#use resources n stuff on me.
Uhm..................
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me and my partner bought raft to play together and its very amusing i think
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the recent copyright stuff has made me again think abt how much i should distance the cattle of red valley from warrior cats. like ive already been sorta doing that, bc i the direction i wanna take for the cattle of red valley is a lot darker n more mature than what i imagine most ppl expect from warriors oc stuff n i think its the responsible thing for me to do, but i just wonder if theres more i should do without completely erasing those roots u know.
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guess who started rambling about runeterran languages—
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kind of funny to me how no one can agree on if toss boys is in swing or not. the conclusion i came to is that the cues sound the same either way so i didn't actually come to a conclusion but tengoku only has one swing game section and toss boys is fairly far from it so my guess is no-
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anakin has snacks in his belt pouch
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underground fighter wriothesley who absolutely melts whenever you patch him up n place the softest kisses over his bruises n stuff :((
- 🦋 anon
✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ WE, NOT I — WRIOTHESLEY.
contents. underground fighter! wriothesley, gn! reader (he gifts you flowers, perfume and a necklace though, so if that is fem! coded to you, there’s your warning), mentions of foster care and being orphaned (wriothesley), mentions of blood, bruises, and injuries (wriothesley), slight angst but overall fluff ending
money’s tight—has been for a while, actually. wriothesley doesn’t like to talk about it, doesn’t like to open up even though he knows you won’t think any less of him. but you notice the small things, always do.
it’s the way you buy groceries for two, the way he’s always over for dinner one way or another, the way he seems to spend more and more time at your place than his. money’s tight, even if he doesn’t like to admit it—and you could never force it out of him, but you think letting him stay with you while he can could help ease the burden of living even if a little.
he’s grateful—a little roundabout in the ways he shows it, but grateful all the same.
and then the presents start to come.
it’s small at first: those expensive macarons you like from that bakery, the bouquet of roses that couldn’t be cheap, a nice dinner he insists he can pay for every once in a while. and then it starts to get bigger: fancy tea from the side of town neither of you even think about shopping at, perfume from a brand you can’t even pronounce, a necklace that’s more than what you can afford yourself.
it starts out slow, and then all at once, wriothesley has what you imagine to be more money than he knows what to do with. because why else spoil you like this? why else blow money on things for you when he could be putting it towards himself?
not everyone gets to have a head start at life—wriothesley is proof of that. it’s hard, more than most people realize, to be orphaned so young and move through foster home after foster home. he’d gone to jail once too—he doesn’t talk about that either, and you never ask. it’s hard, more than anyone gives him credit for, to be knocked down by life so many times and make a living for yourself.
you can’t understand where the sudden change comes from, can’t pinpoint where along the line he started getting so comfortable. it’s not unwelcome, you would never want to watch him just barely scrap by, but it concerns you how he seems to have so much all at once.
and then you get your answer.
“what—what happened to you?” you ask in disbelief, eyeing the blood caked by his nose and around his knuckles. that’s the best of it, unfortunately—the gashes on his chest and the bruises somehow look even worse.
you’d consider him lucky that his ribs don’t seem cracked.
“just a fight,” he shrugs, not meeting your eyes. wriothesley is a lot of things: resourceful, conniving at times, and braver than most. good at lying is not one of them, however—at least not with you. “just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“where were you, then?” you challenge, staring at him hard enough that he doesn’t have to meet your eyes to shuffle uncomfortably in his spot. he doesn’t answer. you’re almost fed up. “wriothesley,” you say in a warning tone.
there’s a sense of finality he doesn’t like.
“what happened to wrio, sweetheart? you’re killin’ me here, i come home to you all bruised up and you’re here beating me down harder—”
“wriothesley, i’m worried about you,” you whisper tiredly. it’s defeated—it’s almost helpless. he frowns, finally looking up at you from his place between your legs as you sit on the bathroom counter.
“you don’t have to be,” he mumbles, “i can take care on my own. i always have.”
“there’s no being on your own when we’re together,” you shake your head. your hands fall to either side of your body, shoulders slumping in exhaustion. “don’t you understand? neither of us is supposed to be on our own anymore—not when the other is here.”
“yeah,” he crosses his arms—you try to ignore the wince he lets out as he moves, “and now you’re not handling things on your own anymore. i’m carrying my weight. just need to fight a guy or two.”
“you’re carrying your weight by fighting?” you blink at the realization. he doesn’t look you in your eyes, keeping them trained on the floor again. “oh my god—is that what these are from? because….because you’re fighting some punks in the middle of the night? that’s illegal—and you could get in trouble again—”
he doesn’t seem to like being reminded of his past. that’s clear when he clicks his teeth and glares at you. “and what am i supposed to do, stay cooped up in your place and eat your food?” he asks bitterly, making your brows furrow.
“not necessarily, but you can—”
“what, so i just live paycheck to paycheck and shower at your place and sleep in your bed so my water and electricity bills aren’t too high for the month?”
“wrio—”
“i’m earning, aren’t i? what’s the big deal?”
“the big deal is this,” you wave your hand exasperatedly, tears welling up by the lash line of your eyes as you stare at his bruises with trembling lips, “look at you. it’s not worth it if you come back to me like this.”
“but i come back,” he mumbles, taking your hand—he kisses the knuckles, rubs a rough thumb over the smooth skin before laying your palm against his cheek and sighing. “i always come back.”
you love wriothesley—have since the day you met him, you think. he’s easy to fall for like that, to feel your stomach go in twists and knots every time he makes a sarcastic joke and throws you a charming smile. life has been tough on the man you love, unfairly so. it’s hit him harder and harder and pushed him back to his knees before he ever got a chance to fully stand up.
he’s hitting back, now. maybe in a more literal sense than you’d hoped, but….but maybe you can help him if you can’t change him. maybe you can keep the pieces together until the plaster holds and they’re not so fragile anymore.
“i don’t like seeing you hurt,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss the broken skin on his cheekbone, “you don’t have to do all this. we were doing okay before that.”
we. he shudders at that. it’s always we and never i—even when you did all the heavy lifting. even when he was barely getting by and you were giving more than you should’ve had to, more than he should’ve needed. it’s always we. never i.
you and him.
“i know,” he melts, humming as your fingers thread into his tousled hair, scratching his scalp as he buries his face into your neck, “just let me save a bit more. and then i’ll do something real with myself. i promise.”
you pull away after a bit, taking in every bruise and every cut, every dry patch of blood and swollen patch of skin. it’s shaky at first, your voice when you finally speak.
“‘s all bruised,” you say quietly, running a finger over the marks littering his chest. he’s painfully still—doesn’t move a muscle as you lean in slowly and press a kiss to the purplish stain on his skin, gently trailing them to the next one, and the next one, and the next one. “you don’t deserve all this.”
“yeah?” he chuckles—its breathy, a little strained. your arms loop around his waist and bring him closer, “what a sweet thing,” he coos, “nobody ever treats me so gentle.”
you frown at that. the world is not gentle with wriothesley—you’ll have to be extra gentle to make up for it.
“you’ll be safe? you’ll pull out when it’s too much, right? and you’ll come back? without being too hurt, right? wrio, you can’t—”
“yeah, yeah, i got it,” he huffs, pressing his forehead to yours, letting your hands cup his cheeks. he leans closer to your touch, shudders as you slowly trace his cheek with your thumb, “just wait at home all pretty for me, yeah? i’ll bring you back something nice.”
“bring me back yourself in once piece,” you huff.
“done,” he smiles, “i’m strong, if you haven’t noticed.”
“yeah? explain this,” you challenge, pressing down on a bruise and making him wince.
“you should see the other guy,” he whines, burying his face back into your neck. you roll your eyes, there’s a scoff in your throat but a smile on your lips.
wriothesley is safe—for now, that’s all you can ask for.
“i love you,” you mumble, “so much. no matter what, okay?”
“no need to get so emotional on me, baby,” he chuckles—and then there’s a tightening of strong arms around your body, a kiss pressed delicately to your neck before a soft, “but i love you too” is murmured into your skin.
“i hope you’re ready to clean those cuts. they’ll sting for sure,” you grumble as you pull away. he grins—handsome, charming, yours.
“will you kiss them better?” he bats his lashes, making you snort.
“no.”
i might make this a reoccurring drabble series too idk yet. anyway you know what else he can beat up ?? this pussy ;)
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i deleted the tumblr app a while ago so apologies for whatever those might look like on mobile i cant check
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how to be wary/alert without crossing over into fear? is the question
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SEVEN - 002
PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader
SYNOPSIS‧₊˚[6.5k] based on 1x02.
WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, mentions of parental neglect, mild violence, mentions of death/grief, disturbance of a graveyard (?)
NOW PLAYING‧₊˚
A/N‧₊˚ I've been wanting to do an OBX rewrite for a very long time so here it is, the first chapter from yours truly.
˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗
“DO YOU REALLY THINK BIG JOHN COULD STILL BE ALIVE?” Kiara’s slightly digitally distorted voice came from the other end of the line. Your phone was pressed between your ear and shoulder as you searched the hangers in your closet, bath towel wrapped snug around your frame and your hair thrown up into a bun, which was presenting more like a mess of damp strands.
“It doesn’t matter what we think, Kie,” You made clear, eyeing a cute shirt you thought you’d lost. “We should just be there for him.”
“Yeah… but what if we’re just feeding into a fantasy? Wouldn’t that make us bad friends if we weren’t honest with him?” You could hear her shuffling around on the other end of the phone as well, dresser drawers slamming occasionally.
“Maybe you’re right.” You sighed, throwing your outfit onto your bed and heading back into the closet to find a bikini to wear underneath. Living in the Outer Banks meant you had a plethora to choose from. “But the way I see it? If it were my dad that went missing, I’d be looking for him too. I’d give anything to even have that small hope that my dad was still alive back, but I know he isn’t… so, I understand.”
“I didn’t think about it like that…” It was sad to hear her so conflicted, as if she’d said the wrong thing.
“Well, I wouldn’t expect you to. And I would never want you to be able to understand that feeling. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.” You reassured, putting the girl on speaker to toss the phone on your bed and slipping the bikini you picked out onto your frame and tying the respective knots. “That’s why if John B thinks his dad is alive and wants to look for him? That’s what we’re gonna do. Because alive or not, John B is like a brother to me and leaving him to do this alone is what would make us bad friends.”
“I guess you’re right…are you still meeting up with the guys today?”
“Just J and John B for right now. Pope said he’d be around later after helping his pops.” You told her, slipping an oversized shirt over top of the bikini, eyeing your closet shelves for a pair of shorts.
“Alright, I might swing by if my parents aren’t up my ass about work.” She complained. “Talk to you later.”
“Later.” Was all you said before the end-call sound rang out in the expanse of your bedroom.
A swift series of knocks met your closed door from the other side, you shouted for them to come in, assuming it was either your mother or your dog Marley’s tail hitting the wood. The 2-year-old golden retriever had a knack for sitting outside your bedroom door on the rare occasion that it was closed and she wasn’t inside.
The knob twisted and in walked your mother, adorned in her signature navy blue pencil skirt and blazer, still a half hour to spare before she had to head off to her office for work. Rebecca Reyes was the Outer Banks’ most notable and renowned lawyer. Even when you still lived on The Cut all those months ago, she was still the island's number one defender. Moving to Figure Eight and getting rich, almost overnight, just gave her the resources she needed. You still questioned where all the money spawned from, chopping it down to your father’s life insurance coming through.
But the bank said that could take a while and you never assumed it was enough to buy a house on Figure Eight. But that’s adult stuff, you thought to yourself.
“You got home late yesterday,” She began bluntly, adjusting the diamond bracelet on her wrist. The smell of her expensive perfume already wafting into your space. “Where were you?”
“Just out with John B and the others.” You said with a shrug, walking out the closet with a pair of sneakers in your hands as you undid the tied laces.
She hummed, eyeing the space around you as if she’d never seen it before. “Did you hear about the boat they’re searching for? Scooter Grubbs’ boat?”
You side eyed her quickly, not quick enough for her to catch however. “Yeah, the whole island is losing their minds over it.”
“You and your friends haven’t come across anything, have you?”
“...I doubt we’d have any luck coming across a Grady-White, mom. Especially after the hurricane. That boat could be oceans away for all we know.”
“Right.” She agreed, but she seemed far away. Off. Why’d she care about Scooter Grubbs’ boat? “And what’s this I hear about some kid with a gun at The Point?” Your heart dropped.
“A gun?” You acted semi-shocked. “I don’t know, I wasn’t there.”
