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zigtheeortega · 4 years ago

Text

redeemed

pairing | m!raleigh x mc

word count | 6.6k

warnings | cursing, innuendos, mentions of sex

tags | @natesewell, @choicesarehard, @empressazura, @raleighcarrera, @pixeljazzy, @pixelsandkink [tagging people who usually ask to be tagged !]

author’s note | i’ve talked about this before but i’m not a huge fan of the platinum mc’s personality, so i’ve kind of crafted my own that’s quite a bit more rebellious than canon. i’m obsessed with the idea of an mc who’s romancing raleigh and falls into the same pattern of behavior and it genuinely concerns them – so yeah i play with that idea here! i deviate from canon some but not too much ! this is my submission for day 2 of @platinumweekend as well ! also i had no idea how to end this so i apologize for the fizzle out at the end lol

•─────────────────•

As soon as he stepped off stage, he was shuffled to his tour bus, Fiona on his heels. She looked like the human embodiment of rage in a grey blazer, a look in her eye that made him thankful he wasn’t the one it was directed at – or at least he hoped he wasn’t the reason she was two seconds away from a murderous rampage.

She slammed the door behind her, locking it, running to the windows and closing the curtains, peeking out at the paparazzi that no doubt had already tried flocking at the edges of the blocked off area where the bus was parked.

“Damn, what’s the problem? Can’t I at least get my food from craft services? Jesus,” he complained, grabbing a bottle of water from the fully stocked mini fridge, downing it while Fiona frantically ran around the bus, turning off every electrical device in sight.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

She wheeled on him, a few strands of her hair sticking to her lips. “We’ve got a problem.”

“Yeah, you won’t let me go get my fuckin’ overpriced grilled cheese that I know is waiting for me,” he jabbed his thumb towards the venue. “At craft services.”

She eyed him, pupils wide, her anger nearly palpable. “It’s bigger than food.”

He ran a hand through his damp hair, some strands completely drenched in sweat. “Lay it on me.”

And the three words that fell from her lips were soul crushing, his post-show high wearing off in an instant.

“Dom’s been arrested.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He sat up, posture rigid. “What happened?”

“Not here. We’ll talk on the plane,” Fiona said, twisting the knob of the closet door, grabbing the black duffel bag on the ground. She tossed it at his feet, motioning for him to stand. “The jet leaves in an hour. I packed for you.”

“The plane? Where is she?” He was getting more and more frustrated, nearing hysterics. He should’ve felt a bit more shame about how worked up he was getting, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Fiona took notice, her fiery gaze softening at the edges, the blue flames flickering across his face. “Not here, Raleigh.”

He slung the duffle bag on his shoulder, walking to the door.

“Wait –” Fiona said, leaning over the couch to pull the curtain to the side, peering out again. “I paid off a security guard to distract the paparazzi. And when he does, we have to run to the car that’s gonna pull up any minute now – undetected,” she shot back at him, her icy gaze warning.

Within minutes, a security guard with a similar build to Raleigh sprinted towards the venue, jacket over his head, paparazzi on his heels.

With the camera’s flashing finally pointed away, they were able to slide into the back of the cab, thankful that Hank had connections everywhere. The driver rolled up the barrier without question as soon as Fiona tossed him a wad of cash that she’d fished out of a plain leather pouch.

She shook the pouch, her lips set in a thin line. “You know what this is?”

“A purse?” He asked, brows furrowed. “Is this some kind of fuckin’ trick?”

“It’s an emergency fund. Cash. Not traceable.”

She shook her head, dropping the pouch into her lap, before pinching the bridge of her nose. “When Dom first started getting into trouble, I had to pay off a few people here and there, but when it became more frequent, I had to actually sit her down with her accountant and sort this out.”

“Sort… what out?”

“How much money she needed to allocate to her… antics,” she rolled her eyes, propping her elbow on the back of her seat, hand pressed to her forehead.

She looked drained. Fiona never looked disheveled, but he sensed this was the closest she’d be to it.

“If it’s money she needs, that’s fine. Lemme call my agent –”

“There’s only so much cash I can hand people under the table before it becomes a problem. Not just financially, put publicly,” she sighed, chewing the inside of her cheek. “I’ve been able to cover up the smaller mishaps, but this, I’m afraid, might be the start of something… much worse than disorderly conduct.”

“You gonna tell me her charges?” His jaw set in anticipation, already running through a list of the best lawyers in L.A. that got him off from potentially hefty lawsuits.

Her short locks swayed as she shook her head. “I don’t think it’s my place to tell you.”

He blew air out of his cheeks, leaning into the corner of the cab, legs splayed wide as he tried to take a nonchalant stance. “Can you at least tell me where we’re going?”

“You’ll be glad you have a bedroom, shower, and fridge on the plane,” she said with another shake of her head.

––––

Raleigh laid in bed, aimlessly scrolling through his burner account.

He never really cared for social media under the public eye. Every post of his was either related to tour or the series of brand deals for products he never used. Each page was a personified advertisement – some shit he regretted signing up for.

One drunken night, his curiosity got the best of him and he found himself making a pretty inconspicuous profile, following some funny internet personalities and political commentators. And although he had plans to delete it, once Dom came into the picture, he unabashedly lurked.

He followed her on all platforms, and when he had the chance, he watched her stories, voted in her daily polls, and occasionally scrolled through her old instagram photos.

This time in particular, though, he was looking for something specific without really knowing if there was an answer.

He scrolled to her first post, hundreds down, smiling at high school Dom. Thick eyeliner, layered hair, brace-adorned grin – she was a poster child of adolescence.

Photos of her with Shane at pep rallies, in Halloween costumes, in prom formal wear filled the screen, later transitioning to senior portraits, graduation photos, and dorm photos. A setting of picturesque normality as Dom grew into herself, growing out her choppy layers, softening her makeup, her gleaming smile lighting up each photo.

She grew more beautiful with each year, each little phase of her life coming with a new style, a new little identity or association, Dom’s willingness to try new things the reason she was able to break free from her small town.

God, was Raleigh so fucking envious of this imperfect little portion of her Instagram. If someone were to look this far back for him, there’d be photoshoots and magazine spreads and paparazzi photos all neatly planned. The shaky off-guard photos, the unedited red eyes, the off guard photos, the expressions they made in them… it was something Raleigh never had the chance to do.

Being in the business for ten years, everything was pristine, crisp – always smiling or smoldering, no in between. Sexy and rugged or smiling and happy. Like he had two modes and he wasn’t ever able to exercise those other parts of himself because being in front of the camera was restrictive – while Dom was able to be unabashedly herself.

He was breaking shit just to feel something, to have some range of emotions even if it was a stupid fucking publicity stunt where he damaged property or made out with another politician’s daughter or attempted irreparable blows to his public image.

The more recent the posts, the more calculated her photos got, the phrase “ad” showing up more and more. But even with a skincare brand deal, her step-by-step skincare routine video was on brand for Dom, her bright smile and wit always present in everything she did.

But Raleigh couldn’t help but feel like parts of her were slipping away.

Her online persona was still pretty crisp, except for her style shift – tattoos, a couple piercings, and some edgier photoshoots signified a tonal shift in Dom’s aesthetic, but nothing he hadn’t seen before.

Hell, when he used his first innuendo on his solo album, there was widespread outrage on Sunset Skatepark fan forums, ripping into him for singing about using his dick (even though he was definitely an adult and definitely not a virgin).

But other than her general style, nothing was different. Nothing to indicate this downward spiral that Fiona kept a secret.

Where’s the shift? He thought to himself as he scrolled to the top. When the hell did she start changing for the worse?

She’d come a long way from her clean songs that didn’t require a radio edit. He felt a pang of something in his chest –– regret, maybe? Was he the reason she’d changed?

The questions sent him into a near tailspin, his pulse quickening at the realization.

He was the problem.

She’d since deleted her photos with Raleigh, because their breakup was so public, but he could tell that the shift happened right around the time she started spending more time with him.

