#it made no damn sense in the first place anyway to mesh the two groups together. just because it was set in the same world was not a strong | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ly-canthropewrites · 5 years ago

Text

Love or War

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Word Count: 2998

Rating/Warnings: SFW. Brief mentions of previous season drama.

Summary: “I saw you staring at each other, I wasn’t sure if it was sexual tension or murderous rage”

You can feel the heavy gaze from across the field. Intense eyes fixated on your figure as you rattle the chain-wire fence that surrounds the newest section of Alexandria. The post-apocalyptic town has been thriving since the end of Negan’s reign and with the undead being the town’s only consistent antagonist, it has given the community an opportunity to expand their borders. The chain-mesh fence was scavenged from the Sanctuary before the community fell off the map and serves as a strong protector as the new plot of land gets tilled. But it remains fragile when leant against and it has become a daily task during guard duty to rid the walkers that stumble near the temporary fence, a job you jump at to vent your frustrations.

The deliberate noise draws the attention of the few walkers close by and they turn, growling as they catch your scent in the wind and they shuffle your way. It’s second nature now, muscle memory, to shift your grip on the knife handle and strike at their heads, using the fence for leverage and stability. The motions do nothing to quench the frustration and fire that rages inside you and you growl, yanking your knife from the last walker’s head with more force than necessary. The bloodied blade gets cleaned on the rag that is tied to your belt loops and then you are left with nothing to do, no more walkers to distract you from the boredom or the swirl of emotions that fester inside.

You find yourself glancing over in his direction, succumbing to the gravitational pull of the universe and you don’t find yourself surprised at all to find him still staring at you, a dark scowl painted across his face. You sneer back at him, standing strong with your own gaze.

“Stupid, fucking redneck,” you mutter under your breath and the fire that burns in your chest grows hotter, feeding off of your anger.

The swishing of grass on your left distracts you and you are met with Carol only a few feet from you. You nod at her, giving her a tight-lipped smile as well before turning to look at the perimeter, finding nothing in the wilderness has changed and you sigh.

“I saw you staring at each other, I wasn’t sure if it was sexual tension or murderous rage,” Carol says lightly, walking to your side and mirrors your stance; arms crossed and back straight.

You scoff, openly showing that you aren’t in the mood for her banter today but it doesn’t deter the older woman.

“Most definitely murderous rage” you grit.

“See, I don’t know about that - I see a lot of passion,” She teases.

You throw her a withering look, disdain heavy in your eyes and if Carol isn’t careful; some of that murderous rage will be pointed at her soon.

“So if it is murderous rage, how long are you going to remain angry at him?” Carol tries a gentler approach, obviously getting the message and you wince, guilt beginning to set in as you mentally chastise yourself about your unrestrained attitude.

Shrugging, you refuse to make eye contact with your old friend. “I don’t know Carol, he humiliated me,” you breathe.

“He didn’t mean too, he was worried,” Carol begins to defend him but when she sees you shaking your head and the flash of hurt across your face, she stops herself.

“But he did it anyway. He humiliated me, he berated me in front of everyone, undermined me, treating me as if I am some soft fucker who hasn’t been beyond the walls” you spit and you render the woman silent, unsure about what to say next.

When the silence between the pair of you becomes stagnant, Carol realises it’s time for her to leave and she steps back a few feet, mulling over her next words.

“Talk to him,” she pleads and you snort, “Fuck no,”.

Carol says your name in warning, making you roll your eyes. “I’m not fucking submitting. If he wants to talk, then he can man up and come to me with a goddamn apology,”.

You hear her heavy sigh behind you before her retreating footsteps, leaving you to stew in your malcontent alone. It is your stubborn pride and bruised feelings that prevent you from talking with your old companion, from making amends and burying the hatchet, an ideal that is important in this world because life is too short and unpredictable to be so petty. And yet, you cannot help yourself this time. He hurt you, deeply, a stinging wound that will take time to heal.

It’s not like you have done anything wrong in the first place. With the apocalypse a decade old, resources are unimaginably scarce, leaving only items that are grown, hunted or handmade to be used. It was commonplace for you to be the first person out of the gates in the morning and the last to return in the evening, spending hours and even days hunting, refusing to go back to Alexandria empty-handed. You are too stubborn for your own good, too arrogant in your capabilities to survive and adapt to the dangerous world. As a repercussion, your last run was almost the death of you.

Enemies are like hydras; one falls and another takes its place. Negan was once considered Alexandria’s greatest threat, but that fear was usurped by the latest peril; the Whisperers. Negan ruled with fear and violence. The Whisperers rule with death. Their ability to influence herds is an obstacle that the community does not know how to overcome. The capricious nature makes every run, every scouting mission, every patrol dangerous and life-threatening. Therefore, it became law that no-one is to go outside the metal walls without a group and without informing the council. It should have been expected that you would struggle with this rule, never been one to abide by strict regulations, but the thought slipped the minds of the council and you kept slipping outside the gates.

Your last run is a perfect example of why the rule is in place; you got caught by the herd with Whisperers dotted within. Perhaps they tracked you down or perhaps it was just shit luck that you ran into them, but it resulted in a fight for your life and an injury that planted fear on sight. It was sheer, dumb luck that allowed you to escape with your life; an old tree fell whilst you were in the midst of swiping at walkers and humans alike, and caused a great enough distraction that gave you the opportunity to bolt. You damn well shocked Rosita who stood on guard duty that evening as you came sprinting towards the main gates, coated in two types of blood and clutching at your side, out of breath with wild eyes.

That night you had Siddiq inform you that you got lucky the knife wound at your abdomen was free of infection but he was stern to chastise that only one hour more and you wouldn’t have made it, wound too deep to be stemmed by only pressure and the combination of exhaustion and blood loss would have defeated you. His words didn’t shake you that night, instead, you shrug nonchalantly and smirked, telling him that death in this world is inevitable and you would greet it like an old friend.

You refused to stay in the infirmary that night, scrunching your nose at the thought of being surrounded by sick people in a sterile environment, rather opting for the privacy of your own place. He was unable to stop you, letting you go with an armful of supplies and a sigh, watching you stagger down the pathway. You made it only halfway home before you were halted by a loud yell, the noise capturing the attention of not just you but the other residents that were milling in the nearby courtyard.

“What the fuck wer’ ya thinkin’?” Daryl yelled, storming towards you with a glare that would frighten Hades. “How fuckin’ stupid are ya?” he adds.

He berated you in public that night, practically screaming in your face about your stupidity, your lack of respect to the council and their rules, your selfishness and conceited attitude. He didn’t let you get a word in to defend yourself as he raged, words becoming harsher by the second. You could handle the words but it was the venom in his voice that surprised you. It was filled with so much anger, so much hatred and spite that you lost the words that you wanted to scream back at him. Instead, when he took a moment to catch his breath, you just walked away, your eyes on the ground as you stifled the bewildered cry that ached in your chest.

The incident happened two weeks ago and you haven’t spoken since, avoiding each other like the plague but the distance hasn’t stopped either of your from directing heated glares at each other, consequently deepening the rift in your friendship.

----

The guard changeover occurs on dusk and when your replacement comes, you greet them with a tight smile as you pass over the unused rifle before quickly leaving the post. You don’t head home after the shift and instead, you go down to the armoury with hopes that working maintenance on the weapons will distract you from the words Carol has lodged in your mind. Daryl worried? You scoff at the thought. In a previous time, those words would have made sense - you and Daryl have been partners in crime since the fall of the world, similar in too many ways and it made sense that you were friends. But after seeing the pure acrimony he directed at you, you fail to believe it stemmed from a place of compassion.

It was well past midnight when the doors to the armoury creaked open. It was probably someone on shift wanting to pick up more ammo or something alike. What you didn’t expect was to see the rugged hunter ease into the room. You stared at him with furrowed eyebrows and a twist in your lips, hands paused on the shotgun you were working on.

“You weren’t home when I knocked,” Daryl states simply, gruff voice a melody to your ears after the long radio silence.

“You know I don’t sleep when I’m alone,”

It’s true; you struggle to rest when there is no-one watching over you, a position that is usually filled by the man in front of you.

Daryl nods, biting down on the inner side of his cheek as he reflects. Of course you don’t, you never have and he knew that. The poignant silence weighs heavily between you and Daryl shifts uncomfortably, moving further into the room to take a seat on the chair that sits in front of the sole workstation. You never sat at the workstation, preferring to sit on the floor so you had more space to work with but at this moment, you hated how you were positioned lower than the man.

“Yer gonna use that thing on’ me?” There is a ghost of a sly smirk upon his lips, a sparkle of mischief in his eyes but you aren’t having it, you won’t befall to his sparse charm.

“Don’t tempt me, Daryl Dixon,’’

The full use of his name and the stern attitude makes Daryl wince, the severity of damage he inflicted to you now evident before him. He nods silently, gnawing anxiously at his lip as you both fall back and stew in silence. You resume cleaning the weapon in your hands, needing to keep busy in an attempt to distract your mind from the chaos that sits in front of you. Daryl watches you, this time without the hatred and disdain, but his gaze is just as heavy as before.

“Why are you here, Daryl?”

He notes the tiredness in your voice, not the physical exhaustion that is a permanent state in this new world, but the emotional weariness that burdens you.

“‘M here to apologise,”

“Are you here because Carol told you to or because you actually want to?”

His hesitation is a loud answer and you scoff, glaring up at him with your teeth bared.

“Of course not. Daryl Dixon never apologises because he actually wants to, no, someone else has to puppet him. You are so fucking incompetent,” you growl, “You can’t even do the right fucking thing. Whatever ‘apology’ you have concocted to make this all better; forget it, Daryl. I don’t fucking accept it!”.

You take a predatory satisfaction in seeing the raw hurt flash across his face at your words. Your words are harsh, digging at old wounds that the man harbours but you can’t even conjure up the guilt or regret; hungry to dish out the same pain that you have received. Vexation and wrath raise its ugly head and you furiously rub at the long barrel of the shotgun, as if you would be able to transfer your rage through kinetic energy.

“Yer keep sacrificing yerself for the group ‘n’ and I fuckin’ hate it,” He breaks the icy air. His voice cracks despite his whispered tone but you catch it the little hitch.

Your cautious gaze meeting his is the signal he needed because he keeps going, as if the dam inside breaks and the words come spilling out; unrestrained, pure and honest.

“You’v’ done it since the beginnin’. Take the burden of the group on yerself ‘n’ takin’ all the risks. We’v only survived this long b‘cause of ya. You’v always kept us goin’. When the prison fell, you wanted ter round everyone up ‘n’ then Terminus happened and..” he breaks off, eyes squeezing shut as he recalls the horrible and degrading things the savages there threatened you with; how they held the machete to your neck and how powerless he was to stop everything. You were so close to death that afternoon as well, mere seconds away from being just an empty vessel.

“Then all the shit that's happened since. You’ve never stopped, never broke down. Just kept trudgin’ on. But it all caught up and you could’ve died out there… without me. ‘N I wouldn’t have known until it was ter late”.

“But I could have died in here and you still wouldn’t have been able to do anything, Daryl - that’s life,” you argue.

Daryl’s head whips up so fast, you are sure he could have suffered whiplash, but you get distracted by the flames in his eyes.

“It’s not life. You ‘ave no fuckin’ idea what yer do to me, woman,” Daryl groans, looking at you so helplessly, almost insulted at how you don’t get it.

“Apparently I piss you off!” you retort, “Ya know, with my selfish attitude and lack of respect” you parrot his own words back to him, a glare resituating across your face. “You yelled at me, Daryl. You screamed in my face, in front of everyone, and then gave me the cold shoulder. Me, out of all people, your fucking friend”.

He shakes his head while you speak, an action that only infuriates you more. You are ready to attack him about that, mouth already open as you reveal your disgust, “Stop fucking shaking your head as if I’m playing the vic-”.

In your rant, you don’t acknowledge the scrape of the metal stool along the concrete, given barely enough time to react to the new stimulus of rough lips upon yours and a hand that grips your chin. Daryl swallows your surprise, mouth unyielding as he crowds into you, pushing you back against the back leaving you no room to run. He kisses you desperately. Frantically. It is messy and unruly, a bruising kiss that steals the breath from your lungs and makes your head spin. You can taste every single secret that has ever danced across his lips, taste the fear that dwells within him but has never been uttered to another soul. You learn more about Daryl in this instance than you ever will in a lifetime.

You both are slow to break apart; lips barely separating as you catch your breath, greedily sucking in as much oxygen as you can to sate the burning of your lungs.

“‘M so fuckin’ sorry,” he cries against your lips.

His hand still has a firm grip on your jaw, which is sure to leave finger-shaped bruises in its wake, but like his kiss - his touch is desperate as well.

“You’v neva been a victim. I was just so fuckin’ scared that I would lose ya. I can’t lose ya,” he stresses, a voice that sounds so pained and winced; it sounds as if the wounds were personally inflicted upon him.

He drops his death-like grip on your chin, bowing forward to rest his head against yours, never straying too far from your space. Your arms wind around his hulking form; bringing him closer and Daryl lets himself slump against you, his head slipping to rest on your shoulder as he nuzzles into your neck and his body, although heavy, feels like comfort from a warm blanket. You can feel him utter endless apologises into the crook of your neck, lips brushing along your skin and you memorise the soft tone of his voice as he echoes “‘M sorry,”.

You hush him, turning your head to press a gentle kiss to the dark tresses, whispering “I know,” to every apology he mutters. Eventually, the apologises fade and you are submerged in peaceful silence, curled into each other. You don’t need to ask why he couldn’t have just told you all those words at the beginning, to save you both the agony and trauma of the last few weeks. But your Daryl is complex, a stunning mosaic of intricate emotions that aren’t easily given and you accept that this is who he is. The man would go to war for love; for you.

Tags:

@guywithacrossbow

@oncemorewithfeelingg

@rachelxxraucous

@gaenahelleborus

2K notes · View notes

victorbakker · 4 years ago

Text

Task 02 - The Third Degree

When they had come upon the self appointed “save haven” that called itself Fairvale somewhere in Georgia, Victor had been skeptical. Of course it had been a no brainer for Javi and his sisters - they were a family seeking somewhere safe to lie low for a while. It made perfect sense for them. But for Victor who had always lived the life of a wanderer, who had barely had a home to settle down before the whole world went to shit, well... He knew he could trust himself and his instincts. To step into this town and hand over some of that trust to others? He wasn’t so fond of the concept. Who were these people - and what were they really looking for in welcoming random survivors off the roads?

A part of him had considered just turning on his heel, parting ways with Javi, and disappearing back into the forest where it was all at least familiar. But there was that small itch in the back of his brain that ached for company, companionship, a home. Perhaps it was too good to be true, but if he didn’t give it a shot how was he ever going to know if Fairvale was actually a place to settle down for a while?

It wasn’t like they could force him to stay, after all. He could leave when the worth wore out.

So that was how he found himself sat across from two people who called themselves part of the ‘council’ and another who was scribbling down notes of the conversation, as if anyone was going to reference it again in the future. A citizen assessment interview, that’s what they were calling it. What, were they going to turn him away if they decided his attitude didn’t mesh with the cute, townsie feel they were going for? Perhaps that was a smart idea, but if they were allowing him in for an interview, he had a feeling turning anyone away, even those with bad intentions, would be pretty difficult by this point in the game.

He picked absently at the skin at the edge of his thumb nail as the Council members started their interrogation interview.

Where do you come from?

He studied the faces across from him for a moment, contemplating the proper answer to the question. There were many ways to answer the question, really. He’d come from the north, maybe northwest-ish, to get to Fairvale. Before that? Well, he’d been in the forest quite a bit. But what he had to assume the was asking was where he’d come from in regards to before the outbreak of this infection that seemed to be running rampant. But then, was the proper answer Utah, where he’d had his business? Or Oregon, where he’d grown up?

What did it even matter? “Oregon,” he muttered, folding his arms across his chest, “But I’ve moved around a lot since.”

How would you describe yourself as a person?

He tried not to snicker at the question. What did this truly matter for the sake of entering the damn town? He didn’t need to be best friends with these people. He was just here to live in relative safety. Wasn’t that the whole point? Who cared what he was like as a person?

They didn’t seem to approve of his amusement with the question, their gazes turning stern. “Victor?” They prompted, and he heaved a breath.

“Uh. I don’t know...honest? Straight forward? Resourceful? Is this a fucking job interview or something where I’m supposed to say I’m hard-working natural born leader perfect for the job of surviving in this shit world or something?”

How many walkers have you killed?

Walkers. He’d heard the term thrown around quite a bit lately, a way to describe those zombie like undead sluggishly overtaking their world. Since his first encounter with them he hadn’t hesitated; If they got in his way he took them out. “Shit, was I supposed to keep count? I’ve no fucking idea. I don’t seek ‘em out, but I take care of them when I have to.”

How many people have you killed?

Fortunately much of Victor’s travels had kept him out of the path of other survivors. Those that he did see he stayed out of the way of, drifting back into the comfort of the forest that generally kept him out of the way of anyone except for the stray walker now and again.

But he remembered that time he came upon a group of survivors, the wounded left behind while the healthy continued on without looking back. He’d watched from afar as the few left behind suffered, neared death. He thought to just leave them and move along. It was none of his business to get mixed up with them. Even their friends had left them behind, after all. But then he’d heard it, the whispered request. Kill me.

He found eyes on him, the plea for mercy found deep within them. He truly considered walking away, but after a minute of contemplation he’d approached the man and without any ceremony, plunged the tip of his blade into his temple.

It was but a moment later that he learned the truth of the disease. One of the other men that had been left behind had died while he’d observed, and by the time he’d come to dispose of the other he had reanimated and come at him with a growling attack. It was unexpected and the teeth had just barely missed clamping onto his forearm as he spun and caught the collar of the man’s shirt, doing the same to send the blade into the base of its neck.

There hadn’t been a bite. He hadn’t been bitten.

And yet...

He shook away the memory, his jaw tightening for a moment before his eyes flickered back up to the council member who had asked the question.

“Just one.”

Why?

“He was already dying anyway. He asked me to put him out of his misery. I did him a favor.”

Are you searching for anybody?

That one was a simple question. He didn’t have anybody to look for. “No.”

Why are you here?

He actually laughed out loud at that one, though he sobered a moment later at the stern glance he received - but it hadn’t wiped the smile from his lips. He cleared his throat, shoulders lifting in a bit of a shrug. The question was as good as any, and he didn’t really have an answer for it.

“Seemed like a good place to stop for a while, I guess.”

Would you consider yourself a team player?

Again he wanted to chuckle, but he stifled this one. Did he consider himself a team player? Not particularly. He worked best on his own. But that wasn’t to say he couldn’t be a team player when he needed to be. Was there a team in survival, though?

“I can be.”

Are you the type of person who will try to make the best out of a bad situation?

Vic sighed, folding his hands together in his lap absently. “Sure, I guess. I don’t try to make the worst of a bad situation, anyway - because that’s a ridiculous concept.”

What skills do you have that would benefit the community and your fellow survivors?

“I can hunt.” It was the best he could offer to the entire group, but he was sure it could go a rather long way. Given by the hiking of the eyebrows, they were surprised - and maybe appreciate - of that skill.

Can you handle yourself in a crisis?

Another silly question that he couldn’t imagine the impact it really had on the community. He supposed if someone couldn’t handle themselves they could make the situation worse for the rest of the survivors...But then again, for those who couldn’t handle themselves, he doubted they’d still be alive a year or so after the most significant crisis in their life times.

“Certainly.”

What are you willing to do to protect the people and things you care about?

He doubted there was an answer that wasn’t ‘anything and everything’ to this question. The thing is, he didn’t really have anyone he cared about. Not here, anyway, in the middle of Georgia. The only people he’d ever cared about significantly he’d left behind ages ago when he left home originally.

