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emeren · 3 years

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bloodlust ☤ 1

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“The devil and I get along just fine...”

Pairing: Fem!reader x Vampire!Eren

Word Count: 5.1 k

Chapter Warnings: Blood, anxiety

Chapter Summary: Reader, a nurse, finds themselves facing a fanged beast, unsure what to make of the world. But this devil with dark hair may not have the intentions you think.

☤ this work of fiction deals with vampires. in turn, there will be discussions of blood and minimal gore. it will also include nsfw content in the near future. all chapters will be marked appropriately☤

Moonlight soaked the path towards his freedom. It danced and reflected off of the dew coated blades of grass. Each one emulated a life he planned to save, with the destruction of his people and the protection of the person he cared for most in the world. She had yet to materialize into something more than the soft breeze of a memory.

He was hungry; the tortuous cry of his instinct to ravage told him so. However, years of training and restraint had yielded him more than capable of swallowing his own desire. The one thing he sought most weighed heavier than impotent monstrous actions. For his goal, he could resist the craving to release his sharpened fangs.

He allowed his eyes one last glance over the house he’d called home for the past four years; dark and gloomy against the stormy night sky. Soon, those who’d chained him in shackles and dragged him to the cellar would be amiss in panic. Wrought iron bars that once caged his devilish soul would be found empty. A beast was on the run.

He felt brief sorrow for those he would hurt in the process of securing their freedom from a pained existence. But he’d made up his mind. All that was left to do was to head north.

His nimble hands pulled the dark hood of his coat above his head. He took one deep breath, the entrancing smell of rain and dirt wafting through the air.

North, to the person that occupied his past, present, and future. To freedom.

☤ ☤ ☤

You considered yourself well suited to the role you’d decided to serve for the rest of your life. Time spent meticulously memorizing health patterns and disease characteristics had broadened your sense of confidence. Doubt rarely ever plagued your mind past the childish decision of what to eat for breakfast in the morning.

Nursing had not always been your final destination in life; the unprecedented scared you enough to mark healthcare as a profession to avoid. Losing two parents unexpectedly in high school due to a mysterious illness had been enough to change your once convinced mind.

Your rain jacket was slick with the slight precipitation clouding the late night sky as you entered the hospital locker room -- a weak cup of coffee in hand, marred with a ring of chapstick residue against the lip. Night shifts were often greeted with unrelenting misery on your behalf.

“You look excited to be here,” The familiar tone of your coworker hummed from behind you. There seemed no force strong enough to concur surprise in your unrested eyes. Historia was someone who lacked a certain fear factor in most aspects of her being, anyways.

“I didn’t see you when I came in, Historia,” You answered, eyes glancing over your shoulder to take in the blonde-haired nurse. Despite having walked in the rain the same as you, her demeanor was much more spritely.

She gave you a smile, following you towards your adjacent lockers. “Ah, I came in the back entrance today.”

“You’re awfully chipper for someone who’s working the night shift,” Your half-assed attempt at being friendly mingled with the clammer of your locker. Historia chuckled softly from behind her door.

“I prefer the night shift, actually. Isn’t this your third night on?” She asked. You slipped your wet jacket from your shoulders, shaking it slightly before hanging it in the metal box.

“Yeah, it is. Can’t say I enjoy it as much as you do,” You lightly closed the door, Historia doing the same. Overt kindness wasn’t a trait you claimed when burnt out on work; she knew this and gave you no foul for it.

Her blue eyes crinkled in the ghost of a smile. “Not a creature of the night, hm?”

“I’m no vampire, that’s for sure,” You chuckled. Historia’s smile faltered slightly. It came as no surprise that she was afraid of monsters and ghouls. You decided to change the subject in her favor. “Speaking of, I hear it’s a full moon tonight.”

“Oh?” Her eyes widened, coy smirk wiggling its way back onto her blushed cheeks. Despite your adverse to the unknown, you enjoyed indulging in childish hospital rumors. The notion that weird cases spiked on nights when the moon was full in the sky was a tale as old as time; strange people flooded the hospitals, with even stranger injuries and illnesses. Or so that was what people said, not that you’d ever experienced it yourself. “I wonder if anything crazy will happen tonight.”

“Doubt it,” You stepped aside, allowing her to match your stride as the two of you headed towards the conference room for a briefing before the shift. She hummed in agreement, the rest of the walk done in a comfortable silence.

The room for debriefing was a mundane conference set up. The walls were a bleached white; anatomy posters and warnings about the harmful nature of cigarettes decorating the walls. An oval desk surrounded by blue, plastic chairs took up most of the room. It smelled like microwaved Kraft, courtesy of a nurse scarfing down a last helping before their shift started.

“That’s odd,” Historia frowned, blue eyes tracing the room. Staff sat around in quiet huddles, most silently waiting for the briefing to start. She glanced down at her watch before nudging you in the arm. “Where’s Doctor Smith? We start in two minutes.”

The tall, burly man was never late for a briefing; his stoic nature didn’t allow room for such a lack. He had never given you a reason to doubt his trust, but something about his demeanor made you uneasy. He commanded a room with such conviction that your coworkers fell to his feet with unadulterated respect; you, a mindless sheep following their lead. Rational thought would’ve placed your discomfort on his position of power and his role as your boss. Simply put, however, he gave you the creeps.

The plastic chair skidded against the polished floor as you took your seat at the table beside Historia. The older staff coughed and occasionally grumbled, filling the tired silence with a sense of annoyance. Your blonde coworker sensed your gripe, elbowing you in the ribs and leaving a crease in your lilac scrubs. You suppressed a smile.

“Pardon me,” Doctor Smith’s commanding voice echoed through the room before he stepped in the doorway. Your muscles tensed; back straightening as if to give the illusion that you hadn’t been hunched over, looking exhausted and miserable. His blond hair was perfectly sculpted; not a strand out of place and not a wrinkle in his blue dress shirt. His lab coat was almost a sickeningly bleached titanium. “Sorry for my tardiness; I was dealing with an emergency back home.”

Historia shifted beside you.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” He gave a terse smile before picking his clipboard off of the table and flipping through the papers. “Looks like we’ve got the regular scheduling for this evening. As usual, the night shift staffing is lighter than our other shifts, so remember to be vigilant and take action without being told to.”

You tended to tune out the mundane precautions and warnings that were part of a pre-shift briefing. Outside the window, rain pattered against the glass pane. The shower provided a sense of comfort; rain often preceded a night spent inside, wrapped in blankets with a mug of hot tea. Though your current schedule didn’t allow room for such indulgence, you took a small delight in the weather condition.

Historia bumped your knee with her own under the table. You glanced at your friend, slightly alarmed from your daze. She leaned over, attempting to discreetly whisper in your ear. “He looks distracted tonight, hm? Wonder what that’s about.”

Your eyes glanced at Doctor Smith, who was reading through the clipboard with a staccato like urgency. Not wanting to cause any disturbance, you nodded your head in agreement.

“We’ll follow through with our regular assignments. If you don’t know where you’re located this evening, I suggest checking the bulletin in the locker room. As for this meeting, you’re all free to go,” His blue irises scanned the faces of all the employees, searching for confusion or questions to be answered. You averted your gaze, following suit as the rest of the room erupted in moving chairs and shuffling scrubs.

You already knew where you were working for the night; the same place as the last two, over in the geriatrics wing. This night would be the same as the others, not that you were in any place to be upset about that.

“Y/N!” Historia’s voice called you to look over your shoulder, barely out of the conference room. She had a slimy smile on her face; the kind that reeked of favors and avoidance. You felt the need to control your eyebrow from rising in annoyance. “Can I ask you something?”

You exhaled from your nose. “Shoot.”

“I have a patient in room 702 that I was assigned to,” The slightest batting of her mascara slicked lashes, blue irises working their hardest to win you over. You raised your eyebrows, urging her to continue. The other staff shuffled by you, sparing nosy glances. “I was wondering if you could take it? I’ll work in the geriatrics wing tonight for you.”

You had to give it to the tiny woman; for all she was worth, she was great at getting people to do what she wanted. You valued her responsibility and reliability, and she’d proved to be a friendly presence in the workplace. However, that didn’t stop you from seeing the selfish underbelly of her prosperous actions.

“What’s the patient in for?” You humored her. Even if her request was self-fulfilling, you figured might as well use it to your own advantage. Almost anything beat another night in geriatrics changing diapers and administering pill dosages.

“A blood transfusion,” She responded, smiling softly at you. “I’m not very good with bloody things, you know. Easily squeamish.”

You pretended to ponder whether or not to take her up on her offer. It was an easy choice, really. “Yeah, sure. What blood type are they?”

☤ ☤ ☤

The stand rattled unpleasantly against the tiled ground as you stopped in front of room 702. The thick bag of blood shook slightly from the sudden stop. How Historia had ever become a nurse when grossed out with the concept of blood, you weren’t sure. It seemed that her sweet disposition often aided her in whatever situation she needed to change for the better. You were an adult woman though, so whatever her motivations might’ve been didn’t concern you.

You gave the cart a once over, making sure all the necessary tools and items were there: a needle, an IV, gauze, those sorts of things. Blood transfusions were a typically fussless procedure; tediously watching the red liquid pump itself into the body.

Your knuckles lightly knocked on the door. “Hello, I’m here to give you your blood transfusion!”

Silence, beating through the empty hallway of the hospital. The lights were dimmed and eerily abandoned. You waited for ten seconds before opening the door to the sleepy room.

The heavy door creaked open, revealing he who was to be given blood. Historia had mentioned he was a John Doe, lying unconscious on the bleached sheets. You turned back to grab your cart, not bothering to be quiet. He’d be awake soon enough, anyway.