He’d been a mentor of sorts, opposite of Avery, showing her the ropes… which meant that he was teaching her how to evade the press, fuck with the paparazzi, pick out industry plants – the whole nine yards.

She was impulsive, daring, adventurous, fearless – all the qualities he liked in himself. But he never thought those traits would take a negative turn, morphing her into a rebel with an affinity for breaking laws.

He could blame himself all he wanted, but he couldn’t blame her for taking the same route he took.

He knew it better than anybody – it was hard to shift the public’s persona of you. Once you did something horrible to make them hate you, either the rebrands and ass kissing worked, or you get written off by everyone.

Raleigh Carrera was a special case, a wild card of sorts who toed the line, unpredictable, both with his craft and his behavior. The nastier his lyrics, the crazier his publicity stunts were, the more polarizing he was.

And that was no doubt the route Dom was on, heading towards an inevitable press nightmare – if people were to find out the home grown rags-to-riches Dominique Avalos dove headfirst into her rebellious phase with no smooth transition, she wouldn’t be able to Google herself for months without having a panic attack.

She’d changed drastically, but that’s what fame did to people. Some people cracked under the pressure, or they rebelled to show the public they were in control of their narrative… or that they desperately wanted it back.

He took a shaky breath, swiping out of the app.

He wasn’t sure if he could save her, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t gonna try.

––––

The moment the jet touched down, Fiona was in full manager mode, adamant on abandoning his phone, stressing the importance of going off the grid.

“If anyone finds out you’re here, they’ll be able to put two and two together. Why else would you be in the same country as Dom when you’re supposed to be heading towards New York for your next show?” She asked, hand outstretched.

“I hate it when you’re right,” he grumbled, tossing his phone into her palm. “Where are we exactly?”

“I can’t tell you,” she sighed, looking exhausted. He had a gut feeling she hadn’t slept a wink since they’d boarded the plane.

“Why not?”

“It’s a bit safer that way.”

He scoffed. “You’re serious? Look, I’m not exactly thrilled to pull the A-List celebrity card, but this is borderline kidnapping.”

“Let’s just say you might be able to pick up on some of the language,” she said, turning on her heel to exit the plane.

Within minutes, they were pulling onto a dirt backroad, the small houses they passed barely casting shadows onto the ground.

The town itself was seemingly innocuous – the tiny brick houses riddled with dust, the stone paths lining the road cracked and deserted. The tiny town had turned in for the night, their old Sedan sticking out like a sore thumb despite the old model.

Raleigh squirmed in his seat, twisting the expensive watch on his wrist. He fucking hated this.

No matter where he went, he was noticed in some capacity – so wearing a Rolex and Cartier rings in a small village in the middle of nowhere just made him look pretentious.

He slipped the rings and watches off, shoving them deep into the pocket of his jeans, ignoring Fiona’s calculating side eye (one he knew all too well).

The only light, other than the gas lamp posts and their high beams, came from the building at the end of the road.

The car pulled around the side, flicking their lights off, the driver peeking around before motioning for them to exit the car.

“Throw the hoodie on, Raleigh,” Fiona ordered while slipping on a ball cap of her own, her casual t-shirt and leggings wildly different from her normal outfit.

“Sure,” he murmured, tugging the hood on.

The walk from the car to the dusty glass front door was short, Fiona breaking into a light jog to keep up with Raleigh’s brisk pace.

The makeshift “waiting room” in the front corner of the station was empty, the scratched up folding chairs in crooked rows. The front desk was occupied by a sleeping form, head buried in the crease of his elbow, snore muffled by the counter top.

The other officer stood at the back near an old vending machine, sliding coins into the slot, the clink of each piece ringing out against the brick and linoleum.

No cameras, he thought, after a quick scan of the room, shoving the hood back in its place at the nape of his neck.

The holding cells were farther back, but he couldn’t see her.

He stepped up to the counter where the man was sleeping, giving a gentle knock to the top. The man stirred, unfurling his arms, while the other man in the back glanced up from where he was, elbows deep in the snack machine as he fished out his bag of chips.

Raleigh offered a basic greeting in Spanish, frowning just a bit when both officers’ eyes lit up – the phrase “famoso” and “celebridad” falling from their lips almost as soon as they recognized him.

Yeah, he was gonna use his notoriety to their advantage, but that didn’t mean it still didn’t sting when people immediately tried gauging what they could get from him when they realized who he was.

For a long time he’d been waiting for the day where name dropping himself didn’t get him out of deep shit.

And the day he met Dom, when he assumed she knew who he was, all she did was raise her brow as if to say “Why the fuck should I care?”

It startled him, truthfully. But it was such a breath of fresh air. He couldn’t remember a time before or after that someone showed no interest in him.

The officer in the back jogged to the front, pulling his phone out of his back pocket while asking for a picture.

He looked to Fiona, who was shaking her head furiously, stepping up next to him like her 5’5 stature was enough to shield him. “Nobody can know we’re here.”

He nodded, turning back to the men, trying to negotiate with them.

Yes, Dom’s here.

No, you can’t see her.

He racked his brain trying to figure out how he was gonna get himself – and Dom – out of the situation unscathed if he couldn’t give them a photo or autograph.

“Dom bought me the Rolex and Cartier rings, right?”

Fiona’s brows furrowed. “Yes. She gifted them to you on your birthday. You know this –”

“No, what I mean is, she has the receipts? Or you do?”

“I don’t have them, but I have access to them,” she said, still confused.

“Get rid of ‘em. I haven’t told anyone she bought them for me.”

Her face lit up in recognition, and she nodded, encouraging him to go on.

He dug in his pockets, fishing out the watch and thin bands.

After a quick exchange, the officers took two rings each, and began rapid fire arguing over the Rolex. They tossed Raleigh the keys, stepping out the front door.

“I’ll keep watch,” Fiona said, turning towards the door.

“Hey –” Raleigh said, laying a hand on her shoulder.

She quirked a brow at him. “What?”

“You’re not coming with?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Why not? I’m not even sure what the fuck I’m supposed to say –”

“She specifically asked for you.”

He took a step back, resting his palm on the countertop behind him. “What the – are you… are you serious?”

She nodded once. “She might’ve been slurring, but she was clear as day. She wanted you.”

He blew air out of his cheeks, running a hand through his short waves.

Fiona’s gaze softened, her eyes still piercing. Fiona was a lot of things – steadfast, headstrong, determined – but she wasn’t soft. She didn’t sugar coat shit.

“She’s missed you. She doesn’t confide in me much, but even I can tell she’s unhappy. Be gentle with her,” she said, gaze tearing right through him.

The walk to the holding cells felt miles long – his resolve was shrinking with every step.

He wasn’t afraid of seeing Dom, not at all. He was afraid of whatever part of himself that might’ve been reflected in her.

The cell was empty, save for the curled form on the bench, long dark hair cascading over the edges of the seat.

“Dom?” He called, hearing her sharp inhale of breath as she stirred, bending into a long stretch, her limbs unfurling until she was lying on her back on the bench, tilting her head towards his voice.

God, even when she looked like life had torn her to shreds, she still looked beautiful.

“Raleigh?” She croaked, her eyes squinting to adjust to the low lights. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

She arched her back, stretching again, her long frame covering the bench. It was almost the right level of distracting to stop the creeping annoyance at her question.

“What do you mean? I’m here to bail you out, obviously.”

“Where’s Fiona?” She asked groggily, rolling off the side of the bench awkwardly, trying to gain her footing.

“You asked for me, didn’t you?” He raised a brow, sliding his forearms through the bars, resting them there.

“She told you?” She asked, voice raising in betrayal, a scoff following his silence. “I was drunk.”

“And? You still asked for me.”

“Oh, fuck off,” she murmured, crossing her arms as soon as she was balanced.

He dangled the keys between his fingertips, gently jingling them. “I’ll let you out if you tell me what happened.”

Her lip curled in annoyance. “You’d really leave me here?”

“You don’t want to find out.”

She ran a hand through her hair, blowing air out of her cheeks. “Alright.”