And things were just things. He didn’t have much that mattered in the ‘things’ department, either.

“Whatever needs to be done,” he answered. Regardless of if he had people or things he cared about here and now, the answer remained the same.

Do you have any pre-existing medical conditions our medical staff should be informed about?

“No.”

They’d barely gotten their wrap up and ‘thank yous’ for completing the interview before he was on his feet and leaving, questioning why he was bothering with this whole thing in the first place when he’d been doing perfectly fine on his own.

#catastrophictask #task 02 #t; the third degree

2 notes · View notes

snktoughts · 5 years ago

Text

As The Sun Sets, Its Light Shines

(Erehisu pairing. Takes place in the middle of ch 106. Also on AO3.)

It had been a year since he had kept the secret, one which had tormented him day and night, and had slowly eaten away his smile.

But now that the secret was out, this was the first time Eren was back at this place. At the orphanage. The place where she spent most of her time even now.

Seven Years.

“Oy, Sasha! Don’t sleep on the straw bag!”

“Mmmh shadap… what’cha gonna do about it anyway?”

“Why, you…”

Eren ignored the commotion made by Connie and Sasha behind him and kept cleaning the stable. He had more than gotten used to excessive cleaning chores under Captain Levi’s command. Enough to give him occasional nightmares when he was younger. Now, the sixteen year old welcomed the strain of the menial labors, drowning his ever noisy mind with the creaks of the shovel as it hit the ground. Rinse and repeat.

He only stopped when a hand grabbed his wrist, and he met the caring, but stern look of Mikasa.

“Eren. You’re still tired from yesterday’s mission. Don’t overwork yourself.”

Eren frowned slightly, but did not voice his protest out loud when she removed the shovel from his grasp. He barely did anything yesterday. On a better day, he would complain about her incessant mothering. Mikasa doting on him was a constant in his life since the day they met, seven years ago.

They were just normal kids at that time. Or were they really? What made one special was being born in this world. Perhaps, on the day of his tria, a year ago, a good point was brought about nine year old kids being capable to kill grownups being ‘worrisome' or ‘abnormal’, even if that was self-defense, and he never regretted his act.

He had been called ‘monster’ back then. A fitting title. Although as they all found out, this word was not only concerning him.

In truth, they had been wrong all along, had they not? About everything this world was. The monsters… the titans were not the enemy.

Instead, humanity was…

“We came to tell you we’re leaving for the camp again today.”

It was Armin who had said that, standing beside Mikasa. Armin could still smile, albeit less than before everything happened. The shorter teen was still carrying in his pocket that seashell he collected from their first time reaching the ocean. Eren knew.

Seven years for Eren. Twelve years for him.

“The prisoners of war again?” Eren ventured, brushing his long meshes away from his sweaty front, his eyes going from one of his friends to the other.

It was Armin who nodded, then glanced aside.

“Yes. I think… we’re getting a lot of progress with them. Even though you can’t come, we’ll keep you informed as always.”

Eren nodded, although he did not particularly care for the Marleyans imprisoned on his home soil, if he was honest with himself. His status meant he had more restrictions on who he could come in contact with, for obvious strategic reasons, and he had accepted that. And he was closely guarded. This was why Captain Levi's Squad members were always coming with him in his private outings.

Eren was fine with that. Armin, Mikasa, and everyone else, they were his friends. His war comrades. But he had no interest in befriending anyone from across the enemy line.

He had seen enough of what the Marley Empire was like already. Every night, there was always a chance that he would dream up another memories of them mistreating the Eldians… the true name of his people. He had seen through the eyes of both previous victims and perpetrators of war atrocities, had felt them live through him.

The Marleyans were humans. Horribly humans. Just as the Eldians would be, were they to be viewed as humans by the other races, instead of ‘the monsters who turns into titans’. Eren did not even blame the Marleyans and other countries for fearing Eldians. The people of the walls reacted the very same way to Eren the moment everyone found out he was a titan, after all.

Eren understood. Not like the world was wrong to be afraid.

“Eren?”

Eren blinked out of his train of thoughts and nodded.

“Right, well, see you later, then.”

Mikasa and Armin exchanged a look, then Armin bit his lips.

“Umm… by the way, about Zeke’s proposal… at that time, you-”

There was a heavy crash behind them, and they all turned to see Connie stuffing a struggling Sasha under a bag of hay. One stray arm hit Connie’s nose as the brown-haired girl screamed, and Connie bit back a curse, clutching his injured face.

“Ow! Quit it!”

“Hey, you two! You’re here to help, not fool around!”

It was Jean who had spoken, the taller teen had entered the barn carrying two buckets.

Following close behind him was Historia.

Eren saw the queen of the walls herself step into the barn, her golden blond hair down into a ponytail, a change from the last time he saw her, during the military council. She always kept them into a bun when in official duty. Eren did not know why his mind focused on that detail this time around.

Historia let the basket she was carrying down, and put her hands on her hips, glaring down at the mess of limbs that was currently Connie and Sasha.

“If you want to play games, there’s a group of kids outside who would be happy to join you! Don’t slack off on your duty!”

Sasha moaned and pulled herself up.

“S'not even our duty at all! We just take on extra work ‘cuze of him.”

“Oi, Sasha, stop complaining!” Connie reprimanded before standing up and dusting himself.

“What? I’m right!”

“Umm, well, I guess we should go, then,” Armin finally said, the light in his eyes dimming slightly. “Let’s talk later?”

Eren nodded, and watched Armin and Mikasa walk pass the commotion and out of the barn. Just before leaving, Mikasa gave him one last look. It would seem neutral to most observers, but Eren knew her enough to acknowledge the soft worries in her eyes.

In truth, he was used to that look from her. More than enough, in his opinion.

His eyes fell back onto Historia once Mikasa was out of view, and this time, Historia looked back at him. For one awkward moment, Eren wondered if he should look away, but he did not. He only realized the barn had fallen silent when Jean sighed and took both Connie and Sasha by the arms.

“Alright, let’s find a better thing to do for you two, then.”

He sounded annoyed, typical for Jean. All the more at Eren. During their military trainee years, the two had fought a lot. What was an ideology competition had mellowed down to lips service at this point, however. Eren was not even sure he remembered what had made them clash so much. Likely, they had both matured out of the dumb ignorant brats they once were.

Like all the survivors of the 104th, there was respect now. Respect and a certain fondness. Jean did not even look back toward Eren and Historia as he left with Connie and Sasha, and yet, Eren had a feeling the taller teen had been signaling him something.

When his eyes met Historia’s again, Eren completely forgot about Jean, and his mind came back to what had happened a few days prior.

Right. Zeke’s plan had been presented to the Military council by Yelena’s writing. Yelena, the leader of the ‘Anti-Marleyan Voluntaries’, non-Marleyan people who had been conscripted by the Marleyan Empire and dominated. People whom Eren’s half-brother, Zeke, had been uniting to come help the Eldians in Paradis Island. Supposedly.

Zeke… he was a whole other issue for Eren, one he had mulled over for a good year already. It had been hard to reconcile the memories Eren inherited from his father of a frightened five year old, with the man who wore his father’s face and had killed so many of his people with his Beast Titan power. The one who turned Connie's village into titans.

An Eldian from Marley, like Eren’s father was, growing up into the military, probably thanks to their father’s wish to use his kid to accomplish his goal of restoring the Eldia power and freeing their people.

And in a sense, Grisha Yeager sacrificed Eren for a higher goal as well. Eren knew. He had received more love and care than Zeke had, yet, Grisha’s choice gave him the same fate.

He was not really over how messed up everything he had learned about his family was, but he could usually distract himself with other topics, like…

“So…”

… Like this one.

After one word, Historia clammed up, her gaze falling on the side. Equally hesitant, Eren let his attention wander on the fallen hay bags as he scratched his head.

Damn… they usually had easier talks than this.

But today…

Historia released a breath, and walked up to a wall close to Eren. Almost automatically, Eren did the same, and they stayed side by side, staring ahead, the silence only broken by the children’s laughter from outside.

To Eren, there was something comforting with these moments. Even at this time, he felt the tenseness of his body leaving.

“… How long have you kept it to yourself?” Historia finally asked softly.

Eren did not look at her.

“Since the day we brought my father’s journals in front of the Military council. I figured it out then.”

“… All this time, huh?” He heard shuffling, but he did not look. “I see. That must have been hard for you.”

Eren made a short noise. He wanted to downplay it, but he had too much respect for her to lie. The secret was out anyway.

“I gambled that another solution would come,” he said, frowning at the opposite barn wall, “there had to be. Zeke’s plan proves that. With Zeke as a royal blood titan, there is no need for anyone else.”

Historia’s answer was a small ‘hmm’ noise. He finally risked a glance at her, and saw her thoughtful, almost haunted look. It made his stomach churn. He never liked seeing her like that. It reminded him too much of their darkest hours.

She looked through one of the empty horse stalls.

“I made my choice a year ago, after all.” Her voice was soft, and her arms crossed. “That I would play my part as the dutiful Queen within the walls. In spite of the circumstances, like you, I accepted my role, and I am ready to fulfill it to the end.”

His jaw shut with tension. The unease in his stomach increased at her words. He flexed his fingers a few times.

“Your role is to be a figurehead. You don’t have to use titan powers at all. The Founding Titan’s power would be restricted if you ate it anyway.”

“… But we’ve both been prepared for this eventuality, haven’t we?” She replied, her fingers gripping her forearms. “Back when we did not know how the oath restricting the Founding’s power worked, we both gave it thoughts, as an eventuality for humanity’s sake.”

“You rejected it back then,” he reminded her, his voice rising up slightly. “You rejected your father’s will and saved me instead. You proclaimed yourself as enemy of humanity.”

Something prompted him to shut his mouth fast after that. He was unsure what exactly. A sort of grating malaise. For some reasons, Armin’s face came to his mind.

Before he could analyze why, Historia answered.

“Yeah. I did, didn’t I? And I don’t regret it.”

There was a fondness in her voice, something which made a calming sensation swell in his chest, and a smile birth on his lips, if only slightly.

“Well… I don’t regret hiding what I knew either.”

“… I see.”

He thought she would say more, but she did not. When he looked at her, he saw the soft smile stretching her lips, and the rosy tint her cheeks had taken under the falling sun coming from the open door. Eren closed his eyes and breathed in the sensation of peace that had filled the air. Something vaguely reminiscent of the home he lost so long ago.

“Eren?”

He opened his eyes and looked at her direction. This time, she was facing away, and all he could see of her face through her hair was part of her cheek.

“Thank you, for looking out for me. I wish I could repay the favor in turn.”

He kept his eyes on her for a moment, then looked up at the window again.

For some reasons, it was Kruger and his father he thought of, then, of their memories, dreams, drives.

No holders were perfect humans. None Eren had come to know of he would say were great people. In this cruel world, Perhaps true goodness could not exist.

And yet, there was a drive to each of them that was their own. Something they cared for above the idealized notion of the ‘greater good’ his younger self would say he was fighting for.

Something fundamentally selfish. Something fundamentally dependent upon their individual will.

Something that made them ‘enemies of mankind’ of their own.

“I chose to do this because I wanted to,” he finally answered back, “there is nothing to repay me for.” He looked back at her. “Can I have an independent selfish request of my own, though?”

She looks back at him, her blue eyes filled with curiosity. He represses a dark thought by swallowing before speaking again.

Seven years.

“Live a long life on your own term.”

Her eyes widened and he caught a few of her passing expressions as she went through them. Surprised, flustered, annoyed.

...Sadness. Pity, perhaps?

Or something else. He was not sure what her face was conveying then, but her gaze was plunged into his, and he did not want to look away.

Then, she finally answered.

“If I have the opportunity. If there is a way, I’ll do it. On my own term.”

If there was a way. Right then, Eren knew of one. Right then, there was Zeke.

The military government may not trust Zeke or Yelena, for good reasons in Eren’s opinion. If Eren was thinking of humanity’s survival, he would agree that Historia was the safest choice to gain the power to shake the Earth. The safest choice for those within the walls, the one that would be the most likely to side with their survival.

But Eren did not think of humanity then. Eren thought of that girl who proclaimed her hatred of humans, and declared she was an enemy of humanity. Just so that a pathetic person like he used to feel, could live on, and stop wishing he had never been born on this Earth. For the sake of one person alone, she would turn against everyone else.

And then, as they stared at each others, and as he took all the details of her face, Eren knew who and what he would side for above anything else in this existence. As long as he had left to live.

#erehisu #eren x historia #erekuri #fanfic #snk manga #snk spoilers #ch 106

50 notes · View notes

ghostofviperwrites · 5 years ago

Text

Dessert

Requested by: @littlemissvillanous

Pairing: Marty Scurll/FC/Adam Page

Category: Smut

Warnings: Threesome; language

67. I’m not saying I want a threesome, but I’m not opposed to it

Marty Scurll. It still sent a thrill through you to think his name. To think that he was yours. It always brought a goofy smile to your face. You watched him laughing and talking with the Being the Elite cast while lacing up your boots. Your eyes drifted over to Adam Page who was standing next to Marty, just in time for Marty to catch you making him shake his head and smile at you as you shrugged. Marty was well aware of your infatuation with Adam Page. Or at least with his looks. Personality wise you and he didn’t mesh very well, but damn if he wasn’t nice to look at. The light to Marty’s dark. It wasn’t like the two of you didn’t like each other, but you were never going to be best friends. You got along and that was all that mattered to Marty.

A month passed by. Your relationship with Marty was going very well and the two of you had started discussing the possibility of moving in together. It made sense you were either at your place or his every night anyways. Why pay rent for two places when one would suffice?

Having just finished a show for the night the entire group was trying to decide where to stop for food. Of course Matt and Nick immediately voted for Cracker Barrel with Cody and Brandi quickly agreeing. You exchanged a look with Marty before declaring you couldn’t possibly stomach another Cracker Barrel meal for at least a week. That seemed to be the only place they would ever eat and honestly you were tired of it.

Adam ended up coming along with you and Marty opting out of Cracker Barrel as well. The three of you ended up in a little corner diner across the street from your hotel. The three of you sat talking long after your plates were empty, you leaning back against Marty’s chest as he rested in the corner of the booth. Shifting in the seat your skirt rode up your thighs, dangerously closely to revealing your panties and you caught Adam looking.

“Like what you see cowboy?” You asked with a smirk, making him blush and quickly look away.

“Sorry,” he muttered looking everywhere but at you and Marty.

“Quit teasing the poor lad, Y/N.” Marty chuckled giving you a poke in the ribs. “You’re turning him all red.”

You gave an unrepentant shrug smiling cheekily.

“I’d say I’m sorry but I’m really not. He’s just so cute when he’s all red and flustered.” You giggled. It was all fun and games, but you couldn’t help but nonchalantly spread your legs just a bit while looking innocently at the dessert menu sure you were giving Adam a nice eyeful of your red lacy panties.

The three of you walked back to the hotel room your head resting on Marty’s chest with his arm over your shoulders. All three of your sleep schedules were all messed up due to time zone changes so none of you were tired. Marty suggested Adam come up to your room for a movie. He agreed stopping off in his hotel room for a shower and to change while you and Marty continued up to your floor.

“So you’ve got a bit of a thing for Page do ya?” Marty asked as he stripped off his clothes and changed into a pair of athletic shorts.

“What?” You asked spinning quickly to face him. “I do not. What are you talking about?” You could feel your cheeks turning red as your boyfriend told you how he had definitely noticed your teasing of Adam.

“Bet he loved those littles panties of yours.” Marty said with a smirk. “I know I do.”

“I was just playing Marty, I’m sorry.” You said feeling bad now that you realized your boyfriend had seen your antics.

“It’s alright love. I don’t mind ya flirtin’ with him.” He said turning away and digging in his suitcase. “Is….uh… a threesome something you want?” You could see Marty was blushing as well, the red flush creeping up the back of his neck as he pretended to search for something in his bag.

“I don’t know.” You mumbled pulling your cami nightgown over your head. “Do you?” You peeked a glance over your shoulder seeing Marty shrug.

“I’m not saying I want a threesome, but I’m not opposed to it,” Marty said. “I mean if you wanted to have a go with me and Adam I think that could be fun.”

You sat down on the edge of the bed giving it real thought for the first time. Sure you had flirted with him, but you hadn’t really thought there was a possibility of anything happening. You had to admit that having the attentions of two gorgeous men on you did sound very tempting.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to it either.” You said glancing up to meet Marty’s eyes, grateful to see no censure in his gaze. In fact he looked rather excited.

“So I guess if Adam is into it, we go for it?” Marty asked and you nodded a smile coming to your face.

When Adam arrived you plopped yourself in the middle of the bed, patting either side of you for the boys to sit as you settled in to watch the movie. It was only a few minutes in when Marty’s hand settled on your bare thigh, his fingers drumming and playing with the hem of your nightie. When he dipped it in between your thighs you couldn’t help but hum in pleasure catching Adam’s attention. His eyes widened as he saw Marty’s hand between your thighs and he quickly shifted his attention back to the TV screen.

You definitely weren’t expecting Marty to go all in so fast, so when his fingers pushed right under your panties and inside your pussy you couldn’t contain your moan. Adam shifted beside you and you couldn’t stop from looking at his groin seeing a telltale bulge starting to form beneath his sweats.

“Yeah, I should…I should probably go.” Adam said. “You two look like you want to be alone.” He started to slide off the bed, stopping when your hand landed on his thigh.

“You don’t have to go Adam.” You said looking into his eyes. “You could stay and play with me.”

Adam quickly jerked his eyes to Marty who hadn’t stopped fingering you. Marty met his friend’s questioning eyes with a nod.

“Do you want to help me fuck her?” Marty asked pushing your nightgown up and revealing the red panties you had been wearing earlier. “I know she was teasing you with these earlier. You can get some payback.”

Adam reached out a hesitant hand, brushing his fingers over the red lace just above Marty’s fingers.

“She was being a damn tease.” Adam said his eyes meeting yours and you smiled giving a small shrug of your shoulders.

“I am a bit of a tease.” You admitted. “But I always make up for it in the end, don’t I Marty?” Marty responded in the affirmative pulling his fingers from your pussy much to your disappointment before he directed you to get undressed.

In seconds the three of you were naked and you took your time to admire Adam’s body, running your fingertips over his chest and down the tip of his cock which jumped under your touch.

“All fours love. I’m gonna eat your pussy while you suck Adam.” Marty said and you quickly got in position kneeling above Marty’s face as Adam moved to stand at the end of the bed.

It was hard to focus on Adam with Marty’s tongue licking your slit, but you did the best you could sucking him into your mouth and caressing him with your tongue as you bobbed up and down his length with Adam’s fingers holding onto your hair.

Soon he took over your movements, bucking his hips against your lips and using your throat fast and hard as Marty buried his tongue inside you making you cum with a scream around Adam’s cock. Then you were pulled off Adam, flipped around to suck Marty as Adam lined his cock up with your pussy. You clenched around him as he entered, taking Marty into your mouth and sucking him hard as Adam thrust into you.

Sweat slicked your skin as the two men used you, your hips bouncing back at Adam as Marty fucked your mouth, before long both of them came with loud grunts, your sated bodies collapsing together on the bed.

“Well that was fun.” You said after a few minutes of silence filled with heavy breathing.

“Definitely have to do that again.” Marty agreed chuckling as Adam nodded, not moving from where his head had come to rest on the small of your back while your head lay on Marty’s thigh.

“Next time warn a guy before you spring a threesome on him.” Adam mumbled making the three of you laugh. “Almost gave me a heart attack.”