“Hm.” She droned. “Well, if you find anything don’t hesitate to tell me. Or Shoupe, for that matter. He said two out of towners showed up for the boat search yesterday, looked sketchy. So, be careful.”
You hummed in agreement, watching as the woman strutted out of the room without even a small ‘goodbye’.
You and your mother were nowhere near as close as you used to be. Your father’s passing caused a rift between the two of you that seemed irreparable. You just felt like she had become so cold and closed off, nothing like the woman who used to bake every weekend or plan family nights in the backyard. She was more secretive, dismissive. You couldn’t even remember what her smile looked like. She’d changed so much. She used to hate Sheriff Shoupe, said he was a dirty cop who worked under the rich snobs of Figure Eight. Now, it’s like they’re business partners of some sort and she is a rich snob on Figure Eight.
She even changed her last name back after your father died and wouldn’t tell you why. That was what made you feel the most alone. Rebecca Carter was now Rebecca Reyes but you were still Y/N Carter and your father would always be Owen Carter.
It was like she was trying to erase him and everything they’d built together.
You hated to admit that sometimes you wondered what your father would think of the woman she’s become. If she would be as unrecognizable to him as she is to you.
YOU SAT IN THE BACK OF THE VAN, legs bent as your journal rested atop your thighs while you scribbled down your thoughts and recent events — namely the events of yesterday. You had one earbud in, your playlist on shuffle as you half-listened into JJ and John B’s conversation that was happening in the front seat, the bumpy ride making your handwriting a bit chicken scratch-ish.
“I don’t understand why you don’t at least try with Kiara,” JJ started, his heavy boots kicked up on the dashboard. “She clearly likes you. She’s like ‘Oh, John B!’. She’s sketchy about you diving and then she kissed you, bro.” The blonde continued.
“She kissed me on the cheek. It’s not like we were makin’ out.” John B denied, brushing off the girl’s clear affections.
“Low-hanging fruit, bro.” JJ cut him off, the statement making you cringe in silence as you continued to scribble. “I see it in your eyes. You’re like ‘I kind of like that’.” JJ said in a mockingly low and seductive voice.
“Okay, you want to talk about me?”
“Yeah, bro, I wanna talk about you and your lack of game.”
“My lack- my lack of game? Okay, what game do you have, JJ? ‘Cause I haven’t seen any improvement in your case.” JJ’s head whipped between you and the boy in the driver’s seat within milliseconds before he was swatting John B’s arm.
“C’mon, dude...” He warned in a hushed tone. John B just chuckled.
“That’s what I thought.”
Moments of silence passed before their voices were heard again. “I gotta admit, your dad’s compass in Scooter’s boat? Freaky, man…” JJ claimed, twirling the newfound object between his fingers.
“That’s why we’re going to talk to Ms. Lana and figure this whole thing out. She’s his wife, she has to know something.” John B told him.
“And what makes you think she would want to talk to us?” You added, spooking the blonde boy in the passenger seat.
“How long have you been listen-”
“I’m always listening.” You spoke bluntly, a blank expression on your face as you averted your attention from your journal to him. “Anyway,” you dismissed. “A group of teenagers showing up to ask her about her dead husband, the boat that the whole island is looking for, and the compass we found inside of said dead husband’s lost boat? She’ll either think we’re criminals, FBI, or crazy.”
“Well, this is our first resort.” John B replied, eyes looking at you through the rearview. “We gotta try.”
“KNOW WHAT THIS HOUSE LOOKS LIKE?” JJ said, leading the group of us to the front yard of Lana Grubbs’ residence. “Whoever lives here smokes too much weed.” He observed the small, shack-like house — the walls were overgrown with weeds, the yard looked like it’d never been cut, the place was a mess from the outside.
The three of you stopped, more like flinched, in your tracks when you heard glass-shattering from the inside of the house followed by crash after crash. It sounded like the outside of a rage-room or a gun range.
“Maybe we should come back…” JJ advised, taking small steps back. But John B persisted, even as the two of you stood back in fear.
“No, no, shut up, JJ.” John B reprimanded absentmindedly.
“Tell me where it is or I’ll fuck you up!” A deep, brassy voice boomed from the inside. The voice so authoritative it made you shudder, but it didn’t worry you as when a woman’s scream followed. You could only assume it was Ms. Lana. “I’ll sink you in the fucking-” A crash, louder than the rest, cut off the sentence, almost covering the sound of Ms. Lana’s blood-curling screech.
“You’re hurting me!”
John B beckoned JJ and you on with his hands, urging the both of you to move forward. Reluctantly, and after a weary glance at one another, you and JJ followed the brunette boy who was edging closer and closer to the side of the house.
“Where the fuck is it?!”
“I don’t know!”
The three of you quickly dashed and ducked beneath the window seal on the only open window when you heard something hit the wall from the inside. You had just parted your lips to say that, just maybe, this was a bad idea. A terrible one, even, before a phrase yelled by the angry man inside had you shutting up.
“The compass wasn’t in the boat! Where is it, Lana?!”
“I don’t know!”
Your heart dropped as things continued to get thrown and slammed inside the house and you prayed those ‘things’ didn’t happen to be Lana. The paint and wood started to physically chip and fall off the walls outside, landing on top of the three of you crouched against the side of the house, wood particles falling into your eyes.
“Let’s get the hell out of here, man…” Another male voice commanded, followed by two pairs of heavy footsteps against the wooden floors inside. The three of you peeked around the corner to watch the two men disappear from the grounds through the front door, stomping angrily towards their boat.
The same boat that had been shooting at you only 24 hours prior.
“Those were the guys that shot at us.” JJ whisper-yelled.
“Go back.” John B commanded, pushing you all back behind the safety of the wall so they wouldn’t see you all. Once the boat sped off, the three of you slowly tip-toed your way into the house. The sound of Lana’s cries getting louder and more heartbreaking the more you entered the house, shoes crunching on wood and glass. Photo frames and dishes all broken into smaller fractions and littered on the floor, holes in the walls, kitchen cabinets hanging on by a single hinge.
“Ms. Lana?” You called out, voice laced with concern, eyeing the broken windows before they found Ms. Lana’s curled up figure on the bathroom floor right below the sink that was hanging on by a singular pipe. “Oh my God.” You gasped, kneeling right next to the woman and laying a hand on her shoulder that caused her to flinch and shrink in on herself.
She had tears running from her red, swollen eyes, curled up like someone’s child.
“She is tweakin’.”
“Shut up, JJ.” You hissed, shooting a mean glare at the insensitive blonde before turning your attention back to the feeble woman. “Do you need a doctor? We can call a doctor for you.” You assured, examining the multiple cuts adorning the woman’s face and arms.
“We can call the sheriff’s department-” John B was on the verge of suggesting before Lana cut him off frantically.
“No cops, please!”
“Mm, that’s not good. Let’s bounce.” JJ urged, weary of the woman’s persistence to avoid law enforcement.
“You shouldn’t be here...” Lana cried, her eyes focused on John B, speaking as her lip quivered and her voice shook.
The brunette’s face twisted, kneeling next to me to level his gaze with Ms. Lana’s. “Do you know those guys?”
“They were… looking for something.” Her voice wavered.
“...Does it have anything to do with this?” John B asked her, pulling the compass from the back pocket of his board shorts. You and JJ shared a glance, both knowing John B probably shouldn’t have shown it to her. “This was my father’s and Scooter had it. Do you know why?”
Why did John B think showing a woman his father’s compass and saying he copped it from her dead husband was a good idea? You had no clue. Interrogation tactic? Impulsiveness? Stupidity? Lana’s eyes were wide and teary, she looked like she was seeing ghosts.
“Scooter didn’t have it, okay? Don’t tell anyone that you have that. They can’t know that you have that!”
Your lips pulled themselves into a thin line and you were starting to feel less bad for Lana and more suspicious of the distressed woman. Maybe she wasn’t as innocent as she appeared. She didn’t seem to be a threat but she clearly knew things that she shouldn’t. You nudged JB’s arm, whispering in his direction even though the woman could most likely still hear you. “We should go…”
“You’ve gotta get out of here!” Lana cried, fearful gaze eyeing the compass in John’s grasp.
“What do you know about the compass?” John B raised his voice over her frantic one, still questioning Lana as JJ pulled him back and the three of you stood to leave.
“Go! Get out!” Was the last thing you heard as the hysteric woman yelled at your retreating figures.
“SO, YOU SAW THE GUYS THAT SHOT AT US, RIGHT?” Pope asked with his head in his hands, stressed after listening to JJ’s dramatic rendition of events. The three of you had returned to The Chateau and summoned Kiara and Pope not too long after, the events of today on the tip of your tongue. “Did you get a good description of them? Anything we can bring to a police report?”
You shook your head along with JJ and John B as Kiara and Pope sighed at you all's lack of response. There was nothing special about these guys. Sure, they seemed out of place but that’s because nobody on the island knew them. That was one perk about living in Kildare, everyone knows everyone. But these weren’t leather jacket, ski-mask wearing criminals. They didn’t stick out like sore thumbs.
“That’s not very helpful…” Kiara huffed.
“But, but,” JJ started again. “They were burly. Like the men I’d see at my dad’s garage. You guys know he made cargo hides for drug smugglers...” He reminded you all carelessly. “I can tell you with full confidence that these guys? They’re square groupers.”
“Like Narcos square groupers?” Pope questioned with little amusement, his face dropping as he watched JJ smoke against the brick wall.
“Like, Pablo Escobar square grouper?” You added on, just as skeptical from your seat on the patio floor, legs stretched in front of you and crossed over one another while you leaned on your elbows for support. JJ just nodded, blowing out smoke.
“You guys, not everything is a kingpin movie.” Kie reprimanded from her place next to Pope on the patio furniture.
“Okay,” Pope started. “What does a square grouper look like? Hm? Because clearly, you don’t know what you’re talking about-”
“Okay, you weren’t there! I wasn’t taking little mental polaroids the entire time, dude! I was under duress!” JJ whined to which you and John B rolled your eyes.
“Why would they want the compass?” Kiara probed, leaning forward in her seated position, resting her forearms on her thighs.
“That thing’s a piece of shit, you could pawn it off for five bucks if you wanted to… No offense, John B.” Pope claimed honestly, watching as John B flicked the object open and stared at it longingly, paying no mind to the boy’s insult.
“Well, clearly it’s worth something.” You popped in. “Considering these guys are willing to kill for it.”
“...The office.” You all turned to the scruffy brunette. A silent question on everyone’s face. “My dad’s office.” John B continued, shooting up and walking inside The Chateau as you all scurried to follow, shooting one another confused glances. “He always kept the office locked ‘cause he was worried about his competitors stealing his Royal Merchant research. Remember?” He directed at you and JJ, looking back but still walking forward. “We used to laugh at him like he was actually going to find it. But now that he’s…gone, I just left it as he kept it.” He said despondently.
“Yeah. For when he gets back.” Kie backed him up with a light-tipped smile. Keys jangled as John B unlocked the room you hadn’t seen in years. Not since before Big John went missing. Before all of this.
“I’ve slept over here like six-hundred times and I’ve never seen this door opened.” Pope said aloud, eyeing the office like a museum.
This was like being hit by a tidal-wave for you. And you’re sure it was the same for John B. You can remember the countless nights you’d slept over before and after Big John went missing. Before he went missing and you, JB, and JJ would peek inside just to watch him just write and type like his life depended on it. It even brought back memories of when your dad would stay a while after dropping you off to spend the night just to share beers in the backyard with Big John.
The nights after his disappearance weren’t as sweet though. Sleeping in a group hug around John B after his dad went missing. Then your friends all slept in a group hug around you after your dad went missing. Then they slept in another group hug around you when your dad’s body was found, washed up on the shore for the entire island to see. With the plethora of events, The Chateau became a haunted house in your mind.
“Look,” John B said, pulling you out of your stupor. He’d taken a bulletin board down off of the walls that was decorated with paper scraps and old pictures. His index finger pointed to the photo at the very top, a sepia-like tint to it. “This was the original owner of the compass.”
The paper pinned against the photo read ‘Robert Q. Routledge. 1880 - 1920’.
“There’s the lucky compass right there.” Kiara showed you all, pointing to the object clutched in the old man’s hand in the picture. You wouldn’t exactly call the compass lucky, though. And if it was before, it surely isn’t now.