He unlocked the door and slipped in, the heavy door creaking as he slid it wide enough for him to fit through.

She backed up, plopping back onto the bench, arms lowering to curl around her sides.

He followed suit, sitting a couple feet away from her on the other end of the bench, shoving his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie.

She stared at the floor, clearly waiting for him to make a move.

“So…”

“So, what?” She grumbled.

“So… how’d you end up here?” He asked, trying to remain as relaxed as he could since she was clearly on edge, ready to tear him a new one at a moment’s notice.

“I was drunk. I got in a fight. Here I am.”

He sighed. “Look, you don’t have to tell me everything, but I can’t help you if I don’t know if you’re ankles deep or neck deep.”

She chewed her lip, chin dipping lower, strands of her hair falling forward, creating an inky veil. “Fine. I’ll tell you but… can you not… look at me?”

Raleigh’s face contorted in confusion, but he listened, swivelling until he was facing the back wall, propping one leg up on the bench.

He waited for her to speak. The break in conversation was a bit too long – but before a quip could fall from his lips, she spoke.

“I did get drunk, and I did get in a fight. I’m telling the truth but I, uh, left out some details,” she started, her voice low.

“I, uh, was passing through this town after my last show because I wanted to go to a bar without being noticed. Like the old days. I know it was stupid, but I didn’t think anyone would find me here.”

That was her first mistake. Smaller towns surprisingly had the most dedicated fans – maybe because they’re bored or nothing exciting happened in their towns, but most of his die hard fans came from the middle of nowhere.

“The first hour was fine, and I was able to drink and dance with strangers. Most of them were a lot older than me and spoke zero English – and I speak a little bit of Spanish as you know, so I could make some small talk, but I was on my own just… enjoying myself and my freedom,” she said, and he could almost see the grin tug at the corner of her lips.

“I noticed someone taking photos of me with their phone, so I got a bit paranoid and sat in a booth in the back drinking for a little while longer so I could figure out my next move,” she continued, before sighing loudly. “I guess they told the local news or something, because by the time I decided to leave, I ran smack into a reporter on the sidewalk.”

Silence ensued again, this time more deafening than the last.

“I didn’t mean to give her a black eye. Or break the camera. Or elbow the camera man in the face when he tried restraining me. I just… couldn’t think straight. I was mad. Intoxicated and wrong, but still mad.”

“I know Fiona’s trying her best to get me out of this mess but… I think I went too far this time.”

Raleigh stared at the wall, racking his brain for something. He was a little dumbfounded that she spilled to him so fast. He figured it was gonna take a bit more digging to get her to open up, but she blossomed in front of him; despite the wilted petals, he was relieved to know she still trusted him enough to confide in him.

“Are you gonna say something?” She asked, a bit timidly.

“Not if I can’t look at you.”

“Okay, then don’t say anything.”

He sighed, settling into his spot on the bench, waiting again for her to speak.

“Why did you come?”

Instinctively, he shrugged. “You asked me to.”

“But you don’t owe me anything. We’re not together.”

“Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t drop everything to come help you. I mean, I’d like to think we’re at least acquaintances, if not friends,” he joked, resting his arm over the back of the bench.

“Sure,” she said, voice straining just a bit. Just enough for him to notice.

Dom was a special kind of resilient – one trait that Raleigh was sure she didn’t copy from him.

He knew that being a woman in the industry was already hard enough – everything from beauty to body standards to raging misogyny was enough to give people reasons to hate her, as stupid as they were.

Raleigh benefitted from the standards in place for men. He was young, attractive, talented – didn’t matter what he did wrong. He’d bounce back.

But he’d seen some vile shit since he’d ascended to fame. So many celebrities fading into obscurity after one mishap. One bad album. One bad interview. One rude encounter. One rumor.

For some reason, despite diving headfirst into troubled waters, Dom bounced back every time, fire in her eyes, her jaw set in determination, her face painted with the look she got when she was ready to face the world.

But whatever she was feeling in that moment, in that jail cell in the middle of nowhere – was enough to break her.

He heard her take a deep, shaky breath, and he started to turn, but he felt her warm palm on his shoulder, holding him in place.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

He listened to her labored breathing, likely struggling to hold back tears, while he stared at the cracks in the wall, trying to think of something – anything – to console her.

“Did Fiona seem… upset?” She asked, seeming a bit nervous.

“It’s kind of hard to tell, to be honest. She’s pretty intense all of the time,” he laughed, not really meaning to.

He was relieved to hear a light chuckle from behind him.

“Yeah, I figure she’s pretty mad at me. I don’t blame her,” she sighed, another break in conversation ensuing. A couple beats later, she asked, bluntly, “Are you mad at me?”

“No,” he answered with zero hesitation. “I know you’d do the same for me.”

She laughed again, a bit more genuine that time. “Not sure where you got that impression.”

“You wouldn’t leave me here to rot if I asked you to come, Dom. You’re not that heartless,” he teased gently, glad that things were taking a lighthearted turn.

“I’m just glad you’re not gonna lecture me. I already know I’m gonna get an earful from Fiona, not to mention the shit I’ll get from Shane and Avery. I couldn’t handle one from you.”

He grimaced. “Uh, well, you’d rather hear it from me than Fiona, right?”

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” she mumbled under her breath.

“You know I normally don’t care what you do, because it’s your life, and you should be able to do whatever the fuck you want, but Dom…” he trailed off, trying to choose his words carefully.

“I know I fucked up, Raleigh. I don’t need you making me feel more guilty than I already am,” she said defensively, voice raised.

“I’m not gonna make you feel guilty. Just offering some advice.” God, did those words feel foreign to him. Offering advice. He never did shit like this for anybody.

He took her silence as a green light. “You’ve just gotta slow down, Dom.”

Whatever impact his words made, he couldn’t see it, since he was still facing the damn wall. “Can I please turn around? I can’t talk to you like this.”

“Sure.”

He adjusted himself on the bench, trying to look attentive without staring. She was stunning, even with the smudged makeup, the dark circles, the red eyes “You don’t have to do anything and everything you’re asked to do, but you gotta find some kind of balance.”

She wrung her hands in her lap, picking at her cuticles absentmindedly. “Yeah, I know.”

“I mean balance the good and bad, Dom. There’s a line for people like us and you can’t cross it often. You can get close, but you can’t just dive over it and not expect there to be some fallout.”

“I know,” she said, bluntly, looking a bit more annoyed with each word that came from his mouth.

“You can cause some chaos, but some of it isn’t acceptable,” he said, watching her expression contort in anger. “For them. Not acceptable for them. The average person, I mean.”

“Oh, you’re one to fucking talk!” She rolled her eyes. “How are you gonna sit here and tell me that your brand of shit stirring is okay, but mine isn’t?”

“I’m not the one sitting in a jail cell right now, Dom,” he said, calmly but firmly. He wasn’t used to being the rational one, but he had to be level headed. He was trying to save her.

She ran a hand through her hair, leaning back against the back of the bench. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

“Trust me, I know.”

“You’re hypocritical.”

“Not necessarily,” he said, propping his arm up on the back of the bench. “I was in the industry for years before I started dirtying up my image. You just got here.”

“And you’ve been here too damn long to act the way you do,” she nearly spat, lashing out.

“I’m too far gone,” he simply stated, keeping surprisingly calm through it all.

“What the hell do you mean by that?”

“I’ve been here for a long time, which means, I’ve got a lot more fuck ups under my belt. Irreparable damage, if you will.”

“People love you,” she said, matter-of-factly, like that solved it – it honestly relieved him. A bit of Dom’s naivete from when they first met was shining through.

“People also hate me, because I’m a little shit who sets fires for fun,” he grinned. “For legal reasons, my lawyers insist I clarify that I’m joking.”

She rolled her lips, trying to suppress a smile. “People who hate you don’t know you.”

He nodded. “You’re right, and you’re so close to the point I’m sure you can taste it.”

“I’m too far gone to save. No matter how hard I try for the rest of my career, I can never get away from the wild card label. Plenty of people don’t wanna work with me. I’ve damaged business relationships. Lots of artists don’t want to collab with me because of how it’ll make them look.”

