way, literally every day. It told us our sons’ lives did not matter. Though Zimmerman was not a cop, there have been entirely too many incidents of unarmed black men being shot and often killed by police.

So we have that obligatory “talk” with all three of our boys about what to do when you encounter law enforcement.

But, RJ’s autism makes him unique, and, in my mind, makes him especially vulnerable to a bad outcome.

All his life, we have been preparing RJ to live independently, to turn him over to the world. Now I am petrified to do just that.

I knew for my mommy piece of mind, we had to drill him on how to comply and hopefully avoid every mom’s nightmare. I also knew I had to advocate for him. So, I took him to our local police station and introduced him around. I told them, “You may see him walking up and down Ventura Boulevard. He likes to wear his hoodies and listen to his headphones. He loves to walk to local restaurants and eat by himself. Sometimes he talks to himself. If you see him say ‘Hi, RJ!’” After that visit, I was feeling pretty positive about RJ moving freely with autism in our community.

Then, this past summer, a tragic shooting of an unarmed autism therapist shook me to my core. In North Miami, Charles Kinsey was trying to deescalate an incident where the young man with autism whom he cared for left his group home in a moment of distress and sat in the middle of the street with a toy truck in his hand. The police were called, and they surrounded both men with guns as Mr. Kinsey desperately tried to shout to officers ― with hands held high in full compliance ― that the young man had autism and was unarmed. Yet, inexplicably Mr. Kinsey was shot anyway. It was all caught on video and my three sons played it for me. RJ said, “I thought you said if we complied, we would not get shot, Mom.” I was at a total and complete loss for words.

I felt helpless but motivated to try to do anything to prevent something so awful from happening again. The first thing I did was reach out to Mr. Kinsey through his lawyer, Hilton Napoleon, II. I invited them to Los Angeles to take part in a panel to try and come up with solutions and discuss implementing autism training in law enforcement. We would document this on our docuseries, “For Peete’s Sake.”

I have tremendous respect for police officers. I remember going on a ride-along with LAPD’s 77th precinct in preparation for my role as Officer Judy Hoffs on 21 Jump Street in 1986. I was 20 years old. I saw so much that night ― everything from domestic violence to armed robberies to a hit-and-run death of a toddler ― and it really made me realize firsthand how difficult, dangerous and nuanced this job was. So, I invited some former LAPD officers to be on the townhall panel with Mr. Kinsey, myself and other autism advocates and activists.

My goal was to find common-ground solutions. I wanted to explore every option to try to connect the autism community and the law enforcement community. With autism prevalence at 1 in 68 and growing, surely police will encounter people with autism on the beat. And surely there are autism families within the police force.

Our townhall was everything I wanted it to be. We listened to each other and kept our emotions in check with a common goal of developing understanding and awareness. We all agreed that the more familiarity and relationships cops had inside the areas they work, the more invested and less fearful they will be. If communities could establish a mutually earned respect for one another, everyone would benefit. We acknowledged that we need to teach our kids “how” to show respect for authority and law enforcement, and the importance of following basic commands. We also agreed that if law enforcement made an effort to show more consistent accountability towards the communities it serves, that would go a very long way. The cop who shot Mr. Kinsey has not been held accountable in any meaningful way, and to this day, Mr. Kinsey has never even received any sort of apology for the shooting. This creates more mistrust and, in my opinion, make communities less safe for police as well.

But most importantly, the officers on the panel admitted they had never had any autism training and could benefit from knowing what autism looks like in the community.

You can watch important moments from this panel discussion now on YouTube.

If the officers surrounding Mr. Kinsey and his client with autism had some training, they might have understood and recognized that the young man’s apparent disconnection with all the intensity going on around him was due to autism. Maybe that would have changed the moment. Maybe no shots would have been fired and instead the officers might have helped Mr. Kinsey escort the young autistic man safely back to his group home.

After the townhall, I felt infused with a renewed energy to continue this dialogue on a national level. I want to take this forum on the road, into major American cities and attempt to implement autism training programs in police departments everywhere. I also want to explore the possibilities of the DMV implementing autism diagnosis notification on drivers’ licenses.

I will never stop trying to prepare RJ for the world, but the world needs preparation for young people like RJ as well.

Holly Robinson Peete is the author of Same But Different: Teen Life On the Autism Express & My Brother Charlie. She and her family appear on the OWN docuseries “For Peete’s Sake,” returning Feb. 18.

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imreviewblog · 8 years