“Actually, um. He was shot after he bought it…” John B informed. “Then the compass was shipped back to Henry.” He continued guiding you all through the timeline, pointing to the next picture. “Henry was killed in a crop-dusting accident when he had the compass.” You happened to look up at the exact same time as Pope, the two of you locking eyes with visible worry. “After he died, the compass was given to Stephen. Stephen had it when he died in Vietnam.” The boy ranted. “After that, Stephen passed the compass down to my dad.”
“This is painting a very bad picture, JB…” You warned, hand on the back of your neck as your face twisted.
“Yeah, he has a death compass.” Pope deadpanned.
“I do not.” John B denied, rolling his eyes and sitting down in the nearest chair with the compass still in hand. “My dad used to talk about this compartment here.” He explained, fiddling with the article between his fingers. “Soldiers used to hide secret notes.” He twisted the back of it off, revealing a word scratched into the top. He sat up with surprise as he spoke. “...This is my dad’s handwriting.”
Pope scoffed. “How can you know that?”
“He’s right.” You assured the doubtful male absentmindedly, squinting your eyes and craning your neck down to see the word written into the metal. “Big John had horrific handwriting and his R’s always had a point to them. I always used to think they looked like big-headed baby chicks, in a way. That’s definitely his handwriting.”
“Weird observation…but she’s right.” John B backed you up, his eyes going back to the compass. “Redfield…” He muttered. “What’s Redfield? Is it a clue?”
“A clue? C’mon that’s-” Pope began until you shot him a nasty glare, silently telling him to be helpful and supportive or shut up. His eyes widened as he gulped. “If it is a clue, m-maybe it’s an anagram?”
“Yes!” John B jumped up from his seat, beckoning you all to back up some. “Anagram. Perfect. You need paper.” He directed at Pope, eyeing scanning the cluttered space. Handing the boy an old, crinkled sheet of notebook paper, Pope got to work with the help of JJ and Kiara as John B and you scoured the desks for anything else of use.
Your ears were quick to pick up on the sound of an engine over the chatter of the brainiac bunch behind you. Eyes perking up to see a black truck pulling onto the yard.”...Guys?” You spoke, but not loud enough. “Guys!” You shushed them, all eyes turning to you. “Somebody’s here.”
The five of you crowded around the window, peeking through the blinds and peering through the dusted glass. Two males got out of the car and you recognized them immediately. “Those are the guys from The Marsh and Lana’s house.”
John B was quick to turn towards JJ. “Where’s the gun?”
“I don’t know-”
“Now you don’t have the gun? The one time we need the gun?” Kiara panicked.
“It was in my backpack and then I-...it’s on the porch.” JJ quickly realized, sighing before biting his lip out of frustration.
“Go. Go get it.” John B urged quietly but you were quick to step up, tugging the short sleeve of JJ’s shirt before he could open the door.
“No, no, we are not sending JJ out there to be pummeled by square troopers, square groupers, whatever they are-”
“We need the gun-” The bandana-wearing boy hissed.
“I don’t care. We stay put. We stay together.” You insisted. But JJ gently swiped your hand down and backed out of your reach, one hand up in surrender. “What’re you doing-”
“It’ll be quick, I swear. I’m like a ninja-”
“JJ.” You said simply, disappointed as you curled your fist in annoyance.
“I’ll be on my Batman shit.” He whispered before leaving the room quietly with the door cracked behind him, allowing you all to see him leave.
“John Routledge!” A country man’s voice boomed, causing JJ to turn around and slide his way back into the room quietly before he’d even made it two steps outside of the office. “C’mon out now!” JJ closed and locked the door as you all heard the pairs of footsteps enter The Chateau. The men began smashing and throwing things around just as they did Ms. Lana’s house. Was this their MO or something?
‘Window’ Kie mouthed, pointing to the window that led straight into the yard, towards the chicken coop and the surf shack. JJ and Pope rushed over to it as John B held down the door, which was just him standing against it with his hands above his head. JJ and Pope tried to lift the frame but it wouldn’t budge. Your face twisted in confusion, walking over to where the two boys were struggling and attempting to pull up the window seal yourself with no better luck.
“It’s painted shut.” You couldn’t help but smack your teeth, cursing under your breath as your eyes quickly scanned the room for something sharp as you patted the back of your shorts, feeling an object in your pocket. Digging your hand in to reveal a pen, the one you’d been using to journal that morning. You whispered for the guys to move before ejecting the pen and sliding it quickly along the seal to break it as quickly as possible.
Suddenly, one of the square groupers began kicking the door down, John B running across the room.
“Hurry!” Kiara whispered.
“I’m going as fast as I can!” You hissed. When the seal was completely broken, you wasted no time in opening the window, being the first to jump down into the backyard and making a b-line for the coop. The five of you piled inside one by one, the space surprisingly big enough for five fully grown teenagers as you crouched in tense silence. Just then, you heard a shot ring out from the inside of the house, assuming the man shot the door down.
Everyone could hear everyone breathing, shaky breaths all throughout the small enclosure. And the roosters. One rooster would not stop crowing. You were hoping, praying the damn thing would stop making noise. It wasn’t long before the guys were seen leaving the house, carrying at least two crates of books and research each.
“Pope, shut him up.” JJ demanded, referring to the rooster next to Pope that was making the most noise.
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Pet it or something, I don’t know.” Kie cried. Suddenly , JJ got up and grabbed the rooster by its neck, pressing it into the ground until its neck audibly snapped and its clucking ceased. You couldn’t help but cringe and look away, the sight somehow prompting you to gag. JJ’s eyes met yours as if he was making sure you were okay, you giving him a sickly nod in return. One that wasn’t as reassuring as you hoped. Kie was crying silently and you didn’t miss the way John B grabbed her hand in comfort.
“WHAT BETTER PLACE TO HIDE A MESSAGE THAN A FAMILY HEIRLOOM?” John B tried to muse from the driver’s seat of The Twinkie.
“Maybe somewhere more easily accessible.” You said bluntly, laying back on the floor of the van, your foot on Pope and head in JJ’s lap, Kiara in the passenger seat. “Like a hidden jewelry box compartment or a locked drawer. Not inside of a death compass on a dead man’s sunken boat.”
John B simply ignored you. “He had to know it was gonna get back to me, right?” He spoke hopefully, referring to his father.
“It’s possible.” Kie agreed from the passenger seat next to him, not wholeheartedly however.
“It could also be possible that you’re concocting wild theories to help deal with your sad feels- Ow!” Pope was interrupted when you kicked his knee, shooting him a glance that said ‘what the hell'.
“You know how I process my sad feels,” JJ started, your eyes drifting to him as your head craned slightly back from its place atop his thighs. “Dank nugs and the stickiest of ickies.”
“Preach.” You agreed, dapping up the blonde boy.
“Look, I’m not concocting, okay?” John B nearly shouted in frustration. “My dad’s trying to give me a message.”
“...If it helps you believe, John B.” Kiara tried softly.
“I don’t need a therapy session. I’m not trippin’ out.” He dismissed the four of you. “My dad is missing, okay? Missing. You guys don’t know what it’s like to have the person closest to you vanish and have no idea what happened.”
Suddenly, the two pairs of eyes in the back of the van turned to you. You couldn’t help but curl in on yourself slightly. “Stop it.” You demanded, averting your eyes to the window, watching the palm trees pass by. You hated when they acted like you had to be shielded from things because of what happened to your dad.
“It’s been almost a year.” Kiara nudged JB, letting it go. “But fine. What do you think the message is?”
“Redfield.” The brunette reiterated hopefully. “Redfield Lighthouse. My dad’s favorite place.”
THE LIGHTHOUSE LOOKED A BIT DIFFERENT THAN YOU REMEMBERED. It looked older, more rickety. You could swear it was leaning now. The five of you stood staring up at it before John B turned around to face JJ.
“You’re gonna post up out here and look for bogey’s. Alright?”
“Wait, why me?” JJ asked pitifully.
“...JJ, there are independent variables and dependent variables. You’re an independent variable-” Pope tried to reason.
“Shut up.” The blonde-haired boy dismissed with a snarl.
“We don’t know what you’re gonna do!”
“Just shut up!”
“Listen to me,” John B broke the boys up, pointing an assertive finger. “Pope, you stand lookout with JJ. Y/N, you make sure they don’t rip each other’s heads off. If we get split up, we meet back at JJ’s house.” You watched as Kiara and John B hopped over the fence and onto the lighthouse property. You slid your back against a nearby tree, one earbud placed in your ear as you drummed your fingers against your thigh, playing with blades of grass between your fingers.
“I’m gonna work on my merit scholarship essay. I’m trying to keep felonies to a minimum.”
“All right, would you just shut up already?” JJ sassed, you rolling your eyes and scoffing at them both. A few beats passed before JJ spoke again. “They’re probably boning in there right now.”
“Jesus, JJ…” You breathed out.
“What? You don’t honestly believe they don’t have a thing for each other, do you?” He defended.
“Maybe you’re just jealous.” Pope offered from his place in the grass.
“Jealous? Of what?”
“Because John B’s trying to move in on Kie and you have a thing for her.”
“Listen, dude,” JJ started with his hands out in front of him. “Kie’s hot and all but she’s a kook. I don’t see her like that.”
“That’s what they all say.” You sang playfully, causing JJ to whip around to face you.
“Oh, really? And what about little miss pretty & popular?”
You visibly cringed. “Ew, don’t ever refer to me like that again.”
“You’re telling me you aren’t crushin’ on someone? No rich, polo-wearing kid swept you off your feet during you and Kie’s kook year?” He egged on.
“Knock it off, JJ.” Pope defended when he saw how your face fell at the mention of it. You hated when they brought it up. Technically Kie’s kook year was longer than yours, considering you’d joined her kook friend group when you moved to Figure Eight. That was an era of your life you’d love nothing more than to forget.
“Fine, fine,” He backed off, his hands thrown up in mock surrender as he backed some steps away. Just then, the three of your heads whipped to the dirt road behind you at the sound of police sirens. You snatched the earbud out of your ear and pocketed it, standing up from your place against the tree. They were clearly headed for the lighthouse.
“What do we do? Do we wait?” Pope asked frantically.
“We can’t, man, c’mon.” JJ urged, sprinting towards the van with you and Pope following close behind. He jumped into the driver’s seat, pulling off before you and Pope had even closed the side door completely. You could only have faith that your other two friends made it out okay.
“NEXT TIME YOU END UP AT THE SHERIFF’S OFFICE, YOU CALL ME FIRST. DO YOU UNDERSTAND, JOHN BOOKER?” Your mother reprimanded the poor boy, her heels clacking against the pavement outside of the department. You didn’t expect a call from John B after you all had run from the lighthouse, coming from the Kildare County Sheriff’s Station from John B saying he and Kiara had been “arrested”.
“Yes, ma’am.” He affirmed. By the time you’d arrived at the station, Kiara had apparently already left with her dad who’d refused to bail John B out as well, leaving the boy with only one other option. The three of you stopped in front of your mother’s car as she now turned to face the two of you.
“Shoupe already has enough to deal with. The sheriff’s office doesn’t need a couple of rowdy teenagers on their radar. I don’t know what you kids were doing up at the lighthouse that led to this, but drop it. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” You both blurted out simultaneously, your mother having a newfound knack for intimidating people. She didn’t hesitate to jump in her car and start the engine, giving one last look as a goodbye.
YOU WERE AT THE DOCKS WAITING ON JOHN B, SITTING ON THE WOOD AND SWINGING YOUR FEET. You’d gone with him when he realized it was time for him to work, an employee saying Ward was looking for him as soon as the pair of you had arrived. He was up on The Druther’s, Ward’s boat, talking to the man himself. You couldn’t tell what the conversation was from your seat on the docks, so you waited. It was only minutes before the boy himself came stomping down the marina, prompting you to get up and dust yourself off.
“Is everything okay-”
“I just got fired.” He blurted, not even making eye contact with you and he brushed past you. You stuttered at his passive nature, scurrying to follow behind him.
“What do you mean you just got fired?”
“Ward found out about the gear.” He scoffed, and even with his back to you as he breezed through the working people to leave the dock, you could almost feel his frustration. “I can’t believe her.” He muttered.
“Who? Who are you talking about, John B?” You soon got your answer as Sarah Cameron walked by, you and the girl making brief eye contact with a mutual snarl on both of your lips before her attention turned to John B, who she somehow saw after you.
“Hey, John B.” She greeted, her hands full of paper bags that were filled to the brim with groceries, a large, brimmed hat on the top of her head. You weren’t surprised when he continued walking as you followed without a word to the girl, but she persisted. “That’s it?” Sarah scoffed. “Not a ‘hey, how you doin’’? Not a ‘kiss my ass’?”