#marty scurll fanfic #marty scurll imagine #adam page imagine #adam page fanfic #Wrestling Fanfic #aew fanfic #ring of honor fanfic #mywriting #ghostofviperwrites

33 notes · View notes

honey-bri-books · 5 years ago

Text

Afraid of the Dark: SamCasDean

Un-related to any specific point in the series, but presumed to have happened after Cas and Dean have known each other a considerable length of time. SPN/Destiel fan fic. Fluff.

Characters created by Eric Kripke.

****

The Winchesters pull up in the Impala, just outside of an abandoned theater, which is now run-down and barely standing up in its decrepit state. Both Dean and Sam get out of the car and look up at the marquis, skeptically. Several letters are randomly stuck in a corner making up a mesh of black curves and criss-crosses, but just off-center and spelled out by the locals as a lame prank for the non-existent business owners read the “Movie Title” Are You Afraid of the Dark without the question mark, at the end. Dean makes a face.

DEAN: Didn’t know there was a movie that actually made it to the theater. I thought they just did a TV special thing...I remember seeing a commercial for it. You would’ve loved it, Sammy. Clowns and everything!

SAM: I don’t think they ever released a movie or that it played here, Dean. Probably some kids just joking around. Would’ve been smarter if they had thought to put up a warning that the place is haunted.

DEAN: And that the only way out is in a body bag, if you’re dumb enough to go inside...

SAM: Let’s be hopeful. No one’s reported any bodies turning up.

DEAN: Not yet, you mean.

Sam and Dean had been bombarded with messages that morning from other hunters and friends who were “in-the-know” that several disappearances had taken place within the past few months, since the closing of a local theater building, which had struggled to bring in an audience. The owners had just packed up and left, not leaving a note for anyone interested in taking up the building and re-vamping the theater for themselves. No one had even bothered to schedule a demolition of the premises, to open up a new mall or grocery store or apartment complex. It was left to collect dust and debris and according to recent rumors, kids from the local high-school and community college.

Amy, a friend of the Winchesters from a previous case, had claimed she was out for a run when she saw a few kids sneaking in, one of them wearing his boyfriend’s letter-head jacket. She wasn’t in the mood to go in after them and just continued on home, forgetting about them until noticing an article with their pictures highlighted. It read with the heading LOST in giant letters heading the article, and said they hadn’t shown up to school for several days, and that two of them were honor students and very reliable and responsible people. Amy had remembered that it was so cold outside when she was by the theater that she could see her own breath. Combined with so many cases being reported of missing people, all teenagers or young adults, Amy got a gut feeling and called Dean just as Sam was looking up the same story on his laptop.

Now, Dean and Sam open up the trunk of the impala and start to fill their guns with rock salt. Sam picks up a third. The most popular theory among the remaining hunters in the district, was that anyone who entered the building died and that their spirits remained to haunt the building, in the form of ghosts.

SAM: Do you think Cas will need one?

DEAN: I think he keeps one in the truck. Load that one anyway, just in case. Castiel arrives right at that moment, pulling up next to the impala. He gets out of the driver’s side and moves towards the Winchesters, wielding his own weapon, as Dean predicted. Thanks for coming. Usually, you’re too busy to even answer your phone. Castiel starts to protest but Dean slams the trunk down, nearly knocking Sam in the head, and cutting Castiel off.

SAM: Hey!! Careful! Then shaking his head, Please don’t tell me you two are still....

CASTIEL: [Tartly] Have either of you been inside of the building, yet? He sounds defeated and uncaring. He looks at Sam, a bit desperately. Sam just sighs, still upset from the night Castiel left the bunker. He had been in his room trying to read when he heard Dean yelling from the kitchen..

******

DEAN: Never mind about me, it’s YOU who we should be worrying about right now. Why can’t you ever look after yourself, for once!?!? For all of his concern, Sam didn't like the way Dean attempted to get through to Cas about his grace failing him, again. They had come back from a hunt that morning, Dean bleeding and battered, and Dean refused Castiel’s help. He argued that his injuries were minor, and would ignore Cas or walk away to avoid Castiel having to use his powers in order to heal him. Both he and Sam were afraid that if Castiel used them unnecessarily, that it would only be a matter of time before he lay dying before them both.

Their concern was well-founded. But finally, Castiel had had enough. Sam was walking down the hall with an armful of books, when Cas stormed past him and went up to Dean’s bedroom door. Sam didn’t have time to react when Castiel crashed into Dean’s room and crawled on top of him, on his bed. Sam ran to the door to see Dean struggling (pathetically) while Castiel put a hand to Dean’s forehead. With visible effort and strain, Castiel eyes began to glow, and light seemed to fill the room, as Castiel succeeded in healing Dean of his injuries...before passing out on top of him. When Castiel finally woke up, Dean let out a huge sigh of relief. He asked Castiel if he was alright...and then gave him the silent treatment for a week, before finally confronting him in the kitchen.

DEAN: It’s like you don’t even care if you die right in front of me. What were you thinking?!?! What kind of a person could ever do that to someone he cared about?! How would you feel if I cut myself up and bled to death, in order to save you?! Would you want that for me?! Dean had been on the verge of tears. Sam could hear his voice getting hoarse..

CASTIEL: [weakly] Dean, please....I didn’t have a choice...

DEAN: One day you’re gonna have to make a choice, and it’s gonna be the right one, next time. You should have let me die! In fact...you know what....I’m finally done! You don’t wanna give a damn about yourself, then that means I don’t have to either.

CASTIEL: I’m sorry. I wish...Dean, I couldn’t stand to see you hurt like that and not be able to do anything. I wouldn’t ever ...It...I’m not...I...

DEAN: Whatever, just get out. All the time I’ve wasted, wondering if you’re gonna get yourself killed...There’s only so much I can take. You feel like helping out with a case or two, I’ll give you a call, but until then...Good luck to you!

The next morning Sam had gone into Castiel’s room hoping to mediate the situation, but by that time, Castiel was gone.

******

Now, Sam could recognize the same tension between his brother and his friend as they faced each other for the first time in several weeks. Castiel appeared as if he were struggling to just stay standing. Dean can’t help but show concern on his face, looking Cas up and down.

SAM: Cas, are you sure you’re up to this? Are you, I mean...are you getting any better? Dean presses his lips together, not trusting himself to say anything. Castiel still avoids Dean’s gaze and tries to hide the fact that he’s swaying slightly.

CASTIEL: I’m fine. What do you need me to do?

Sam and Dean look at each other, and then they all look at the theater together. Castiel takes a step forward. He furrows his brows and tilts his head slightly.

CASTIEL: Dean, there are people in there.. Sam and Dean look at each other, confused.

DEAN: What do you mean? All of their last fight forgotten, Dean now feels hopeful. The missing teens had never been declared dead. They could still be alive...Castiel shakes his head.

CASTIEL: I’m not sure, but.... I sense we’re not the only living ones in the vicinity. That we’re not alone.. Without saying anything else, Castiel heads towards the theater. Sam and Dean follow after him and they all enter the building together.

Once inside the lobby, the three are enveloped in darkness, save for a glimmer of light coming from the front doors. The three decide to split up and each take a different level of the theater to explore.

*****

Sam finds himself in the basement. He can hear something leaking nearby and hopes to himself that it’s only water. With the little light from his flash light, Sam feels along the walls as he stumbles down the basement stairs. There are extra theater seats and old show posters underneath an old tarp. He thinks he’s alone when he hears someone sneeze behind him. Sam jumps and turns around to see eight different sets of eyes staring back at him. The missing teens are wearing the outfits they disappeared in, now dirty and torn, and with dirt and sweat covering their faces. Some hide behind their friends, not knowing who Sam is. Though pale and hollow-eyed Sam breathes a sigh of relief...They’re alive!

SAM: Hey! It’s okay, I’m here to help...Some of the kids start to relax, and then one of them starts to scream. Sam turns around to see an old man with a gun aimed at him. The girl who screamed starts crying and before Sam can even blink, a woman appears from behind the group of kids and grabs the girl by the hair, dragging her back against her with one hand, a butcher knife in the other....

*****

Castiel made his way down the aisle of the theater and to the stage. He had to use a flashlight now, since he had weakened considerably over the past several months.

Sam and Dean had expressed their concern for his failing grace on many occasions, and Castiel had always lied by saying he was ignorant of the cause. The truth was that an angel’s grace could be manipulated in its strength from Heaven’s Headquarters.

Awhile ago, a group of angels had threatened Castiel, ordering him to stop aiding the Winchesters and to ignore their calls for help. When Castiel refused, they had warned Castiel that his life was on the line and he would eventually drain of his grace and then finally die, if he didn’t change his ways. Castiel had of course ignored the threats, continuing to work and then live with the Winchesters at the bunker, before Dean ordered him to leave...

As Castiel crawls up onto the stage he struggles to make out the wings and the backdrop depicting a forest scene for whatever production last closed at the theater. There is a star drop, as well. Castiel doesn’t notice anything unusual. Just a lot of left over props and lights piled up back stage and old programs, covered in dust. He moves backstage and sees a door that must lead to the dressing rooms. Upon opening it, he finds himself in a darkened hallway. After walking down it for a few minutes Castiel stops. What was that noise? His flashlight had stopped working, so he left it back on the stage. He can’t see anything, but he knows he heard someone curse to his left. Suddenly, there is a sharp noise, like a door is slamming shut. Whatever made the sound, it was close. Without seeing it, Castiel turns and reaches out until he makes contact with a door handle.

Not thinking of the consequences, Castiel turns the handle and enters into the room. A pair of hands lock onto his arms and pulls him inside the room, slamming him against the wall. Castiel drops his gun...

******

Dean directs his flash light back and forth, unimpressed with the lack of bodies, the lack of clues, the lack of anything in this nothing hallway. Just a lot of dust and dark. There are several closed doors, but all of them have been locked up to now. Dean trudges on to the end of the hallway, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to try the last door, and is surprised when it actually opens for him. Yeah right, he thinks. Dean walks inside, out of habit, not really expecting anything interesting....

DEAN: What the hell? The closet is full of weapons. Dean at first thinks that they are props used for the theater, but then gets closer and realizes it’s all real. Guns, machetes, pitch forks, a hatchet, and even rat poison! He sets down his own gun full of rock salt and reaches towards one of the machetes when his light flickers out. Dean curses and backs into the door, slamming it shut and dropping his flash light. He fumbles around on the ground looking for it.. I can’t see anything, it’s so damn dark!

All of a sudden, the door opens. Someone is directly behind Dean, standing above him. Dean reacts quickly, springing to his feet and turning to grab the dark figure by his arms, pulling him into the closet and slamming him against the wall. The person’s breathing is heavy and Dean realizes that he’s pressing himself up against his assailant, who struggles for a moment before stilling, his breath catching in his throat.

Then Dean realizes that he’s not threatened by his attacker, that he doesn't feel as if he’s in danger. The body in front of him is familiar, and...Dean leans his head forward against the other’s and the person pressed against the wall submits, pushing back slightly. Dean’s breathing becomes heavy as his grip tightens on Castiel who tilts his head back, so that Dean can feel the stubble on his chin brush against his lips.

Dean is afraid to say anything. He doesn’t know what he’s thinking, right now. He lowers his mouth onto Castiel’s neck and traces kisses along it. When Castiel lets out a soft cry, Dean takes his face in his hands and kisses him roughly on the mouth. Castiel brings his hands up to Dean’s face and presses his body against him, as the lights to the closet and the hallway turn on. Neither hear Sam calling out to them from the hallway, or notice the sudden burst of light, at first...Their eyes are closed, and their lips are desperate for each other... Sam finds them in a closet full of weapons, in each other’s arms, crumpled in a heap on floor. Dean covering Castiel with kisses as Cas whimpers out “Sorry,..I’m...sorry...:”

*****

The old theater owners, Dale and Margaret Blanche, sit cuffed in the back seat of a police car. Once Old Lady Blanche had attempted to silence the crying girl, Dale had lowered his gun, letting his guard down and thinking they were in control. Sam kicked upwards into Dale’s nuts and retrieved his gun when he dropped it, howling in pain. Margaret had been distracted and another of the teen captives leapt at her ankle, biting as hard as he could. Margaret screamed and let the girl and the butcher knife go.

The other kids leapt into action and helped Sam to overcome and defeat the couple of criminals, weak as they were from being denied adequate food and sleeping quarters. By Sam’s orders, they helped find rope. Some helped in tying their captors up and dragging them both upstairs. Sam gave one of the hostages his cell phone to call the police, while he looked for a way to turn on the lights. Apparently, there was nothing wrong with the lights or the electicity, though they had been turned off since the theater’s closing. When Sam tried turning them all on, he had little to no problem. Apparently, the town had cared so little about the theater at that point, that no one had bothered to cut off electricity through to the building. The Blanches had just not wanted to let on that anyone was living there, and kept them off at all times.

When the theater closed, all had assumed that the couple had left the place for dead, but in fact they had both stayed hidden in the old theater, and lived off of killing cats, rats and all of the above, determined to stay. A nearby pond, spare candles, and other necessities had done the couple fine for resources...until local kids had spread a rumor that the building was haunted and had set off in pairs and groups to explore the place.

Finally, the couple decided to get back at everyone for ignoring their establishment in the first place, by kidnapping and torturing anyone who trespassed, taking away the town’s children in revenge for running their business to the ground. They had stored a closet full of weapons to use as a means to torture their victims and kept rat poison to permanently silence the ones who made too much of a racket.

Now, the surviving kids were split up among sobbing parents, paramedics and police officers, in front of the theater. One boy pulled Sam aside to thank him, for reminding them all of how capable they had always been in getting themselves out of their captors hands, and waking them from their stupor. He said he felt it had been in him to stand up for himself all the while, he just needed to see that if could be done and Sam making the first move is what made it happen.

******

Dean and Castiel sat on a nearby bench, watching the rescue take place. They hadn't said a word (and neither had Sam, thankfully) about what happened back in the closet, all night, though many hours had passed since then. Dean’s face is an unfeeling mask, and Cas is almost afraid to breath. Nothing had to be said to determine Castiel was going back to the bunker that night. Dean would ask Sam to drive Castiel’s truck while Cas rode shot gun to Dean in the impala.

Dean had wondered what he’d do when he saw Cas again, after their fight. He’d wondered if Castiel could forgive him for being such an asshole to him when they finally confronted each other in the kitchen. He worried that Castiel was much weaker than he’d let on earlier, and thought he knew for certain that things weren’t getting any better for the angel. And now...everything was so much worse than Dean could have ever imagined.

The darkness had acted as a veil, had tricked Dean into thinking they were safe, that they were completely alone, and maybe they could both feel happiness, pleasure, for just a moment..but something told him that somehow they had failed each other, back in that closet. To have opened his eyes and seen Castiel, trembling underneath him, surrounded by deadly weapons and blinding, accusing light, to see the tears in Castiel’s eyes... If the lights had stayed off until after they’d let go of each other, Dean wouldn’t have had to see it end...It wasn’t meant to last longer than a moment, but somehow...

CASTIEL: [Sadly] Are you afraid of the Dark.. Dean shakes his head from his thoughts, and looks at Castiel, worried. Castiel is looking up at the theater marquis, not really caring about it, but feeling one of them needed to say something to break the ice. Dean has never seen Castiel look so weak as he did at this moment. He fixes the expression on his face, trying to seem nonchalant.

DEAN: You know, there’s a movie I’ve been trying to get Sammy to watch with me. One of those new revivals. This one, I think, it’s from an old Nickelodeon program or whatever. Funny, right? Castiel nods. It hurts Dean to look at Cas when he’s this weak, this afraid. He’s in so much pain. What can I do to take it away? How can I save him?

A tear escapes from Castiel’s eye and Dean’s heart breaks in two. They were never going to talk about it. And Dean knew Castiel would never let him touch him like that, ever again. Dean wants nothing more than to take Castiel into his arms, and to hold him underneath the stars, to just be close to him in the dark..but instead he puts both hands in his pockets and waits for the police to leave, waits for Sam to signal that they should be heading home. Castiel has his hands deep in the pockets of his trench coat. He leans into the back of the bench and turns his head away from Dean, knowing he can’t hold back his tears any longer.

CASTIEL: Dean..forgive me. I keep hurting you. I can’t stop.. He shuts his eyes, ashamed. Back in the theater, I couldn’t help myself, I couldn’t...stop....I.... Biting his lip, Castiel can’t continue.

Dean knows that if he doesn’t get up and walk away, that his lips would find their way to Castiel’s again. He knew that the next time he put his hands on Castiel that he would never let go.

DEAN: I’ll wait in the car. When you’re ready, join me, and we’ll head on home. Sam is going to drive the truck. Then after a moment.. Don’t think that I’m ever letting you go after tonight. And don’t you dare think about using your powers again, until Sam and I can figure out what’s wrong. I won’t hear of it. I’ll trap you in a ring of holy oil before I let you go and get yourself killed. Hate me for the rest of my life. I don’t care. And don’t take too long, I’m beat... Dean ignores the small cry coming from Castiel and stands up, hesitating for a moment, before heading determinedly back towards the impala. Castiel covers his face with his hands, the darkness enveloping him like a never-ending nightmare...

The End...

#Castiel #Dean #CasDean #DeanCas #Sam #Destiel #Supernatural #Fan Fic #Fluff #Slash #SPN #SPN Fan Fiction #Winchester #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #Are You Afraid of the Dark #Afraid of the Dark

5 notes · View notes

mariahschoices · 6 years ago

Text

One Night Out

This is a slightly AU TRR fanfic revolving around the night that MC met Liam, Drake, Maxwell, and Tariq. Characters and some dialogue have been borrowed from Pixelberry.

Pairing: MC (Riley Brooks) x Drake

Rating: NC17 / NSFW towards the end

Word count: 6,817

__________________________________________________________

Riley Brooks stared at her own reflection in the grungy, cracked bathroom mirror of the dive bar where she’d found herself working for the last two years. Her eyes were greeted with the image of the dark circles under her blue eyes, a half-hazard mess of brown hair that she’d flopped into a bun on top of her head, and what looked like a sliver of spinach from her salad at lunch that she’d hurriedly consumed between waiting tables.

She picked the food out of her teeth, splashed her face, and stood up a little straighter. Her shift was almost over, and damn if she couldn’t accomplish something if she set her mind to it. She had a date scheduled with her bed tonight that she didn’t want to delay any further by wallowing around in the bathroom.

Riley reentered the main room, narrowly avoiding a collision with Daniel, her work husband and main confidant, with whom she could always bitch about their boss over double margaritas.

“Shit! Sorry, Riley,” he quickly apologized. “I was actually just looking for you!”

“Looks like you found me! What’s up, Daniel?” Riley asked, intrigued by Daniel’s sudden sense of urgency and nervous mannerisms, watching as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

“Actually, see, what I wanted was.... I kinda wanted to ask you... but I know you’re tired and you’ve worked a double as it is and....”

“Spit it out, Daniel. I think we know each other well enough at this point to be straight with one another? What’s up?” Riley questioned, becoming slightly more concerned with his erratic behavior.

“Well, a table of three just came in, and I really need to jet. I finally matched with that h-o-t hottie on Grindr, and our date is in -” he paused to study his watch, “ten minutes ago.”

“You mean the guy with abs you could grate cheese on?” Daniel reddened under Riley’s questioning. “Is it really a date if you met on Grindr?” Riley continued, before rolling her eyes and nudging him on the shoulder towards the direction of the staff exit.

“Go, man! Who am I to stop true love?”

Daniel responded with an eye roll of his own before an ear to ear smile overtook his whole face.

“Thank youuuuu! I won’t forget this!”

“Yea, yea. Don’t forget to send me a wedding invite!” Riley chirped, before heading over to attend to her late night guests who would probably, hopefully, be her final table of the evening.