As you wheeled it in, your back was to the patient. The cart squeaked and rattled, stopping at the foot of the bed. You turned around, ready to rouse him from his slumber.

Beautiful.

You’d had attractive patients before. Both men and women who floated by life with the easy wings of accurately placed facial features to boost them up. A pretty face often had heat rising to your cheeks, but professionalism stopped you from thinking any further. Natural biological responses couldn’t be helped, after all.

Never had a patient left your lips parting in awe, heart drumming up it’s own beat of excitement in your chest. His face was slim; sharp jawline and a large, broad nose peeking out into the air. Pale cheeks barely dusted by the pink of an almost intangible blush. His eyelashes were long and thick, jutting out against the purple hue of his impossibly dark circles. Hair the color of old driftwood swirled and bunched on his pillow. He had to have been one of the most attractive people you’d ever treated, let alone seen.

What color were his eyes? Were they a dark brown, one to match the nature of his hair color? Or were they green, contrasting his pale skin? You began to feel eager to find out, more excited to know and learn as your gloved hand gripped his broad shoulder. You frowned at the frigid temperature of his skin.

“Excuse me, sir,” You gently shook, trying not to give away the way your body was reacting. There was no place for hormonal displays in your line of work, and despite his undeniable beauty, you were determined to remain professional.

His eyelids snapped open with such a speed you had to compose yourself not to trip backwards. Contrary to what you thought, his irises were a pale, almost sickly greyish blue. They held no gleam; no life behind them. Disturbance washed over your brain, warning bells going off in your mind. He looks slightly… feral?

He jolted upwards, confusion knotted on his once peaceful face. You stumbled backwards slightly, hip clipping on the cart.

“Who are you?” His voice was gravelly, as if it hadn’t been used in quite some time. Blue eyes stared at you with such an uncertainty it made your head spin.

“I’m your nurse, I’m here to give you your blood transfusion,” You gestured towards the cart and stand, a red bag hanging from it like a token of peace. Despite his prickly reaction, you weren’t frightened.

“I feel like I’ve met you before,” He said, eyes squinted. Analyzing you, trying to pick apart your being, yet there you stood before him, a marvel to be held. He briefly glanced to the side; not more than a millisecond were his eyes off you before they were back, filled with unadulterated panic. “Where- where is Historia?”

You frowned, a little perturbed. “She asked to swap-”

“I need you to leave, now.” He growled, voice deep and authoritative. You widened your gaze, taken aback by his demanding request. The sheet fell from around his shoulders, bare chest exposed. Large hands raced to his face, hiding the features you’d once considered beautiful. “Get out of here!”

“Are you alright?” You panicked, stepping closer to the bed. His large form began shaking, knees drawing towards his chest from under the blanket. He appeared to be in pain; like a wounded animal.

“Fuck,” He yelled, breathing becoming labored. There wasn’t time to ponder. Was he having a panic attack? Was he going into shock? Questions didn’t need to be asked, you just knew that you needed to act. “I said leave!”

“No, I need to help you with whatever-” His hand shot off of his face, long, black claws sharpening from his fingers. You became fear stricken, his palm connecting with your chest. It sent you stumbling backwards, tripping over the wire to the heart monitor and slamming into the wall with your back. Tendrils of pain clamored up your spine.

“Close your eyes,” He rose from the bed, both hands dropping from his face. You couldn’t see his eyes, fist clutching your scrubs above your heart. Uncertainty. Terror, facing death like this. A monster stood before you, created by the devil himself. Tall, foreboding, chest heaving. His neck snapped upwards; wide, red eyes piercing into your thinly veiled soul. He spoke something like a garbled beast. “Promise me you’ll close your eyes.”

You didn’t respond. There were no words to be spoken. Between his pink lips glinted a pair of large, sharp incisors. “Promise!”

You reverberated with his words, wincing and shutting your eyes involuntarily. He didn’t want you to watch as he slaughtered you. “I-I promise!”

The loud clamor of metal colliding with the polished floor had you breaking your promise mere seconds after it’d been made.

He stood, illuminated by the fluorescent bulbs like an angel ascending to heaven. The bag, once an object you’d believed to be a healing beacon, clutched between clawed hands. His teeth, bare to the world, puncturing the thick plastic as though it were paper.

His adam’s apple bobbed rhythmically as he swallowed mouthfuls of thick, red blood. It was as if he’d been starved; knees buckling and desperate blood sucking so intense that his legs could no longer support his body weight. He knelt on the once clean floor.

The twine that connected your sense of reality and rationale had been pulled taut -- pieces of the frayed string snapping and threatening to drop you into depths unknown. Uncertainty had always been a foreign concept; you’d been given the option to study your circumstance and fully conceptualize it before going head first into a situation.

That’s what had intrigued you about being a nurse; though the job seemed like a bull in a china shop, you’d learned every reason why or how that bull ended up there and what exactly you needed to do to get it out.

You lacked the expertise or even the understanding to handle this particular situation. What studying could’ve been done? Reading horror stories or watching Twilight as a teenager with your friends? Even then, the probability of this happening to you felt like it should’ve been a zero percent chance.

You liked knowing what to do. Thrived on it, actually. This man, tall and dangerous, presented you with no opportunity to know. There was no textbook on how to handle a vampire, as childish as it felt to recognize that that’s what this was.

You’d been so sure. So convinced that there was no possibility of this heinous monster being an actual thing to walk the same crusted earth as you. Yet here he was, dawning the shape of a man and the face of an angel. How could someone so beautiful be so terrifying?

The hospital wall was cold against your back, the distant hammering of an organ that no longer felt placed in your chest rang true against your clenched fist. You felt the chilling call to move, to rise from your place and run. You didn’t know where, but the muscles in your thighs screamed a silent symphony.

He made quick work of the bag, like it was nothing and had never been anything in the first place. Who had donated that blood? They were probably asleep somewhere, lying in a bed and dreaming of a different world. A world where their charitable donation wasn’t being consumed by a devil before your terrified soul.

The red liquid oozed from his lips and dripped onto his barren chest. You hadn’t moved since you’d collided with the wall what felt like an eternity ago. Your ears rung rapidly with the obnoxious blood flow to your overstimulated brain.

Eyes the shade of a blue jay traced from a pair of blood soaked claws up towards your face, following the path of destruction. Though shock and fear reverberated through your every nerve, the softness in his gaze dulled a small part of your terror. He looked guilty, holding his dripping hands in front of his face like he’d just committed murder.

“You promised to close your eyes,” A voice so small, as if he’d known you your whole life and you had just witnessed a character altering situation. Something echoed in the back of his words, something that sounded like resentment. You couldn’t tell if it was directed at your prying eyes or himself.

“I- I didn’t, I mean, I tried not to but,” You were at a loss. A loss for a way to communicate how you were feeling, a loss for sanity in the world. The monster before you scowled, as if scolding a child who’d disobeyed their parent. “What are you?”

He brought his bloody hands to the floor; you noted that the claws were gone. “I figure it’s pretty obvious at this point. Can’t you tell?” He whispered.

“But vampires aren’t-” His steely gaze hardened at your choice of words. “They aren’t real, are they?”

“They are,” He responded, looking at you with such a strong emotion that you shifted uncomfortably against the wall. What was he thinking? Those eyes looked like they were fixed on someone he cared deeply for, not someone he’d met mere minutes ago. “But you weren’t supposed to know that, which is why I asked you not to open your eyes.”

“You started drinking a bag of blood right in front of me!” You whisper-yelled, brows knitting together to display your slight frustration. The wonder and fear still laid active in your chest, but something about him was familiar and comforting, despite his gruesome actions. You couldn’t explain exactly why you knew he would bring you no harm. “Of course I was going to open my eyes. If I’m not supposed to know, why would you do that right in front of me?”

His scowl deepened. “I tried to warn you. I haven’t had any blood in awhile and I lost control of myself.”

“What happens now?” Your question came out smaller than intended, unfamiliarity rising in your abdomen. The thick stench of blood was beginning to make your intestines twist in disgusting unease.

The question sought to strike a chord in the young man’s features; a grim and saddened look swept across his sharp attributes. His hand came up to pinch his temples, unperturbed by the bloody fingerprints left in its wake. “We have to get out of here, and fast. If we don’t, the people who are after me will kill you.”

“Kill me?” The word had a different sense of fear wafting over you; the kind that pricked your eyes with the sensation to shed tears. He looked pained. “I can tell them that I didn’t see anything, I can promise that I never saw you and-”

“It doesn’t work like that,” He snapped, glancing at you with irritation. His harsh tone forced your pleas to die unsaid in your throat. “The people following me aren’t rational. One of them will also be able to tell you’re lying.”

“So then, what am I supposed to do?” You cried, allowing the bottled up and suppressed emotions to spill over the thin wall of resolve that his comforting presence provided. He didn’t flinch but remained in serious tranquility. “I’m supposed to leave here and hit the road with some random man, who is a fucking vampire, and what? Hope for the best?”

He looked away from you, blood-covered face staring at the hospital bed that he’d once occupied. “It’s my fault you’re stuck in this now. I owe you enough to protect your life as best as I can.”

You were in hysterics. What sort of ultimatum was this? Stay and die or leave and risk dying? Another predicament that couldn’t be solved with the aid of literary education. Resentment was beginning to build in your own chest. Diving into an unexplored depth of the ocean, brimming with creatures and lore that you had never predicted to be real.

“Hey,” You snapped back to reality. The man before you scooted forwards slightly. Though his face was that of a devil, soaked in another’s blood and deathly pale, his movement had your chest tightening in something other than fear. “I won’t let them hurt you. I promise, if you come with me, you’ll be safe until I can get them off our tail. Then I’ll take off and they’ll follow me, leaving you alone.”