You didn’t expect John B to turn around and swiftly walk over to the girl, getting all in her face. With the noise of the busy marina in the back, their close conversation became hushed but it was still audible enough.
“Your secret’s safe with me? Really?” Your friend pressed the girl. “I just got fired because of you. And I know you can’t imagine that but some people need jobs, so they can eat.” Nothing shocked you more than when he smacked the bag of goods from her arms, leaving Sarah stunned as fruits rolled in front of her sandals. Her jaw slack and eyes wide.
“What the fuck?” She hollered.
“You are exactly who I thought you were, Sarah Cameron.” He reprimanded, turning and leaving behind a stunned kook girl. Although, you would’ve paid money to see that again, it was such an odd interaction.
You knew he worked on Ward’s boat so he was bound to come across her but you weren’t aware they really talked. If you didn’t know either of them, you’d assume they were a high school couple arguing out in public.
The brunette brushed past you once again, taking his time and seemingly building up the courage to break into a run.
“Wh- John B!” You called from your place in the parking lot. “John B, where are you going?!” But it was no use as he simply left you behind and continued sprinting away. You figured you’d just give him some space to himself.
YOU’D RECONNECTED WITH POPE AND JJ SOON AFTER BEING LEFT IN THE DUST BY JOHN B, meeting them on the docks in The Cut. The three of you had been there for some hours, you helping Pope fix a generator while JJ smoked unhelpfully to the side when John B pulled up in The Twinkie.
He honked, beckoning the three of you into the van with a finger and none of you questioned what was happening or where you were going as you hopped into the rickety vehicle. You were mildly pissed about being left at The Marina but you got in nonetheless.
THE SUN HAD SET AND YOU ALL STILL HADN’T ARRIVED YET. John B briefly explained the destination and plan but you half-listened. You’d been driving for a long time, picking up Kiara along the way, with no clue as to where the five of you were going.
“Do you mind if I sit this one out?” JJ asked tiredly. “It’s been a long, weird day…”
“Look, I know I was wrong about the lighthouse.” John B acknowledged. “And wrong about everything else. But I was right about one thing — my dad is trying to tell me something.”
Just then you pulled up to a graveyard, the five of you piling out of the van with a flashlight each in your hand. “This place is scary.” Kie voiced. “John B, what are we doing?”
“You know how you’re trying to remember a song but you can’t remember who sings it?” He started. “Redfield. This whole time, I thought it was a place.” He explained as you all followed him further into the mess of graves and tombstones. “But it’s not.” He held the lantern in his hand up once you all stopped in front of a tomb, one of the tallest ones in the yard, revealing “REDFIELD” engraved in the stone. “It’s a person. My great-great-grandmother, Olivia Redfield. That was her maiden name.” He spoke longingly, looking up at the stone letters. “Help me with the door. C’mon.”
Pope stepped forward as the remaining three of you flashed your lights in the pair’s direction as they attempted and failed to push the tomb door open.
“Are you pushing?” Pope said to the brunette.
“Yes, I’m pushing.” John B strained out. Then JJ was jumping into help but even with his addition, the boys had no luck opening the door. They all jumped back when a snake hissed, peeking its head out from a crack in the stone structure.
“Woah! That’s a moccasin, alright” JJ started, jumping back almost cartoonistically. “Ye-old cottonmouth. Death in tall grass. Roof! Roof!” JJ started barking at the snake. Sometimes, you questioned his sanity.
“JJ! Shut up!” You warned the erratic blonde.
“You’re gonna wake the dead.” Pope slapped him on the shoulder, grimacing.
“Dude, they’re afraid of dogs. Everybody knows that.” He breathed out, straightening himself back out.
“Look, John,” Pope sighed, turning his attention back to John B. “We’re not gonna get in there, it’s not budging. We should probably just go.”
You were examining the tomb carefully, flashlight trailing the structure up and down before you noticed something. “I think I can get through.”
“...What?” John B spoke.
“You think you’re gonna fit through that hole?” Pope asked, worried.
“I’ll do it.” You reassured them, ignoring their concerns. “Just help me up.” They all shuffled to help you up — Kiara and John B holding the vines away and to the sides while JJ and Pope intertwined their hands for you to use as a human step-stool.
“What am I looking for?” You inquired, eyes fleeting to John B.
“You’ll know when you see it.” Your hands slapped your thighs. Helpful, you thought, but you didn’t ask anymore questions. You put your flashlight in between your teeth, like a dog carrying a bone before laying a hand on each of the boys shoulders, you put your foot over their connected hands and boosted yourself up.
It was a tight squeeze but you made your way through, landing on your feet and removing the flashlight from your teeth. It took your eyes a minute to adjust, staring at the walls of the spooky space.
“You alive in there?” JJ called.
“Alive and kickin’.” You called back, aiming the flashlight everywhere, scanning over everything. But the space was much bigger than you thought and your one flashlight didn’t seem to be enough. “I need more light, please.”
“Gotcha’.” John B said, pushing his arm holding the lantern through the crack of the wall, illuminating the space by tenfold. And that light was just what you needed.
“Oh my God…” You breathed out. John B may not have led you all on a goose-chase after all.
feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.
SVN Taglist; (let me know if you'd like to be added!) @esquivelbianca @fallingwallsh @calmoistorm
©loveharlow.
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Do you feel comfortable with writing stuff about mental health issues. Like, MC being depressed due to a mission going wrong or something similar and hiding it from Zayne while they spiral deeper into it until he catches them doing something bad - like idk, self-harm, looking up suicide methods, something like that. Gender neutral reader would be great <3
If you don't want to write this for any reason, feel free to ignore my ask :)
mission failure.
⚘pairing: zayne x gn!reader
⚘summary: after one too many failed missions, you reach a breaking point. zayne comes to your aid.
⚘tags: sfw, 2nd person POV, gender neutral reader, mental health issues, self-esteem issues, depression, suicidal thoughts, non-descriptive/implied self-harm, mild descriptions of morbid thoughts, hurt/comfort, angst
⚘word count: 2k
⚘a/n: thank you so much for your request, i hope i did it justice! this was a very interesting write and i enjoyed it a lot. i tried to be as delicate and vague with the s/h descriptions as i could so as not to trigger anyone, but this fic still deals with sensitive content so please be safe and take care of yourself! much love 💜
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
This was it. You just couldn’t do anything right.
Another hunting mission had gone poorly. The third in a row, now. They do say all good things come in threes, but could the same be said of misfortune? It certainly seemed so. The first two mission failures had been played off as flukes, but this time…
You made the long trek back to Headquarters with the weight of a tail dragging between your legs, bearing a few cuts and bruises to show for it. Beside you was Tara, who was not quite so worse for wear and, although disappointed, didn’t quite seem to share the same sentiment as you. After all, she hadn’t been the one to let the Wanderer get away. Again.
“Hey, don’t look so down!” she says, in her usual cheerful tone. She pats your arm in an attempt to be comforting. “Can’t win ‘em all, right?”
You give her a look and a frown. “I mean, we should, shouldn’t we? It’s our job, after all.”
“No way! Those Wanderers were tough! I’m amazed we got as far into the Zone as we did!”
But we lost our main target, you thought, yet you held your tongue. There was no changing Tara’s mind once she was set on something. This mission was above her level, anyway, but with every other Hunter either stationed elsewhere or taking a well-deserved break, and Xavier being unreachable as usual, all you had was each other. It had been up to you, as the higher level Hunter, to uphold the team morale and guide you both through a successful mission. But lately, you just kept falling short. Even the most straightforward of missions went awry. Just what was happening?
The entrance doors slid closed behind you as you and Tara headed upstairs for the debrief. Your heart pounded with every step you took. Three failures in a row… Jenna was going to fire you for sure. She might as well do it now, to make space for a newer, better Hunter to take your place and finish your missions properly.
Instead, what came of your debrief was the offering of a week-long break. "Time off to clear your head and refresh," Jenna had said with hard concern, but it might as well have been an arrow to the chest. Just fire me now and get it over with, you thought. Stop wasting everyone’s time and resources and find someone else.
You didn’t need a break. You just needed to be better.
Getting better, however, came with a steep demand you placed upon yourself like a vase upon a pedestal, delicate and teetering. If Jenna wanted to give you another chance, then you would use this week to return to peak performance. You would train, and train, and train, until you were sure to succeed at every mission she threw at you. It was flawless. You’d be back at it in no time.
But as soon as you got off the train and back into your apartment, all you wanted to do was sleep.
And sleep you did. You slept until you couldn’t think of those missions anymore, and when the thoughts inevitably returned, you slept again.
“You’re not eating enough,” Zayne said during your following check-up later that week. He stated it so matter-of-factly, like he did with any other diagnosis, never looking up from his computer as he typed something. You never knew exactly what. “Aren’t you supposed to be on a break right now?”
“How do you know that?”
“Word gets around,” he said, the beginnings of a smile etched on his face. You didn't like the idea of people knowing things like that so easily. People sure do like to talk... Zayne's hazel eyes lifted from the screen and over at you. “You need to take better care of yourself. Now is as good a time as any to catch up on your body’s needs.”
“I’m fine,” you snapped. Sometimes Zayne needed to mind his own business. Wait, but he was your doctor, and one of your closest friends… What was the matter with you? You really needed to go back to bed and stop being such a nuisance.
Maybe it’d be better if you got out of his life, too.
You met his questioning expression and the heat of your response drained out of your face. At that, you decided you didn’t want to wait for a reply. Whatever he wanted to say to you with that curious expression of his, you didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t deserve to hear it. You quickly left his office and never looked back. If he called your name as the door to his office slid closed behind you, it went unheard.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
5 missed calls.
Your phone screen blares the message in your face, blinding against the darkness of your room and blurry against the tears that threatened to fall, that had already fallen, that fell and dried and fell again. Your fingers itch to reply, to call him back or send him a text, but what’s the point? He doesn’t really care. He’s probably just going to scold you for leaving your appointment halfway and being childish and not following doctor’s orders and being rude to him.
Not only have you messed up your job, you’re messing up your relationships now, too. When will you ever stop? Can’t it ever stop?
Your phone buzzes and lights up in your fingers as your ringtone sings into your sheets once more. It’s him again. Doesn’t he know when to quit? You watch his name as it waits idly on your screen. It gets tired of waiting, as it always does, and finally disappears. You sigh as another hot tear slips down your cheek.
Something new happens this time.
1 new voicemail, your phone screen reads. You start to slide the notification away, but against your better judgment, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you give in, tap the notification, and listen.
The line is silent for a moment, and part of you hopes he gave up and left you nothing.
Finally, after what sounds like a throat clearing, he speaks.
“Hey, it’s me,” Zayne’s voice comes through the speaker. It’s got that usual muffled crackly phonecall texture laid onto it, but it sounds enough like him that it feels like he’s right there with you, underneath the blankets. “Are you alright? …Listen. Whatever it was I said, I didn’t mean it. You know that. I was going to ask if you wanted to get dinner, but you left so suddenly. Call me when you’re able?”
The silence creeps in again, and you can almost hear him consider saying something more, can almost see his expression as his thoughts thunder in his brain but refuse to leave his lips, but then there’s a click, and the call ends. The robotic voicemail message drones monotonously about saving the message, and halfway through, you hang up, too.
The back of your throat clenches and burns, and you barely fight back a sob as it wrenches itself out of you. Zayne was worried about you. You made him worry. You thought he was mad, you wanted him to be mad, but he’s not. He cares about you. Why…?
You dig the heels of your palms into your eyes, as if you could push back the sting of tears that rush, hot and salty, from your bloodshot eyes. It hurts, and you start to see flashes of bright white stars under your eyelids, but it’s better than succumbing to the pain in your chest. Your heart shares a galaxy with the stars in your vision, a dying star that’s fizzling out, or maybe even being consumed by the void of a black hole. How morbidly comforting. You suddenly want to rip it out.
You wonder, just how difficult would it be to separate the Aether Core from your still-beating flesh…?
You try to shake the thoughts from your mind but they hold fast. Throwing the blankets off of your body, you leave your room hobbling like a zombie, make a beeline for the kitchen, and pull open a drawer.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
It’s late at night when there’s a knock at your door. A slight rap of the knuckles. A sharp one, two. Once, then twice, and on the third knock there’s another sound, too. A rattling jingle. And it’s times like these when you curse yourself for giving Zayne the extra key to your apartment.