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because I know you don’t want this. You’re too good for whatever baggage comes with being a ‘rebel’, Dom. I don’t want to see you turn out like me.”

For the first time that night, she stared at him – really stared at him. Her deep brown, nearly midnight eyes searched his for any sign of insincerity.

“You’re… serious?” She asked finally, brows furrowed in confusion.

“One hundred percent honest,” he said, nodding.

She sat back in her chair, chewing on her lip, contemplating.

“Can you turn back around again?”

He nodded, wordlessly facing the wall again.

“I left out a few details,” she said from behind him.

“I’m listening,” he affirmed.

“I, uh, was pretty hammered by the time I left, so it was even harder for me to understand what people were saying,” she said before he could speak. “I heard the reporter say ‘Raleigh’ and ‘novio’ and I saw red… so… I, uh… swung.”

His chest clenched, tightening until it was difficult to breathe. He was thankful she’d asked him to face the other direction, because he knew his reaction betrayed his cool demeanor.

“I guess I’m not over it,” she laughed humorlessly.

He ran a hand over his face, racking his brain for a response, but coming up short.

“You, um, don’t have to say anything if you don’t feel the same. I shouldn’t have gotten attached. It’s on me.”

That made him turn, swivelling around before she could finish speaking.

She flicked her head towards the bars of the cell, raising a hand to cover her face. “I said ‘don’t look at me’, Raleigh. Goddamn.”

Years and years of PR training and interviews and he had no idea how the fuck to console her. Partially because he was trying to get a grip on whatever the hell was going on in his brain as well.

Instead, he answered her with a question of his own, a tactic he’d used anytime he wanted to deflect in interviews.

“Why can’t I look?”

Dom tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, slowly rotating to meet his gaze. She sank her teeth deep into her bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

“Fuck,” she cursed, rubbing the backs of her hands under her eyes, the dried black mascara under her eyes beginning to liquidate again. “Because I’m crying, Raleigh. And I don’t cry.”

“You wanna tell me what’s wrong? I know there’s more to it than you’re telling me,” he asked, holding up two of his fingers in a solute. “No judgement.”

She sighed, crossing the room to put some distance between them. She began pacing, taking slow steps as she spoke.

“I might’ve fucked up my career and I keep letting people down and I’m destructive because this whole fame thing isn’t what I signed up for and I didn’t think I’d cave under pressure like every other mid twenties child actor who goes through a premature mid-life crisis, but here I fucking am,” she said, nearly out of breath by the end.

His legs carried him across the room before he could think twice, pacing towards her while she strode across the room in the opposite direction.

“God, I’m so fucking stupid –”

“Stop. You’re not stupid.”

“I am,” she said, wheeling on him. “And – and I’m embarrassed. I’m embarrassed that my manager and – and my ex –” She stopped in her tracks, rubbing a palm over her forehead, shutting her eyes.

He reached out to her, but let his hand fall almost immediately.

“My acquaintance had to fly out to a fucking village in the middle of nowhere to bail me out –”

“Dom, stop –”

“– because I fought a fucking reporter over not being able to handle my fucking feelings –”

“Dom –”

“– like an adult with a functioning frontal lobe all because I love someone who –”

Her eyes popped open, her expression horrified. “Oh my god, I’m – I –”

She dug the heel of her hands into her eyes, dropping into a squat. “Fuck, fuck, Goddammit –”

“Did you just –”

“Yeah, Raleigh, I did. Don’t make me feel worse, alright? I know I fucked up,” she groaned from her heap on the ground.

“You just said you love me, Dom. I think I’m allowed to react,” he said, a slight teasing to his voice.

She glanced up, glaring. “Okay, then, react.”

Her gaze was fiery, her deep brown irises challenging – something else a bit more vulnerable lying beneath.

She was terrified.

He leaned down, gripping her around the waist to pull her back up, wrapping his arms around her upper back, hugging her to his chest.

She melted into his arms, relaxing and leaning into his embrace.

“I didn’t mean to say it,” she murmured into his chest.

“So do you?” He asked, chin gently balanced on her head.

“What?”

“Do you love me?”

“I don’t know,” she said truthfully, voice small.

“You don’t have to know. I don’t know either,” he said, just as earnest, feeling her tense in his arms. “But I do know that I like you enough to want you around, and that counts for something, right?”

She laughed (as genuine as he’d heard it), leaning back to look at him. “Yeah, it does.”

Their bodies were still pressed together, Dom’s chin tilted upwards towards him, their faces nearly touching.

“If this gets out, don’t let anyone make you feel like you’re a bad person,” he said, voice low. “You’re the best person I know –”

Dom closed the gap between them, capturing his lips in an intense kiss. He cupped her face in his palms and held her in place, moaning into her parted lips.

God, there was nothing that compared to kissing her. Nobody matched up. He’d made out with a lot of people since he was flung into stardom at sixteen, and no one – absolutely no one – left him in a daze like she did.

She gripped the strings of his hoodie, pulling him closer, sighing contentedly against him.

The smell of her shampoo mixed with the sweet scent of her skin and the warmth of her hands and her chest flush against his – it was the next best thing to being inside of her.

He pulled back, trying to catch the dreamy, half-lidded look she always got when they parted.

“So… did you take your jet here?”

He smirked and rolled his eyes. “Out of context, that sounds so superficial.”

She grinned, her first genuine smile that night. “Oh, but you’re not? Hanging around a rising artist to cling to relevancy?”

He laughed, the sound reverberating off of the walls. “I really am rubbing off on you, aren’t I?”

“Yep. The good and bad,” she agreed, still smiling at him.

“The good?” He shook his head. “Nah, I’m not so sure about that.”

“You’re literally the reason I haven’t walked out on my label and moved to bum fuck nowhere and lived off the land,” she said, shrugging. “You taught me how to have fun. You were the only one keeping me sane.”

He thought he was the one encouraging her to leap over the edge, but he was the one tugging her arm back.

The whole time he was convinced he was a bad influence, but he was doing some good – for her.

But with that revelation came the guilt at her words.

“‘Were’?”

“Well, we don’t really talk anymore. I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

“Yeah,” she chewed her lip, stepping back, unraveling herself from his embrace. “I’m sorry.”

That was a slap to the face. Dom rarely apologized, because if she felt she was right, she wasn’t going to budge. She was stubborn as hell.

“Huh? Why?” “I don’t want to guilt you into spending time with me… or feeling things for me,” she said, rubbing her arm. “I didn’t mean to corner you.”

“You didn’t. I wanted to come.”

She glanced up, blinking at him. “No, you didn’t –”

“I did,” he emphasized, slipping her hand into his, intertwining their fingers. “I kinda missed being forced to hang out with you. Feels like old times.”

She couldn’t stop the laugh from ripping from her, this one louder than the last. “Oh, shut up.”

“No, but seriously, I’m here for you. Whatever you need. Always.”

“Thank you.” With her free hand, she punched his shoulder lightly. “You’ll regret that sooner or later.”

“Nah,” he said, lip curling into a smirk. “I don’t think I will.”

––––

#playchoices #platinum #raleigh carrera #raleigh carrera x mc #platinumweekend #my fic #jade writes choices fics #tbh i really loved writing this one - it's really special to me !!

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imagineddworld · 4 years ago

Text

Missing girl (Part 1)

pairing: Scott McCall x reader

summary: Derek and Chris were on a mission in Mexico and seek help of the pack. What the pack didn’t know was that there was also a secret helper already in Mexico hunting every possible threat. Which made a certain person be amazed by her skills.

Word count: 3,8 k (3800) (sorry got a bit lengthy, so I split it into two parts)

You had heard the news 3 months ago. A little girl was wandering alone in the dark depths of Mexico. Her family was brutally murdered, with only her as survivor. She was extremely scared and traumatized, but she was very good at hiding. Which you were grateful for, but you would like to find her any time soon. Surely before any threat would reach her. Every morning you had the same routine; freshening up in the near by river, preparing your knives and other weapons, hiding some of them in your clothes and shoes, but others were open for the predators to see. To finish it all up, you smeared some dust and mud over you, so your sent would be hidden. This making you less noticeable and traceable for any possible threat.