“Hello, gentlemen. I’m Riley, and I’ll be serving you this evening. It looks like Daniel already brought out some waters for you, but what else can I get you all to drink? Or, if you’re ready to order food?” Riley paused, analyzing the motley crew that had assembled in the booth.

The first man on the inside of the far booth was extremely overdressed, in a fancy Italian suit that probably cost more than she’d brought home the past month. He certainly looked out of place, but also comfortable enough around the other two, which ruled out the possibility that he was a kidnap victim being held up in her bar by the others until the extortion money came through.

The second man, on the outside of the same booth, was still certainly overdressed, though he had a few buttons undone for a more a more casual appearance. He looked younger than the other man - maybe a little brother? No, the family resemblance wasn’t there.

Finally, Riley’s eyes rested on the last man, sitting alone on the opposite side of the table. He wore a casual, blue denim button down over a white t-shirt with black jeans. A Canadian tuxedo. Oh, well, everyone does formal wear in their own way, she supposed.

The second man suddenly spoke up, interrupting her inner evaluation of the three men.

“Steaks for the table!” he cheered with a smile.

“How about some filet mignon, medium rare and prepared with a bearnaise sauce?” the first man added. He spoke with a posh, preppy accent, enunciating each letter of every word as if everything he’d said was of the utmost importance.

“Er, well, filet mignon does sound good! Unfortunately, the closest thing we have to that in our fine establishment would be the deluxe burger. It’s two half pound patties covered with swiss cheese and loaded with tomato, onion, lettuce, and special sauce. And the whole thing is topped off with bacon! Who doesn’t love bacon?!” she spun the house dish with as much pizzazz as possible in an attempt to appease the men. She really hoped Daniel was enjoying his date, because these men were going to be a pain in her -”

“We’ll be fine with a bottle of whiskey... and four deluxe burgers,” the third man finally chimed in, saving her from any further attempts at having to up-sell the bar’s humble menu options.

“Excellent choice!” Riley chirped, quickly making her way to the kitchen to put in their order and gather their drinks before any complaints could be made.

Riley made her way back to the table with a tray of whiskeys. Alcohol would surely make the burgers go down a little easier for the two men who were clearly more accustomed to eating truffle mushrooms and caviar for dinner. Upon arrival, Riley realized that another diner had joined their party of three.

“Oh! Hello there. Looks like I’ll need to grab another tumbler for you gentlemen. I’m your server, Riley.”

She took a look at the newest addition to the table. He dressed similarly to the two men on the opposite side, yet he had a casual air about him like Mr. Denim Shirt, whom he’d seated himself beside.

“Hello, Riley. I’m Liam. These are my friends, Tariq, Maxwell, and Drake,” he motioned towards each one as he spoke their names in the same order she had scrutinized them in. “Sorry I was late. I hope I didn’t disturb your work flow.”

“Disturb my...?” she stumbled slightly in her response, taken slightly aback by his formal way of speaking. “Oh, no problem at all! The more the merrier! Nice to meet you Liam,” she smiled, “and the rest of you too.”

Ding. “That’ll be your burgers now! Let me just go get those for you.” Riley scurried off quickly towards to kitchen, evading Liam’s bright-eyed, awestruck gaze.

______________________________________________________________________

The rest of the evening went by quickly and relatively uneventfully, with Liam seeming to reign in the rest of the group’s behavior with a princely ease. The bar’s only other customer had been a single man who’d had two double shots, complained about his wife, and then had to bounce after receiving a decibel shattering, eardrum bursting phone call from aforementioned wife.

Riley wiped down the counters and removed her apron, ready to turn off the lights and lock up for the evening when she heard the front door chime, alerting her of a new customer entering the bar.

“I’m sorry, we’re cl-” she turned around, locking eyes once again with Liam.

“Oh, hey! Did you forget something. I was just closing up. I didn’t see a wallet or anything in your booth, but I can double ch -”

“No, no. Nothing like that! Thank you so much for being patient with us tonight. I know we probably overstayed our welcome,” Liam paused, but Riley remained silent, neither confirming nor denying that she’d very much wanted to go home and promptly hibernate for a week straight.

“Anyway, I just wanted to see if - well, I wanted to invite you to go out with us tonight. Maybe to another bar or club? We’re not from around here and you seemed to really mesh well with the other guys, which isn’t always easy to do, and so... I thought maybe we could repay you with a drink or two.”

Riley pondered his offer, wagering the pros and cons in her head. She really wasn’t interested in Liam, as nice as he had been. He just seemed so.... safe. Boring, really. As if reading her thoughts, Liam interrupted.

“Just as friends. No pressure or anything. Just a thank you. And as a way to celebrate the end of your shift?” he smiled friendly.

“Ah, hell. Why not. I’ve been working non-stop lately. It’d probably do me some good to go out in a social setting and see some people other than my coworkers for once,” Riley agreed, returning Liam’s kind smile. “Just let me go to my locker first. I keep a change of clothes here at work just in case. I’ll meet you out front!”

Riley mulled over her decision as she made her way over to her locker. Why had she told Liam yes? Sure, she had told him it was for socialization purposes, but if she were honest with herself, there was only one thing she wanted to socialize with - her bed. However, Drake was a close second. He had been mostly silent throughout their meal, simply sipping his whisky and digging into his burger with his sleeves pushed up around his elbows. It was what he hadn’t said that intrigued her. Every time she came by and spoke to their table, he had watched her with interest as if he were studying her - like he could read her inner thoughts if he merely looked hard enough. She could tell he was most certainly the strong but silent type. How did he fit into this group of outspoken, fancily dressed men? Who was he to them? She had to find out.

Riley changed into an emerald green dress that smelled slightly of stale french fries, but hey, that’s what she got for storing it in her work locker. In fact, smelling like french fries could be a bonus for some people.

She stepped back to examine herself in the mirror. She still looked banging if she said so herself, the fabric clinging to every curve of her corn-fed figure. It didn’t matter how much running around she did at the bar. Her mother had always told her that she had “baby making hips.” Finally, she slipped out of her work shoes, trading them in for a pair of low, black heels.

Finally, she turned the lights off, locking the door and slamming it shut behind her. She walked around to the front of the building, where a black stretch limousine was parked. Wow, these boys are even more bougee than I thought. She crossed the street quickly, making sure to press down her skirt as a gust of wind hit her out of nowhere, threatening to give the boys a free peep show. The window rolled down slightly, allowing Liam to peek out at her.

“Hey, Riley! Please come in. I hope you don’t mind the limo?” Riley stepped into the limo, trying to refrain the eye roll that was threatening to make itself evident on her face.

“Mind? Oh, no. I don’t mind. I haven’t been in a limo since senior prom, but uh, your average Thursday night seems like a perfect occasion for riding in one.”

“Heh,” Drake chuckled, barely audible from where she was seated. Liam looked up at him with a slightly shocked look, glancing back and forth between the two of them as if they were sharing some inside joke that he couldn’t understand.

“So, waitress, where are we headed?” the young one, Maxwell, piped up.

“It’s Riley, and are you even old enough to drink, Maxwell?”

That remark got the entire group laughing, Max’s face turning redder by the moment.

“I’ll have you know that I’m 23,” he protested, “I just happen to have a baby face.”

Riley chuckled in response, letting Maxwell off the hook from any further ribbing.

“Oh, well that makes two of us! Let’s run down to the corner store for some booze, and I’ll take you guys to my secret spot.”

"Surely you don’t expect me to frequent such an establishment?” Tariq barked, suddenly inserting himself in the conversation.

“Of course she doesn’t, Tariq. She’s much too smart for that,” Drake interjected, suddenly coming to her defense. “I’ll go in with you Riley,” he continued, “if you want, I mean. There’s no need to bring the whole parade into the store.”

“Sure, Drake,” she agreed, surprised that he had offered. The limo rolled to a stop and they hauled their way out and into the shop to get the goods for an evening of adult fun.

____________________________________________

The limo driver pulled up and parked beside of the beach lot. Riley sat up front with the driver to give directions of course, making herself useful. After all, she would be more help up there than in the back, with Liam making goo-goo eyes all over her.

Meanwhile Drake put bags of ice in the cooler, filling it with their drinks so they would keep cool for the duration of their evening at the beach.

Drake didn’t know how the others would be manage that evening, but he loved the beach. He loved the woods. He loved the mountains. He loved being outdoors in general and being one with nature in any capacity. Drake didn’t have to pretend to be somebody else when it was just him and nature.

Drake dragged the cooler out onto the sand, leaving it behind to start gathering sticks for a fire. A small fire pit was already set up from previous party-goers - he just needed to gather some kindling. He figured it would also give Liam a chance to chat up Riley.

Drake saw how Liam had looked at her. As royalty, Liam had always gotten exactly what he wanted and more. Everything had always been given to him before he even had the chance ask for it. Personally, Drake could tell that Riley was too humble for a guy like Liam. She would never be wowed by the limo, or any of his other symbols of lavish overindulgence. But, Drake could also tell that Liam wanted her, so he left it alone.

The boys threw back drink after drink, continuing the party that they’d started at the bar. By the time Drake came back and got the fire going strong, Liam and the others were talking out of their ass with Riley. She seemed to take it all in stride, laughing and taking slow sips of her beer, making eye contact with Drake above the roaring flames of the fire.

The fire seemed to dance in her eyes, warming Drake from the inside out way more than the flames did themselves. He shook his head, knocking those thoughts loose from his mind. The group would be leaving soon to go back to Cordonia, and he would never see her again. There was no sense in entertaining the desire that was bubbling under the surface for this beautiful, young waitress who had no idea who they any of them were.

Liam continued telling stories, more-so to hear himself speak than for any other reason. Maxwell and Tariq had already broken off into their own conversation, and Riley had tuned Liam out ages ago, merely offering the occasional, “mmmhmm,” or, “oh, really?” to keep the charade that she was listening going along. She hadn’t taken her eyes off of Drake all night, since they’d arrived at the beach. She knew he felt it too. When they’d locked eyes before, she swore she saw a blush reach his cheeks, right before he quickly looked away and brushed his jeans off, pretending that a grain of sand needed addressing right away, requiring his full attention for the task.

It took a few more “mmhmms” from Riley without a response from Liam before she realized that he had exhausted himself. He laid back on a piece of driftwood, his mouth slightly agape as he snored lightly. Riley chucked, looking around to see how the rest of the group was getting along. Maxwell and Tariq were over 100 yards away, entertaining themselves on the pier with a game of ad-libs. Well, Maxwell was ad-libbling. Tariq seemed like he was just confused, and more than ready to return to whatever ritzy hotel they were staying at to enjoy the mint on his pillow that awaited him.

Looking out across the fire, Riley admired Drake’s rugged handsomeness. His shaggy, wavy brown hair. His dark brown eyes with a story to tell behind them. His slightly crooked nose. The smattering of two-day-old stubble along his jaw. He looked up with a smile, as if he knew that Riley had been studying him. She blushed, quickly rising from her seat as he did the same. She walked a few paces over to where he sat.

“I want to dip my toes in the water. Will you join me?” she requested.

“Are you nuts? That water is going to be freezing, Brooks.”

“Brooks? How did you-”

“Your name tag at the bar. First and last name. Kind of encourages people to stalk you, ya know. You should rethink the idea,” he jested, given Riley a lopsided grin to distract her from any potential thoughts of stalkers.

“How very observant of you, Drake. I think this is the most you’ve said to me all night.”

“Must be the whiskey,” he responded. He’d only had one shot at the bar, and two beers at the beach, but Riley didn’t need to know that he just wanted to talk to her. Liam passing out had been the perfect “in” for him.

Riley gave him a knowing look, but she didn’t push the issue. She kicked off her shoes and headed towards the water, glancing over her shoulder at Drake. “Are you coming?”

Her question floated towards him like a whisper in the ocean breeze, and he felt himself being pulled towards her as if he were powerless to deny her request.

“Shit,” he mumbled to himself, kicking off his own shoes and socks, feeling the sand between his toes. The sand was warm, and he loved being barefoot as much as possible, so he figured this plan wasn’t so bad. He joined Riley a few feet from the tide, where the sand was starting to get wetter, but not quite stepping into the water just yet.

Riley reached out to grab his hand, shocking him and distracting his inner battle with himself about how cold the water was about to be.

“Let’s do it together. I’ll count down from three, and we’ll step into the water at the same time, okay?” Riley announced, and Drake nodded absentmindedly.

“3, 2, 1....” Riley stepped forward, pulling Drake into the water along with her, causing the bottom of his pants to get wet.

“Shit!” Riley yelled, high stepping back out of the water with Drake before releasing his hand. “You were right, that was cold as hell!”

“Heh, actually I think hell is supposed to be hot?” he smirked at her, lifting an arm to run his hand through his hair - a nervous habit. The truth was, he hadn’t felt the chill of the water. All he could feel was her hand in his.

They stood together, collecting themselves silently. Riley watched him with renewed interest, his profile lit up by the light of the moon. She reached out without thinking, lightly pressing the side of his nose and drawing a short line.

“Your nose is crooked,” she noted. “What happened?”

“Ah, it was a long time ago. You don’t want to hear about that,” he waved his hand, trying to dismiss her line of questioning. He didn’t like to talk about himself, and the last thing he wanted was for Riley to pity him.

“Please tell me,” she continued. He looked at her, unable to deny the request in her pleading eyes. She seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say. Genuinely interested in him. It had been a long time since someone had shown him such interest.

“I -” he hesitated, looking out over his shoulder to Liam, who was still dozing out of earshot. “Liam. He punched me and broke my nose when we were teenagers.”

“What?!” she squeaked, shocked by his admission. “What a dick. What happened? Why are you still friends with him? What the fuck?!” an onslaught of questions barreled out of her, causing him to chuckle, regardless of the topic at hand. He touched her arm, quieting her.

“It was a long time ago. I’m over it now.”

She quieted, urging him to continue elaborating.

“A girl he liked.... liked me instead. Liam is used to getting what he wants and he didn’t take “us” very well. So he punched me.”

Riley’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head. “So what if he didn’t like it. I don’t like onions, but I’m not going to punch you in the nose if you eat them around me.”

Drake gave Riley a soft smile in return that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I don’t think those are the same thing, but I appreciate it. Like I said, I’m over it now.”

“I just don’t get it,” Riley continued, “Liam seems like such a nice guy. A little into himself, but fine enough. Why did he think that the girl he liked not liking him back warranted a punch in the nose?”

Deciding that it was time to tell Riley the full truth, Drake sighed before admitting, “Well, because Liam is a royal. He’s the prince of a small country in Europe called Cordonia. He’s used to getting everything he wants, even if he doesn’t necessarily deserve it or need it.”

“Yea, you’re funny, and I’m the Queen of England,” Riley rolled off sarcastically, rolling her eyes as she paced along the beach with Drake. When his expression didn’t change, she stopped. “Wait - you’re serious?”

“As a heart attack. The only reason I’m still part of his inner circle is because Liam and I have been friends since we were kids. My father served his father, and he died in the line of duty. Liam’s family took in me and my sister when my mother abandoned us and we had nowhere else to go,” Drake hesitated, realizing that he might be oversharing a bit too much with this woman who he barely knew anything about. He rarely met someone who didn’t know who he was, and he rarely talked about his feelings with the people who did know him, so it all just kind of came out with Riley.

“Sorry, to lay all that on you. But yea, that’s why he is the way he is, and that’s why my nose is crooked,” he finished, walking back to douse the remaining embers of the fire before Riley could stop him. This hiss of the dying flame was enough to jolt Liam out of his slumber.

Maxwell and Tariq rejoined the group, each holding onto one of Liam’s arms as he struggled to stay upright.

“Poor Liam doesn’t get out of the palace much to let loose. He can’t really handle his liquor very well,” Maxwell joked, smiling at Riley.

“Maxwell! Liam wanted us to remain undercover, remember. Now Riley knows he’s a royal!” Tariq scolded.

“Don’t worry about it, Max,” he interrupted Maxwell’s quickly escalating panic, letting him off the hook. “I already told her.”

“I don’t know why he keeps you around. The whole lot of you. You can’t do the one thing he asked,” Tariq sneered as he stomped off with Liam in tow, depositing him into the back of the limo with Maxwell.

“Ignore him,” Drake said to Riley. “Can we give you a ride home?”

“Oh, no. That won’t be necessary. I just live a few blocks from here.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s late. I’ll walk you. I can take a cab back to the hotel from there or something.”

Riley started to protest, but he was already ducking his head down into the limo to tell the guys to go on without him, and that he would get his own ride back.

The limo drove off and Drake started to make his way down the sidewalk. Riley scurried in her heels to keep pace, admonishing him once she arrived beside him.

“I didn’t even tell you which way it was!”

Drake gave her a sideways smirk and asked, “Well, which way is your place?”

Begrudgingly, she admitted that they were headed in the right direction. “It just so happens that it’s this way. You got lucky.”

Drake chuckled in response, but he didn’t push her any further.

A few more steps into their walk, he realized that their time together was quickly coming to an end. He had to get her talking. To get the most out of their time together.

“So, tell me about you. What’s your story? Did you always want to work at a bar?” he seriously doubted it, but he wanted to find out more about her.

She laughed sadly, shaking her head no. “Is that anyone’s dream job?” she glanced his way before continuing. “No, I was in college for political science. My parents didn’t have a lot of money, but they supported me financially through school. They both worked two jobs to makes ends meet,” Riley paused, growing a little quieter. “The summer after my third year, they were in a train accident. The train derailed and they,” she sniffled, a tear streaming down her cheek, “they died.”

“I’m so sorry, Riley. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business,” Drake apologized, feeling like an asshole for ruining their fun night by bringing up sad topics.

“No,” she wiped her cheek, gathering herself. “It’s okay, Drake,” she smiled softly at him. “I know that you know how it feels to lose a parent.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed it, not letting go.

“So, no, to answer your question, I did not want to be a waitress or a bartender for the rest of my life, but I had to quit uni to support myself after they passed. I haven’t found my way back yet,” she finished, stopping in front of a brown brick building. “Well, this is my building,” she pulled Drake into her arms, breathing in the scent of him, a mix of crisp pine and campfire smoke.

He stalled, taken slightly aback at first, before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into a the safe cocoon of his arms. He burrowed his nose in her hair, soaking in as much of the moment as he could before he knew he’d have to leave her. He released her reluctantly, taking a step back. “It was great meeting you, Brooks.”

Riley took the few steps that led up to the door, pausing with her keys in her hand. She couldn’t let him go yet, and before she could stop herself, she looked over her shoulder at him and uttered, “Would you like to come up?”

She wasn’t the type for one night stands. She’d only had two long term boyfriends, and she knew that she’d probably never see him again, but she felt magnetically drawn to this man. Before she could withdrawn her offer, he took a few steps up to meet her, pressed his hand to her lower back, and nodded subtly in agreement.

She gulped, her heart racing as she inserted her key into the door and turned the knob. What the hell was she doing? Riley, you’re getting ahead of yourself. Maybe he just wants to come up for coffee. You’re being an idiot. She glanced up again at him, and he smirked at her. She gulped. This man does not want coffee. He wants...

Before she could overthink the situation any more, they were already in front of her apartment door.

Cognizant of her nervous energy, Drake stalled, turning Riley to look him in the eye.

“We don’t have to do anything, Brooks. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you, but I can tell you’re nervous,” he smiled sympathetically. “I don’t want to do anything to make you uncomfortable.”

His gentlemanly admission calmed her nerves, and renewed the fire in her loins. She studied him with renewed vigor. Tall, broad shoulders, muscular, rugged, handsome... and hers for at least the next hour. She unlocked her apartment and moved aside to let him in behind her.

He looked around for moment, taking in their surroundings. Humble, but cozy, Organized, but adorned with sentimental tchotchkes here and there. A small sofa, easily convertible into a full size bed, making the most of the studio space.