He calls out your name as he steps in. You barely hear him. You’re not sure if it’s because he’s far away, or speaking quietly, or if you’re just that far gone into your own thoughts that everything else around you is muted.
He might have called only once, or a dozen times, by the time he reaches your room and spots your hunched figure on your bed. He says your name again, and this time you do hear him.
You meet his gaze, steeled with concern, and immediately regret it.
He sees you, really sees you, and all at once your façade crumbles once more. He approaches the edge of your bed, and you turn your eyes anywhere but at him as you brace yourself for impact.
“What are you doing?” he asks, but he already knows the answer.
Zayne grabs your wrist. Yet, his touch is gentle—firm enough to grip you, but soft enough that you could pull away if you wanted. You don't. You’re far too tired to fight anymore. You continue to stare at the floor with teary eyes, but there is resignation hanging heavy on your shoulders, like a wet blanket. Zayne takes your silent compliance as an okay to pull you along with him down the hallway of your dimly lit apartment and into the bathroom.
He sits you down on the toilet. The light clack of the lid hitting the porcelain beneath from your sudden weight seemed to jolt you awake a bit; your eyes refocus and follow his movements as he shuffles through the medicine cabinet. He pulls out a few things and then returns to tend to his patient.
"Hand. Here," he says as he holds out his own. You offer yours, and he meets you halfway. He always does. He’s as meticulous and calm as always as he cleans, disinfects, and wraps your wounds, ever the doctor, but there’s a certain softness in his motions that you’re sure he reserves for only his most cherished patients.
Only for you.
The thought rolls a warm wave over you, the once wet blanket that had been dragging you down now fresh out of the laundry and wrapped carefully around you, cozy and hot and certain. There’s still a bit of damp spots here and there, but those will also dry in time. And you know Zayne will still be here when that time comes.
Your thoughts are broken when long fingers drag against your cheek, wiping away yet more damp spots and fanning through your shining lashes.
“You need to take better care of yourself,” Zayne says, repeating his words from earlier that day. Was that really only today? This day was lasting a lifetime. As with before, his tone holds no ice. You regret snapping at him when he was only trying to help. He must feel your tension, because he puffs a breath out through his nose just then, and the warm air tickles the hairs on your forehead. He places a kiss there, the barest brush of his lips on your skin. He pushes your hair back with long warm fingers, tucking a strand behind your ear. “If you need help with that, I’m here. Always. You need only ask.”
Later still and he’s tucking you into bed and giving your forehead another gentle kiss, making you feel like a kid again. He’s surprisingly good at that. You don't know how he does it.
Zayne follows you under the covers, and leaves you an open invitation to snuggle against him, if you wish. You gratefully accept, tucking your head under his chin as he envelops you. He’s very careful not to apply pressure to your bandaged skin.
Right before you fall asleep, he whispers a promise of breakfast tomorrow, and dinner, and whatever else comes next. A promise of staying, no matter what.
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big love
* luffy may be too experimental for his own good…
monkey d. luffy x reader
summary: the strawhats have stopped at an uninhabited island for the night and you and luffy go out for a walk. well when he goes gear 5 to get big so he can show you the island from above… things get freaky 🤓
warning: no proofread we die like men. this isn’t super long. pre established relationship (luffy x reader, slight zoro x reader x luffy). kinky; sorry. gear 5 luffy. GIANT! gear 5 luffy. holding you in his palm and having his way with you. cunnilingus and grinding. no dicks here today (aside from one mention at the end). public ish sex. (i might be forgetting something im just so exhausted)
authors note: requests are open
luffy was always a confident and kind guy, deserving of the honor that had been bestowed upon him when his devil fruit powers had grown with him as a person.. but now you’re sitting here, watching as luffy, exploring his new form, shifts his body like he had never had his powers to begin with. floating in front of the two of you, his hair moved like the clouds in the sky around his face.
lying on the deck of the sunny next to zoro, you both watched as luffy grew and shrank his arms and legs, but deep down luffy knew that he could grow to immense heights, big enough to hold the sunny in the palms of his calloused hands. he could jump kaido like jump rope if he so pleased yet he was sitting here playing with his limbs like a child playing with his toys.
sighing, you laid your head on zoros chest. “wake me up when he’s done dicking around and actually wants to relax” you mumble as you quickly doze off, a bad habit you had picked up from both zoro and luffy. sooner or later, zoro is asleep too, as luffy continues to goof off.
although you and zoro had been asleep, the rest of the crew decided amongst themselves that you would dock for the night on an island that seemed a little uninhabited, at least on the side you all had stopped on. although the sunny had plenty of food and resources for the straw hats, being on land for a night wasn’t always bad.
being hooked awake by luffy was one of zoros biggest pet peeves so he always shook you awake first so that you could wake up zoro.
“y/n… cmon wake up..” he shakes your arm, taking your hand and kissing it. “cmon!” he’s patiently waiting like an obedient dog as he hears you begin to stir awake.
“whats wrong luffy?” you blink your eyes at him before realizing the sun was sitting and you three were the only ones left on the ship.
“nothing princess, we’re stopped for the night. get up so we can go eat dinner” he smiles, nodding to zoro, asking you to wake him up. you can’t help but smile at his cute face before sitting up, leaning over zoro, finding his hand and gently squeezing it before shaking him just a little. you whispered to him before he woke up, groaning in your face.
“cmon get up big guy..” you smiled, kissing him before standing up next to luffy. you walked past him, he watched as the skirt around your waist formed to your body as you stood. before you felt his big hands around you, stretchy arms pulling you back into his chest.
“do i not get a kiss?” he looks down at you, with such a pathetic sad look on his face. turning around in his arms, your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss. zoro is now standing next to the two of you, looming over the both of you as you pulled away from luffy. you kicked your leg up as you popped off of your foot, going to grab a book before meeting the others to go down to the rest of the crew.
“you ready?” luffy commented as zoro had already made his way down to the camp site. you smiled as he grabbed you, using his stretchy arms to grab ahold of a tree before pulling you and him both down to land. doing stuff like that with him had always made you nervous but it was something about his hold on you, around your waist, that made you trust him.
getting down to the rest of the crew, they smiled at your presence. sanji asking you if you wanted anything, totally ignoring luffy and zoro. as you sat between the two, sanji only glared at them as he handed you a drink.
the night proceeded as usual, stories and laughs shared by the straw hats resounded in the pit of the forest right off the coast. the sunny bobbed in the ocean peacefully while the night grew colder. the fire between the 10 members burned bright but there came a time where they all needed more wood. while almost everyone had done a task beforehand , there sat you, luffy and zoro who had been the lazy ones upon the stop.
namis voice rang in your ears as you woke up from drifting off against zoros shoulder. “hey! can you and luffy go get some more wood??” she said looking down at the two of you. you blinked at her… she looked annoyed. ‘OH. luffy is being frustrating. got it.’ you connected the dots in your head as you sat up, nodding to her.
grabbing luffys hand, you just ran off into the forest. “come on luffy.” you groaned.
———————
the two of you had turned your little trip to the forest for wood into a romantic little walk, walking hand in hand until you were both sitting at a ledge somewhere on the island looking over the starry sky.
“the ocean is really calm tonight.. did we really need to stop?” your voice was soft, wrapping around luffy and holding him like a warm blanket. he liked hearing you talk, he loved listening to the words that left your lips like a king listening to the jester aim to amuse him. he didn’t have much of an answer so he just shrugged as he put his hand over yours.
an idea struck luffy and before he even remembered to say anything to you, he was standing again.
“oh are you ready to go back?” you looked up at him as he stood over you, steam rose from his skin and you already knew what he was about to do, scooting back a bit as his hair grew white and his clothes shifted with him.
“no, i wanna show you something.” he speaks through the clouds of his hair covering his face before they cleared. luffy transformation from regular old luffy to gear 5 has become progressively easier for him, almost on command at this point, so when he does this it’s nothing new but maybe seems like he’s showing off… which you didn’t mind. you liked seeing your beautiful captain all confident and happy, but sometimes he took advantage of how much you loved seeing his confidence.
beginning to stand up to let him show you whatever he had planned in his head, you watched as he got a running start, throwing himself off the side of the ledge.
“LUFFY-“ your voice escaped you in a worried shout before you watched the ledge, a gasp leaving you as his body grew past the size of ledge. his feet planted in the ocean as he grew larger than life, towering over you like a skyscraper. you were speechless, knowing he had this ability but barely able to fathom the idea of him being this big.
he crouched down, waving at you with a big smile. “luffy!!” you shouted, grinning ear to ear despite the shock in your voice.
“what princess??” he speaks, lowering his tone so he wouldn’t be so loud to you or frankly, the rest of the island.
“you’re so…” you laugh before he reaches his hand out.
“big? i know!! now get on, i wanna show you the island” his hands were out in front of you, cupped together like a landing pad just for you. as you stepped onto his fingers, you roll into his palm with a small “uph” as he cups his hands around you, cradling you so you don’t fall.
you pull your long skirt back down your legs, covering them as you find a comfortable place to sit in the dip of his large hands.
“you’re so cute, princess” he smiled down at you before standing up again. he could see the sunny from this side of the island, he was sure they could probably see luffy from over the treetops if they stood on the sunny but regardless they were clueless to his gargantuan form. the sun had long set over the horizon so as the stars dotted the skies, luffys smile seemed to beam brighter. he held his wrists close to his chest , opening up his palm so that you could see the island from above, watching the sea from high up as well.
“isn’t it so cool?” he smiled, watching as you observed in awe.
“is this really what you see?”
“always..” he smiles. bending his finger back to you, you placed your hand on his fingertip, holding it while you stood up. he watched as the skirt around your legs shook with the wind, observing your hair and how your eyes glowed under the stars. standing there in his hands, he brought another finger up to your stomach, tickling you, wanting to hear your laughter. you buckled over giggling as his fingertip pressed against your belly.
“luffy quit!!” you giggled as you feel back into his hands. he then lowered you closer to the ground again, leaning down into the water, sitting down with you in his hands. he grabbed you with one, holding you gracefully between his fingers, the meat of his middle finger pressed right between your thighs. a sigh left you as he held you there, holding his finger out to you with his other hand.
his ears almost perked up at the noise. “what was that??” he teased. your face was flushed. “n-nothing!” your face was flushed, getting embarrassed. but his hair billowed around his head as he got a little excited, wanting to hear that precious noise again. a noise neither him nor zoro ever heard enough. “cmon.. do it again!” he whines cheekily, moving his finger underneath you again, hoping you’d react. you held in your voice to spite him, although your face did nothing to hide the pleasure growing between your thighs.
“it’s like when you ride zoros thighs..” he mumbles, watching as you succumb to his wangs and begin idly to grind yourself on the space between his knuckles. he uses very delicate touches to take the fabric of your skirt between two of his fingertips and pulls it up, wanting to watch as your panties dampened with pleasure. you began to fold to him, scared of his size due to luffys recklessness but he began to prove to be just as gentle when he’s 20x your size than he would be regularly.
“is this okay, princess??” he thought he’d ask just in case, even though you’ve become to seem like you’re enjoying yourself. your hands now planted on his finger, grinding up against him.
“yes luffy…” your voice escaped you in a moan , noticing as he moves his fingers in order to pleasure you.
luffy relaxed, watching as you let yourself go, grinding against his finger as you’d do to his thigh in the past. he used his finger tip from his free hand to lift your chin, wanting to see your face. seeing how your lips parted, your tongue resting on your lower lip as you panted through your moans, feeling almost helpless to his gaze.
“cmon princess.. cum for me” his breath was warm, arousal spreading in a dark flush across his cheeks. he noticed your grinding was becoming more sporadic, as your moans grew louder, crying out for him while rubbing your wet pussy against him. his name poured from your lips as you came, falling forward onto his finger while writhing against him. your hips pushing against him as he placed another finger over your back to keep you stable.
as you recovered from your orgasm, you sat up, with his finger still between your thighs. he took his other hand, grabbing you gently before placing you back on the ground, close to the ledge of the cliff.
“you’re so cute..” he mumbles, petting your hair back gently as he sank down further into the ground, being closer to you. his nose close to your face. your eyes were lidded as you stared up at him, wanting to grab his nose in an endearing sense but still being clouded by arousal.
“can you eat me out?” you asked, bluntly, knowing what you wanted from him but not knowing any better way to ask.
“like this?? giant and all??” he tilted his head to the side, not even really realizing you’d want to keep going.
“mhm” you hummed, your face pink with embarrassment, taking your skirt and pulling it up, exposing your panties to him.