Daily you spent long nights mapping out new paths, researching for any helpful information and analyzing every little detail for new clues. In the past 3 months you had gotten only 2 hours of sleep a day, or less. You were exhausted, but close to finding her. You knew it in your guts. Even if you weren’t so close, your instincts would never let you quit. You were determined to find her. Being the daughter of Ares, the god of war, made your strong headedness reach extreme levels. You had a good amount of rage and anger running through your body. That didn’t show until someone pushed one of your buttons, in the wrong way or on the wrong time. But something you were surly gifted with were your fighting skills and strategically thinking. You had great hand combat techniques, could easily work with any weapon given to you and to top it all of you always mapped out the best strategical plans to attack a certain threat.

While your stay in Mexico, you had met up with an old friend ,Chris Argent and his companion Derek Hale. Hale was an intimidating looking man with a sour character, but you managed to look through this and find his soft spots. You had met Chris when both of you were hunting the same beast, a rough supernatural creature that killed innocent people. You weren’t necessary going to kill it, but Chris insisted on it. He was amazed by your hunting and fighting skills and asked you from time to time to help him on a hunt. You only did so, when you thought it was rightful to do. You never hunted or killed an innocent supernatural creature, just for the fact that they were supernatural. That would go against your believes. As you were in some way connected to this world, it would be shamefully wrong to kill an innocent.

Today you had planned to meet them, as you could work together on your final plan. Derek, Chris and the pack were already at the meeting place, while you were finishing up your last route. What the two men only forgot to mention, was the packs arrival. You had no clue who they were and why there were so many of them. As you rounded the corner, you were met with the sight of an old jeep and a motorcycle parked next to it. This making your heart race, seen that the killers of the little girl’s family were right on your heels. When you saw the crowd standing around Derek and Chris, you couldn’t help but let your instincts kick in. You took a small knife out of your combat boot, and threw it in a harsh motion towards a tan skinned boy with dark hair. He stood the closed to Derek. The knife just passed his face, without actually making a cut. This was a warning, if he pushed your concerns further you wouldn’t be as nice. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”, Derek screamed, as you came in their view, “You psychopath”. “Nice way of greeting, Hale”, you shot back sarcastically. You had an uneasy feeling in your guts. You couldn’t help but look sternly at the group, with your machete held tightly in your hand. Even if they were all shocked and confused, you couldn’t help the anger from flooding your body.

You felt a soft hand being placed on your shoulder. You tensed a little, but when you were greeted with Chris’ face, a little smile grew on your own. “Let me introduce you to the pack”, he started off, guiding you through all their names. You nodded lightly at each of them as a greeting. The uneasy feeling didn’t seem to fade. “Greetings”, you said sternly, not knowing how else to show them you were in lead, “Before I explain the plan, we need to go to a place less noticeable”. You looked onto the horizon, focusing on your senses. The wind blew through your hair and the sun burned into your exposed skin, who had gained a warm glow over the months. You carefully listened for any sign of intruders. Everywhere sat possible threats hidden. You rarely found a safe space without any listening ears or staring eyes.

When you returned your focus back on the group, you caught a set of warm brown eyes staring back in awe at you. What was weird, seemingly your current state. Your hair sat in a ponytail with loose strands of hair dancing in the wind, and your face and clothes covered in mud and dirt. You shook the flustered, but yet confused feeling off of you. “But before we go there, you all need to cover yourselves in dirt and mud”, this statement caused a lot of disagreement before you even could explain your reasoning. “Cover yourself in dirt”, you said more sternly, while tightening your grip on your machete and swung it dangerously close to the group. Without further question they followed what you said, making you smile faintly. “This way you are less noticeable and traceable for possible threats”, you finished off your small speech.

Once you reached the hidden cave, you made sure no one was following or listening in. “Listen up good. We have no time to spare. The hunters of the little girl’s family are on our heels. We need to reach her first and bring her into safety. This might require hurting or killing the enemy. Anyone who is willing to go against my plan, will receive the same punishment”. You hated being stern and rude, but this was serious business. The life of this precious girl was at stake. The least you needed now, were people fooling around. You had promised the local residents to keep them safe. If one of them ruined this mission, they also ruined the locals trust in you.

After explaining very clearly what your plan was, you split the group in little duo’s with the help of Derek and Chris, because they knew their individual qualities better than you. You gave each group the necessary maps to follow their given route to the hiding place of the girl. You supplied them of weapons and a walky- talky if things went wrong. To finish off you painted on each person’s left cheek a specific symbol of peace. This symbol was used among the locals. A symbol language only they understood. This showed them your respect for their kind and signed them you were not there to harm them in any way.

As you needed to paint on Scott’s cheek, he needed to crouch down a bit what caused him to hold onto your waist to steady himself. You felt his warm breathe softly hitting your face. The way of how his big hand held onto your waist, mixed with his soft breath fanning your skin made you feel oddly warm inside. As you weren’t already pink in the face from the sun, he would have noticed your flusteredness more easily. Something about this boy, had you drawn towards him. Maybe it was his sweet appearance and leader like aura. Whatever it was, wasn’t important now. Unfortunately, you got paired up with him. It had something to do with you both being leader figures. But this made you weaken up a bit. What hopefully wasn’t going to end in a disaster.

The walk started awkward. He just simply walked behind you, while you led the way. Both of you were quiet, mostly because that way you were less noticeable. But you could sense Scott wanted to ask you some questions. Which was somewhat logical, seemingly both of you were strangers to one another. Only the situation was not suitable. You had heard him breathe in deeply a couple of times, as a manner to build some confidence to speak up. But no words came out. You stopped in your track and turned around to face Scott, this action nearly causing him to walk into you. Both your bodies stood only a few inches apart. “I know how annoying it is not to get to know each other first. But I promise you, we can talk as much as you like after we save the girl”, you said sweetly. Something he wasn’t used to. He smiled to the ground at first, feeling like he had been caught, but your last sentence made him smile lovingly at you. “Sounds great”.

The closer you got to the hiding spot, the more narrow your pathway became. The wind blew more heavy, elevating some dust in the air, what made you sight harder to see. Some dark clouds covered the sun, which spread a huge shadow over your pathway. Suddenly you felt tense. The same uneasy feeling filled your stomach again. But before you could look further into it, Scott had pulled you closely towards his strong body. A protective arm was wrapped around your waist, as his eyes softly glow their unusual red colour. A soft growl rumbled through his chest, which sent vibrations through your body. As an instinct you grabbed onto your machete. Unlike Scott, you hadn’t any super hearing. Only your amazing fighting skills. Two blood lusting men came into your sight. They wore a devilish smirk on their faces. You pushed yourself off Scott’s body, swinging your machete towards the guys while grabbing a smaller knife from its hiding spot. Skillfully you swung the knives around, hitting the men in all the right places. With a stump of your foot in their chests, they fell over the edge. Scott seemed frozen in a fazed state. Your shirt had gotten covered in blood. Not only the men’s but yours too. One of them had been able to hit you with some sharp unknown object. But luckily nothing too drastic. “Come on”, you whispered yelled at Scott, while grabbing onto his hand. Both of you started to sprint softly as a few arrows flew over your heads. Without watching you threw your smallest knives in their direction. A small feeling of proudness overflowing you, as you heard a few grunts before the arrows stopped completely.

You stopped abruptly next to a with plant covered patch of the stone mountain you had climbed. You struggled to pull away the leaves, but to your expectance you were greeted with a small gap. You wormed your small figure through it easily, while Scott had serious trouble with trying to fit through. You nearly thought it was impossible, when you eventually felt him stumble over your crouched down body. “Sorry”, he muttered barely inaudible. The room you had entered was pitch black. Luckily you came prepared for any situation that could occur. You rumbled a bit through your backpack when you eventually felt the familiar cold metal of your flashlight. Everyone eyes needed to adjust, but you were soon greeted with the figure of a small, fragile girl around the age of 7. She was curled up into a corner. She looked extremely petrified. “We come in peace”, Scott spoke softly, “We want to bring you to safety”. But his words failed to calm her down. She showed signs of understanding, only those seemed to frighten her more.