Riley wrung her hands, watching him as he took in their surroundings, finally settling on her face. “I like your place. It’s very you.”

“Simple and unassuming?” she quipped.

“Cute,” he responded, leaning in to kiss her softly.

__________________________________

Riley darted off to the kitchen, pouring drinks for the both of them. She was nervous. She wanted Drake, but she’d also never been in a position where the future was so cloudy. She liked to research things, weigh pros and cons, and make well thought out decisions. She wasn’t used to thinking with her vag.

They took their drinks into the living room, which also happened to be her bedroom. Riley turned on the TV, and she settled on watching MasterChef.

“Is this okay?” Riley asked. She hadn’t really asked Drake what he wanted to watch. She had just picked a program that she wanted to catch up on.

“Oh yea, I love cooking,” Drake responded, smiling at Riley in response.

They sat together on the couch, drinking and watching the show in mostly silence. They gradually started to get more comfortable, with Drake sitting up while Riley laid back along the couch with her legs across his lap. Absentmindedly, Drake began to rub slow circles along the inside of her ankle, his hand drifting up her calf throughout the episode. While innocent enough, it was enough to wake up Riley’s senses and distract her entirely from the show.

Two can play at this game. Riley matched the pace of his hand’s ascension. As his hand rose up her leg, she gripped the side of her dress and lifted it, keeping pace with his hand, slowly revealing more and more of her thigh, until the side of her underwear was peaking out.

“Do you see this idiot? Can’t cook to save his fuc -” Drake finally glanced in her direction, noticing the predicament that they were in. “Fuck,” he finished.

Drake reared back, simultaneously losing all interest in the show and repositioning his body to lay over Riley’s, positioning a leg between hers. He kissed her, leaving a soft trail of kisses along her jar and up to her ear.

“That dish looked fucking disgusting, I think I have something better to eat right...” his hand traveled the remaining distance to the apex of her thighs, “here.”

Riley shuddered under his hand, feeling as he grew hard against the exposed skin of her thigh.

“Is this okay?” Drake whispered, moving his arms to either side of her, hovering above her body before continuing his movements.

“Yes,” Riley responded, nodding her head urgently and wrapping her hands around one of Drake’s to relocate it, moving it back to her crotch.

He growled with hunger, leaning over her body to suck the soft flesh of her neck, working across her collarbone as he rubbed her softly through her underwear. He wrapped one arm under her back, pulling her into an upright position.

She was confused, but only for a moment, quickly coming up to speed as he slipped his hand under her dress, alongside her thigh. She raised her arms, allowing him to pull the dress up her body and over her head.

Riley pushed herself up further, now on her knees. “You’re not nearly naked enough,” she admonished Drake, pushing him down to lay on the couch as she straddled his thighs. She slowly unbuttoned his shirt, opening it to reveal the thin white tee beneath. She pulled the shirt out from the waistband of his pants, raising the fabric to reveal his hard abs and a smattering of hair.

Drake wrapped his arms around her, picking her up as he stood from the couch, depositing her safely to the ground to pull out the bed before things progressed any further. Tinkering around until he was finally satisfied with his efforts, he picked her up again and threw her on the newly constructed bed. She laughed momentarily at his caveman antics, but quickly quieted once he took off his button down and pulled his t-shirt over his head, leaving him half naked. No wonder her could throw her around like she was a pillow. This man was solid as a rock. She’d have to ask him later how he stayed so fit.

Drake leaned over her to unhook her bra, pausing to suck each nipple and kiss each breast for a few moments, a sense of urgency taking over as he shifted further down the bed.

He leaned between Riley’s legs, wrapping an arm around each thigh and holding onto her luscious hips. He kissed her through her panties that were thoroughly soaked by this point. Satisfied by how aroused she was, he hooked his teeth onto them and peeled them down her legs, resuming his place between her thighs once it was done.

He licked his way up her slit, causing her to jolt forward into his mouth as her hips lifted off the bed. He gripped her hips tighter and began to lick her. Slow and gentle at first, from bottom to top. He stiffened his tongue and inserted the full length of it into her, siphoning in and out, lapping up all of her juices as her head fell back and she started to moan.

“Drake!” she gasped. Her moans added further fuel to the fire, encouraging him to work twice as hard so that he could hear more of them. He wanted her to unravel under his mouth before he ravaged her body.

He removed his tongue, replacing the empty space with two fingers, leaning down to suck on her bundle of nerves at the same time. He alternated between sucking and licking her clit, curling his fingers as he pumped in and out of her.

With one final, “Drake!” he felt the dam burst within her, and she coated his fingers with her sweet cream. He paused to look at her as he sucked his fingers clean of her.

He stood from the bed, unbuckling his belt and carefully unzipping his pants, sliding them down his legs. His dick was as big and as firm as the rest of his body, and Riley’s mouth instantly started salivating like it was a cold popsicle on a hot summer day. Wordlessly, she leapt off the bed and got down on her knees in front of him.

“Riley, you don’t have to - oh!” she took him in her mouth and quickly got to work, taking him deep into her mouth and throat as far as she could go, her saliva getting it nice and wet for the next stage of the evening. She leaned back until just the head was in her mouth, swirling her tongue around and suctioning the tip and she simultaneously pumped up and down his girth with her hand. She felt a slight twitch before he gently pressed her chest, releasing himself from her mouth and urging her to lay back on the bed.

She leaned back with anticipation as he hovered over her body, his member pressing between her legs, a thigh on either side of him. He leaned down to kiss her, slipping his tongue in her mouth and sucking on her bottom lip gently before asking, “Condom?”

“Oh, uh, yes...” she dug around in her bedside drawer for a moment, retrieving what they needed. She tore open the foil and slid it down the length of him as quickly as she could, unwilling to wait much longer for him to be inside of her.

He leaned over her body, offering one last soft kiss as he positioned himself at her entrance. Swiftly, he slid himself inside her body, causing her to gasp.

“Are you okay?” he asked, pausing as she adjusted to his girth, stilling his movements entirely.

“Yes, yes! More than okay! Move!” she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him into her further. He needed no more encouragement. He grasped onto the sides of her thighs, positioning her body to meet his every thrust as he pounded into her, causing her to howl in pleasure.

“Oooohhh, Drake. Fuck!” she groaned deliriously, generating a cocky smirk to rest on his face.

“That’s what we’re doing,” he responded sarcastically. Before she was able to return his quip with one of her own, he doubled down and leaned over her body, resting his weight on his forearms for stability. He slid in an out of her body, almost coming out of her entirely before thrusting deep within her, making her feel so empty and then instantly filling the void within her, bringing her to the edge of delirium. She felt so good, he was having trouble containing himself. He tried to think of anything and everything that would keep him from getting off. He wanted this to last as long as possible.

He withdrew, causing her to whimper instantly. “Drake, what -“

“On your knees,” he commanded smoothly, and she followed his instructions right away. He pressed himself against her until she started to squirm, pressing herself back against him until he went inside just a little. He slid his arm underneath her body, angling her sweet ass so he could reach her from the back. He started to rock inside of her as she groaned and wailed with pleasure, rubbing his hand in circles and winding her body tighter than a spring. It didn’t take long before she burst, her muscles spasming down around him as she climaxed.

“Thank god,” he murmured, too quiet for Riley to hear, quickly finding release of his own after taking a few final pumps within her.

He withdrew from her body slowly, discarding the condom in the bin and cleaning himself off. He lay beside her, wrapping his arm around her safely as they both recovered, feeling happier than he had in a very long time.

__________________________

Drake woke up a few hours later in an unfamiliar place, momentarily forgetting what had occurred until her saw Riley laying beside him, hair fanned out across the pillow. He found a blanket on the lounge chair beside of the bed, and he draped it across her body so she wouldn’t get cold.

Hmmm... that’s a nice chair. Maybe we could trying doing it there next time. Next time? What was he thinking. As amazing as Riley was, he didn’t see how they could possibly make a real relationship happen between them. Everybody knows that long distance relationships never work. Drake started to get dressed, fumbling around for his clothes in the dim lighting.

“Drake?” Riley whispered, her voice barely audible with sleep. “Are you leaving?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you yet. I was going to wake you before I slipped out. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Our flight home is actually scheduled for tomorrow morning, er, I guess it’s this morning now.”

“Oh,” she stated sadly. “Well, let me give you my number. Maybe we can text or Facetime or something?” she asked hopefully.

“Sure, Brooks. I’d love that.”

He typed her number into his phone and she walked him to the door, the blanket he’d covered her with wrapped around her body. He leaned down to kiss her, sweet and soft, pouring so much emotion into it that you would have thought he was her longtime lover going off to war or something. She shook off the thought. She knew what she had been getting into, after all.

After Drake left, she tried to go back to sleep to no avail. Drake had really lit a fire within her - mind, body, and soul. She truly hoped that he would call.

About 15 minutes after Drake left, Riley thought she heard a knock at the door. Who would be bothering her this early? It wasn’t even light out yet. Surely enough she heard it again, three more raps at the door. Could it be him?

She quickly burritoed herself, covering all of her exciting bits with the blanket around her. She opened the door, expecting to see Drake, but...

Maxwell waited behind the door, perking up with interest as she opened it, trying not to let his eyes wonder once he realized what she was wearing.

“Um, hi, Riley! How would you feel about taking a trip to Cordonia?”

#choices stories you play #drake walker #drake x mc #the royal romance #the royal heir #pixelberry #my fic #30 diamond scene #n*fw

50 notes · View notes

noa748 · 6 years ago

Text

tl;dr new reality

Going through/adding to old notes after months of not touching NR. There’s a good chunk of chapter written, but man it’s been a real struggle getting back into writing. It was always liberating to be able to work through certain internal struggles/insecurities via OC Brit, but now writing her feels like crawling into an old skin that doesn’t quite fit anymore.

Writing NR, weirdly enough, gave me the courage to start seeking real connections with people rather than keeping a safe distance to protect myself. Writing the cheesy friendships, putting myself in all of those different shoes, personalities and backgrounds, writing people cut from very different cloths learning to mesh and come together for a greater cause... the optimism of the Tales games is actually pretty infectious. I wanted to be a friend like Lloyd, and the more I envisioned it, the easier it seemed to make lasting friendships.

Unfortunately, life isn’t a Tales game, and sometimes you can’t reach people no matter how much you care. I wrote much of NR before I really learned what emotional damage was, or how shitty people can be. The lens with which I view the world has been altered, and it’s hard for me to put myself back in OC Brit’s headspace. Zelos as potential love interest is laughable to me now - he’s the last person I’d trust, but ironically the one I most relate to. I try to write Brit helping him work through his damage when I can barely process my own.

OC Brit is this... chunk of optimism in me that I’m fighting to unearth again. Getting back into writing NR isn’t going to solve my problems, but I think reuniting with the ToS crew has the potential to be just as therapeutic for me as it was when I was a lonely, depressed teenager dealing with my parent’s divorce.

Also, I SWORE I WOULD FINISH THIS BITCH BEFORE I TURNED THIRTY. How the hell am I already 26. Hoooooly shit.

Despite having beaten ToS a number of times, it’s been years since I’ve played and I’m having difficulty remembering certain details of the plot (as well as where the fuck I was going with certain plot points). I really need to buckle down and reread all six billion chapters of my damn story as well as watch some LPs. As I’ve changed jobs, for the first time in 5 years I actually have free time and adequate sleep so I can quite possibly write something.

For those of you who can’t remember where we left off, we are currently at the point in the game where the group visits certain places in Tethe’alla so that the Tethe’allans can decide which world they want to stay on. This will be my time to get used to writing all these children characters again. Feel free to send me links to some good ToS fanfics, those will get me thinking again...

As a bonus, here’s a snippet of the next chapter (hint: they’re all playing Two Truths and a Lie)

“Okay. Soooo… let’s see…” It was Zelos’ turn again, and he was grinning wickedly. “Oh, I know. One… when I was twelve, I had a pet manticore for three weeks. Two… I’ve had a fan gift me a doll made with locks of her hair. And three—I’ve dated five women at the same time.”

Sheena and I groaned, Regal pressed a hand to his chin, and Colette giggled and clapped her hands. Zelos was the worst, and he was winning this game by a landslide. He just had too many weird stories.

“What was the manticore’s name?” I demanded.

“Manny,” Zelos replied.

I smacked my forehead. “Manny the manticore? Are you kidding me?”

“C’mon, I was twelve!”

Sheena heaved a sigh. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why did you have a manticore as a pet?”

“It had a broken leg. I was nursing it back to health.” He shrugged. “In the sewers, of course. Nobody really knew about it.”

“Aw, Zelos, that’s so sweet! Manny must’ve been so cute,” Colette chirped.

I laid my head down on the table, stifling defeated laughter. This was ridiculous. How was Zelos even a real person? Okay, okay, what else… the crazy doll thing, that didn’t surprise me. Neither did the fact about him simultaneously dating multiple women.

“Who was this fan of yours?” Regal asked.

“It was actually one of my classmates at the University in Sybak,” Zelos laughed. “Said it was part of an experiment. I never really figured out what that one was about.”

“Please tell me you don’t still have this doll,” Sheena said.

“Hell no. I hid it behind some books in the library when she wasn’t around.”

“What were the names of your five girlfriends?” Colette asked.

“Trish, Lily, Kayleigh, Sophie and Leanne,” Zelos replied, barely even hesitating.

I felt my lip curl a bit. That jerk, he had me again. I was annoyed because a part of me wished I knew him well enough to be able to tell when he was fibbing, but I was failing so far. Nobody had caught him in a lie yet and this was his third turn.

Zelos glanced over at the clock on the wall. “Oh, time’s up. What do you guys say?”

“Manticore,” Sheena replied. Regal voiced his agreement.

“I think it was the doll!” Colette replied. “I really want to believe you had a manticore named Manny,” she admitted, sticking her tongue out and looking sheepish.

Zelos chuckled, and then looked over at me. “Brit?”

I paused for a moment, thinking. Zelos led a crazy life, that much was for sure. But the manticore thing—that was almost too obvious, wasn’t it? I really wanted to guess that, but I felt like that was another one of his outlandish true stories that he threw out as a decoy. As for the doll… Zelos had to have received a lot of weird gifts over the years.

But the five women? He had almost spouted out those names too fast, like he was just listing random names off the top of his head. If he was really that big of a man whore, I would think he’d almost have trouble keeping track of all the names.

“You never dated five women at once,” I said.

His smug façade actually crumbled and he stared at me in genuine surprise.

“Well. Not bad, spitfire.”

“Seriously?” Sheena gaped. “That was the one I thought was true for sure.”

“Course,” Zelos said with a snort. “That’s why I used it. Believe it or not, I’ve never actually had a girlfriend.”

The ninja frowned, staring at him. “Huh. I guess in the end that’s not so surprising. I remember seeing you messing around with your floozies, but it was always different girls every week.”

“Yay! I wish I got to meet Manny,” Colette said, still completely focused on the manticore story.

I couldn’t stop myself from grinning; I was fairly pleased with myself this time. Finally got him! Although that was an interesting fact I never would’ve guessed about Zelos. For someone who seemed so smooth with the ladies, it was strange to think he’d never actually dated. Was it because he didn’t want to commit, or because actually dating required a particular level of closeness?

Zelos seemed to see the question in my eyes, and offered a shrug. “Not like there’s a point to dating anyway, not when the church is bound to tell me who I can and can’t marry.”

Colette’s face fell, and she looked a little sad. “Oh… that’s right. Families of the Mana lineage are all from arranged marriages… it was the same for Father and Mother.”

That made a depressing amount of sense, and it shed a different light on Zelos’ womanizing tendencies. Why bother getting attached? It’d only cause more pain in the end, right? His own father had had an affair with another woman, who in turn killed his mother… the arranged marriage had both created and destroyed his family.

“Hey, hey! I’m not sitting here moping over things I can’t control, so why should you guys?” Zelos reached out and gave me a lighthearted shove. “Spitfire, it’s your turn!”

“All right,” I replied, leaning back a bit to think. What hadn’t I used yet?

After a pause, I grinned at everyone. “Okay… One. I’ve been on a train that goes underwater. Two… I’m actually allergic to wasabi. Three, I used to wear glasses.”

“A train that goes underwater?” Zelos huffed. “Y’know, I’m mad because I think it’s true. Why not just build a bridge? And I thought Tethe’alla had some backwards logic…”

“Now that must be an engineering marvel,” Regal commented, stroking his chin.

“Plus think of all the fishies you get to see while you’re on the train!”

I burst out laughing. “It doesn’t work like that, Colette…”

#new reality #noa748 writing

26 notes · View notes

angrykittykrys · 7 years ago

Text

October 27th

A/N: So, I’m usually really hesitant to post any of my original fiction, but as I really want to share the stuff I write next month, this is kind of a test run to make sure I’m comfortable enough to post original stuff for strangers. That said, this is the first story I wrote for a series of short stories set in a universe where the “Date” you meet your soulmate is written on your wrist. I hope to someday have a story for each day of the year.

Word count: 1718

“Alright guys, does everyone have their flashlight?”

Lexi raised her flashlight high, along with with her other three friends and all of them laughed nervously, excitedly. They were standing outside the corn maze on the edge of town, the one that Reagan’s boyfriend and Better Half, Thomas, swore was the scariest one he had ever been to. Tonight the four of them were going in, determined to show Thomas up. It had taken him and his boys over an hour to make their way through, but Lexi, Reagan, Sam and Amanda were determined to make it through from beginning to end in fifteen minutes. They had looked it up online and found that time listed as the shortest possible route through the maze.

They were smart girls. They could do this.

Giggles and screams erupted from the maze every few minutes, heightening Lexi’s anxious state as their group walked forward to pay for their tickets. The late October evening was freezing and she wrapped her coat tighter around herself, wishing yet again that she had remembered to bring her gloves. By the end of the night, she was sure her fingers would be frozen, curled in the shape of the flashlight that she needed to navigate her way through the maze. It was a stupid mistake and one that she was sure she would be paying for. And speaking of paying…

***

One twelve dollar ticket later, the four girls stood at the start of the maze, Lexi trying not to let her friends know how terrified she was. She was such a scaredy cat, but they were her best friends and she couldn’t bear to let them down, scared or not. So… she supposed she was heading into the creepy, dark maze. Despite the fact that she just knew she was going to be one of the screamers she kept hearing.

“Okay, ladies. Remember the game plan, everyone takes a different route and we meet at the end in fifteen minutes,” Reagan said excitedly and then disappeared into the path to the far left before Lexi could question (yet again) the brilliance of splitting up.

She watched as Sam and Amanda grinned at each other, high fived, and took two of the other routes, leaving the last one on the far right for her. She took a deep breath, flicked the button of her flashlight to turn it on, and stepped into the darkness of the maze

***

Lexi had to face facts, she was lost.

She had checked her phone every few minutes since entering the maze and unfortunately the fifteen minute time limit had come and gone… several times over. She was lost in the maze and the worst part was that even though she could hear other people screaming and laughing from other areas, she hadn’t seen a single person in her section since she got started.

Her phone buzzed in her hands and she jumped, feeling like an idiot for being scared of something so commonplace. It was yet another text message from Reagan, this one a little more snippy than the one she had gotten twenty minutes earlier:

Have you even made it around the first corner yet? Seriously, where ARE you?

Lexi sighed and shoved the phone back in her pocket, trying not to be annoyed with her friend, but failing miserably. It had been Reagan’s stupid idea to split up in the first place. She had no reason to be upset with Lexi just because her particular route tended to wind around in circles instead of leading to an exit of any kind. And at this point she was tempted to just walk through the corn stalks until she found her way outside the maze. She had been inside for over an hour and half and she was getting nowhere. At this point she almost welcomed one of the people who worked there (no matter how scary they were) because she needed directions to get out of here. If she didn’t make it out soon she was pretty sure her friends were going to take off and leave her behind.