Sticky tears trailed down your cheeks, eyes burning. When did you start crying? “How -- how can you be so sure? How can I trust you?”

He was on his hands and knees in front of you now, sharp nose half a foot away from your face. Any call to breathe was put on hold, teary eyes widening slightly at his stare. It was soft and open, trusting in the strangest way. His dark hair hung around his face.

“My goal is to rid the world of demons such as myself. That’s why they’re after me, and why they would take your life to guarantee silence. When I’m finished with what I want to accomplish, I will be dead and so will they. I have nothing to gain by hurting you. I promise to keep you alive long enough to see the end of this.”

Your lips parted in awe. The conviction in his tone was that to lead an entire army into battle; to create religions and cult followings. Blessed be the demon who wished to take down his own kind.

You had spent years convincing yourself to trust in what others told you to follow. Self-intuition wasn’t enough to breed a successful nurse; you needed the expertise of studies and procedures done before you. You required the necessary tools that others had used and approved of. Your heart’s certainty had no place in medicine. It had no place in the tried and true.

The man slowly rose one freezing hand towards your face, apprehensively watching for your reaction. You sat unmoving, owl-eyed. His palm caressed your chin, cold thumb swiping the tear from your cheek, smearing blood in its wake. “Find it in your heart to trust me.”

The conviction of his words rang lightning through your veins, mouth speaking without precedented thought. “Okay.”

He rose from his crouched position, offering a red hand to help you up from against the wall. You shook your head. There had been enough blood sharing for the evening, sanitation crossing your mind as you shakily slid along the rough plaster, bracing yourself to display a toughness that you weren’t sure you contained.

The rule of thumb not to trust those whom you don’t know played a soft melody in your heart. Mothers’ warnings and fathers’ lectures. Apparently all you had been told fell upon deaf ears, clouded with the hazy judgement of a life threatening situation. But in circumstances such as these, did the general rule apply? You were left to ponder.

“Hey, wait,” You frowned, a dumbfounded feeling crossing your mind as the man stepped towards the opposite side of the room. He stopped and turned, sharp jaw jutting against his mane. “What even is your name?”

“Oh,” He turned back towards the other side of the room. You didn’t follow. The door was the opposite direction, so whatever business he had over there did not concern you. “It’s Eren. And you?”

You felt a slight heat rise to your cheeks at the confession of his name. It was beautiful, feeling somehow appropriate for his physical appearance. “It’s Y/N.”

“Ah,” He responded, as if he already knew. You scoffed inwardly at his tone, still anxiously pressed against the wall. His blood stained hand rose to the latch on the window, attempting to open it.

“Why are you opening the window?” You questioned, noticing a beep from out in the hallway. The door stood open, allowing passersby to witness the blood on the floor and your cheek, as well as this man called Eren, who appeared straight out of a horror movie.

Closing the wooden door meant deciding with certainty to trust him; to follow him and hope that whatever tales of murderous vampires he’d shared had been truthful. To step away from the knowledge and the comfort of your current life. It implied that no one would see you in there with him and come to your rescue.

They will kill you.

Your hand gently clicked the heavy door into its place.

Turning back to Eren, you noticed his hand wrapped around the latch to the window. He was frozen in place, watching you make your final choice.

“You didn’t answer my question,” You reiterated. Eren turned back towards the glass. His reflection wavered slightly in the shine.

“This is how we’re getting out of here,” Eren responded, pulling the latch and shoving the window open as far as it would go. It stopped at about two inches, for safety reasons.

Disbelief once again danced across your mind, pulling you into what was beginning to feel like a new equilibrium. “If you’re planning to leap out of that window, it only opens that far.”

He ignored you, bringing his bloodied palms up against the glass. It appeared as though he merely shoved it; so light that it shouldn’t have budged. It shouldn’t have moved at all. The heavy window snapped at its industrialized hinges, pummeling down towards the ground below.

He glanced at you from over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised semi-smugly. You gawked back; simultaneously impressed by his strength as well as put off. “Let’s go.”

“I’ll die if I jump from here,” You scoffed, still not moving from your place. Eren stared back emotionlessly. He stepped towards the bed, reaching beneath it and pulling out what appeared to be a black hooded jacket.

He swung it over his shoulders, pulling the hood above his head. “I know. If you ride on my back, you won’t die.”

“Are you always this mundanely serious about fucking supernatural shit like this?” You spat. There was a warmth beginning to settle in your face as well as your core; heated by the idea of being so close to him.

“Yes,” He retorted, walking towards you so quickly you thought your head would start spinning. “No time to waste with your endless questions.”

He reached down, abruptly swooping you up from behind your thighs, effectively gripping you bridal style.

“Eren, put me down. Put me down!” You started squirming as he thundered towards the open window. You hated heights as much as the next person; they were fine in retrospect, but made you dizzy when in close proximity. Eren seemed unbothered by your quiet cries of protest.

“Eren, I swear to god,” You brought your fist to his broad chest. He ignored you, stepping onto the ledge of the window. Against any better judgement you still retained, your eyes glanced towards the drop. Your stomach sank, becoming a heavy boulder in the bottom of your abdomen. “Fuck, put me down!”

He stared down at you. A gaze so tranquil that the rest of the scene seemed to fade away. You became hyper-aware of his bare chest which you were pressed against; that unfamiliar churning in your core spreading towards your limbs.

“Hold still, or I’ll drop you.”

☤ ☤ ☤

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tagging: @sunshinedragonofthewest @ryukatters

#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jeager x reader #eren yaeger x reader #Eren Jaeger #eren yeager #vampire eren #eren jeager #Eren Yaeger #eren jaeger smut #bloodlust series #emmy writes #eren jaeger x y/n

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xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx · 5 years

Text

Nerd - Gerard Way x Reader

Request: Hi! I miss you 💕💕 When you're back, could you write about Dallon or Gerard meeting a nerdy reader? She is out with friends, and sarcastically says sth like "yeah, 'cause a girl who daily references LotR, Doctor Who and other stuff is every guy's dream." He overhears, and starts: "Actually..." Thanks and have a lovely holiday ✨✨✨😉

Reader: female

Warnings: fandom references, many of them

Word count: 1 843

Even though it was one of the bars in town that was on the fancier side, people still dressed pretty normally. At least the guys did. But most of the females in the room were wearing skirts and dresses that seemed to be several numbers too small so short that you wondered how they sat down without the skirt riding up so far that too much skin was exposed. But maybe that was the whole point. You did not really know much about these things. The only thing that you knew was that people did not like it when you said that their skirts were shorter than those of the uniform dresses in Star Trek OS. So you kept that comment to yourself, while you pulled on the sleeves of your cropped “Wings of Freedom” jacket, the latest treasure in your collection of merchandise.

Going out with your friends was never as easy as you would have liked. They were, just like the other women in the bar, dressed in these terribly tight clothes, and you, dressed in a soft, fitting, dark shirt with a tiny TARDIS pattern, some skinny jeans, sneakers, said cropped jacket, and an Evening Star necklace, stood out like a torch in a dark forest.

You knew your friends did not mind. They had been out with you before, and they knew this was the fanciest you could dress for a relaxed night out. But you had been very aware of the stares from other people in the room, men and women alike.

“(Y/n),” one of your friends called over the small table on which the group was seated, trying to get your attention over the loud music that played on the dancefloor, “spotted anyone you like already?”

You grinned, knowing Grace would absolutely love to set you up. The beautiful girl had braided her curly black hair to the side, wore metallic green eyeliner and a matching dress that sparkled beautifully against her dark skin. You loved how easy it seemed for her to put herself out there, and sometimes you wondered if you could do that too, if you had more self-confidence. After all, the lack thereof was probably the main reason you were hiding behind your merchandise.

Trying to answer her question, your eyes skipped through the room, trying to find the man again who had drawn your attention to himself earlier. Now he was sitting at the bar, a strand of his almost shoulder long, raven black hair brushed behind his ear. He was sipping from what looked like a glass of water, in the other hand holding a pen, and fumbling around with it.

You nodded into the direction of the guy, very well aware that someone as attractive as him could directly look at you, and still not see you.

Grace turned her head, following your eyes, and nodded approvingly.

“He’s cute,” she stated.

You nodded, embarrassedly turning your eyes away.

“Wanna go and talk to him?”

“What? No, no way,” you quickly answered, looking up at her alarmed.

“Alright, alright, chill,” she laughed.

“Hey, would you like to dance?”

A man had approached Grace from behind, the third one this night. You wondered how some girls like Grace seemed to pull people in, while you always seemed to repulse them.

“Sorry, I’m not in the mood right now,” Grace answered friendly but firm, “Later maybe.”

The guy nodded and trotted off again.

“Should we go get some more drinks,” she asked you, motioning to you empty glass, “we could go talk to Mister Mysterious over there as well.”

You groaned.

“Come on, you know how that will go. No offence, but I don’t even have the splinter of a chance with you next to me. Not to mention, that a girl who daily references Lord of the Rings, Star Trek, Doctor Who and other stuff is every guy’s dream.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, wanting to add how you talking to that guy would never happen, when suddenly a voice sounded from behind of you.

“Well, actually…”

You turned around, more reflex than anything, and stared up into brilliant hazel eyes. It was the man who you had watched while he had been sitting at the bar, but the conversation with Grace had distracted you, so you had not noticed that he had gotten up. The strand of hair which had been brushed behind his ear had fallen into his face again, and the way he was fidgeting with the pen he was still holding gave away that he was somewhat nervous, which relieved you to a certain degree. Also the fact that he wore a washed out Star Wars t-shirt managed to settle some of your nerves right away.