Your brain caught up soon enough. Her family’s killers must have spoken English. She was in constant fear of hearing their accents again. Even if our faces were different, she didn’t want to risk anything. I heard her whimper softly, as she tried to disappear into the rocky wall that worked as her only barrier. I held up my hand into Scott’s direction, signaling him to shut up. I tried reassuring her in her native language, Spanish.

--- I am sorry for writing the up coming sentences in English, but I sadly enough can’t speak Spanish. I also didn’t want to seem rude by translating these sentences in Spanish, for them not to make any sense. ---

“We are extremely sorry to frighten you, darling, but we came to bring you to safety. We will make sure those monsters won’t hurt you ever again. We won’t harm you in any way”, you said softly, while very slowly making your way towards the girl. She was tensing up, but didn’t crawl away. “We will fight off anyone who will put you in any possible harm. But we won’t force you out. We will wait until you are ready. Your safety is all we care about, so take your time”. You kept a decent distance between the girl and you. In this way she could get used to your presence without feeling overwhelmed and wouldn’t be caught up in intense fear. You scrambled through your backpack once again, this time searching for the spare clothes you had packed for her. Everyone on the enemy’s side had been given an image of her with specific clothes and looks. To bring her back more safely to the cars, you needed to disguise her. This way the killers won’t recognize her as fast.

As you softly placed the clothes in front of her, you explained your reasoning to her. You also added some information, telling her your companion Scott would inform the others of your team that you had found her sound and safe. That they will now guard the paths for you, in case any possible danger occurred. As you finished speaking, she softly nodded her head. You gave her a loving smile, “Thank you for your understanding”. You faced Scott and told him the exact same thing. It took him some time again, to enter the small gap. But you didn’t miss the small smile on the little girl’s face. If you were honest, the sight of him struggle to get through was indeed somewhat amusing. Even if she was frightened to her core, she could tell you didn’t came to harm her. You backed away a bit and slowly turned sideways to give her some more privacy. “Give me a soft tap, or trow a small rock at me to signal me you are ready to go”.

It took the girl 10 minutes, or longer to eventually go to you to very faintly touch your hand that was placed onto the cold ground. “Are you a 100 % sure you are ready? You don’t need to feel obligated”, she nodded her head again, but this time more heavily. When you stood up she softly grabbed your hand, what warmed your heart. You tapped Scott on the back, to announce him the both of you were ready to come out. He had been guarding the gap, so anyone else would first need to face him before they could enter. “Hi”, he softly smiled at the both of you, totally adoring the sight in front of him. The girl dressed in a beige sweater, that fitted as a baggy dress, held tightly onto your hand. Her hood was on, but you still could see her eyes being filled with fear. She constantly looked around her, slowly walking closer, nearly colliding with your body. You felt so bad for the poor girl, how long did she had to hide into that small cave?

--- --- --- ---

The walk back was silent again. The only times one of you spoke, was to inform the rest, you were getting closer to the cars. Or to reassure the little girl no one would harm her if she was with us. Once you saw the others in the far distance, you told Scott to keep walking. You stayed behind with the girl. She only just had been getting used to Scott and your presence. You didn’t want to frighten her even more by drag her into the crowd of people. You crouched down, so you could be at eye level with her. “The people you see over there are my friends”, you said while pointing towards the group. Even if that wasn’t specifically true, they had gained your trust a bit. “We all teamed up to find you and bring you to safety. They all guarded our pathway so we could walk safely. They might seem intimidating, but I can reassure you they are the sweetest. We will need to go to them, if we want to get you out of this dangerous place. But of course only if you feel ready to do so. We can wait here if you want till you feel like meeting them.” She nodded softly, unsure if she needed to speak or not. First she decided against it, but a good 20 minutes later, she eventually did. “Okay”, she said with her small voice. It sounded way too innocent. You just wanted to hug her. She didn’t deserve to go through this, but the deeds have been done. The only thing you could do now, was make sure she was in safe hands.

You just sat on a few big rock waiting patiently till she was comfortable enough to go closer. To your surprise she had sat herself very close to you, nearly onto your lap even. “Thank you”, she suddenly said, taking me a bit off guard. “You don’t need to thank me. It was the only right thing to do. You never deserved to experience such a trauma. It’s the only thing I can do. To make sure you will live a safe life further on”, you answered back in Spanish. Seemingly it was the language she preferred right now. What was totally logical. But her speaking to you, wasn’t the most surprising. What did was her sudden affection. Right after you had spoken, she gave you a tight hug. At first you were too fazed to reacted, but soon returned the gesture and even softly placed a kiss on top of her head. You knew she wouldn’t exactly feel it, due to the fabric covering it, but it made your point clear. You were going to protect her at all cost.

“Finally”, Stiles sight as the two of you slowly joined the group. The little girl hid behind your legs, holding tightly onto them. “We don’t want to force her, do we?”, you snapped back, “She has been traumatized very seriously. The least we want to do is, push her more into that frightened state. As long she isn’t ready, we aren’t either”. You shot the guy your most intimidating death glare. He was slowly pushing your buttons, but his jumpy reaction made you loosen up a bit. He was just an anxious, hyperactive guy. Waiting patiently in this dangerous place, probably made him go a little mad in the head. “I’m proud of you”, Chris said, while keeping a respectful distance. He waved kindly towards the girl, who’s name was still unknown; but she hid even more behind your legs. Currently, you were here only save place. This was clear to everyone. With that in mind, you discussed who was going to share which car. “I would offer you a place on my motorcycle, but it is best we keep her close by your side”, Scott said softly while leaning a bit into you. Probably hoping no one else heard his weak flirting attempt. “I will keep that in mind”, you replied playfully, “Maybe I will use this offer once she is safe”. You ended off your comment with a wink and cheeky grin.

You were sat in the back of Stiles old jeep, with the girl fast asleep onto your lap. She must have been exhausted from the constant fear. From time to time you felt her body jolt up a bit, but you reassured her she was finally safe. The others were fast asleep too. Only Stiles and you were the ones awake. You enjoyed the soft music and had a small conversation from now and then. You got to know his extreme intelligent mind and soft, caring soul. He gained your trust completely when you heard him talk so fondly of his loved ones. He would go to extremes to safe them or keep them safe. This made you smile, you could feel his pure loved feelings towards them.

--- --- --- ---

Once you reached Scott house, you already saw his motorcycle parked there. His strong figure standing not too far away. “Thank you for the lovely ride, Stiles”. He smiled kindly at you with tired eyes. You carried the girl out of the car, holding her carefully into your arms. She had drifted off into a peaceful sleep, and you wanted to keep her that way. You slowly made your way over to Scott, who already stood closer to you with a loving smile covering his face. “Hi”, he said in a soft raspy voice, due to his tiredness from the long ride. Your heart couldn’t help, but make a little jump of adoration. Even in the dim light of the street lamps, he still made your senses go nuts by just his charms and loving features. “Are you sure your mom won’t mind?”, you asked nervously. You hated to be a bother to anyone. You always had been on your own, traveling around, doing your own things. It had been a long time since you had spent a night into someone else’s home. “A hundred percent. She will adore you”, this comment made you blush a bit. “But you might want to change into this”, he continued to say as he took off his sweater way too easily. The shirt he wore underneath clinging to his toned body. If you weren’t red in the face already, you surely were now. “Uhm, No .. no. You.. you don’t have to. I might.. might have some spare shirt in my .. my backpack”, you stated awkwardly, hating the way you stumbled clumsily over your own words. “No, I insist”. You looked him in the eyes to make sure he was serious, which he indeed was. Why wouldn’t he be? It was just a simple shirt to cover up yours, which was covered in dried blood stains.