Not to mention the fact that her bladder had started screaming at her half an hour ago.

The maze had gone eerily quiet while she was messing with her phone and she could feel the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. She wasn’t alone, though she wasn’t sure how she knew it.

Carefully, she walked around the next corner, as though she had all the time in the world and wasn’t aware that someone was stalking her through the maze. As soon as she was around the corner (and hopefully out of sight) she took off running, her shoes pushing against the ground and propelling her forward. The corn whipped at her face and hands, scratching her up so the cold air stung even more, but she didn’t stop… couldn’t stop. She could hear them behind her now, a rasping laugh whistling through the air as they chased her down.

Damn them and their single minded devotion to their stupid job.

When that thought registered, she stopped running and laughed weakly. This was a scary corn maze, right? The person chasing her wasn’t going to actually hurt her, just scare her. It was stupid to react this way, stupid to run when all she was going to do was hurt herself. She laughed again, louder this time, and turned to face the person chasing her down.

Of course she had to ruin her cool, nonchalant action by screaming and falling flat on her butt.

Her pursuer was dressed all in black, blending into the darkness of the night, and holding a very lifelike severed head, complete with gouged out eyes and plenty of blood. It would be enough to frighten anyone who wasn’t expecting to see it… and possibly even a few who were.

The whole thing was too much. She was done with the maze, with him and everything else that was going on tonight. She had reached her breaking point.

“Are you freaking kidding me?!” Lexi screamed, pushing herself back up off the ground and brushing the corn leaves and dirt off herself. “I’ve been lost in here for almost two hours, my friends are threatening to leave me out here and head back into town, and now you chase me down with a severed head in your arms?”

No, she wasn’t making much sense. She was rambling and angry, her body shaking with everything she was feeling, but she couldn’t stop herself. She hadn’t really wanted to come in the first place and now she was lost, alone, frightened and so so angry. She just wanted to get out of here.

All of the emotions began to churn inside her and suddenly, without warning, she was sobbing. She felt stupid as well as angry and scared, but still the tears wouldn’t stop. Damn her friends, damn this guy, and damn this stupid maze. Why hadn’t she just stayed home?

“Hey, hey, don’t cry!”

The guy dropped the fake severed head at her feet and unzipped the top of his morphsuit so he could pull it off his face… and goodness he was better looking than she had expected, and maybe just a few years older than her eighteen. It was just her luck that a total hottie would be the guy to scare the crap out of her and make her cry. A total hottie that looked terrified of her tears.

He reached out for her in a clear sign of wanting to comfort her, brushing her face with his hand and making her jump back in surprise. Even through the thin morphsuit, she could still feel the electricity between them and it freaked her out. It wasn’t the normal warmth or attraction that passed from one person to another. It was reminiscent of something she had heard about from Reagan, from her experience of what had happened when she shared her first kiss with Thomas.

His eyes were wide as he took a step away from her. “Is today your Date too?”

Lexi nodded, unable to form words to respond. Out of everything she had expected tonight, sparking with a hot guy who chased her through a dark maze hadn’t been on the list. She actually hadn’t given much thought to the fact that it was her Date. She never did. She figured it would happen when it happened and she wasn’t one to go out looking for it on purpose. Now it had happened (if that was what this was) and she had never been more embarrassed or horrified in her life.

What a first impression to make. On both their parts.

“Do you… I mean… would you like me to walk you to the exit? It’s part of my job anyway,” he suggested, still looking as awestruck as she felt.

“Yeah, actually, that would be helpful. Though, my friends may have already left. Reagan isn’t very patient.” Lexi sighed and tossed his a weary smile. “Sorry if I’m not what you expected.”

He grinned back at her and picked the prop head off the ground. “That was going to be my line.”

Her lips twitched, she couldn’t help it. What a pair they made. A guy who worked in the scariest after dark corn maze in the state… and the coward. It was ridiculous, ironic, and yet somehow exactly right.

“Do you think you could hold my hand? Just so I don’t get scared again?”

He slipped his free hand into hers, the electricity still dancing between their skin through the thin mesh. “I’m Matt, by the way.”

“Lexi.”

“If your friends did take off, would you be interested in sticking around until I get off my shift in an hour or so? We could go out for coffee, maybe get to know one another a bit better?” He asked.

“Yeah, I think I’d like that… to start with anyway.”

He brought her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss against her knuckles, winking as he caught her eye. She flushed, but couldn’t stop the wide smile that had taken root on her face. Tonight hadn’t started out well, but it was definitely looking up. She’d have to thank Reagan for suggesting it.

#Krys's original writing #The Date #soulmate fics #romance

2 notes · View notes

brokentoashes · 7 years ago

Text

i had all & and then most of you, some & then none of you

TAGGING __ // BLAKE & MARCO LOCATION __// SOMEWHERE IN THE WOODS TIME _ FRAME ___// RECENTLY SUMMARY__// While camping with her small group ( Scott and Jackson ), settled down for the night, Blake senses a scent she hasn’t known since she was a teenager.

Blake

The scent had caught Blake by surprise - drawing the fox away from her small group with a murmur to just wait. Her body vibrated with a kind of tension that was almost physically painful as she exited the bushes and took a few tentative steps into the open. Her gun was held at the ready, because she couldn't believe that this was anything but a trap - she couldn't possibly be following the scent of someone she'd known so long ago.. someone that had kept her half-sane throughout high school. Someone she hadn't seen or spoken to in years - he couldn't possibly have survived. Not with a wheelchair. Marco was resourceful, but was anyone that resourceful? It was all too likely that she was following something else, a scent that just reminded her of him. It had been so long, how was she supposed to remember his scent so clearly, anyways? But then, how had she drawn the connection to him if she hadn't remembered his scent?

Scanning the area, she saw him the same time he saw her, grip on the gun in her hand loosening from the pure shock of him whole and alive - standing. "M-Marco?" The words were quiet, disbelieving.

Marco

The smell of death clogged his senses everywhere that he went -- and it was disorientating. There were times that he would've rather had human senses than to be bombarded by the stink of those long since deceased; the rotting and festering flesh always making his nose curl when it hit him full force. It made his skin crawl, and his stomach turn.

It was growing later by the second, and Marco needed to find shelter. It was dangerous to be traveling alone ; but, with Shilo still out there somewhere, it would not do to stand idle either. He would grow fair too restless. He had spent almost a decade idle, he was not keen to revert back to it. Especially not with death nipping at his heels at every turn.

He dug through his pack, hunting a bottle of water when the scent hit him first ; it was pure -- at least, compared to the scent of death around him. And it gave him pause, like a dream -- or a melody -- from when he was a child that he couldn't quite place. His line between human and wolf was drawn very thick in the dust ; and scents from before were difficult to translate to the wolf as it was not something it knew. But he knew that knew it.

Regardless, when he heard a heartbeat growing closer -- heard footfalls -- he knew he had to be cautious, and would address the scent afer he knew that the possible threat had been dealt with. He was grabbing his gun from his hip and on his feet in an instant -- straddling his pack to protect his supplies as well ; gun raised to shoulder level with unfaltering arms and --

That was a voice he had not heard in a long time ; the memories of the scent of bonfire smoke and cheap beer meshing with the scent of wild ... fox? " ... B- Blake...?" He finally managed after a beat - voice cracking, the shock rendering his voice hoarse as his gun lowered on instinct; barrel now aimed to the dirt.

Blake

With the dark threatening to close in on their small party, their nervous heartbeats in the back of Blake's ears - urging her to hurry - she did not want to waste too much time and still, staring at him she felt frozen. He should not be walking, should not be so whole as the last time she had seen him, though obviously older. While her gun was no longer aimed at him, she had not so completely loosened her grip, holding it down towards the dirt between them.

It took courage, far more than it should have, to take two small steps towards him, to release the tentative hold on her gun before the full reality of his scent found her - wolf. "Are you- you're-?" She couldn't form the question, unable to register the scent with her memories. Unable to fit the wolf in with their last summer at each others sides, with their years of friendships. It was him, but it wasn't... the same. She let her gun fall to her side, held loosely in one hand as her stance straightened and she felt the familiar sting of hope in her eyes.

She sucked in a breath, one that seemed to get caught in her throat for it never really caused her any relief - guilt for losing touch with him, for never trying to get back in touch, threatening what little breath she could take in. It had been so much easier to cut him out, to ignore the possibility of keeping him close only to lose him while he was deployed. Especially after her parents. She looked down, away from him, gathering herself because for all she knew they could damn well be strangers by now. The wolf that mingled with his scent seemed to encourage that notion, and still, she didn't want them to be strangers. He was life before it went to shit for her, and in that moment she wasn't sure how to handle it as her eyes drew back up to his face once more, heart in her throat.

"Are you alone?" Because it was so much easier to ask than to ask why he smelled of wolf. Or how he was walking.

Marco

He almost felt like he had swallowed his heart -- which, before now, he had always thought was a strange expression. But, he could feel it. Pulsing wildly in his throat while Blake's heart hammered in his ears; creating a ringing cadence across his skull as the sound canceled out anything else around them. And in that moment, with his shellshocked focus on nothing but her, he was likely more vulnerable than he had allowed himself to be since he had been bit. His hands might've still been on his gun, but if there was a true threat, his reaction time would severely lack what it should be ; what it usually was. His hands loose, almost as if the slightest push to the male would cause the weapon to slip from his grip.

As she took a step closer, Marco did not falter. He did not back away, but he didn't step forward either -- memorized by this point by her scent. He, or since his change, had never scented a fox before. And yet, his wolf was still telling him -- insisting that that was what it was. What she was. Mixed with the human scents underneath that even his human memories remembered ; like a blanket fresh encasing the scent that he knew so well. Melding with it and making it something new -- had she always been like that? When he knew her before?

They were both older ; they both likely looked to be shadows of who they used to be -- learning one another's gaze against the glow of a fire. But her eyes were the same -- there was no mistaking that. And you're --? His brow furrowed, and he was slowly tucking his gun into its holster before showing her the palms of his hands -- offering himself unarmed as he finally took a step closer to her. Likely, his wolf should've felt hostile. Challenged, at the least. Wolves were pack animals -- foxes were not. Albeit, Marco had never known pack ; even if his wolf longed for such -- for a pack of its own to lead -- it did not know what such felt like. Therefore the wolf was merely curious.

"I am alone," he finally spoke after a moment, after a breath. He hesitated, but Marco had never been one to beat around the bush -- "... you -- What are you? You are not a wolf." It wasn't spoken down, and it wasn't said with any heat. It was merely spoken with true curiosity ; leaving the question open in case his assumptions were incorrect.

Blake

Frozen again, torn between her guilt, curiousity, and her relief to find another part of the life that had been okay alive. The part of her life where she hadn't had to worry, hadn't experienced the violent kind of loss that policing and her parents' deaths had brought into her life. When he tucked away his gun and showed him the palms of her hands, some part of Blake broke - desperately sad that they had been reduced to a world where Marco would have to show himself as no threat to her. Maybe it showed in her face, but Blake was too numb to feel if her expression fell from whatever it had been stuck in before. Still, she clicked the safety on her gun on - not holstering it because she had seen all too many instances of unguarded deaths. Moments of vulnerability that left the attacked with no weapon in hand. She trusted him, but she did not trust their surroundings.

She felt herself almost grow smaller as he stepped towards her, not for the dangerous kind of fear, but for the kind that constantly held Blake's fragile heart in its hands. The kind that threatened to give her something good and take it away, to crush away at what was left of her until she was nothing but a shell of the woman she had hoped to be. Until she became some non-person, too beaten to care whether she lived. She had been too close to that before she had found James, too close to it for too long, alone and desperately searching for her brother. She wasn't sure if she could lose anyone again. Especially not after being given them back - she lived in constant fear of losing James. It was soul-crushing.

She felt like she was drowning every second of their separation.

Marco, confirming he was alone, threw her just the smallest of life-rafts, allowing her to keep her composure if for only a moment longer. "Fox." She answered, softly. "A werefox, I was born one. And you're a wolf... is that.. how you're walking?" She asked, tentatively, not wanting to offend him in a way very unlike herself. Perhaps she'd grown some since their days in high school, where she'd been all sharp words and quick hits.

Marco

He watched her carefully. He was not the cautious one ; the wolf was. He had control ; strictly so, by this point. But it would not erase the unease of the wolf in the back of his head, nudging at him that the situation could be dangerous. Because, yes. The wolf was curious about the new scent ; but curious in the way that a wild animal was intrigued by a fire. It may not know what it is, but -- it still knows well enough that it is hot, and loud. And therefore not something to be bothered with. Even if Marco pushed back at the alpha inside of him ; reminding him of memories -- some concrete, some lucid and unsure -- that he held of Blake in his chest. Reminding his wolf that she was safe. Especially while she clicked on the safety for her gun.

After the loss of Martina, Shilo was all that he had had. It had been difficult for him to make friends in the ... state that he had been in; hard to socialize. Difficult, more so, for him to let anyone in. And, it had grown harder when he had moved to New Mexico without his sister by his side. Himself and Blake had fallen apart -- despite Marco insisting that he would keep in touch with her, even through the Army. Contact had grown fleeting before falling away completely.

Werefox. It confirmed his assumptions, so he was nodding. There was nothing in his expression that betrayed it becoming any kind of issue for him ; and his eyes actually seemed to instead soften. He longed to hug her, embrace her and reassure himself that she was real. That a part of his old life -- from before the military -- was still in tact and tangible. But, he contained himself.

Her words did not offend him, but his expression did deep into a frown -- nodding with affirmation when she vocalized what he was, "Alpha," he amended softly, his voice still without any kind of edge. He was looking down at himself, lips thinning before bringing his gaze back up to her ; the falling of the night and urgency of it not lost upon him. " -- yes, it is."

Blake

Blake felt his eyes on her, but she could not bring hers to look at him again, shutting them for the briefest of moments as she tried to quell whatever was taking over her - but instead she only seemed to feel the heat of a campfire on younger, tanned skin as she smelled cheap beer on his breath. Her eyes slid open and she shook away the memories that she wasn't sure ever actually happened, glancing quickly around them for the signs of any threat - just to be safe - before finally, she drew her gaze to him.

And this time she let herself look at him, watching as he nodded at her words - grateful that she was so numb when she noticed his eyes soften the way they used to. Otherwise she would have hugged him, and she just wasn't sure that it was okay any longer, it had been so many years since they'd been speaking - especially face to face. She was terrified of overstepping, or worse.. touching him and having him be fake. Just another pipe-dream that a witch has conjured up for her, sending her into a fake realm of happiness that she wouldn't mind dying in.

Her brow drew in at the implications of his correction, "An alpha.. alone?" She asked, and though she was not questioning him so much as just voicing her confusion - she had never seen an alpha without a pack, but she didn't have long to linger on the thought before those in her small group were calling her name - soft enough to not be heard by normal ears - their urgent tones thawing her nerves and sending her into action.

With not much distance left between them, it was easy for Blake to reach out to touch Marco's hand - fingers curling around his as she tugged him out of the open area and back into the bushes, behind a tree, heart painting a panicked picture as she peered out for the source of the groups concern. It would be just like them to not listen, but then she couldn't fault them for at least making sure she was safe. "They can hear them out there," She drew her eyes to the side, pointing a finger towards the small group, clustered behind trees and bushes before she focused back on the two figures crossing on the far opposite side of the clearing - though, shambling was a more accurate description.

Marco

His throat felt dry -- in ways that it hadn't since he was young and foolish. Since adrenaline, the high of being rebellious, and alcohol had hazed his judgement ; and on nights when Marco wasn't truly monitoring his thoughts, he would fall asleep to the memories of heat chapped lips against his own. Of soft skin and blonde hair almost hued red by orange firelight. But -- by this point in his life, in his early thirties with that part of their life long behind them, he could not even begin to know if those memories were fabricated or not.

He was not unaccustomed to someone being thrown off by an alpha being a lone wolf, and it merely drew a sigh out of his throat. " -- I've had no other choice than to be alone. The alpha who bit me -- " A pause, and then he corrected himself, "Attacked me came out of no where and I just acted. It was feral, and I believe either its pack was dead -- or abandoned it." It had been a difficult transition to endure -- especially in the hell that they lived in daily. Having to cope with his body rearranging his own DNA, relearning how his bones in his lower half worked, and coming to terms with the ... whole supernatural side to life he was never aware of.

Marco did not notice, until she was taking his hand, that they had gotten so close -- a startled noise choked off in his throat before they were masked behind a tree. He could hear her rabbiting heart in his ears -- pulsing in his head and making his own heart hammer in response; could feel her panic as if it was palpable. He almost wanted to kick himself, for not sensing the walkers before -- one hand slowly drawing out his gun and clicking off his own safety. He too peered around the corner, and his eyes -- as if proof of his words to Blake earlier -- ignited a brilliant red, scanning the area ; first landing on who he assumed to be Blake's allies, and then trailing to the smell of rot and death. "From experience, I do not think that they will pass quietly. Should we do something, or do you think your friends will?" he asked, his voice dropped down almost to an inaudible level, now that he knew her ears were keen enough to pick it up.

Blake

Had she had the time to respond, Blake would have expressed the way her heart hurt to know that he had gone through something so difficult alone - in a stoic way, naturally. She would not wish that kind of thing upon anyone, but the fact that he came out the other side of it okay - or at least that she could tell by him not being feral - said a great deal about his character. Though, there was no time before they were tucked behind a tree and the answering beat of his heart merely served to make her more nervous, as she finally released his fingers from a nervous grip and clicked the safety off on her gun.

Despite the near awkwardness of how close she was to Marco, she did not move other than to tilt to the side as he did, not wanting to compromise their cover for at least long enough to formulate a plan of attack. She kicked herself silently for not noticing the walkers sooner, for not catching them when she scanned the area only moments before - but she was compromised, as they would have called it on the job. Emotionally compromised by the alpha she hid with and the solidity of his body - very not imagined. His red irises distracted her for a moment, a look of awe briefly making its way across her features before she was refocusing and listening to his words. Her gaze moved to the others in the bushes, before she was shaking her head at them - a firm stay put expressed through it. "Jackson's human," She breathed back to Marco, focusing on him for a moment before looking back to the figures. "And we should take care of them without guns, its too close to night. I can shift - foxes are small and they have a hard time catching me like that. If you have a knife then you could get the jump on them while they're chasing me, we can take care of them easily like that. We've done it a few times now." She'd been nervous the first time she'd tried it, with little experience with the others combat knowledge, but Marco had been in the military - she would quickly trust her life to him. She didn't even have to think about it.

Marco:

He was well aware of just how close Blake was to him -- but, since the virus started, it was very easy for him to slip back into the comfortable skin of a solider when his heart pounded in his ears and his hands threatened to shake. His eyes closed for one beat -- two -- and his heart calmed. His entire demeanor shifted to something more relaxed and level headed. She was speaking and he was looking to her -- his eyes a dark and human hue once more as he listened to her talk.

He wasn't sure which one was Jackson -- as neither of the shadows seemed to be cowering or afraid. The scents were much too far off to tell which was the wolf and which was not. He looks back to her before a frown tucks at his lips - disturbing his calm slightly. "Isn't that dangerous?" he asks, unfamiliar concern lacing his tone. But she was right. It was far too late at night for guns to be a good idea out in the open unless it was a last resort.

"My knife is in my bag," he admits softly, tucking his gun away before the fire in his eyes burned crimson once more -- this time his gaze meeting hers. "But I have claws."