“i can try, but i don’t wanna hurt you, princess” he plants his hands down next to you, his fingers caressing your skin from your stomach to your legs. he watched you intently as you slowly pulled your panties off. the pad of his thumb found your pussy, rubbing over it, watching as it glistened under his finger. you bit back a moan as his aimless touch sent a shock through you.
“fuck” he mumbles to himself. “you’re so small..” he knows how delicate you are, how he can just hold you in the palms of his hands. how any movement could hurt you so he had to be gentle. no foreplay could’ve prepared you for his tongue against your pussy.
leaning in, you watched as his warm mouth opened, his tongue falling against your wet pussy. warm and rough, rubbing perfectly onto your clit. the noises leaving you were perfect as he squeezed his fingers around your thighs, holding them apart so his lips can close around your mound, sucking and licking at anything he could.
his name fell graciously from your lips as he stimulated your clit, pressing his tongue as precisely as he could against it, humming so you’d feel it. this caused you to jolt, resulting in him pressing his finger tips against your hips in order to keep you down.
“fuck nothing will ever top this, luffy..” you whined. luffy knew how good zoro could fuck you, how good he could fuck you. and this was an ego boost. knowing you were coming up on a loss at words as his tongue throbs against your needy clit. you watch as his lips pull away from your mound, his tongue finding its way to your hole, teasing you.
luffy licked at your folds like a dog on a hot day licking at its water bowl. what would’ve been kitten licks in his normal size were almost orgasm inducing swipes across your clit. you were in desperate need of being filled by something by the way your pussy clenched around nothing, throbbing.
“you’ve been such a good princess” he speaks softly, praising you after your moans and cries blessed his ears once more. “you wanna feel me inside, don’t you..” he grins cheekily, watching as you nod, your cheeks red and your eyes lidded. you just needed your pirate king…
his tongue narrows, pressing the tip of his tongue to your hole, pushing past your folds as he tasted your pretty cunt.
“oh luffy..” you sighed as he filled you out. your hands held onto his fingers that wrapped around your thighs. holding onto him tight as you ground yourself onto his tongue. you babbled as his tongue moved inside of you. gentle for him but rough for you.
he could feel your tiny hands gripping around his fingers just a little harder. your eyes almost squinted shut as you watched him close his mouth around your pussy again, sucking in so he could stimulate your swollen clit.
you could feel yourself coming close as you continued to grind helplessly on his tongue. his name was slurred in your words as overstimulation and his warm tongue mixed together to create a perfect storm off the side of this islands cliff.
“f-fuck.. luffy i’m gonna..” your head tilted back, hitting that peak. “fuck i’m gonna cum..” you could hear him but especially feel him as he hummed against your pussy, acknowledging your words. he pulled you closer against him with ease, stuffing you as full as he could get you, without breaking you open.
sucking at your clit, you felt that winding knot that had been building and building break, snapping into a million pieces are your back arched off the ground, crying his name into the forest as you came on his tongue. he groaned happily around your pussy, watching as you writhed against him. slowly he pulled away, watching as you begged for him to stop overstimulating you.
he was slow to pull his tongue away from your drenched cunt, watching as a string of his spit connected to your wet cunt. he left a quick kiss to your wet pussy before finally letting go of you. he rubbed his thumb over your belly.
“you okay, princess?” he asked, watching as you slowly relaxed again. you had covered your face when releasing his fingers, you uncovered your face as you looked up at him, nodding.
“w’so good..” you mumbled, your cheeks flushed. you watched as your precious man had began to shrink back down to his normal size, holding onto the cliff so he could throw himself back up to your level.
once he had done so, his hair began to steam again, turning back into his normal self, while he found you on the ground, pulling you into a kiss. “you did so good for me, princess. we should do that again some time.”
“we should” you smiled against his lips, your fingers in his thick black hair, pulling him in again. “you’re rock hard right now though, i can feel it against my leg..” you giggle.
“i am. i wasn’t going to say anything though, i knew you’d be tired.” he shrugged.
“don’t worry baby, i’ll take care of it. just give me a few minutes and i’ll let you fuck me.” you smiled as you moved to kiss his neck, tasting his salty skin against your lips.
“i love you, luffy.” you leaned back to look up at him with a soft smile on your cheeks.
“i love you too, princess”
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| Ch. 2 | Bad or Good Luck?
You chose to read this, do NOT blame me if you ignore my warnings!
TW: Inaccuracy survival stuff, Self-doubt, Negative mindset, Injuries, inaccuracy medic stuff, Being watched
| Masterlist | Ch. 1 | Ch. 3 |
Pairing(s): 141 x Reader
A/N: Oh wow- uh, there’s a lot of you reading my story- sweats profusely cool- These long chapters will take time since I have Uni and 3 FUCKING big projects to do, so bear with me- I have like 3 on-going stories and uh unplanned one-shots poppin’ into my head. P.s Sorry for the bad accents, I cannot write accents to save my own life literally using websites to help me.
“Well then…” you breathed out, your hand lingers on Soap’s back while you look at the massive jungle in front of you, the open, warm air spreading, semi-drying you both, though the flicker of water that came from incoming waves prevented from being fully dry.
You snap out of your daze when you glanced down at the scotsman, eyeing his body to see if there were any damages that had happened during the rollercoaster ride of the storm, physically he was fine. Using your hands moving on their own as you press Soap’s arms or places that could’ve been potentially be hurt. So far Soap hasn’t reacted as you felt his tensed muscles, flexing ever so often when you graze your hands and fingers onto different parts of his torso.
“Auch! Now that stings like a bitch, hen,” Soap moves away from your hand while you try to lift his shirt up.
“Fuck sake, Soap, I need to look at it!”
He shifts his body while ignoring your scolding, he knows he should let you check but the thought of being injured in the middle of sea, on a stupid island with no medical equipment or civilisation irks him to the bones. He’s worried that whatever the injury is could be a lenient towards your survival, he didn’t want to be a burden if it were to be a harsher problem, that maybe ignoring it would save you the resources or trouble.
That thought went out the window as you pin him down. He didn’t, couldn’t, fight back since he was still weak from the wash up and beating of the storm and plus, you had time to regain little of your energy and strength, he didn’t.
“Git off me! ‘Am fine bonnie!” he’d protests while trying to avoid being pinned. You ignore his comment and pin him, you straddle his waist while you used your hands to grab his wrists, your small hands didn’t wrap fully around it but you hope he was weak enough to not try and escape, fortunately or unfortunately he was. You lift up his shirt and saw a bruise forming on his side, you hope nothing internal was damaged to cause it, sighing you gently graze your fingers over it, making Soap flinch.
“You seem fine, just a bruise, probably hit a coral or those rocks when we got swept here,” you sigh, you look around to see if anything could help but surprise, surprise—nothing—of course there’s nothing, you were stranded.
Letting out another heavy sigh due to the disappointment and stress that you both are facing, you raise yourself off Soap and dust off your legs, trying to get rid of the sand to the best of your abilities. You look down at Soap and reach out a hand to help him up which he gladly took, with the little strength you have, you pulled the bulking man to stand up—him mainly doing the work—Soap starts to pat himself and remove as much sand as possible.
While Soap dusts himself off, he glances towards you. “Ye seen the others?”
Right. Price, Ghost and Gaz were missing from your little party, you try to remember when you’ve last seen them, your head throbbed as you use it to remind yourself of the events.
The heli going haywire. The sound of thunder and rain. The shouting of your team. Soap grabbing you. Jumping out the heli. Explosion.
“They jumped out, we got separated because of that storm,” you murmur, mainly to yourself but Soap heard.
“Those bloody bastards said it would be clear skies,” Soap scowl, finally straightening himself up, sneakily wrapping his arm around the bruise on his waist.
“Right,” strange how things went south so quick. “Think it’s a bit suspicious, no?”
“Definitely.”
Soap joins your side before looking at the jungle, he wants to go in and see if they could start gathering resources or at least try find the rest of the team, maybe they were on the island too?
“Okay so—”
“Let’s go in the jungle,” you stare at Soap, bewildered at his statement, you think that water might’ve went into his brain. Going into the jungle, an unknown habitat, that both of you weren’t familiarised could lead to your doom, especially without the proper kit for it or the survival instincts.
“Soap we can’t just—”
Too late, the scotsman already headed inside.
You face palm, mumbling a few profanities before chasing after him, he was slightly injured but the way he wrapped his arm around that bruise told you a different story. You stepped onto the jungle floor, the moss covering the dirt felt spongy, testing the works you bounced yourself on it a little, strange feeling but it was rather fun. You shook your head, need to focus.
“Soap? Soap!? Dammit you asshole, where the fuck are you!?” you yell out, you assumed there’d be no enemies here since it was so isolated, nothing screamed that anyone had been here before. You ventured further trying to look for your stubborn friend, crouching and manoeuvring yourself around the wild life that surrounded you, avoiding anything that could potentially harm and irritate you.
“Lass, I found ye—”
Doing a quick 180, you quickly throw a punch before hearing a groan as someone stumble back, Soap.
“Fuck sake Soap, don’t do that!” you exhaled the breath that you were holding from the fright.
“My mistake, nice hook though,” you rolled your eyes at his compliment, this man was going to get himself killed one day. (crying)
“How’s your side Soap?”
“Quit callin’ me tha’”
You looked at him confused. He removed his hand from his nose, seeing there’s no blood from the blow, he scrunches his nose and wriggles it around before taking a deep breath.
“Bonnie, ye’re pretendin’ like we ‘aven’t ken each other for 2 years, think ye can use first name bases,” he nudges you playfully while you stared at him, slightly flustered.
You worked with the team for 2 years, though you don’t really consider it as 'working with the team' since they never let you do things on your own, always having one of them in your missions even though it was supposed to be you only—they fought the higher ranks just so they could have one of them with you—they treated you like you couldn’t do your job, you only used their call signs because you never felt like you fit in, wanting to prove that you’re not fragile as they thought you were, that you deserve to be on the team.
“Bonnie?”
Shit, you’ve been thinking a bit too long.
“Sorry, just… thinking, Johnny,” felt weird to say it, you didn’t feel that closeness with any of them.
However the way that Johnny smiled when you called out his name, it could’ve easily beat the Cheshire cat from Alice in wonderland, he felt happy hearing his name come from your mouth however you felt guilty, it felt rude to say his name even when he gave you permission, it didn’t sit right with you but nevertheless, it made him happy.
"What now?" you stare into the jungle, the prickling sensation of nerves edging on your neck, the feeling of being exposed to the unknown like this without the others being by your side felt, off.
"Ah say we keep goin' till we find the others," you stare at Johnny with a deadpan expression, not amused by his suggestion, you hoped that he would be joking but with Johnny's smile and hopeful yet determined eyes, you knew he wasn't.
"Johnny... they might've not even washed up on this island with us, hell, we don't even know how big this place is!"
"Ahck! Always so negative lass jus' like Ghost," he shakes his head while throwing his hands at you, as if to shoo away your bad vibes away from him. "We'll neva noo if we stay here hen."
Before you could even open up your mouth to protest that you need to see if you could retrieve or make some form of weapons or anything to venture further, Johnny marches ahead of you, you internally groan at the stubbornness of this man, either that or it was the way he was so peppy with his step even with his bruised side. Grudgingly you followed him behind to watch his back and to make sure that the idiot didn't hurt himself further, though you respect your Sergeant, sometimes his talking could be a bit too much.
It has been who knows how long since you and Johnny had been walking mindlessly through the jungle, the sun was blazing against your skins, sweat and sand had been packed into your uniforms with ocean salt, you could feel the grit rubbing against your skin, you hated it. Johnny wasn't doing so well either, his mohawk looked like a wet sponge draped over his head, the front of his hair sticking to his face from his sweat.
You grumbled to yourself while holding onto your stomach, you prayed to whatever god is out there that it's not a sign of your incoming period, hell, you don't even know if you're close to it, you were going to check your cycle when you returned to base but no, you're stuck on a fucking island.
You silenced your inner anger, the inner noise getting too much for your head as you overthink about the situation to the tiredness and pain while stressing about the other's whereabouts and Johnny's health condition. He hadn't been able to do certain things when you had asked, moving a piece of log that was blocking an area that you needed to pass through, he could easily move with the way you've seen him lift weights yet he decided that finding away around it would be more safer or that it would be better for you instead of him, which didn't make sense at all. He had been making up excuses to avoid activities that he can and could do, climbing to see where you two were going, hauling heavy items over, he avoided it like it could kill him.