The conversations around the table had died down, everybody expectantly watching the scene unfold. After all, it was the first time in all the nights they had been out with you, that someone had tried to chat you up.

Honestly, you were at a loss for words. You were not sure if that was because the man in front of you was just seriously beautiful, because all of a sudden you had been approached by someone, or if it was because he had basically said that a nerdy girl like you could be someone’s dream girl. But whatever the reason, you could not find an answer, or just anything to say really; so you sat there, somewhat helplessly, blinking up at him.

The man smiled slightly, apparently not minding your speechlessness.

“Your drink is empty, may I invite you for a new one?”

Before you could even answer, another friend next to you, Carol, encouragingly nudged you, tearing you out of the haze you momentarily been in.

“Oh, yes, that would be great,” you quickly answered, standing up from your chair.

“I’m Gerard, by the way,” he introduced himself, offering you his hand.

“(Y/n),” you replied.

He nodded thoughtfully.

“It fits you,” he decided, before suddenly blushing, realizing what he had said. “Shall we… get drinks?”

He lead you over to the bar, where he found two chairs for the two of you, before he asked what you would like to drink, ordering the same for himself as well.

“So… you are well acquainted with fan culture, I see,” he said, nodding to your clothes.

“Yes, I-“ nervously you reached for the Evening Star necklace, wrapping your fingers around it, “it’s like… I don’t really know, it’s like-“

“A protection from reality?”

You nodded, smiling shyly at Gerard’s comment.

“Yeah, exactly. Just, some worlds to feel safe in, you know, where heroes will always safe the day.”

“I totally feel you,” Gerard agreed, “you should have seen my locker in high school; it was a Lord-of-the-Rings-Star-Wars-Doctor-Who shrine.”

“I’d pay to see that,” you laughed, feeling the nervousness slowly melt away. Gerard seemed to understand you, seemed to get why these fictional worlds were so important to you.

“Fascinating,” he giggled at your response, making you crook your head.

“Was that Star Trek reference intentional,” you wondered, narrowing your eyes at him, making him laugh lightheartedly.

“Take an educated guess,” he challenged, nudging your knee with his.

“You’re a nerd,” you answered, rolling your eyes at him.

“Says the one with the TARDIS shirt,” he defended, laughing.

“Says the one with the two decades old Star Wars shirt,” you kept going, poking his chest.

“Okay, that is true,” Gerard gave in, giggling.

Just in that moment the bar tender brought over your drinks, and Gerard handed you one.

“May the force be with you,” you spoke, raising your glass for him to click his glass against yours.

“And may you live long and prosper,” he winked, gently bumping the glasses together.

The rest of the evening was filled with laughter and chatter about your favorite movies, a heated discussion about the best Star Wars Movie, anecdotes about building light sabers and Stormtrooper uniforms from when you were kids, and too many references to keep up with it (anything ranging from single word exclamations, to page long monologues).

It was well past midnight when both of you decided to call it a night. Your stomach hurt from laughing so much, and Gerard’s hair was completely disheveled from how often he had ran his fingers through it.

Both of you stepped outside into the cold night, and you wrapped your jacket, tighter around your body, feeling the napkin, on which two hours earlier Gerard had written his phone number and a doddle of himself, in your pocket press against your leg.

“So… will you call me,” he asked teasingly, but you noticed how important it was to him.

“I’ll think about it,” you grinned.

“Fantastic,” he nodded, obviously already excited.

“Yeah, yeah, alright doctor,” you laughed.

“Get home safe,” Gerard mumbled, giving you a quick hug that left you slightly blushing.

“You too, see you soon.”

Your flat was not far away, so you used the short walk to calm down from the exciting night. Gerard’s face was burned into your memories, and his giggles still rang in your ears as you walked down the dark streets.

A big illuminated display at the entrance of the cinema that was just down the street from your apartment pulled your attention to it.

“Late Night Showing of the Planet of the Apes”

A crazy idea came to your mind as you pulled out your phone and checked the time; the movie would start in ten minutes, this had to be the universe pulling a prank at you.

Without hesitation you pulled out the napkin, and dialed the numbers which Gerard had scribbled down for you.

“Gerard? It’s me, (y/n). Do you know the Starlight Cinema, five minutes away from the bar?”

Gerard on the other side of the line, agreed eagerly.

“Planet of the Apes in ten?”

“I’ll be there in five, don’t go in without me!”

You giggled at his excitement, hearing how he seemed to start hurrying while hanging up. This was crazy. But maybe you needed a bit of personal crazy in your life; you could not live vicariously through screen heroes forever.

And sure enough, five minutes after you had called him, Gerard came running down the street.

“You really waited,” he cheered, throwing his arm around your shoulder, as if you had known each other since forever. “I want popcorn and we need to share a big coke, but only one straw, so we can accidentally kiss, because you better believe that I won’t let you walk away without kissing you tonight. Because someone who calls me at half two in the morning for a late night showing of Planets of the Apes can’t just walk away like that from me.”

You laughed at his rambling, blushing at his words, but being pretty sure that you would not mind such a kiss. He held the door open for you to slip into the building.

“Okay,” you agreed, “but first we need to buy the tickets, dork.”

“I know, nerd.”

#gerard way x reader #gerard way fluff #gerard way #gerard way x reader fluff #fluff #cute #fluffy #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom #sherlock #doctor who #star trek #star wars #The Lord of the Rings #fangirl #fanboy #planet of the apes

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camillemontespan · 5 years

Text

a kingdom divided [part six] [drake walker x mc]

Part Five here! I should really make a Master List for this.

This is a really long chapter, I got too into it, oops.

@jovialyouthmusic @drakesensworld @pug-bitch @moonlightgem7 @sirbeepsalot @notoriouscs @ifyouseekheart @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @iplaydrake @drakewalkerisreal @whenyourheartskipsabeat @tacohead13

**************************************************

Liam stood up and turned to his friends, his face a mixture of sadness and anger. 'I'm so sorry..' he whispered, his voice cracking. Drake's heart wrenched. Outside, the mob were still shouting and the sound of glass smashing was constant. 'I don't know what to do,' he admitted, looking at the floor. Olivia exhaled and then spoke, her voice sharp. 'Yes you do. You know exactly what to do, Liam. Submit to their request to form a committee. Let them represent themselves to you. It's what they want.'

Liam clenched his fists. 'Olivia, you don't understand -'

'I understand perfectly fine!' she burst out, striding across the room to him. Camille tensed and Drake, feeling her nerves, placed his hand on hers. 'It's you who doesn't understand, Liam! What they're asking for isn't even radical. They just want their voices heard. They want Cordonia to prosper. They want their ideas to be considered! But the more you ignore them, the more riled up they become. Just look! They're outside destroying your Palace while we are in a prison of our own making up here. Think of Camille!'

Liam looked at Camille, who reddened. 'Olivia it's fine..' she whispered. But Olivia couldn't stop. Everything she felt was bursting out of her and she couldn't stop herself from screaming at her king. 'Camille is fucking pregnant, in case you haven't noticed! Her nursery window was smashed by these people! She came here tonight to support you and look what's happened! You have got to stop putting yourself first and think of your subjects! The only way to stop them is to just give them what they want!'

Liam wrenched himself away from the wall. 'How can I even think of giving them power when this is what they do?!'

'They are violent because of you!' she shouted back.

Drake stood up, hearing enough. Camille had been shaking beside him. 'Stop it!' he roared. Everyone turned to look at him. 'This isn't helping,' he said his voice more even now. 'Liam, listen to what Olivia is telling you. They just want something small. It doesn't mean they are going to take the crown or assassinate you. They just want a voice. It's a good thing.'

Liam sighed. 'I just worry they will stab me in the back... I've seen too many people betray the throne. I can't have it done to me.'

'Then you have no faith in Cordonia,' Camille suddenly said. She rose, a determined look on her face. Her body still shook but her eyes were steely. 'Liam, I beg you. Just hear them out. It might be what the country needs. Peace could come back. But if you continue to ignore them, they will only come back with more numbers and deadlier weapons than rocks.' Her eyes penetrated his. 'Right now, I don't want to bring my daughter into this world of danger and fear. I'm terrified for her. But if you just listen to them, I promise, it will become so much better. Peaceful and happy. That is a Cordonia I want my daughter to experience. Abandon your fear and be strong. Face it.'

There was a silence. Everyone seemed to be holding their breaths as they waited for Liam to speak. Tears filled his eyes and he let out a deep breath. 'What if the court don't like it?'

Camille sighed. 'We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.'

Liam looked at her, his gaze steady until his eyes flicked down to her bump. His expression softened. 'I'll do it for her.'

Everyone breathed out. Camille ran forward to pull him into a hug and Maxwell whistled. 'Thank god!' he said, throwing his arm around Bertrand. Hana cleared her throat. 'Um, as glad as I am that Liam has seen the light, how are we getting out of the Palace? The mob's still outside.'

Drake looked out of the window and could see the mob had gotten smaller but were still present. Security were doing a good job of pushing them back. They were now nearly at the gates, which was better than being right up at the palace doors. He sighed. Liam turned on the TV to the local news channel. It seemed as though most of the mob from the palace had directed their crusade to the streets. It had escalated and now they were rioting. Liam watched with his head in his hands. ‘This is my fault,’ he muttered. ‘I’m such a fucking idiot.’

They all winced at him swearing. Liam never swore.

‘Right,’ he said, turning to his friends. ‘You’re staying here tonight. Nobody is going to travel in the streets, it’s too dangerous. Choose any room on this floor you want. Share a room if you have to. I understand if you don’t want to be alone.’