--To be continued--

#scott #scott mccall #scott mccall imagine #fluffy #fluff imagine #teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #teenwolf imagine #derek hale #scott mccall x reader #chris argent

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sherokutakari · 7 years ago

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Got a Minute to Spare for my Cat?

Regina went in for her usual depo shot for her allergies today, and came home with a tumor diagnosis.

Luckily for us, it’s a thyroid tumor, which is one of the easiest to deal with, but unfortunately, she’s losing weight quickly, which can be very very bad, and we had to act immediately. Between the blood work, T4 test, and emergency call/medicine, her $15 vet appointment turned into a $259 Event ™

And we have to do it again in Two Weeks.

Because of the payments I make towards my parents’ mortgage to keep them afloat, and my own and Regina’s living costs, today’s vet trip was doable but expensive, and having to do it again in such a short amount of time will leave me with around $100 to get me through the month of April... and I’m travelling from New York to Nevada and back to bring my sister and her boyfriend home, leaving on the 19th.

Honestly I’d just eat the costs if I could, but I have too many people (and pets!) depending on me to run it that close to the wire for a month.

As such, I’ve set up a Ko-Fi to hopefully offset some of her vet costs. Any and all help would be appreciated

And I’m not asking for something for nothing. All “coffees bought” will automatically qualify for a small drawing of your choice, no limits on the subject, outside the obvious. Just shoot me a message to claim it!

I’m also temporarily opening commissions, so feel free to contact me here, or at [email protected] for rates and details, if you’re interested in a larger piece. Art can be found at the various linked tabs on my blog.

Thank you so much even just for looking, and please signal boost if you can. Regina is one of the most important things in my life, and while I know we’ll have to part ways eventually, I’d like to keep her around as long as I can. <3

More Detailed Info Under the Cut:

How old is Regina? We think around 13! I got her from a shelter when I was in eighth grade, and within a year we discovered she had life threatening allergies which neither vets nor experts could track the cause of, so after making the decision to help her fight and giving her her forever home, she’s been on monthly/6-weekly depo shots ever since. They didn’t expect her to live any past ten!!

Is she in pain? Not as far as we can tell! She’s still her chipper-with-some, grumpy-with-others self, and regularly shows up for eating, snuggles, and play time. She only seems to be in pain when she runs around the house too fast for too long, and then she’ll sit at the top of the stairs yelling about her arthritis. You know, until someone comes to check on her, and then she acts like she didn’t make a peep. (But she will limp for a little bit.)

So what exactly was she diagnosed with? Regina was diagnosed with hyperthyroidism, caused by what the vet called a “functioning tumor.” This means that while the tumor itself is benign, it kicks the thyroid, aka what regulates her metabolism, into high gear, and despite keeping a regular feeding schedule, is going to begin slowly starving her, hence the weight loss.

What caused it? Nothing traceable really “causes” hyperthyroidism or thyroid tumors, outside of just general age. It tends to affect cats age 12 and older more than anything, though there are always exceptions.

What are her options? For her condition, there are three options available, and all are highly successful.

Option 1, Radioactive Iodine Therapy: Regina would be taken into a special hospital for between one and two weeks for observation, a single injection of irradiated iodine, and further observation. This will absolutely kill the tumor cells, and most likely restore her system to normal. It is the best option for recovery, but she doesn’t do well away from Her People for extended periods of time, and runs an average of $1600 in our area. Closest hospital that does this therapy is a four hour drive away, so I couldn’t visit her but maybe once or twice during her stay.

Option 2, Surgery/Removal of Tumor and (Potentially) Single Thyroid Gland: Also a very successful option, this is the one I would normally most like to do. However, surgery requires anesthesia, which can be dangerous for older cats. As it stands, Regina’s tumor is currently small enough that the vet couldn’t feel it, and it was only confirmed by the T4 test after he blood work came back with elevated liver something-or-other levels. We’re lucky our vet was thorough enough to add the T4 test, instead of just chalking it up to age. However this means that the tumor is currently too small to operate, as the thyroid glad sits between the jugular vein and carotid artery - you need to know exactly where you’re going when you go after a tumor there, and not just poke around ‘til you find it.

Option 3, Thyroid Inhibitor, Methimazole Methimazole is a thyroid blocker that should calm the tumor’s activity DRASTICALLY. It can be delivered either orally, or topically, twice a day. Methimazole cannot reverse the effects of the tumor or cause absolute remission, but it is a great way to get the metabolism back in check, and can even help regain weight. The only risk is some cats can have a bad reaction to the meds, as late as 6 months after starting treatment. However, this happens in less than 20% of cats, and from what I gather, won’t usually appear so late. This is the option we’re going with, and why Regina needs to be retested in two weeks - to see if the medication is having the desired effect. If not, we’ll have to reconsider blind surgery, or discuss possible fattier supplements to keep her weight up until surgery is possible.

How much are you looking to make with Ko-Fi? Ideally I’ll just need the $250ish to pay for her second round of vet calls and blood tests. If I could also eventually get an additional $260 for today’s trip just to get back to where I expected my account to be today, so much the better, but honestly just the first bit would be a miracle. Additionally however, if the Methimazole works the way it should for Regina, she’ll need to be on it for the rest of her life, or at least until surgery, if it ever gets to that point. As can be seen above, a two week supply of oral Methimazole runs about $20, so depending on the future, I may keep the Ko-Fi page open past the initial run, but hopefully not. I also did not receive a quote on the cost of surgery, as it’s not something the vet considered a viable option, at the moment. I do get a raise the first pay period of April, and a performance review in July which is also usually accompanied by a small raise, so I’m hoping those will help.

Do you really think it’s worth it, for such an old cat? Any pet owner should know when to let go. But Regina is otherwise healthy, and does’t seem affected in the slightest, as far as her attitude, personality, and behavior go. I vowed when we made the call after her first big life-threatening asthma attack that she’d always have a forever home here, and that if she’d fight, so would I. So until she’s ready to let go, I’ll do my best to make sure every day she’s happy, warm, and loved. And she doesn’t seem to plan on slowing down any time soon.

If you have any questions, or again, would like to commission me, feel free to message me here on tumblr, or email me directly! That address again is [email protected]

Thank you

#pet care #emergency commissions #help #signal boost #vet bills

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chezzkaa · 7 years ago

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Cinders - Chapter 16/36

All Chapters

SUMMARY: The plan’s coming together, and you’re gonna take that son of a bitch down as soon as the surveillance operations become obsolete.

WC: 1996

Geoff’s finger jabs at the map plastered to the cork board behind him, the wall scattered with photos, pins and different coloured string as well as numbers and receipts. There was even a small sketch done by who you can only assume to be Jeremy, based upon the illustration of Gareth and the small orange and purple figure throttling him. “This,” starts Geoff, turning to circle the location he was indicating to with red texter “is the last place we had tabs on the fucker.”

The room has settled now, the jokes and cheery attitudes having faded into the floor as the severity of the situation glares at them from Geoff’s workings. You tried to ignore the glances you were getting from the members at the table, certain both Jeremy and Ray were attempting to do the same. The thought of him tied your stomach in knots, anger lapping at your shoulders and caressing the fists you had found your hands balled into; nails digging into your palms as you rest them on the tops of your thighs under the table.

Geoff continues to talk, his words forcing their way through the water that was clogging your mind, distant and strained as he circles other areas of the map. The place you were held, what appears to be his favourite coffee shop, his house, his daughter’s apartment and finally his general – and more importantly traceable - movements. You nod numbly, focusing on the pain in your palms to keep yourself grounded, the Cheshire beginning to stretch out from the ball she had curled into within your chest, burning with rage. Ryan’s hand makes it way under the table to your fist, gently unfurling in and holding it tightly in his own, giving a subtle and comforting squeeze without looking at you.

Thankful for the contact the water begins to rush from your mind, the room clearing and voices now crisp and audible. “We’ve managed to isolate a few men that we believe to be close to him,” Geoff says, slapping three photographs up on the board, their faces staring furiously at you from inside their mug shots. “Now, we don’t know much about them other than their names, and now this is Jack’s bit so i’m done,” he admits as he starts to pace before motioning to Jack, of who stands and takes over, tossing a pile of stapled assignment papers into the centre of the table.