A groan interrupted your thoughts then a thud, the noise made your head jerk to look at Johnny he was on the ground, clutching his bruise. You quickly rush to his side ignoring your own pain, your knees sliding against the dirt as you come to his aid quickly, lifting up his shirt you see the bruise had gotten bigger and in different shades of purple, black and blue, your breath hitched.
"Fuck," you looked around the jungle, trying to back track to where the shore was. "Alright Johnny, let's go back."
"Nae, 'm fine lass, jus' need tae-"
"No. We're going back," you glared at Johnny. A new profound confidence invading your sweet and shy personality which shocked Johnny as he kept his mouth shut, you helped him up by the shoulders to get him standing on his feet again, he groans still clutching his side. You figured that the bruise could've been a fractured bone but you weren't too sure but now since you both had been excelling yourselves through the jungle, it had gotten worse. You sighed heavily as the day just gets worse.
Both of you trudged through the jungle underneath the gazing sun, the density of the vegetation of the jungle giving shade yet it trapped the heat and humidity with little to no breeze in coming from the shore, you wonder how deep you two were in the jungle to not feel any of that ocean air, from how long you've been walking you'd guess an hour or two.
"Lass?" Johnny's voice snapped you out of your thoughts again, you've been getting trapped in your mind since you've gotten here, need to stop doing that. "Lass?"
"Hmm? Sorry, what is it?"
"Ay've been tellin' ye that we passed a turn," you groaned to yourself before turning around where Johnny had pointed out the 'path' that led back to the beach.
Upon your arrival you let Johnny sit down near a tree, keeping him upright as you walk towards where you both had arrived and checked the area if there were anything of use. The material of the parachute that you both had lost during the storm had managed to land on the island you were both on, you thanked whatever magical forces had blessed you, grabbing it you dragged it along that sand as you check nooks and crannies of the rocks, nothing, a few washed up seaweed and trash. You sighed in disappointment, gathering the trash taht could be of use before stepping into the water, your boots getting wet again in the process.
You walked around the rock where Johnny had been found, searching for any washed up material or trash that the waves had brought in, you stumbled against something making yourself dip into the water, today was not your day. You glared into the water to see what had tripped you but the dark, black material had caught your eye, it was buried into the sand.
You quickly brushed the sand away with your boot before using your unused hand to help it clear out, you grab the item before cheering in silence. A tactical knife. Something to work with, you were glad you had checked, you run back to Johnny with the items that you've gathered.
"Och, ye found Si's knife," you raised you brow at him.
"How'd you know?"
Johnny stays silent not answering the question, though you had another question on your mind.
"Did you have Si- Ghost's knife on you?" you corrected yourself, hoping he doesn't say anything.
"Aye, he gave it jus' in case I need tae protect myself, extra backup," he chuckles while looking at the knife in your hand, staring at the metal of the blade before looking down towards the handle, almost in adoration. Great. You felt as if you had tampered with the knife by touching it or holding it in your hand since one, it belonged to your Lieutenant, your superior, a being that was represented as death and who you believed only protected you was because of John or Johnny, and two there was definitely something going on between the two just by how Johnny looked enamoured by the way he indirectly talked about Ghost, the love-struck in his eyes not being hidden.
You held out the knife to Johnny before he waved his hand.
"Don' worry bonnie, Ah'm not in the best shape to be wielding it right noo," he wheezes out a fake cough which becomes a coughing fit. You patted his back while placing out the empty plastic bottles out of the ripped parachute that you had made into a sack, the materials weren't in good condition but you had to try to make use of it.
Johnny's pained, heavy breathing concerned you.
All the medical equipment was gone from the explosion and pretty much all your items in your vests and pockets have been drowned at sea, you tried to think what you could do for Johnny to ease the pain or at least treat his wound, an ice pack would be of use. Something clicked in your mind, you remembered what your father used to do when you had family day outings, though it'll take a while for it to work.
You grabbed one of the bottles that weren't as damaged or had holes in it before filling it up with the ocean water, using your shirt to wrap it up, it was cold but not cold enough. You harrow a hole in the sand till it showed wet sand before placing the bottle gently into it, the neck being covered by your shirt so it was easier to see, you had to wait for a few hours.
“What are ye doing lass?”
“Just something my father taught me,” you smile at him before hearing the grumbling sound of Johnny’s stomach, he smiled out of embarrassment.
“Sorry hen.”
You look up at the horizon of the ocean and place your hand in the middle, the sun already touching the tip of your middle finger, already mid-day by the looks of it. Half the day and both you and Johnny had yet to gather more resources for the cold night, you stare at the said injured teammate before walking towards him.
“I’ll go in and see what I can gather, pretty sure there’s a bunch of fruit in there we can eat,” you nod you head towards the jungle before Johnny agrees, with the situation that they had there was no other option. As you lift yourself up and head into the, Johnny grabs your wrist with his free hand—slightly groaning at the sudden movement—before lowering yourself a little.
“Jus’ be careful,” the worry in his voice was evident but you couldn’t help but felt a tick behind your head, giving him a small, strained smile. “I will Johnny.”
With that he lets you go and venture into the jungle on your own, leaving him behind with the bottles that you had gathered as you had taken the make-shift, parachute bag.
Trudging into the jungle the familiarity of the humidity and heat spread across your face and body, the feeling of home, not England of course but back into the tropicals, where your family were. You reminisced the times you’ve shared back there, the survival stories that your father shared and the adventures you had with your actual friends and your cousins, while you marked trees to remember where you had been so you could return to Johnny. The density of the jungle was more thicker than the ones back home but you didn’t mind it, it was a nice nostalgia feeling however you had to remember to be wary of where you stepped, not knowing the habitants that lived there, for all you know there could be venomous snakes, such as a Russell’s viper, Eyelash viper, Fer-de-lance, different varieties since you don’t know where you had been swept to as well there had been animals being transported to different countries, who weren’t to say that a cargo could’ve let loose a bunch of animals on unknown territory?
You sigh heavily at your overthinking mind, gathering some cloudberries and mulberries which you luckily found, plucking some out for to eat for yourself the slight tart of the cloudberries making you shiver a little but the sweetness of both berries making the hunger you felt relieved, for now at least.
You ventured further still leaving tracks of ‘x’s behind on trees or scratches on rocks so you can remember to follow them back to Johnny while leaving some markings of ‘o’s to locations where you found the berry bushes. You looked at the sun, the only source you can use to estimate the time, possibly around 1300? Give or take. Your eyes land on a bunch of bananas, you’ll grab the bananas and head back to Johnny.
Meanwhile with Johnny, he had not taken to light with sitting around and doing nothing despite his injury, he should be listening to you but he needed to move around even if it was strain his healing and that’s what he did. Groaning as he hoisted himself up he made sure the bottles don’t get blown away by the rough breeze being brought by the waves by burying them under the sand where he had sat, an easy land mark to know where the buried treasure are.
He looked both left and right wanting to explore the shorelines for a bit, if had ran into the jungle and ran into you, you’d surely scold and whine at him for not resting.
Traipsing through the sand clutching to his side, he eyed the ground carefully to see if he could help with gathering resources for you both, though he couldn’t completely focus due to the lack of food, pain and the overwhelming thoughts of his squad, his family being dead in the ocean somewhere and the thought of no one coming to rescue them even occurred in his mind. He missed the Task Force; he missed his and Gaz’s mischievous adventures and pranks, he missed Price scolding and praises, he missed Simon.
He felt the tears swelling up in his eyes as he tries to get ahold of himself, it was only day 1 of being stranded and his emotions were already getting the best of him. Something white had blinded him.
“I’ll gie ye a skelpit lug!” his arm covering his eyes, he squints at the ground looking for the source that had made him see specks of blue and green, his eyes widen at the sight before internally cheering, jogging towards it ignoring the pain on his side.
Exiting the jungle with new found of food—mainly berries and bananas—you arrived to the empty spot of where Johnny once were, your calm demeanour slowly turns to one of panic as your body stops overheating and the humidity that fogged your brain left. You place your findings on the tree that Johnny had laid upon, seeing the sunken sand tracks that he left behind, before you took a step forward, Johnny came back, his hand carrying something while the other clutched his side.
You grumbled a few words underneath your breath, mainly that he had scared you for a second, before jogging towards him.
“Johnny what the fu—” he interrupts you by showing the flint and steel he had found, a cocky grin appearing at the way you were silenced. You smack his arm playfully as you both celebrated by giving one another a hug, there was a chance you both could survive through the upcoming days of hell on the island.
The amount of survival items were still slim but at least it was something; A tactical knife, 5 useable bottles, flint and steel, cloudberries, mulberries, and 7 bananas.
Both you and Johnny created a fire by using the stones in the forest, the fallen branches and the dried leaves, using the flint and steel that surprisingly still worked which was a relief. Now you had a fire to keep going through the dark night that approached, while eating the berries and bananas you found, saving some for another time.
However not everything was going so great as nightfall hits. Johnny kept tossing and turning in his sleep from his nightmares, the fractured rib unable to help that much since it had kept pressing down on his side.
You walked towards the neck of the bottle that you had buried in the sand with your shirt, you felt your shirt feeling damp but cold, it was cold enough to help with Johnny’s pain. You walked back over to Johnny before lowering yourself down and crossing your leg next to his side, you gently lift his shirt up and place the cold bottle there making him jolt up from his sleep.
“Lass, why’d you do tha’ for?” however his complaints slowly dispersed, when his side felt so good with the coldness soothing his side that he nearly fell back asleep.
“Try sleep upright for now Johnny, it’ll help,” you lean against the tree. Johnny stared at you before making himself comfortable in between your legs, using your stomach as a pillow. “Not what I meant.”
“Ye said to sleep at least upright? I cannae do tha’” he snuggles in more, making you inwardly groan and regretted the words you said out loud. “Unless I sleep on ye, so I won’t fall.”
You roll your eyes at his excuse before you took the first watch. After a few minutes you hears Johnny’s soft snoring, one of his arms on his side while the other held your leg, mainly your thigh. You didn’t dare to move it not wanting to wake Johnny and because you couldn’t be asked. You held the bottle still on his side, the coolness of it slowly wearing off from the heat of your hand and Johnny’s body warmth.
You look up at the glowing moon that shone down the ocean in front of you, your mind lurked into dark places of worry for the rest of 141, trying to be positive about it.
Have they made it? Are they safe? Are they stranded somewhere like you and Johnny are?
Are they dead?
You shook your head to those thoughts, thoughts of dread as you close your eyes, trying to get rid of those images of Price, Ghost and Gaz, their bodies sunken into the depths of the ocean or their bodies soon washing up on your shores to find them blue and purple. You didn’t want to think about it, sure you weren’t close but the images of losing them had your heart aching, especially for Johnny, knowing his relationship and bonds with the team. You let out a shaky breath trying to keep your tears as bay so you don’t startle the Scotsman that’s asleep on your lap, you hope that the rest were alive even if there were to be a slim chance of it.
By the morning you had stayed awake, not waking up Johnny to switch to sleep because you couldn’t. You were too deep with your thoughts and worries.
Johnny groans while stretching his limbs and pushing his head slightly into your stomach, sighing with the relief of popping noises coming from his joints while wincing as he tried to pop his back but only to be met with his injury. Sighing he looked towards up at you. His eyes widening as he sits up, staring at the bags under your eyes, his brows furrowing.
“Did ye even sleep at all bonnie?”
You stared at him groggily with a small smile as you shook your head, knowing if you spoke you’d probably sound like a strained cat dying.
“I’ll be fine Johnny,” you yawned, your hand coming to cover your mouth before returning to your side. The coldness of the bottle already wearing warm, you buried it like last time so Johnny could have something for the night.
“Ye need sleep.”
“You need… to not worry.”
You both have a stand off. Neither one of you were going to back down unless the other did, however, your eyes caught something in the distance. You push past Johnny who exclaimed out a ‘hey’ before following you and trying to talk to you in going back to sleep. He stopped dead in his tracks as he saw what you saw, the faint silhouette of another island had faded into view. Both of your eyes widen, it wasn’t too far from you but it would still need a raft to get there, you both smiled at each other as you now have another place to explore. Perhaps one of the guys had gotten stranded there? You both gather your items, now determined to gather more resources from the island you were both on before making a plan to travel to the next.
Though the eyes behind the leaves of the jungles never left your figures, watching, waiting and hearing both of you plan.
A/N: Genuinely, I don’t like how I wrote the ending. But ho, ho, who is watching you and Johnny boi? It’ll be you and Johnny for awhile btw- *cackles*
Taglist(s): @chickennn-soupp, @scarletdfox, @rafaelacallinybbay
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Today in my ethical issues class (it's the first day of class) one of the questions up for debate was "Is it ethical to purchase sex work?"