He helped himself to a glass of scotch, pouring a generous measure. Drake looked at Camille, who had gone very quiet. Clearly, she had spent her energy for her speech to Liam.

‘Do you want to stay here or shall we sleep in my old room?’ Drake asked her. ‘Pretty sure a pair of your pyjamas is still in there.’

She gave him a small smile. ‘I’d love out of this dress.’

He chuckled. ‘We’re going to my old room,’ he told the others. ‘Guys, stay safe. Keep your phones on if you need to call us or if we need to call you. Use the secret tunnels to get around if you need to but only for emergencies.’ He started to guide Camille away but was stopped by Maxwell. He had rushed over to Camille and pulled her into a hug. ‘I’ve wanted to hug you all night. It’ll be okay,’ he whispered in her ear. Camille gave him a squeeze. ‘Love you Maxwell. I’ll see you in the morning,’ she said.

************************************************************

Everyone left the room apart from Olivia, who was leaning against the wall, watching Liam. He glanced at her. ‘Are you staying to shout at me some more?’

She opened her mouth to protest but he laughed. It was genuine. ‘I’m kidding, Olivia. I needed that. You and Camille really showed me what an asshole I’ve been. Thank you.’

She shrugged. ‘About time.’

He poured her a glass of scotch and handed it to her. ‘You look like you need a stiff drink.’ She took it gratefully and drank a long sip. It burned her throat but she didn’t mind; it complimented the rage she had felt earlier.

‘You are a good King, Liam,’ she said, breaking their silence. ‘You just need to believe in yourself more.’

He shook his head. ‘I’m nothing compared to my father.’

‘Your father was loved by the nobles but hated by the public. You should strike a neat balance. You will.’

He stared at her, his eyes searching. ‘Why do you believe in me so much?’

She smiled and took another sip of her drink. ‘Because you are the best man I know. Everyone else pales in comparison.’

He blushed and downed his scotch. ‘You want to stay here tonight?’

She raised an eyebrow. He reddened, realising what his offer could be misconstrued as. ‘I meant like, if you wanted company.’

Olivia smirked but nodded. ‘Sure. I’ll protect you from the monsters under the bed.’

He went quiet and placed his glass down on the sideboard. They had had sleepovers as children; they had grown up incredibly close. Sleepovers had actually been a thing until they turned 13 and only stopped when Olivia felt self conscious about her changing body. She hadn’t wanted Liam to see her new breasts showing through her pyjama top.

Now, she was proud of her body. She went to the bed and unzipped her dress. It pooled to the floor around her ankles and she stepped out of it delicately. Liam’s eyes widened as he took her in. Her red lace bra pushed up her breasts, the breasts she had been so keen to keep hidden from him growing up.

She slid under the duvet. He cleared his throat. ‘I’ll take the sofa.’

Her heart sank. She sat up. ‘Liam, we’ve just been part of an attempted siege. I’d actually rather not sleep in bed alone, despite how I try to act like I’m brave and don’t give a shit.’

He raised his hands in defence and he pulled his shirt off, followed by his trousers. He got under the covers with her. ‘There. Happy now?’

She nodded. She had been honest; she wanted to feel somebody close to her. Despite her bravado, she had been terrified when the palace had been attacked and although her terror had quickly turned into anger and rage, she was still human. She still needed comfort and love.

They lay side by side, a wide gap between them, as if they were afraid to touch. Olivia longed to reach out to take his hand but something told her not to. That he wouldn’t be comfortable. It upset Olivia that she knew his feelings about everything in life except his feelings for her. It was the one question mark she had about him.

******************************************************

Drake had led Camille through the secret passages until they reached his old room. ‘God, this feels weird,’ Drake breathed. Camille followed him inside. It was bare except for the bed and wardrobe. As soon as he had moved in with Camille, he had wasted no time in clearing out his old room. This room had never felt like home. For him, Camille was home.

‘Can you help me unzip my dress?’ she asked. Drake nodded and went behind her to help. The dress fell down onto the floor. ‘Where’s my pyjamas?’ she asked. Drake found them hanging up in the wardrobe. He handed them to her, but not before his eyes roamed her body. He loved seeing how her body was changing. She had felt self conscious about it but honestly, Drake adored it. He had loved her body to begin with but now, it was even more special just knowing that their baby was growing inside her. The moonlight shone through the window and highlighted her features; her cheekbones, her heart shaped mouth; the curve of her baby bump. To Drake, she was like a work of art come to life. ‘You are beautiful,’ he whispered.

She cast her eyes down. ‘I don’t feel it right now.’

Drake took the pyjamas and threw them to the side of the room. ‘You are, Camille. So fucking beautiful.’

She gently took his hand and led him to the bed. They settled under the sheets. Camille unbuttoned his shirt and laid her head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. He made her feel safe. He always did. Tears sprang up in her eyes as she cast her memory to the events of this night. Hana refusing to let go of her hand. Drake trying to shield her from the crowd of courtiers who were pushing and shoving. The sound of glass breaking.

Drake could feel her body tensing and knew what she was thinking about. ‘Shhh, Camille,’ he murmured, stroking her arm. ‘Settle your mind. We’re safe. Baby girl’s safe.’

She looked into his eyes. ‘Distract me. Tell me about the future. Our baby girl. Tell me about her.’

He smiled and thought. ‘Our baby girl is going to be so happy. She will have this vitality for life that can’t be diminished. She will look just like you, because you’re beautiful, and she will be brave and kind.’

Camille snuggled into him more and listened as he kept talking. She already felt calmer just listening to his voice, his deep, warm voice that was like a blanket wrapping around her after a cold day.

‘Of course, she will have the famous Walker smirk,’ he said. Camille giggled and Drake grinned now, happy she was letting go and focusing on this moment.

‘She will be clever and run rings around us but we won’t mind because she’s ours.’

Camille let out a gasp. Drake shot up, alarmed. ‘What’s wrong?’

She let out a shaky laugh. ‘Drake, she just moved.’

Drake’s heart quickened and placed his hand on her bump. He could feel slight movement in the bump, as if the baby was fluttering like a butterfly. Not strong enough yet to kick but enough to signal that she was there.

‘Drake, I think she heard you,’ Camille murmured. Tears fell down her cheeks and Drake stroked them away. ‘Don’t cry honey.’

‘These are happy tears,’ she replied, giving him a smile. ‘I’m happy. She could hear you talking about her so she had to show she was here.’ She cupped her bump. ‘We know you’re there, baby.’

Drake chuckled and pulled Camille into him for a hug. ‘Let’s add attention seeker to the list of things Baby Girl is going to be.’

*************************************************************

Hana and Maxwell had been too high on adrenaline to get to sleep. Bertrand had taken the sofa and went out like a light, but for the other two, it was different. They sat cross legged on the bed, facing each other, sharing a tub of ice cream that they had sneaked through the secret passages to the kitchen to find. Had that been reckless to do? Yes. Did they care? Well, they were both bad influences on the other when they wanted to be so no.

‘I was so scared tonight,’ Hana told him quietly.

Maxwell nodded. ‘Same here. But you were fucking brave, Hana. You protected Camille.’

Hana blushed. ‘No. Drake did.’

‘Sure, he guided you both through the room and kept the crowd away but you held her hand and shouted at them. I’ve never seen you shout!’

Hana laughed. ‘Hey, I shout!’

Maxwell raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Hana, you’re like the sweetest thing ever. That was the only time I’ve ever seen you shout.’

She giggled and had another spoonful of ice cream. ‘What about you? What were you thinking?’

‘Honestly? I thought that was it. We were finished. I also hoped against hope that if we got Camille and Drake out, then that would be enough. I’d never live with myself if she got hurt.’

Hana frowned. ‘Maxwell... are you in love with Camille?’

He suddenly burst out laughing, causing Bertrand to groan in his sleep. Maxwell wiped away a tear and sniggered. ‘No, Hana. I love her as a friend and yeah, she is beautiful and an amazing person, but no. She’s my best friend.’

‘Hey! She’s my best friend!’ Hana cried. Maxwell winked. ‘I’ll fight you for her.’

Hana took the ice cream tub and placed it on the bedside table. She stared at him, her face set. Maxwell felt slightly scared for a moment but then laughed when she threw a pillow at him. He grabbed his pillow and threw it back, until they were engaged in a pillow war. ‘Shhhh, we’ll wake Bertrand!’ he whispered, trying to hold in his laughter. Hana rolled her eyes. She hit him again with her pillow and Maxwell decided, this was it. He needed to raise his game. ‘For Camille!’ he whispered as loudly as he could.

He struck her with his pillow, launching himself at her. She landed on her back and he was now on top of her. ‘Nooooooooo!’ she whispered. ‘I refuse to give up Camille! She’s my best friend!’

With surprising strength, she shoved him over so he landed on his back and she straddled him, holding his arms above his head. ‘Ha! Admit defeat!’ she whispered.

He was about to retaliate until he looked up into her brown eyes. He had never seen Hana from this angle before. Her dark hair fell down her shoulders, towards him, framing her face. She was really pretty. How had he never noticed this? Hana drew back but he followed, sitting up with Hana still straddling his lap. It was such an intimate position. There was a charged silence. It felt like time had stopped. Hana blushed and Maxwell took it as a signal. Before he could stop himself, he leaned forward, pulling her in by her shoulders and their lips met.