Crawling across it, Ray slides onto his belly to reach for the pile among the flurry of hands that do the same, pulling three towards him and handing them out to you. With your free hand you thumb through the pages, stopping on the second photo of the men Geoff had mentioned as being of interest, leg stinging. His dishwasher water eyes stare back at you, set deep within his pink, square face as he scowls at the camera.

You can’t hear Jack’s voice anymore as she gives Intel on the other men, the room spinning while you as you glare down at the page, your grip beginning to crumple the paper as anger throbs around you. Taking notice Ryan subtly takes the booklet from you, removing the page ahead of folding it and sliding it to Ray, of who stuffs it quickly into his purple hoodie. You lay your hand flat on the assignment, trying to calm yourself as Ryan starts to rub his thumb across your own, urging you gently to breath.

“An then we’ve got Garry Booker,” Jack’s words come crashing through the wall you had found yourself behind, your body immediately tensing at the name, Jeremy flashing you a concerned look from across the table. “I knew he was a Garry,” you spit, words harsh as your jaw sets defensively, Jack patiently giving you a quizzical look; “you know him?” “Know him?” you bark, feeling your face grow bitter, the fire crackling inside of your leg, “he’s the asshole that drove nails through my leg.” Your accusation falls with a thud onto the table, causing the rest of the crew to squirm. Jack, however, nods in understanding, smiling apologetically at you.

“In that case,” she says, leaning over her notebook and adding some scribbles, “I want Jeremy and Ryan to keep away from this mission.” Ryan is defensive beside you now, offended as he demands why, only to be met with a shrug from Jack. “Too personal” she tells him, but he doesn’t drop it, “then how come Ray’s still allowed on it?!”

“Because he literally gives no shits.” “It’s true, I haven’t been in days.” “Ray.” “I’m dead inside.” “RAY.”

“It’s a serious problem,” he mumbles, sinking back into his seat as the stream team guffaws, Jeremy banging the table as tears well in his eyes, unable to contain his laughter. “Well, don’t be dead on the outside,” you tell Ray with a smile, but he glares at you, lips curling for comedic relief, “don’t tell me to live my life.” You drop your head to the table, resting it against the wood as it shakes, Jeremy still smashing his fist into it, the exuberant man now a pile of uncontrollable giggles. “I fucking hate you,” you groan, Ryan tentatively patting you on the back while giving Ray an encouraging grin; “that’s the spirit.”

“I fucking hate all of you,” sighs Geoff, trying to steer the room back to the briefing, Jack’s head in her hand. “Okay, so,” she says loudly, waving her notebook around, drawing back everyone’s attention, “teams and roles, remember this cus I’m not telling you assholes again.” Ryan slinks in his seat as he stretches his free arm above his head and rests it behind his head, clearly irritated. You couldn’t blame Jack for making such a split decision, knowing full well the destruction that could have occurred if the Vagabond had come face to face with any of the men that had tortured his family. Still, you did feel slightly sorry for him knowing he would ghost around the base, lost with nothing to do.

“As usual,” Jack points to the stream team across from you, who wave from their seats, “We’ve got Trevor and Matt on surveillance. They’ll be able to monitor all of their accounts, online activities, contents-“ “Err... not entirely,” interjects Trevor, flinching slightly and the 6 foot woman gives him an irritated look. “What he means,” finishes Matt, jumping in to divert the anger, “is that metadata doesn’t work like that. You can’t just see someone’s emails. I mean, sure, we can track the GPS signals, cell tower hits, their friends, their friend’s friends, all of their contacts, the type of...” he trails off as Geoff clears his throat, urging him to get to the point.

“I’m saying that we can’t see what he says, but we’ll have all the other information needed to know if something suspicious is going on, and decode the content where required.” “You interrupted me to say something I already knew?” “Yes, that is exactly what we did,” admits Matt sheepishly, his face turning the same colour of the wisps in his hair, Trevor concluding their point; “we needed to establish that we know how security works”

You throw them a thumbs up, easing the fear they felt towards you into something that resembled apprehensiveness. “Alright so Trevor and Matt are on surveillance; but none of that movie bullshit. That’s very important. Ray, I want you to help them out,” Jack points to him without looking up to see Ray wiggling his cybernetic fingers teasingly at Matt and Trevor, their eyes wide and in awe of the lights flashing from his finger tips. “You’ll be able help out with hacking and diagnoses as needed.” “Nah, i’m not a doctor,” he jokes, an expectant grin on his face while he waits for your giggling to subside. Jack, however, tries hard not to acknowledge him of which prompts the rushed explanation in a higher pitch, “you know, cus hacking is like coughing, which you should probably go to the doctors for, and-” Jack finally glares at him, her lips a thin line as Ray sinks into his chair until his chin is level with the table.

“No one understands me.” “No one wants to.”

Jack returns her gaze to the notebook, crossing off the names as she works her way through. “Nice Dynamite,” she jabs a pen in the direction of Michael and Gavin, both of whose faces are serious and menacing, “You guys will be tailing 1 and 3.” They nod in unison, sharing a mischievous look with their eyebrows raised. Ignoring them, Jack forges onwards, now pointing to Geoff, who looks at her with immense admiration and respect, “Team OG, we’re gonna keep an eye on the Garry guy, he seems like he might be the most promising target to get in contact with Gareth.” Geoff cracks his knuckles with a lopsided smirk, crossing his legs; “No problems here.”

“I want him after your done” you order, your voice icy and malicious, Ryan nodding in agreement besides you as Ray mutters a ‘hell yeah’ from your side. Jack fixates on your face, taking in the smoothness of your features, the angle of your eyebrows and the flatness of your eyes as they blacken before turning to Geoff. The tattooed man shrugs, “seems like a fair request,” shooting you an approving smile, “it’s only right”. “Can I get in on that?” pipes up Jeremy after a moment, his eyes eager as you affirm his request.

Placing the notebook down, Jack rests her hands on the table, leaning into her words “Lindsay and Meg have ended their trip early to come and help us out,” she says, Michael and Gavin growing incredibly interested and hopeful. “They’ll be here in the next few hours to be briefed. We’re gonna have Team Free Willy on Gareth.” “When did you say they’d be here?” squeaks Gavin, slowly beginning to stand up from his seat, Michael close behind him. “The plane gets in at 11, they should be here relatively soon if everything goes to plan,” Jack explains, narrowing her eyes as the two men start to inch their way to the exit, spluttering their excuses.

“We’re just gonna go and, err,” “You know, make sure the rooms are, well-” “-and we’ve gotta change the...” “I mean, it would be rude not to,” “I don’t wanna be rude.” “me neither, boi.” Everyone laughs as they watch the two men scamper over each other and out the door, their excited yelling echoing down the halls as they race to clean up before the women arrive.

Sighing, Ryan leans into you dramatically as all eyes shift to him in surprise; none having realised it was Ryan at the table and not the Vagabond. Clutching one hand to his chest and waving the other after the two men, he smiles and sighs again, “young love.” “Gross” you crinkle your nose and bump him away playfully, his face beaming. Jeremy pulls himself onto this chair, cupping his hands around his mouth before taking a deep breath and hollering “get a room!”

Shooting him a look, you swiftly pull a stress ball from one of the shelves behind you and hurl it at the young man, Jeremy wobbling as he loses his balance and topples to the ground. “Ten points!” cheers Ray climbing on his own chair, Ryan clapping loudly beside you. The rest of the crew slowly becomes comfortable with the personality shift, sharing relived glances as they join in the mass of noise now taking over the room. Rolling her eyes, Jack moves to stand behind Geoff and rests her chin on top of his head, her arms draping over his shoulders as she complains.

“You’re right” she tells him, his moustache twitching into a smiling response, “it’s a zoo”. Geoff laughs in waves, his voice brightening the room as he slowly turns red, “we run a fucking zoo.”

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