Blake

As Marco's heart calmed and his dark eyes focused on her, Blake found it easier to breathe and speak without a shake in her voice, sounding confident - more like her capable self - once she had finished explaining her plan to him. This was what she had needed - someone who understood the motions of combat, who understood how to push the fear aside. Her hands no longer shook as she followed his gaze over to the two shadowed figures, picking out a surly but focused Jackson.

She was not about to let him die again, particularly not when she could do something about it. He had done too much for Mac - and he probably wouldn't come back this time. It wasn't a chance she was willing to take, and so when Marco asked with concern that stirred something inside of her if her plan was dangerous, she glanced back to him. "Everything is dangerous now," She breathed in response, eyes on him with a furrow to her brow that was much softer than it may have normally been. "But I trust you."

The words on her lips were silenced by the red glow in his eyes, and it had a hesitant smile on her lips as she took a step back. "Just get them before they get me," She told him softly, setting her gun down silently after turning its safety back on, eyes glowing with her shift. A moment later the blonde woman was crawling out from under the bundle of her fallen clothing, a modest-sized fox. She backtracked, giving Marco the space he might need to shift - she had never seen a werewolf shift before and she didn't particularly know what to expect.

Marco:

He couldn't argue with her when she lamented that everything was dangerous -- that was nothing more than a bitter fact of life; but it doesn't mean that he was happy with his old friend, who he had just found all over again, setting herself as a distracton.. But he didn't have time to argue with her ; even as his steeped heart gave a small constriction when she assured that she trusted him. After all this time? he bit back. And instead, he reached out a hand to fleetingly take her wrist and give it a gentle squeeze that read be careful.

Albeit - despite the situation, he watched in nothing less than aware when she shifted and, soon, there was a fox in the pile of clothing where she had been moments before. But; he did not have time to gawk like he wanted to, closing his eyes with a long breath that filled his lungs as his body grew still. The heart beat before the storm, still red eyes opening before he was shifting the next heartbeat; just as quickly. A snarl starting in the back of his throat in response to the change; fangs dropping and claws unshething.

"-- I'll follow your lead," he breathed, eyes on the fox that, if he had not seen her shift before his eyes, he would've felt silly speaking to.

Blake

His small squeeze of her wrist had Blake's stomach in knots, a kind of nerves that made her realize that she could lose him again - before she really got to know him again. She sucked back the knot and did what she had to do, telling herself that they would make it through and that she would have all the time in the world to get to know everything she had missed. Because she wanted to know it all - even though she knew that some of it was going to hurt to hear.

She would have winced if she could have at his snarl, the pain that his shift seemed to bring making her sad for the briefest of moments before she was moving, pausing to collect and focus her thoughts. She couldn't go into this thinking of him, and so when she glanced at him one last time, she was able to think with a clear head before she darted off. She was fast, had always been quite a fast fox - certainly faster than her brother - and it made it that much easier to get herself underfoot of the walkers. She could outrun them, so long as she was smart and didn't corner herself.

Their gait was awkward, stuttered, and it allowed Blake to weave herself between their legs - just a pair of them. Two was easy. They could do two no problem. Once she heard their screeches of recognition, she turned their backs to the direction that Marco would be coming from, weaving her way through the grass, turning off to the side sharply in the hopes that she could imbalance them - maybe get them caught up in each other as they rushed to catch the food presented to them.

Marco

She was faster than him -- as he moved slowly as to not create much noise; she was the distraction, after all, and he was the weapon. But, he could easily keep track of her heart beat, of her soft footfalls. Of the pitter patter, hummingbird of her heart as the fox darted between branches before she was surely catching the attention of the two undead. Just two--, it was likely going to be easy, but it didn't make her worry any less for her well being. He hid himself mostly behind a tree as he waited; his breathing coming in slow and deliberate controlled rise and falls of his chest -- a easy mix between his soldier complex, and the wolf within. They both knew how to fight, and they tailored to each other.

Finally, though, their backs were to him and they were fully focused on the small fox running around their disorientated feet -- and that is when he acted. Without much of a sound, he was lunging at the one closest to where he stood -- grabbing it and jerking it back by its throat, claws embedded into the rotting flesh, until he had enough leverage to dig his claws into the back of its skull -- dragging downwards against the denigrated bone until the body fell limp as death; like it should be.

The movement had alerted the attention of the second one -- caught in a stupor for a moment with a confusion as to which source to chase after. The smaller, "seemingly" weaker animal on the ground -- or the larger body heat closer to it. Thankfully, the thing didn't have logic, and went for the beast closest to it that had every intention of attacking. It gave a decisive groan before stumbling in Marco's direction, and the alpha gave a audible snarl -- baring his fangs to the walker before plunging his claws into the bottom of its chin. The corpse gave a few, nasty gragles before it was collapsing in a heap to the ground.

Blake

Blake continued to weave in front of the beasts, through their legs and just out of reach of their imbalanced, rotted bodies. She could hear Marco's heartbeat, not far off, settling her nerves somewhat despite the reek of death clinging to her fur. When she heard the dragging of claws into bone, Blake hesitated just long enough to feel the slowed grazing of dead flesh against the top coat of her fur. It was confused by the noise around it, and so it didn't get a good enough grip on her to stop her, allowing her to scamper away from the walker with only a small yip of surprise.

From a safe distance, the fox turned and trained her eyes on Marco and the second walker, watching with vague disgust as its now-dead corpse fell to the ground. Quickly, she scampered away from the scene and listened for the sounds of clumsy feet pushing through fallen leaves - when she heard nothing, she returned to the alpha. Her tail wagged as she did - something that she both hated herself for and just couldn't help with the relief now replacing her adrenaline.

The other times they had done this, it had been much clumsier - less coordinated. Blake hadn't been able to place as much trust in the others in her group as she was able to place in Marco, and that combined with his training seemed to have made what would have taken her and the others fifteen minutes to complete take a mere five. Or so it felt like. She was grateful, and exhausted.

Marco

Marco looked down to his flaws with a disgusted look, wrinkling his nose at both the stench and the look of the brownish black blood against his claws -- that seeped up into his nail beds. Lip curled back, baring fangs. It was clear that -- even with his military training -- this was not his first time utilizing his claws in his way. He lets out a breath, allowing eyes to trail down to the small fox against the forest floor. And his expression softened when he watched her tail twitch ; looking up at him almost expectantly. And he reminded himself that it was Blake instead of the small fox's head. So, he smiled -- the wolf features disappearing far more quickly and easily than he had called upon them.

He chuckles, looking back at his hands where now rounded, human nails were still caked with blood that make his senses complain -- "We did good?" he speaks, almost sounding more like a question than anything. He sighs -- the breath shaky and pushed out his lungs with a quiver; his own body suddenly just as exhausted as twilight ate at his bones.

"Do you want me to go and grab your clothes for you?" he asks then, looking back down at her -- "Or do you want to follow me back over there? I have to grab my bag anyway."

Blake

Blake's tail begrudgingly wagged in response to his words, though it was still an enthusiastic agreement. She yipped at him, wanting to tell him just how good, though she couldn't exactly communicate - and it was out of the question for her to shift back without her clothes. She noticed the way his breath left him, and she knew that he was likely just as tired as she was - if not more. Who knew how long he had been alone for, maybe as long as she had before finding Mac, maybe longer.

As much as Blake wanted to sit, she preferred to get dressed with the cover of the bushes, and so she answered him by trotting slowly over to him. Passing him, she waited only long enough for him to start following her before she was moving at a good pace towards their things. When she reached his bag, she sat beside it until he caught up before ducking into the bushes and shifting back behind the tree. She made quick work of putting her clothes back on, despite having to wrestle with the mess of clothing - it was cold and she didn't want to waste much time getting colder than she needed to be.

"I think being an alpha suits you," Blake told him softly, her words quiet because she wasn't sure if there were more walkers nearby or not. "Or you've grown into it well," She sighed, buttoning her shirt. It still made her sad to think about it - but at the same time, it seemed good. He was still here because of it. That was a big enough silver lining.

Marco

He followed her without compliant back to where they had left heir belongings -- finding her settled near his bag; and, once he was caught up, he nodded to her before she was turning away long enough to scamper back into the bushes ; the scent rising high of the reversal of a shift. New pieces of his senses were still constantly surprising him ; to the point where he almost wasn't surprised. He was kneeling down by his bag to give her the time she needed to shift back and put her clothes back on -- rooting through his bag and double checking all of his supplies; checking the magazine on his gun. And, after a second thought, grabbing his knife and tucking it into his belt instead. He wondered if there was a lake nearby, so he could clean the black blood from his nails without wasting any of his bottled water.

That thought trailed off when he heard her voice again, looking up to see her reentering his line of sight as she buttoned up her shirt. He chuckled, shaking his head when she told him it suited him. The chuckle was almost bitter -- and he himself wasn't sure if there was any valid humor behind it. He truly had mixed feelings about what he was -- he had given it quite a bit of thought. Perhaps, if the circumstances of his bite had been better -- perhaps if it was before all of this mess .... -- What ifs was a luxury Marco tried to not indulge too much in. It gave him the use of his legs back, but it still left a bitter taste int he back of his throat. "No me interesaba la muerte," he let creep under his breath. As a teenager, he commonly would slip into his native tongue when English became too ... trying for him. His emotions were much more laced to his native language -- and it made it easier to say what he was truly feeling. Albeit, he wasn't sure if it helped or not that not many could understand him.

He sighs, looking up as he clicks a new magazine into his gun - "It is .. very good to see you, Blake. It really is."

Blake

She smiled softly at him when he chuckled in response - she could sympathize with him though she could not fully understand. Being what she was had been the only thing she was good at growing up, it had helped her become an amazing police officer. She was nothing but grateful, especially now that she had grown out of the constant anger of her teens and early twenties. She approached him slowly, setting her bag down on the ground and holstering her gun - checking it first to ensure that the safety was still on. With his mumble, Blake nodded a little to herself, sadness creeping in despite her anxieties against it. She had learned Spanish when she was at the police academy, a recommendation because of where she had wanted to be stationed - despite her not having been stationed there. It had hurt too much to be in the town she had grown up in, the town that only had one good thing left for her there. It was too much, every time she looked at the front steps of her childhood home only to know that her parents' killer would go unpunished by a justice system that was not prepared for supernatural beings.

Blake watched him load a new magazine into his gun with a weight in her chest, one that ached to reach out to him. But time kept her from doing so, kept her cold fingers tucking into her jeans despite the way that it did not help warm them. She looked down, "I'm sorry, Marco -" The words slipped out before she could stop them, too tired to fight the need to speak her mind despite the hard way the sorry balled in her throat. It was not a word that she spoke often, or lightly, "I should have tried to get in touch with you, I just - I was scared. It felt easier to let you go than to lose you too." And with the words hanging in the air between them, Blake tried to swallow the nerves that the words had left bundled in her throat, looking anywhere but at him because how could this possibly be the way she greeted him after so long. When James had told her what had happened to him, she had almost called him. Had been mere seconds from dialing his phone number, and yet she hadn't - still too damn scared.

Marco

He gave her a curious look when she merely nodded to his words -- watching her for a brief moment before he was realizing that she seemed to understand what he had said, despite the language it had been spoken in. But -- it been years -- , he knew that aspects about both of them had changed; likely drastically. The world could be cruel, even before all of this ; and it seemed to have been quite harsh on both of them. Albeit, he could understand the hurt of returning to your childhood home. When he had returned to the States and gone back to Texas with Shilo -- it made his heart ache each and every day that he was in the house that Martina had died in -- died in without Marco being able to give her a proper goodbye. It hurt, every single day of his life. But, he could not turn back time -- and he tried not to let his mind linger on the ache. Especially now, when his priority since all of this began was finding his sister. When he knew that Shilo was likely smart enough to likely believe him dead -- in the state he had been in before the alpha attacked him, there was no way he could've made it this far alone.

He still shouldn't be alone, but he had had no other options. Until now, maybe.

He gives pause when she speaks, swallowing thickly as he hesitates with his locked gun in his hand -- merely watching the matte silver against the moonlight and the dark contrast on his hands with the now drying blood against the cuticles of his fingernails. The corner of his lips twitched. He had admittedly been hurt when all contact with Blake ceased to nothing -- he knew about her parents' death, even if he did not know details. But if she had asked ... -- he would've come back home. And then -- perhaps, he would not have gotten injured. No ; he did not blame her for his injury -- he couldn't blame anyone but the unknown man with the gun. He just -- he would've liked to have been allowed to be there for her. Blake was one of the first real friends he had made when he came to the States, when he started in American schooling -- and he had managed to hold onto her until they graduated. Then they -- fell apart. And it hurt, to suddenly call upon no one and be alone. There was a fair amount of hurt and bitterness, but .. there was nothing that could be done about it now.

He assumed that somehow she had heard about his injury ; about his fall from grace -- since she had been so shocked that he was walking. And, that too had hurt -- that the only support he had had when relearning himself was his sister, with their mamá gone from their lives. And, this reluctance was visible against his features before he was slowly tucking his gun back into its holster -- swallowing hard. Silence, when he did not know what to say, was not uncommon. Trying to piece together one language or another and finding the right meaning. Eventually, he settled on a defeated, " -- it's the past, Blake."

Blake

She knew that their lack of contact had been her fault - it was easy to say that the road went both ways, but she did not blame him for anything. It had been her, and she had known that from the first moment she had picked up the phone wanting to tell him about something only to drop it. To tell herself that it was easier that way - that he could get through his deployment and find someone that would be good for him. Someone that would be able to open up to him. When her parents had died she'd wanted nothing but to call him, to ask him to come home - to help her - but she had been too scared. Too scared to admit what that meant, and too scared to break down around him and not be able to put herself back together.

Maybe he could have fought harder against her stubbornness - he knew she was stubborn, after all - but she would never blame him for it. It was never his fault and she couldn't blame him anymore than she could have convinced herself that it wasn't the right decision to let him go. Maybe it hadn't been - maybe if he'd come home he wouldn't have gotten hurt, but that had always been a thought on the assumption that he would have gone to her.

She had wanted to go to him when he'd been hurt, but her stubbornness was too much of a wall. Even now, it was her stubbornness that kept her shamed tears at bay as she stood before him, bringing her gaze to his timidly as he spoke. Not trusting herself to speak, Blake nodded, despite being unable to agree with him, watery eyes skittering away from his figure. A shaking breath escaped her as she bent down, rummaging in her bag for a second before she pulled out a package of wet wipes, holding them out to him, "For your nails," She cursed the way her voice shook as she spoke, gaze cast at her hand instead of him.

Marco

He wasn't even sure if he agreed with his own words -- a slight snuffle in the back of his throat as he was tugging a jacket out of his pack so that he could better layer up as the night sunk the torn apart earth into a colder state; pulling it up and over his shoulders and still avoiding her gaze, fighting to keep his mind from flickering back to the hurts of the past. It seemed, the summer after graduation was the last time that both of them were truly happy -- before the real world jerked the rug of reality from beneath their feet and left them reeling. Albeit, he would've liked to have helped her through it -- but, he was not going to push her. Especially in the wake of her parent's death. And by the time he had finally returned to Texas -- the combination of the death of Martina and his injury left a harsh and dark toil on his soul that scarred him from the inside out. Tumbling himself into a thorny depression that had been more difficult than anything else he had overcome to try and tread water with. But -- Blake did not have to know about his struggles past the surface value of his injury; and the cage of a metal wheelchair that he was able to leave back in New Mexico.

His gaze moved upwards, finally, when she offered him wet wipes for his hands -- letting out a breath as his hands fell away from his jacket to take them, "Thank you," he breathed, taking a few out of it. He shifted a little, moving so that he was sitting against the forest floor ( senses giving him the all clear for now, the only scent being her two allies a few yards out ). He began to work slowly at his nails, frowning deeply at the stench of it -- getting up and under his nails of each one. "This is why I prefer a gun ; less clean up, and less smell."

Blake

Blake knew that this was not a conversation that was over if they were going to make their way back to one another, but she wasn't so sure that it was one they could have yet. It wasn't the time, and certainly not the place, that could foster that kind of repair to their relationship. She knew that one day it might force its way from her because she couldn't stand the thought of being just the past to Marco, but that was only if he didn't move on - didn't decide that he could not stay in a place with someone who had abandoned him once. She couldn't begin to explain how much she had come to regret not calling him when her parents had died, and she wasn't sure she ever could.

When he sat, Blake took a second to listen closely before she too was sitting on the ground in front of her bag, pulling her jacket from it and tugging it around herself. As she tugged it on, she wiped at her eyes discretely before she zipped it up and tucked her hands into the pockets, finding some warmth there. She listened to his breathing and heart beat until he spoke, finally, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I have looked up and down for a silencer, but it seems most people agree with you."

Marco

He tried to think better on his species -- on what he was. It was not that he had anything against werewolves, or any other supernaturals for that matter. It was still slightly new to him, looking back on the rest of his life, but he could not harbor it in himself to bring dislike on the supernatural community ; especially since he was one of them. No, his bitterness about what he was ran much deeper than that. He felt ungrateful, almost, to whatever otherwordly forces might be at hand -- as, him being what he was was the only reason that he was still alive. He likely would've died on day one had he not been bitten. Albeit, it was a fact that he know merely accepted, cast once more upon the rungs of things that he could not change.

He was wiping at the palm of one hand before moving to the second -- giving a light and barely audible grunt of discomfort as he shifted where he sat; stretching his back before lulling back to a relaxed state -- as if it seemed to be aching. Albeit, the betrayal was fleeting and gone as quickly as it appeared. "I do not like getting close enough to them to use claws. It can be dangerous, especially alone." But, by the way he had been able to hone his fighting, it was clear that he had done so before. Likely more than once.

Blake

Blake listened for any intruders that may prove dangerous as they sat, though she finally allowed herself to just watch him. She was silent as she watched, taking in the ways his appearance had changed since their late teens when she had last seen him - realizing that it had been fifteen years since she'd last seen him. Since they'd been carefree teenagers, drinking cheap beer. Her brow furrowed as she watched him shift, seeming like he was in pain, though she said not a word about it. She had heard of wolves maintaining hints of their human ailments even in their supernatural state, and though she did not know if it was true, it made sense seeing his discomfort.

Her fingers worried at the fabric of her jacket, inside the pocket, "Yes, it can be." She nodded, sinking back into the quieter part of herself, the part that didn't have to fill the silences or overly elaborate. She had spent months alone, searching for James, and it had likely driven her a little insane. More often than not, she had run from the walkers. "With two it's not so bad though, so long as you're not too out-numbered."

Marco

His back did still occasionally give him issues -- typically its a burning and searing dull throb of an ache at the central point of where he knew the scar was. Like his body was reminding himself of the phantom pain of the battlefield, and reminding him of the crippling injury that he had managed to cheat after nearly a decade of it holding him hostage. Occasionally, it was worse. Sometimes in the dead of night, he would wake thinking that the bullet was once again embedded into his spine with the heart stopping pain that would spark its way through every bone in his body -- pushing like a wave through his system with the hauntingly familiar tingle of numbness from his waist down ; but, it never lasted long. It was a few heart beats of agony, even if it felt like more, until it was gone. And even so, that itself did not happen often -- and, he had tried to find the trigger for, but he had not been successful. The throbbing ache was much more common, albeit much easier to cope with.

And yet -- all of the above was still better than dealing with a life chained to a chair. All of the above, he could tolerate.

He had changed since his teenager years -- his face had clearly aged and grown sharper, his muscles filled out against his skin. His eyes somehow darker -- a thousand yard stare occasionally gracing them as he let his focus drift away and come back in. He adjusts the way he's sitting to ease the throb, moving one leg to stretch out beside him and covering up his subtle shift in posture by tugging his bag into his lap. "I had not had the ... pleasure of fighting with anyone but myself until now. It is much easier than having to try and watch my own back."