It was gentle at first. Slow, tentative. Maxwell was certain he had pushed the boundary. He was certain she would shove him away and their friendship would be ruined. He was absolutely certain of all of this until he felt her tongue against his. She wasn’t shoving him away. Maxwell couldn’t work out why this was happening. They were sober, for one thing. They had no excuse to be kissing. But god, it felt good. Their tongues swirled, the taste of chocolate ice cream mingling. His hands roamed down her back, pulling her in closer. Hana let out a groan and Maxwell felt his trousers tighten as a result.

They both pulled away at the same time, breathing heavily. They could both feel the situation in Maxwell’s trousers and they had no idea what to do about it.

‘We shouldn’t go further,’ Hana said quietly.

Maxwell looked down, embarrassed.

‘At least, we should wait until Bertrand’s not in the room with us,’ he heard her say suggestively.

Maxwell’s heart skipped and he looked up again to see her smiling at him. She didn’t regret it. ‘Sleep?’ she suggested. Maxwell nodded and they got under the covers. Their bodies slotted into place with Maxwell spooning her. She was so delicate. He felt like if he held her tightly she would break; but as Hana had proven a million times, she was stronger than she looked in every single way.

****************************************************

The next morning, the court gathered outside on the Palace steps where King Liam was due to make a speech. When Camille took in the broken windows of the palace, she clenched Drake's hand tightly. He kissed the top of her head reassuringly.

TV crews were also present, ready to produce a live feed to the world. Security was enhanced after the events of last night. Members of the public were also there. Compared to last night, they were calm.

Liam stood at the podium and cleared his throat. The couriers fell silent. Liam looked out at the crowd, his face determined. 'I am here to address the events of last night,' he started, his voice clear and strong. 'Last night, a group of discontented members of the public descended on the palace. As you can see behind me, the palace windows were smashed and my court spent the night hiding in their rooms.' He paused. Drake and Camille were holding each others hands tightly, nervous.

Liam continued. 'As terrifying as last night was, I understand their frustration. I know I have been unwilling to bend to their request for a special committee. I have been stubborn, self-righteous and too set in my ways. Cordonia needs fair representation for the country to work and move forward as one. So, I have decided to create the special committee. I will need a committee of 15 members, as is the law. Those who wish to be part of it, those who want to see Cordonia prosper, please take a form.' He indicated to his staff, who were holding membership forms. 'The forms will ask for your qualifications, your reasons for wanting to join the committee as well as your job, family etcetera. I am sorry for being selfish and not seeing the bigger picture. I hope to never disappoint you again. For Cordonia!'

The crowd cheered 'For Cordonia!' back to him. Liam gave them a dignified nod and stepped away from the podium. Camille let out a breath. 'Do you think that worked?'

Drake looked at some member of the public who were now lining up to take a form. Many were chattering away, excited expressions on their faces. ‘I think so,' he smiled.

They heard a snigger behind them. Turning, they saw it was Neville. 'Neville. We meet again,' Drake said dryly.

Neville sneered. 'He may have bended to the will of the people but don't think he's out of the woods just yet. There are many who will still call him weak and unfit to rule.'

Camille glared at him. 'When did you suddenly become an expert on politics and power, Neville?'

He laughed harshly. 'I’m a key player at court. There are some who will see this as a bad thing. Just because he is satisfying one group doesn't mean he is satisfying everyone.'

'You told us you didn't blame them for wanting a Republic,' Drake spat.

'Doesn't mean I want one. Oh no, I prefer a monarchy. It’s traditional and grand with a lineage that goes back centuries. That said, I’d love a king who has the intelligence to realise that commoners do not make good politicians, diplomats or nobles,’ his tone was pointed at Drake and Camille, ‘Who doesn’t bend to the will of a few angry commoners because they’re throwing stones.’

‘It was a fucking rock through my baby’s window,’ Camille spat, surprising Drake. Camille never lost her composure. Neville shrugged. Drake placed his hand on Camille’s, trying to calm her down. Is this what she felt like whenever she tried to calm down Drake?

‘Whatever, Duchess. Just don’t be surprised if more windows of yours are broken. The king may have appeased the public for now but there will be others who are more radical, for whom a simple committee isn’t enough. Same at court. We don’t want a committee to be made for the public. They know nothing. What makes them think they have earned the right to sit at the table? I speak sense; you’d do well to listen.’

He strutted off, leaving Drake and Camille speechless.

***********************************************

Liam sighed. He hoped his announcement had gone down well. He hoped it had been enough. ‘Liam.’ He turned around. ‘Leo?!’ His brother, his only brother who had abdicated and had been away god knows where for a year, stood under an archway, hidden from view. The abdicated former king would not want to steal his brother’s spotlight. ‘What the hell? I thought you were away travelling!’ Liam cried, throwing his arms around his brother in surprise.

Leo chuckled. ‘I’ve come to support you. Care to fill me in?’

#choices the stories you play #drake walker x mc #trr fanfic #the royal romance #fanfiction

51 notes · View notes

inuykago · 6 years

Text

the plan, part 2.

andddd @britonell here’s the second part of your @inusecretsanta gift!!

it seemed like you and everyone else enjoyed this little thing & i’m so glad! ;-; ♡

P.S. I’M SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT, NELL! i’ve been very distracted and learned i cannot write while listening to music bc then i just bump to the music & not do anything else... x.x ANYWAYS....

part 1

{modern au, winter, fluff. inukag. 2394 words}

It was awkward, to say the least.

Koga and Kagome kept on engaging in conversation, smiling and laughing. Though Inuyasha was standing right beside them, and in the middle of hundreds of people, he somehow felt alone.

You need to relax, he thought. He tried to take subtle, deep breaths as he nodded his head to the other two’s conversation.

Kagome noticed Inuyasha’s uneasiness in the situation so she moved her hand a little to the right and intertwined her fingers with his. Inuyasha, shocked, looked down and let out a little smirk, which helped calm him down.

This is stupid, he thought once more. Why am I getting so uptight about this?

He shifted his gaze between Kagome and Koga and just couldn’t fight off this weird, knotty feeling in his stomach. Should I even try this anymore?

“You’ve never been to the small shop area in Bryant Park?!” Koga moved up to her.

Kagome thought for a second, “Aaah, no!” She spoke with her left hand, keeping a hold onto Inuyasha, “I never even knew about it!”

“Kagome, you have to let me take you there,” he grinned. “Please?”

“Uhhh,” she looked over at Inuyasha. “What’d you say, babe? Wanna go?” she smiled.

“Oh, uhhh--” I really just want to take a walk by myself-- “You guys can go ahead,” he forced a smile. “I’ll wait here.”

Koga nodded his head, “Alright, cool bro.” He motioned over to Kagome, “Shall we?”

Kagome felt Inuyasha loosen his grip as Koga got closer to her. She frowned a bit, not understanding why he was acting so distant.

“Come on, babe,” she nudged. “I want you to go with us!” she smiled, rubbing his hand gently.

Inuyasha suddenly felt the tensions in his body ease up, “Okay baby.” I can’t let my emotions get to the best of me…, he thought.

“Ay, alright,” Koga quickly grinned before turning around and leading the way.

Inuyasha stayed back the entire time.

Koga led the three through the scattered crowds of people. The shops were set up in every section of the park with lights illuminating what’s on the inside.

There were identical-looking shops ranging from food, knick knacks, jewelry, clothes, stationery, and just about everything that could be aesthetically pleasing. The cold weather didn’t stop the New Yorkers and tourists from waiting on line, ice skating, or simply admiring the city.

Kagome found herself most amazed with the clothing stores because she’d never seen these types of clothes before, and if she did, it would be way out of her price range. She gravitated towards the ones that had simple cute shirts or skirts on display and while Koga always stood behind her, Inuyasha admired her from afar.

He smiled as he watched Kagome excitedly shuffle through the racks of clothing and try her best to squeeze into the little areas with space.

She would move shirts from left to right, tippy-toeing to check the size, and pout whenever she wasn’t able to find one that would fit. However, when she finally found her size, he saw her eyes widened and laughed to himself as he watched her happily mumble to herself. She ran to the mirror that was on the side where Inuyasha was standing outside, and she’d check how it looked on herself, get more excited, and twist and turn looking for someone-- is she looking for me?--but then, Koga shoved his way to her, giving her the second opinion she wanted.

Inuyasha frowned as he saw a smile emerge on Kagome’s face, because it was another man that put that smile on her. Quickly shifting his gaze to the floor, he dug his hands deeper into his jacket pockets, turned around, and walked towards an empty table.

“Shit,” he said to himself, the cold air revealing his breath. “Should I have gone with her?” He put his hands on his head, elbows on his knees. “Shit, I should’ve--” he shook his head-- “I should’ve gone with her… Man, what the hell am I even doing…”

“What are you doing?” the voice startled Inuyasha.

The ‘voice’ was wearing a dark purple trench coat over a black dress shirt and pants with a black scarf wrapped around his neck. His hair was put up into a short ponytail, and his gold hoop earrings were as bright as a ray of sunlight.

“Do I…--” Inuyasha raised a brow-- “know… you…?”

“No,” the man replied, extending his hand. “I’m Miroku.”

Inuyasha nodded his head slowly, still confused as to why this man was talking to him, “Okay, Miroku…” He shrugged his shoulders, “Can I help you?”

“Actually,” Miroku straightened himself, facing Inuyasha more forward. “I believe I should be asking that question.”

“What are you talking about?” Inuyasha replied with attitude, stealing a quick glance at Kagome.

Miroku followed his eyes, “That.”

“What?”

Miroku sighed, “You can talk to me.” He leaned back into his chair, “Tell me how you’re feeling, what’s on your mind?”

“Bro, I don’t even know you,” he laughed, stealing another glance at Kagome.

“You’re trying to get with her--” Miroku chuckled-- “aren’t you?”