The first to raise a hand was a guy in the back who basically said "I think it's unethical to do that to yourself as a man, speaking only in terms of men and women, because as a man you don't NEED sex every time you have the desire for it- sex is about human intimacy and emotions, and going so far as to waste your financial resources to buy sex from a stranger is degrading to your self worth." (I paraphrased what he said). Then I was allowed to give a well rounded and to-the-point spiel on why it was impossible for SW to be ethical for all of our usual radfem reasons, and was met with agreement from the full class. There were a few reasonable questions about purchasing people's "work" and "supporting their work" and how that plays into that, especially with the rise of OF, but in the end the entire class seemed satisfied with my explanations for everything (for my Americans, this is a 2000-level ethics class-intro stuff). Most of the students are taking it for their ethics requirement, and they're all like 18-20 years old. The professor is a gay/bisexual man who offered an explanation of why people might have sex for reasons outside of Deep Emotional Intimacy (like gay men only being able to fleetingly meet in secret and express themselves, etc).
Overall, it just filled me with a lot of hope to see so many young people readily accept what is to us something that is rather obvious, like they found it intuitive, despite growing up in our p0rnified culture and being exposed to it as children like all of us were. It also made me realize that we aren't crazy, like, we know all of this "sex work is work!" stuff is just Orwellian mantras being shoved down our throats, because we KNOW the degrading words used for p0rn stars and other "workers", and the only people who want to buy any of that are people (m*n lmao) who hate women. You have to hate women, fundamentally I think, to have a genuine desire to purchase "sex work". You know what it is, I know what it is- we all know what it is. A room full of young adults at a liberal college knows what it is, even the male ones. The "sex work" industry would die without the hatred of women.
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A New Kind Of Normal (Part 2)
Pairing: Dad!Rafe Cameron x Reader
Warnings: Cocaine Hangover and Attending Sobriety Resources
Pronouns: She/Her
Word Count: 2.4K
Summary: Rafe wakes up the next day remembering his mistakes and realizes he needs to change.
Masterlist
The massive headache he has from the cocaine he did last night makes him question why he does it in the first place. Jaw pain is not unusual for him thanks to the substance, but it still doesn’t mean it can’t hurt. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and it helps him clearly see the sweat stain on his pillow. The deep breath he takes brings clarity to last night's events; panic starts to weave through his mind. Y/N is never going to forgive him for going to her house while high and saying what he said. The fury she held is definitely not one he want to meet in court, especially since he built a case against himself. This stress needs to leave him and he knows one substance that would help him relax. It’s the same thing he turns to every time he argues with his dad. He sniffles in an attempt to bring moisture back to his nose, but it doesn’t work. His hand shakes as he tries to open the ziplock bag filled with the white substance.
And then he thinks about those small blue eyes that match his eyes. The excitement in her voice as she saw her mother. The way her beautiful hair blew in the wind as she ran around the counter. It stops his fingers from going any further. If he keeps turning toward drugs, he will never get to see her again. She’ll never get to know that he is her daddy and that he cares for her even if she doesn’t him. She’ll never get to tell him about her favourite TV shows or food. He wonders if she needs a night light to go to sleep and how many stories she likes to read before bedtime. He doesn’t even know his own daughter’s name.
He needs to change because he wants to find all that stuff out. He told Y/N that he would’ve changed if he knew about their daughter and he is going to prove that he truly meant it. The first thing he needs to do is get a therapist and get clean. That’s his new goal. All he wants as of now is to be the best father he can be to the little girl.
——
“I’m Rafe and I am an addict.” The other members of the meeting all retort with the typical anonymous meeting greeting. He didn’t think he had a problem, but his therapist begged to differ. She says that if he really wants to be in his daughter’s life, he has to show Y/N that drugs aren’t more important than their daughter. “I started using it when I was in my senior year of high school,” he starts to explain. “Most parents say they don’t have a favourite when their kids ask, but my dad was different. It was always clear to me that my younger sister was his favourite. No matter what I did, Sarah was the perfect one and I was the worthless one. Coke was the only thing that made his tiny voice in my head stop.” The group gives him sympathetic nods. They wait for him to continue, “I think that’s all I’m going to share for today. That’s all I need to get off of my chest right now.”
“Thank you for sharing,” Diana thanks. The meeting goes on and Rafe listens intently to the others’ stories. Listening to their journeys, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen the signs of his own addiction before. The clacking of chairs folding finds his ears as he helps clean up. He doesn’t hear Diana’s footsteps as she approaches him, “So what made you decide to get sober if you don’t mind me asking?” He looks at her and finishes putting the chair he is holding away. “No, I don’t mind. Um… I recently found out that I have a daughter. I didn’t react so great when I found out that she was kept a secret from me, so I realized I needed to get better for her.”
“It’s good that you realized you needed help. What’s your little girl’s name?”
“I actually don’t know. I was too high to ask. Another reason why I need to get sober is so I can get to know her.”
“I see. Well, if you need a sponsor, I would be more than happy to help. I’ve been sober for three years. I know how difficult it can be to try to change.”
“That would be great. I’ve been sober for a day and I’m already struggling with it a little bit.”
They exchange numbers before Rafe goes on his way to his next meeting of the day.
——
Anger management right after a narcotics anonymous meeting may not have been the best idea on Rafe’s part. He really did want to get better, but with therapy, he has been doing a lot of talking about his feelings and it is exhausting to him. “And what do you think your anger triggers are, Rafe?” Corey asks, leaning forward in his chair. Rafe feels irritation fill him, “If I knew, then why would I be in anger management?” The look Corey gives him makes Rafe feel like he is receiving a warning from a parent.
He cowers a little under the look. “Okay, I’m sorry for being snippy. But I’m hoping that I can figure this out. I want to figure out what makes me angry and how I can express that anger in a healthy manner,” he reasons. Corey agrees with his statement, “That’s exactly why I am here to help. Why don’t we talk about times you were angry?”
“The last time I was angry was when I found out that someone I slept with five years ago had my baby and didn’t tell me for five years.”
“Right and were you more angry about the lie or the fact that you had a kid?”
“I am more upset by the lying. I told myself that I would be a better parent to my child and she didn’t give me a chance to do that.”
Rafe feels nervous with Corey’s eyes on him; today is the most he has been vulnerable since the night he met Y/N. “That is very angering. Now, how do you think you could’ve managed your anger?” Corey pushes, moving one leg over the other. Rafe takes a second to think, “I should not have gotten high that day. Instead, I should’ve opened communications with her. She tried to talk to me before I ran off, but I didn’t give her a chance.” “That’s right, Rafe. This is a very good start for your first session,” Corey applauds.
——
The blast of music can be heard from outside the front door. Rafe has to laugh at the off-key and incorrect lyrics that are sung about five seconds too late. His daughter might look like his twin, but she seems to have inherited her mother’s musical abilities. He pauses as his fist lifts to knock on the door. The two girls in the house have their own lives. They already know how they fit into each other’s lives and he could off-balance their equilibrium by worming himself into it. He can’t mess up being a father if he isn’t in her life. But then he also couldn’t be a great father if he just left without trying to make things right with Y/N.
He shakes off his anxiety and knocks on the door. The singing stops and the music dims. He can hear her footsteps approaching the door. Vanilla. It seems to haunt him whenever he is around her. He is glad fear doesn’t flash through her eyes when she sees him. He wouldn’t be able to handle knowing he caused her to feel that way.
Her hair falls over her shoulder as she looks over at their daughter behind her. “Stella. Why don’t you go play in your room, Baby?” Y/N suggests, blocking Rafe from the little girl’s sight. Stella shoots up from the couch, “Okay, Mommy.” Her little running legs slowly down at the calling out from her mother to walk. With Stella out of earshot, Y/N finally gives him her full attention. “So her name is Stella. It means star, doesn’t it?” he thinks out loud. She slowly nods her head, “Yeah, I thought of it when I was stargazing while I was pregnant. Plus, my grandmother’s name was Luna so I thought it was a good homage to her. Rafe, I thought I made it clear that I didn’t want to see you again unless you were suing me.” His hand moves his watch face back and forward on his wrist. He doesn’t want to look her in the eyes.
“It’s a beautiful name. And you did make it clear. I want to apologize first. I shouldn’t have shown up to your house high. I probably scared you and Stella, which I never meant to do.
“Apologizing won’t fix the fact that you came over high while my daughter was in the room.”
“I know, I’m sorry. But seeing our little girl, Y/N. I never thought that I could feel so much love for a person I didn’t know before. It made me realize that I need to change. So I started going to NA, anger management and therapy. I want to be mentally healthy. For Stella.”
He can see the way she is processing his words and it gives him hope that he has a chance. “Rafe, I’m glad you are trying to get better. I really am, but I don’t know if I can trust you. You haven’t shown me that you are responsible enough to be Stella’s father,” Y/N explains and she doesn’t want to admit that the sad look on his face causes her some pain. He finally has the courage to look at her, “I understand. I wouldn’t trust me either. All I’m asking is that you give me a chance to show you that I am serious about being there for her. I’m hoping that if I stay sober for a month, you might consider letting me meet Stella as her father.” The silence that comes from Y/N absolutely kills Rafe and he feels like time is dragging on. “Okay. Stay sober for a month and Stella can meet you. But I want to meet you every week to get to know you more to make sure you are someone who can be around her,” she offers.
Rafe’s smile fixes the pain she felt before. He throws his arms around her to give her a hug, “Thank you so much, Buttercup! Can you do dinner tomorrow night?” That nickname. God, she didn’t think she could feel this many butterflies in her stomach at a simple name. She remembers why they are having this conversation and removes herself from his arms. “Dinner feels too romantic. How about lunch?” she counters. He gives her a thumbs up as he walks backwards toward his truck, “I can do lunch, great. I’ll pick you up at twelve. See you tomorrow.”
He gets in his car and starts it. As he does so, he feels a pang shoot through his heart. She didn’t like the idea of going on a date with him, which tomorrow wasn’t going to be. He doesn’t know why he feels that way about it. He shakes off the feeling and focuses on the road.
——
Given that they are here because of Rafe, he offered to pay for lunch. They had decided on a small cafe near her house. “Were you able to find a babysitter? I can pay them for you if you need,” he states, playing with the food on his plate. She shakes her head at his offer, “My brother is watching her, so you don’t need to pay anybody. I certainly don’t need you paying for anything else either. I’ve been able to provide for her just fine so far.” “Right, right. I’m not saying that you can’t take care of her. I just want to make up for not being there for the first few years of her life,” he clears up. She takes a bite out of her sandwich, “You don’t need to make up for not being there. I knew where to find you and it was my choice not to tell you.”
“Right…So you have a brother?”
“I do. I have two actually. An older one and a younger one. How about you? You have a sister, if I remember correctly.”
His heart flutters at the fact that she remembers him talking about Sarah. He looks up to see that her attention is fully on him, “Yeah. I have two younger ones. Sarah and Wheezie.” “Wheezie. That’s an interesting name,” Y/N tries to pretend it isn’t strange. Rafe chuckles at the look on her face, “It’s a nickname, Buttercup. Don’t worry.” “Of course, I’m glad your parents had enough reason not to make that her legal name,” she jokes. Her beautiful smile that Rafe loves has returned, “Me too.” “How are you feeling about being sober so far? Any withdrawal symptoms?” she worries. He feels a twitch in his hand at the mention of his sobriety, “I’m not going to lie. It’s hard. I’m always tired, I’m more hungry than normal and I feel an unpleasant itch throughout my whole body. Not to mention the need for the drug is driving me crazy. But then I think about Stella and remember what I am doing this for.”
The corner of her lips turns upwards at the thought of Stella helping Rafe stay strong. He must truly feel a love for Stella if she is helping anchor him during these trying times. “That’s good,” she says. “Button, I know I said I didn’t want to see you again, but if you ever feel the need to talk to someone, you can come to me. I know that addictions can be hard to overcome and I can see you really are trying. I want to help so Stella can meet her father.” The genuine care in her voice brings tears to his eyes. He barely knows her, yet she has shown more belief in Rafe’s abilities than Ward has in the twenty-six years that Rafe has been his son. Plus, using the nickname she gave him all those years ago must be a good sign that they are on the right track. “Thank you, Buttercup. It really means a lot to me that I have your support.”
Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @drewstarkeyswifehoe @kisstaya @magicalyoura @mp-littlebit @loverfu55ii
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