Blake

When he moves again, Blake is tugged away from the thought of asking him if he wanted to stay with their group back to the pain he seemed to be in. She noticed, despite him seeming to try to cover it up - mostly because she was so often covering up her emotions around this new group that Mac seemed determined to call pack. "Well I'll be happy to watch your back as long as you want," She murmured, worrying still at the fabric of her jacket. A beat passed before she was speaking again, "Does your back hurt?" She asked softly, eyes focused on him with a gentle concern traced into her brow.

She didn't like seeing him in pain, and she never had, even though their pain as teenagers had been... lesser. No less valid, but just not the same as it was now.

Marco

He lets out a soft noise that's almost of contentment when she offers to watch his back for as long as he wanted. He wanted that, he truly did. He missed the friendship that he and Blake had had as teenagers, even if he was not dense enough to believe that they could ever go back to the carefree kids that they used to be. They were not children, and had been been for a long time. Life had beaten it out of him. At this point in his life, he could scarcely remember the swell of rebellion he had felt in his younger days. Albeit, he had gotten to a point where that was difficult ; traveling alone up until this point and running himself thin. Even still, he wasn't sure he could face walking away from Blake -- and being alone again. He wasn't sure which scared him more. Scared him -- That was new. He doesn't remember feeling true terror since being overseas.

She was speaking, asking him about his back, and his gaze rose. He gives a small smile that's empty, "Sore," he admitted quietly. "It's not that bad, it likely doesn't help that I've been on my feet for fifteen hours by this point. Can't cheat everything, I suppose." He gestured with a hand to his lower back, "It is still there .. -- the bullet wound. But the soreness, the ache, it is nothing. Don't worry."

Blake

The noise that escaped him warmed her heart, her expression softening that much more as she took that as a good sign. One that might allow her to make amends for how she had left their friendship. The thought of him leaving, of her never being able to make up for the way she'd just let him go, how she'd not been there for him, hurt. He hadn't even been alive in her mind not three hours earlier, and now here he was - alive as ever, tormenting her with memories that had been stuffed away haphazardly to keep herself sane. She didn't know if she could lose him again, despite the guilt she felt with him around.

Her expression, though still soft, showed concern as he spoke. Her eyes followed his hand, though she could not see his back or the scar that was evidently supposed to be there, and she found herself lacking in words. Of course she would worry, despite his insistence not to. Biding her time, she stood, shrugging her pack on before she walked over and held her hand out to him. "You know, saying not to worry will usually make someone worry more." She told him softly, wiggling her fingers just the slightest in her offer to get him on his feet, "I know you probably don't want to be on your feet, but we have a camp not far from here and it's getting darker by the second. We can talk while we walk, and then you can sleep." She told him gently, because while she could sit and talk to him for hours, she did not want to die in the process.

Marco

Perhaps he was being selfish to himself ; allowing himself to remain in her presence. Whatever they truly had been -- or could've been -- in high school was long past. They were both adults who had taken different paths, and somehow ended back up at a crossroads together all over again. If Marco was a man of any kind of faith, he would've called it fate, but he did not believe in such. Martina had been a woman of high faith in the Catholic belief. But, she understood that sometimes her beliefs were not her children's. And while he could tell that she was disappointed when Marco eventually began to negate going to services, she eventually stopped pushing him. Martina wanted nothing more for him and Shilo if not their happiness. Marco had been truly blessed by her, and the chasm left behind from her death would likely never heal. Especially after the Army, he could not find it in himself to believe in a higher power -- after the terrors that he was forced to see.

He laughs softly at her comment, tipping his head to the side with a small smirk that was almost an echo of his adolescent days. Almost, even if there was something lacking that one could not quite put a finger on. "¿No confías en mí?" he asked with a teasing tone -- now that he was under the assumption that she at least understood Spanish. He did not want her to worry for him -- it was just an ache. It was nothing compared to the decade in his chair, without any use or feeling in them. He could walk, and he could fight. That was all he could've hoped for.

Albeit, he was taking the offer of her hand -- grunting slightly as he took one stumbling step forward to level himself, frowning as one hand tugged his bag onto his shoulder, his other rubbing into the soreness of his lower back and letting his hand fall away. "Lead the way, then."

Blake

It was easy to see the Marco she remembered when he looked at her like that, a soft challenge in his eyes that had always driven her mad, his accompanying teasing tone drawing an exasperated smile from her that was reminiscent of the way they had interacted when they were younger. "You shouldn't even have to ask me that," She responded simply, of course she trusted him. Even now, grown and hardened in a way that she had never hoped to see him be, she could see in him what she'd trusted so much when they were younger. He had a good heart, and she didn't think that much could change that in him, not when he could still smirk at her like that despite the way she had likely hurt him.

Worrying was her way of caring, just as protecting was. She knew that for him it was likely nothing, but to be a werewolf and be hurting was something else. She helped him to his feet, free hand moving to his shoulder to steady him as he took a stumbled on instinct. She took a step back when he seemed balanced, letting her hand fall from his chest as she turned, "For the record, I do. Trust you." She spoke as she started walking, voice quiet enough that it would not attract unwelcome visitors. "That's the second and last time you'll hear me say that today, too."

Marco

It was nice -- even if it was fleeting -- to feel a bit of familiarity in his bones in their interaction, his smile softening for a quick beat before he was hauling himself to his feet with a little bit of effort. There was, admittedly, an ache in his chest still harbored from Blake abandoning him -- but lingering on this pain was not going to do him any good except for cause more pain ; he had more than enough pain and darkness to last him a lifetime.

He could tell that she was worried, and he longed to try and find a way to ease that worry ; but, if she was anything like he remembered, she wouldn't have any of it. So, he bit his tongue and swallowed any of his arguments. There was a meek expression hidden somewhere behind his lashes before he was regaining his barrings and balance, the former soldier taking a breath as he let the ache roll down his spine until it was categorized into a space that he could ignore ; following her at this point. One hand tucked into his jacket pocket, the other loose at his side in case he needed to draw his gun for any reason.

He met her pace easily, casting his eyes down on her with an unreadable expression. "It's been ... over a decade since you have seen me." It was not an argument, but merely a question of confusion. "And you are still so sure that you -- ...?" His words trailed off, his meaning lost in translation, but his point gotten across well enough.

Blake

While Blake could see the younger Marco that she had known so well, she also saw a soldier in him, in the way he let his shoulders roll as he breathed - she could only guess that he was tucking away his pain much like she tucked away her emotions. She was accustomed to this type of prioritizing, she saw it most days when she had been working, even in her partner. Without much physical pain, Blake did not display this action the same way - it was generally accompanied with some sort of glazed over look, or hiding her gaze from view. Or hiding herself from view. It was not the physical pain that ailed Blake, though.

"If you had changed enough to become the type of person that I would not trust, I don't think you would be questioning me like that." She glanced over to him, her expression gentle, though her smile hid itself away as she glanced over his expression. No, she didn't think that he had changed so much that she could not trust him. "Do you think I shouldn't trust you?" She questioned, her smile quirking the corners of her lips as she focused her gaze ahead of them again.

Marco

He found himself wondering what parts of her were the same -- and what had changed. What had she been forced to build walls around ; what parts of herself was she forced to recede inwards? Parts that he remembered enjoying when he was younger? With bright eyes and a bright smile with discount beer in one hand and his other arm draped carelessly over her shoulder -- some music in the background that stuck in his head like a splinter, even if he didn't know the words. Or the name of it. Memories that he had tucked away long ago, constantly egging itself to the forefront of his mind.

Especially now.

His eyes darted back over to hers, chuckling lightly as a smile pulled at the corner of his lips and his eyes crinkled for a breath, "I am an alpha werewolf, and you are a fox. Isn't there ... some kind of instinctual lines to be crossed there?" he asked asking with a playful tip of his brow.

Blake

She laughed with his words, a soft noise that she quickly stifled, trying to keep quiet. "I'm not species-ist." She teased, words light in a way that could only mean she was teasing. No, years of him being her one friend in high school could not be erased so easily - of him being the one boy not to take advantage of her and leave her, to not try to turn her into something she was not. He had accepted her, for all of her anger and more, something that she was still hard-pressed to find in her thirties.

"Us foxes are only really dissuaded by disrespect." She told him, in way of a real explanation, "Especially where our families are concerned. That's part of why I've always been so protective of James," Though her voice caught on his name, she was better at swallowing the pain - the pain of separation that cut through her like fire each time she spoke his name, or each time it lingered on someone else's lips in her presence. She didn't think he was dead, she couldn't feel it and that was the one thing that kept her going, the knowledge that maybe he wasn't dead. Maybe she would find him again. She'd found him once, after months. She had to have hope. Her expression fell with the thought, smile thinning into a frown as she listened for any walkers that may be nearby. They seemed thankfully scarce.

Marco

He chuckles again quietly at her words -- shaking his head ever so slightly, "That's a relief to hear," he breathed, a small smile still tugging at his lips as he continued to easily match her gait. "I can't say that there is much I know about the ... way all of it works, when it comes to dynamics between supernaturals of the same species, or even different. I've ran into few and far between wolves since I left New Mexico ; and I was bitten on Day One, I don't have any kind of experience prior to any of this." He shrugs one shoulder, letting out a breath.

Albeit, he heard her voice crack and he was looking to her when she spoke about James, "I'm ... sorry. I assume you have lost him?" Again, possibly misuse of words, but she always seemed to be able to see through it. Lost in the same way he had lost Shilo, not in the way of ... -- "I haven't seen Shilo since before any of this began. She was still back home, in Texas, when it started -- and I was living on my own in New Mexico. I should've -- " he cursed bitterly under his breath in his native language before speaking again, "I should've listened to her, when she asked me to stay with her. I just -- I wanted some kind of independence, and I was foolish enough to think that that independence was over a hundred miles away at a job that would actually take me."

Blake

"Trust me, I've been just making up my own rules as I go," She laughed softly, "I hadn't had much experience with other supernaturals until my parents..." She didn't finish the sentence, knowing too well what the last two words would bring to her mind, already muddled with thoughts of James and the others missing. "The group that we're with, I think there's just about anything you could imagine there... so I don't think it's much of a problem for anyone." It seemed the werewolves were the only ones with problems, to her. Not that it was any help for Marco, then.

Her nod was tight, brief, the way her jaw tightened more than a clear indication, "We were forced to move from where we'd been staying, and we were all separated. Scott and Jackson, the two you saw earlier, are the only two that I could find.. I don't know where James is." Her stomach knotted to say it, "I looked for him for months and I just found him. And now he's gone again." A breath forced its way from her lungs, eyes stinging with tears of frustration and exhaustion that she couldn't let fall.

With his words about Shilo, it was easier to shy away from the pain of losing James. She glanced to him, only for a second, eyes watery as she looked back at the ground ahead of them. "You couldn't have known that any of this was going to happen. None of us could have, it wasn't like there was some countdown for it, or some prophecy." She sucked a breath in, steadying herself a little further. "I was lucky enough to be going to visit James when it all happened, I got off the plane and there the shit-storm was," Blake rubbed her fingers together in her pockets, anxiety building up at just the memory. "His house was already empty, he and Grant and the kids were all gone. I uh -" She hesitated, "I went to your house, after, but it was empty too. Shilo's scent was the only one of yours that I found, and it was older than any of the looters that had been there. Maybe she's still safe." She wouldn't admit directly that she hadn't known that he'd moved, would never admit that she had gone to try to make up for everything - to hopefully help the two of them.

Marco

Blake spoke of a larger group than just the two she had lingering at camp -- and he found himself wondering just how many people it included; and how many of them were still around. If they were to be found -- and what happened to make all of them flee their old shelter. But, he bit his tongue on the regard. The tone was shifting to something more serious, and those other mountains of questions could wait until later. He did not plan on going anywhere any time soon -- he was not, in fact, strong enough to go back out on his own.

"Jackson and Scott -- Scott is the werewolf then, yes?" he asks, dying down then to let her continue. His gaze softened significantly, knowing her pain of losing James all too well, "I am ... sorry about James, Blake," he breathed, nothing but sincerity in his tone before he was reaching out for her hand ; merely to give it a soft squeeze and then letting his hand fall back away. If he scent the tears unfallen in her eyes, he didn't speak of it.

His jaw then clenched when she spoke about Shilo and the house, swallowing so hard that it hurt and turning his gaze away from her, " -- Shilo was the only one who lived there. She had ... girlfriends, and guy friends, and such -- " Shilo had always made friends more easily than he had. "But, she lived alone. Our -- Martina passed away right before I was discharged from the military." Just more sand added to the heaviness of his heart. But, he did find a small inkling of relief in her words -- this at least meant Shilo left willingly, on her own accord. But to where?

Blake

Blake knew that he would have questions for her, many that she wouldn't be able to answer well - she hadn't made a habit of getting to know the others well. She left that to James, Grant, and Mac. They were the sweet ones, the social ones. Instead she drank alcohol with Melissa, bonding with her over a mutual loss of whatever life they had had - though, Melissa's had seemed much more upside down than Blake's. Many of the others were much too young for her, anyways.

"He's the alpha of the pack," She nodded, telling him purely to prepare him for whatever show of poor masculinity Scott may try to show over him. She was on rocky ground with him enough, she wasn't sure bringing another alpha into the mix would bode well for her, but she didn't care - Marco was too important. While his words provided some small comfort to her, it was the soft squeeze of his warm fingers that had her squeezing her eyes shut, a few tears falling in spite of herself. She sucked in a breath when his fingers left hers, forcing her tears back because she wasn't sure she would be able to stop them if she let it go any longer.

"I heard, I'm so sorry." She breathed, this time finding it her turn to give his fingers a gentle squeeze, her own fingers quickly retreating afterwards. Blake felt worse each second she thought about it, he had lost his mobility and his mother, and she hadn't so much as called him. She hadn't known how. How could she have approached him in whatever state he was in - if she had gone to him, would he have even wanted her there? She looked down, reaching up quickly to wipe at her damp cheeks. "You just have to hope that she's safe. Like I did with James."

Marco

He was nodding slowly when Blake told him that Scott was the alpha of the pack. He felt no threat to this, personally. Marco had no pack -- and, up to this point anyway, he truly had no desire for one. The alpha inside of him might, but -- with the years spent in service learning to stone his emotions, it was easy for Marco to ignore the wolf's desires. "Can they be trusted?" he was then asking, "The whole of them -- Scott's ... pack? I am assuming that Jackson and Scott are going to want to find them. When they do, is it safe?" he asked.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek, a painful swell in his heart when she apologized and gave his hand a touch of comfort in response like had done with her. The hardest part had been going through all of his trails mostly alone. Mostly. Shilo, barely an adult by the time he had returned from the services -- and mourning Martina as well -- had put her life on hold for him. He owed his sister everything ; he couldn't just -- "Shilo is a smart girl," he started, his voice thick with deeper emotions that he tried to keep a tight leash on, smoothing a hand over his face, "She -- She had somewhere set in her mind to go when all of it went bad. She --- has to be safe. Somewhere."

Blake

"They are mostly quite young," Blake answered, "But they're not bad people - just very protective of their own. My niece has become one of their own, so I think we can trust them." She had agonized over placing her trust in the small group, with their problems, especially seeing as they seemed to attract danger. Ultimately, it had come down to the many people in that pack that had risked their lives for Mac - and the couple that had lost them. She thought them young and volatile, at best, but they had good hearts. It was enough for now.

Blake tucked her hand into her pocket, looking up to see that they were quite close now to the camp - good, considering that they were losing the last of their light. "I have no doubt that Shilo is. She's always been smart." Blake offered him a small smile, though she knew it could not comfort him too much, not from the thickness of his voice. She longed to wrap an arm around him and tell him that she was there for him like she would have when they were younger, like she always had when he was sad, but the gap between them was too large after so long. So she walked, eyes ahead of them, trying to ignore the way her heart hurt as he rubbed his face.

Marco

He nods. Just as she continued to place trust in him, he would return this in kind and place trust in her. If she trusted the pack well enough to continue to stay with them -- to accept that her niece was one of them -- then Marco would do so as well. If they took him at all ; he was unsure of this, but he would likely find out soon enough -- since she happened to be with the alpha of the aforementioned pack. Marco was not interested in a power play, and he did not want to try and take the leadership of the pack away from the young Scott. He just wanted to continue to survive. And no longer be alone.

He sighs, the noise broken as he drops his eyes to where his feet were falling -- his high strung emotions making him struggle to try and keep himself from completely withdrawing into himself. "I don't -- " he starts, and his voice broke -- brows furrowing in as he gave a frustrated noise and shook his head. When he was quite young, when his emotions would become too high strung -- such as when Antonio passed away -- he struggled to find meaning to words. Struggled with the barrier between Spanish and English until it became a muddled mess in his mind, "No creo que pudiera desnudarla si encontré su cuerpo. O, peor aún, si la encontraba como una de esas cosas. No sé qué haría yo."

Blake

It was something that she had considered - the possibility of Scott turning Marco away for being an alpha. While she would not expect anything from the younger alpha, she wasn't sure that she could stick around knowing that she had let them turn Marco away. It was hard to think about, knowing that her family had found a home among this pack and while they were home to her, so was Marco. Maybe home after fifteen years of not visiting, but that didn't change enough to make enough of a difference. Perhaps Scott would respect that.

When he spoke to her in Spanish, she knew that there was a much deeper meaning to it - it was not just an inability to find the right words in English. It was his emotions, likely struggling to drown him the way hers did whenever she thought of James dying. She couldn't stop herself, this time - it didn't feel right to stop herself - as she grabbed his wrist and stopped him, pulling him close for a hug, slowly in case it wasn't what he wanted. "It's gonna be okay, Marco." She told him, softly, her heart tight with the pain of seeing him so sad. She didn't want to see Shilo hurt, and she'd always been grateful that the younger woman had not been in her home when she'd gone to look for them.

Marco

Her touch made his breath start and his dazed thoughts come to a halt -- brows twisting inwards as he stopped walking at her prompting and looked to her. His eyes were misty, but he still had enough handle on himself to keep them from breaching his lids. Her scent draws closer to him as she slowly embraces him, and a soft and pitiful noise is barely audible in the back of his throat. He snaked both arms around her shoulders and hide his crumbled expression against her shoulder -- losing touch on his composure for just a beat due to the familiar touch that he had not known for fifteen years.

"It has to be," he whispered against her, tightening fingers into the material of her clothing to keep her there for a few moments longer ; letting it sate the loneliness he had felt in the time he had been alone and wandering. His wolf, too -- somehow -- felt the comfort and the warmth just as he did. Just was softly, and just as warmly.

"It is --" he stopped voice breaking, and he started over and tried again, "I am glad you found me, Blake. Thank you.

Blake

Blake felt tears threatening her lids in response to the noise that barely left him, reflexively smoothing her fingers along the back of his neck in response, heart skipping a beat at the pain and the relief the contact brought her. She tucked her cheek against his head, closing her eyes against the tears that his sadness seemed to be trying to coax from her. Not one to cry, though, Blake sucked in a breath - she had already cried more in front of him than nearly anyone else in the last several months - save for James and Grant.

There was no protest from her when his fingers tucked into her clothing, keeping her from moving - she would have pulled away, unsure of the way the comfort made her feel, but at least this way she was allowed to seek his touch for a few moments more. She knew that it was going to be okay - if she had found James and somehow, magically, Marco in this whole mess then it had to be okay. She was a pessimist through and through, but these things were too big to ignore.

When his voice broke, her fingers instinctively smoothed along the back of his neck again. "It feels more like it was you who found me," She breathed, her own voice thick with emotion.

#[ // chatzy ]#[ // chatzy : marco ]#[ // char : THERE'S SOMETHING SO RARE IN YOUR VEINS ( marco ) ]

1 note · View note