“Excuse me?” Inuyasha stabbed him with his stare. “I already got her,” he smiled faintly. “That’s my girl.”

“Really?!” Miroku picked up his chair and moved himself right next to Inuyasha. “Then why are you letting her confide in another man?”

Inuyasha had to hold himself back from beating on him, “I-I’m not.”

“Hmm…,” Miroku looked at Inuyasha then into the store. “Then why are you out here?”

“LOOK MAN--” Inuyasha bursted from his seat-- “I DON’T NEED SOME STRANGER TELLING ME HOW TO HANDLE MY RELATIONSHIP WITH MY GIRL”

Despite his yelling, Miroku kept his mellow tone and remained in his seat, “That’s not what I’m doing at all.” He continued speaking calmly, “I saw you mumbling to yourself… Hands on your head, elbows on your knees… those are the clear cut signs of a man feeling some type of pain--” he paused-- “I’m just glad it wasn’t physical pain, like an open wound or something… I’m not good with blood.”

Inuyasha just looked down at Miroku, shook his head, slowly sitting back down, “You’re an odd man.”

“As are you,” he responded. “So, I’ll try again--” he faced Inuyasha, this time closer-- “What. is. Wrong?”

Inuyasha just laughed, shaking his head and legs, as he laid back into his chair nonchalantly thinking: What is good with this dude? Why is he pressing on me so hard? It’s not like he’d even understand. But then, his attitude changed as he watched Kagome hop into another store, with Koga right behind. The weird drop in his stomach made him feel more vulnerable, and he suddenly had the urge to express it.

“Ahhh,” he spoke between his sighs. “Do you think she’s into him?”

Miroku glanced over at the store where she was, “She certainly seems to enjoy the company.”

“Damn…,” Inuyasha breathed. “I messed up, huh?”

“What exactly did you ‘mess up’?”

“Like,” he furiously scratched his head. “I don’t know, man…”

Miroku smiled, “Sir--”

“Inuyasha,” he cut Miroku off.

“Inuyasha,” he nodded. “You’re overreacting.”

“Yeah…,” Inuyasha shook his head. “I knew you wouldn’t understand… it’s cool though--”

Miroku stopped him, “Let me finish.” He rubbed his hands together, “You’re overreacting because you’re making it seem like you can’t fix this, whereas, in reality, you can.” He looked over at the store again, “You said it yourself, she’s your girl, and that guy is just her--”

“Ex.”

“...Ex?” Miroku asked in shock, Inuyasha slowly nodding his head ‘yes.’ “Alright… well, that doesn’t change anything I’ve said.”

“How?!” Inuyasha got defensive.

“Because you’re her boyfriend, that guy isn’t,” he tried to calm him down. “There’s a reason why she chose to be with you, and continues to be with you for a whole--”

“Year..”

“A whole year,” Miroku smiled. “Exactly. In today’s society, it’s tough being with someone for even two or three months without something messing that relationship up. Everyone is so insecure, but don’t let that be you.” He looked at him, “You must be confident in your relationship. And if you’re confident, then you and her will forever thrive. But--”

“But…?” Inuyasha interjected.

“But, do not hide these insecure feelings you’re having. A healthy, prosperous relationship is made up of several things, and confidence and communication are two of them.”

Inuyasha’s negative energy suddenly stopped; he was amazed with how enlightened this stranger was.

“Wow…,” he genuinely smiled. “I appreciate that advice, bro… I hate to admit it--” he could feel Miroku’s stupid smile piercing into him-- “but you really helped me out.”

“And that’s all I wanted to do,” Miroku smiled back.

“Inuyasha!” the two turned their heads to the girl’s voice. “Inuyasha?”

He waved back at her repeatedly, “Kagome!” And her face seemed to lighten up.

She motioned for him to go to her, and he nodded back before shaking Miroku’s hand and saying, “Thank you. I wish you the best in life, bro. Truly.”

Miroku’s happiness vibrated off of him as Inuyasha began to walk away.

“Compromise and understanding.”

“Huh?” Inuyasha quickly took a few steps back.

Miroku laughed, “Compromise and understanding… Those are the last few things that make up a healthy, prosperous relationship.”

Despite the enlightening advice, Inuyasha just couldn’t find a way to apply it to himself. He remained rather silent on the their way back home, often letting Kagome and Koga have their own conversation while he just listened, trying to block out his negative thoughts with Miroku’s words.

Even when they reached the street where Koga lived, and he finally left, Inuyasha still remained silent, only laughing softly, smiling, or replying back with one-worded answers whenever Kagome spoke to him.

When they got home ten minutes later, Kagome knew she had to confront him.

“Can you please tell me what’s wrong now?”

Inuyasha snickered uncomfortably as he took off his coat and earmuffs, “Babe, I already told you, it’s nothing.”

“No,” she went up to him after taking off her jacket and putting down her bags. “It’s definitely something. You’ve been acting off all day!” She sighed, “It started off in the morning when we were getting ready to leave… but I just thought you were trying to mess with me, like always,--” she giggled, but in a sadder tone-- “and then it just escalated once we saw Koga, and I felt so distant from you… like you were intentionally pushing me away… or something.”

“I just…,” he fumbled over his words. “I just… I…,” he sighed. “I don’t know, okay… I don’t… know,” he walked away from her and plopped down onto the couch.

She immediately followed him and sat right beside him, “Is this about Koga?”

He dropped his head into his arms, clenching his fists as he took deep breaths. He didn’t even have to say anything.

“Why… sweetie?” she shook her head, rubbing his back. “That relationship was two years ago… that’s over with. There’s nothing between us at all.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Am I sure…?!--” she pushed herself angrily off the couch. “Do you really think I’d do something so horrible to you?! Who do you think I am?!”

Why… did I say that..., he thought, shaking his head and taking in her yelling.

“I love you! And only you! You should never even worry about such silly things like that… because I would never… I could never…,” she slowly calmed herself down. “When I was browsing in the stores, and found the clothes that I liked and fit me, I looked for you…,” she sat down again. “I was so excited and I wanted to show you it, I wanted your opinion, I wanted to be with you!... But you weren’t there… It was Koga who showed up every time and it made me wonder if I did anything wrong to you…”

“No!” Inuyasha jolted up beside her. “You did nothing to me… you’re an absolute angel to me… and I’m the mess,” he sniffled. “I… I couldn’t escape my thoughts… negative thoughts… It all weighed down on me and made me think of so many worst case scenarios, and it just… it just shut my whole body down,” he admitted. “It was so weird, it was like whenever I saw you two smiling and laughing with each other, my body just shut down. I couldn’t function… I felt numb… and I know I sound crazy and like an overreacting bit-”

“You’re not overreacting, babe,” Kagome reassured him. “I understand, okay? And I want you to know that you have nothing to worry about. You are like…,” she looked around the room. “You’re like a blessing to me… some type of gift from the gods… and I want you to know that I truly do love and adore you,” she put her hands into his. “We’ll work on this together, okay? Just like we’ve been doing for the past year.”

“Compromise…,” he squeezed her hand.

“That’s right,” she smiled. “Compromise and understanding.”

Compromise and understanding… The two words triggered his earlier conversation with Miroku and it flashed before his eyes, almost as if this moment was ‘do or die.’ He let Miroku’s words and positive energy and thought flow into him, and then--almost as if it were a reflex--he pulled out the velvety square box, which he’d been holding onto all day, out of his pocket and dropped to one knee on the floor.

“Kagome, will you--”

“YES!!!!” she exclaimed in a heartbeat.

Inuyasha wasn’t even able to put the ring on her finger because she jumped on him, embraced him so lovingly and affectionately, it literally made the two fall on the floor--

Fifteen years later

“And, that’s how it happened.”

“Wow, dad, I can’t believe you almost let mom slip away,” Ai said playfully.

“I know, honey--” he looked at Kagome in the kitchen-- “If it wasn’t for your uncle Miroku, I would’ve probably walked away.”

Ai giggled, turning to Miroku, “Uncle Miroku, can you please tell us how you met Aunt Sango?!”

“Ahh, yes,” Miroku took a sip of his tea. “Well, munchkin, if it wasn’t for your dad, I would have never had a chance with Aunt Sango.”

“Really?!” Ai looked excitedly to Inuyasha. “If all that never happened… I wouldn’t have my great family…”

#britonell #inusecretsanta #inukag fanfic #inukag #inukag fanfiction #inuyasha x kagome #miroku #koga #!!!!!!i'M SORRY I TOOK LONG IM AwFul #but i hope u enjoyed this okokok <3 #aj writes fics #iss 2018

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theragincajin · 6 years

Text

End of all things {Part 1}

A/N: Hey guys! So I’m new to Tumblr but I’ve been writing fanfiction for a little over a year now. I’ve been wanting to try my hand at my own Supernatural Series so I hope you all enjoy ☺️

Parings: None yet

Warnings: Mentions of Blood, Swearing, Mentions of Death, Some gruesome talk.

Mentioned Characters: John Winchester, Mary Winchester, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, (My Oc) Riley Gordon.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the world of Supernatural and/or the characters from the show. I only own my Original characters and ideas. Thank you!

Summary:

(Alpha, Omega, And Beta humans in an apocalyptic world among the Supernatural)

During the Apocalypse of the world my character takes you on her journey as a struggling Alpha leader to a group of 100 men, women, and pups. This story will be filled with action, adventure, death, and love. I hope you enjoy!

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Life in general doesn’t really make sense to me..never has come to think of it. I mean if you really think about it, why are we all here? Some of us are lucky enough to make a difference in this piece of shit world while we’re still breathing but most of us just stay in the shadows, looking to our feet and staying to ourselves as the world goes to hell.

The world itself doesn’t even care about us, why else would Mother Nature be trying to kill us? Some don’t belong, others just take what’s not theirs. And the rest of us? We work all of our lives just to be thrown in the mud. At least that’s what’s happened to me.

Let’s start from the beginning shall we? It’ll be easier to explain that way...

🅼🅰🆁🅲🅷 1979

A simple couple from Oklahoma that had been married for three years now were about to be parents. Two Betas with nothing to their name but what they’d worked for, living in a small pack of about thirteen others. Think about that. Even with hand-me-down clothes and very little money they were still happy. Why? Because they were about to be parents, they would give life to a tiny soul making another mere light into the world of darkness surrounding them.

Their names were Katherine and Marcus Gordon and they were my parents.

After twenty two long hours of hard labor my mother held me in her arms with tears in her eyes and a smile on her face, giving me the name Riley Amphitrite Gordon. Yes my initials were RAG and that’s about all I’d be living in until I turned twenty five.

Now skip down the road a few years to a late October night when I was about four years old and that’s when my life went to shit. Our pack was heading South for the winter down to Lebanon, Kansas were another Alpha leader was offering to take us in for the six long months ahead. We were short on supplies and if we were going to survive the winter we’d definitely need to stay somewhere stocked up with food, medicine, and whatever else they could spare. I mean this was the freaking apocalypse for crying out loud, it’s either kill or be killed.

The group was just heading to bed, the Alphas were standing guard against the uncharted darkness of the Forrest ahead of us as we all curled in our tents when, out of no where, we were sent under attack. They all came out from every dark part of the Forrest, and were quicker than a cheetah as they announced their attack on our small group. Even as a small child I can still remember the smell of blood, the blood curdling screams of children my own age and mothers being torn to shreds. I remember seeing my mother being eaten alive by those Things...they weren’t human. I stayed hidden behind the thin material of our tent as I watched in horror as they attacked my father next, knocking him to the ground and tearing into his soft flesh with their sharp, crooked teeth. I somehow remained hidden until my uncle Roger found me, picking me up, along with what belongings we had and running away along with the others that got away from those beasts.

From there the seven out of the thirteen of our pack, including myself, traveled the rest of the way to Lebanon. When arriving upon the compound the group was welcomed with open arms by none other than John Winchester and his wife Mary Winchester.

And that’s where I grew up.

Among now a pack of fifty or more, families who just brought us in no problem.

As I got older I learned and prospered along with the rest of the kids from the pack, two of which were John and Mary’s sons. Dean and Sam Winchester. Dean was a year older than me and Sam was a year younger so I was in the middle, basically feeling like the middle sibling in their little family.

The Winchester’s basically raised me, giving me a special room to myself and treating me like a princess in their beautiful bunker in the compound. I didn’t feel left out and I felt loved, it’s definitely what my parents would’ve wanted for me. Along with going to school and getting straight A’s I was taught Leadership and combat by John and essential skills for a woman by Mary. I was also taught in the art of lying and sarcasm by Dean and Sam of course. We three were inseparable.

Growing up I was more into an adventure and hunting than getting trained to be a betrothed Omega. My classification was actually surprising to my uncle, seeing as my parents were Betas and as was he. My whole family were Betas. Even though my Class was put under Omega, John Winchester marked me as an Alpha along with Sam and Dean. And trust me, as we got older, a house full of Alpha’s was the last thing he wanted to deal with.

Around my eighteenth birthday I came into my first heat, being a late bloomer was not uncommon in an Omega coming from a family of Betas. I was locked in my room of the bunker for six days to groan and cry as I pleased while the pain of the cramps and the blossoming of my puberty came into adulthood. Mary was immune to my heat seeing as she was a female and she was mated but Sam and Dean were not so John took them up through the south side of the compound for a father and son camping trip.

I had successfully pulled through my heat before the boys returned but not before I became dangerous...before I accidentally killed someone.

According to Mary I blacked out and attacked her, going straight for the neighboring house farms and killing a few sheep afterwards. An older Alpha stumbled apon me and became startled but it was too late..I attacked him with brute force, killing him instantly under the assumption that he was a threat.

I don’t remember any of this.

When John and the boys returned they came home to the whole pack surrounding the bunker in attempts in getting me out into the street to kill me for my actions. I of course was locked away safely by Mary, who thank god, only had a few bumps and bruises. The people thought that I was what they call a Mange.

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*A Mange is a creature who was once a human. Could be Alpha, could be Omega. Either way it starts through heat or rut, there’s an infection that shoots through your system and makes you deathly ill. You start gaining side affects of the common cold then you black out and become a full on wolf as you sleep, some attack others while many try and control it like a bad dream. And if not treated by an antidote, which only the national guard obtains, You die, come back wolfed out fully and become this blood thirsty beast that kills everything in its path permanently.*

Mange ⬆️

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If that wasn’t enough to shock John, the fact that I attacked Mary did. The whole situation was all too much to handle but it had to be handled. If John didn’t do something about this the whole pack would turn on him...I knew what I had to do. I didn’t want to of course but they were my family and I had failed them.

It was time for me to go.

As I had made my decision to leave Dean had snuck into my room to check on me, he was always closer to me than Sam was when it came to our friendship. I considered Dean my best friend where as I considered Sammy my little brother.

He walked into my room, knocking lightly on the door as I packed up what little belongings I had into a duffel bag and tried to keep my tears at bay. He knew me too well to even ask if I was okay, it was indefinite that I wasn’t, he just simply walked over to me and gently stopped me from packing to hug me close. He rubbed my back as I cried into his shoulder before explaining that I had to leave. He didn’t like that idea one bit but I told him it was best if I go.

He wasn’t too happy with me but he’s a big boy, he’ll get over it.

I finished packing and went to tell John that I was leaving, I thanked him and Mary for raising me as their own before we sadly said our goodbyes and I made my way out the back entrance to the bunker where I wouldn’t be noticed. Dean followed me of course to tell me one final goodbye and to give me something to remember him by, the amulet Sam had given him for his eighteenth birthday. I refused to take it but he insisted that I do, saying that it was the only thing he had to give me that actually meant something to the both of us.

He told me he loved me and to try and not die out there. I told him to stop with the sappy shit and to watch out for himself and Sam. Then I left.

I sadly walked to the front of the compound and looked at the only place that I’ve ever known. Home. A few tears ran down my cheeks as I slowly opened the door to the compound and stepped out onto the rundown gravel hill which was surrounded by Forrest.

Leaving the compound wasn’t easy but I did it. I wasn’t alone though, Bobby Singer joined me along my journey of leaving to start fresh and basically along the way he became my right hand man. We made a good team, taking refuge in run down towns and killing as many evil sons a bitches that came along our path as any. I never forgot the Winchester’s, not one day. But I also never forgot what I was...

a monster.

🆂🅴🅿🆃🅴🅼🅱🅴🆁 2017

That brings me to the present. I am now 38 years old and still unmated.

But, I am also the first female Alpha/Omega to be running the biggest conventional compound pack there is. Next to the Brits of course.

My pack was founded upon Bobby and I five years ago. We stumbled upon a Ill pack of seven people who were huddled together in the remains of a supermarket, waiting for death to toll its way upon them. We took them in and took care of them from what supplies we had in Bobby’s Nova, giving them a second chance. They told us that their pack had a compound of its own before it became overrun by Manges.

That gave me an idea.

I had had it up to here with those bastards and I wasn’t about to just let this one go, I had to do something.

In the middle of the night I snuck over to the old compound, looking over it cautiously I discovered that this place was bigger than any compound I’ve ever been in. And the group was right, it was completely overrun by Manges.

I had enough, I was done. I couldn’t take living in fear over these beasts anymore. And just like that, something snapped. I blacked out and when I came to it was Morning and Bobby, along with the pack we found, were walking into the now cleared compound in shock.

I stood there before them, covered in blood and guts and surrounded by hundreds of Manges. All dead. I had wiped the entire compound clean, leaving us a place to call our own.

A home.

To this day I don’t even remember how it happened, I don’t even remember sneaking into the compound that night. All I know is, I finally cleared my title as a monster and became a hero.

Five years later and the compound is now booming with a whopping one hundred souls. Women, pups, and Men all living protected under my protection. The Seven we found became my council, we make decisions and we decide what’s best for our pack. My pack.

Castiel, Kelly, Bobby, Charlie, Chuck, Benny, Ellen, Rufus, and I make up the board but to be fare everyone answers to me. And that’s how my life became meaningful.

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Present Day~

I awoke to my alarm beeping in my ear, making me jump and pound the snooze button down hard into the stupid box.

God, I hate Monday’s.

It’s honestly the worst day in history, especially since it ends my weekend full of no responsibilities and sleeping in. I groaned as I turned over on my back and stared up at the ceiling, sighing to myself as the sun hadn’t even come up into the sky yet. I rubbed my tired eyes and yawned loudly as I sat up in bed and took in the surroundings of my cabin, trying to wake myself up enough to get up and start the day. Grabbing my robe, I slip it on and shuffle into my kitchen to grab a cup of hot coffee to wake up every part of me for my long and tiring day.

And just like that, my schedule begins.

•Wake up at 4am

•get a cup of coffee in my system

•Shower, change, and grab breakfast and more coffee

•Make my morning walkthrough down to the tabernacle for morning orientation

•report to Chuck and grab notes of what’s new and what needs to be brought to attention to the pack, then start orientation after everyone has arrived

•dismiss then go into my office for a meeting with the board

•after meeting go to mess hall to eat lunch

•after lunch retreat down to the campgrounds to check up with my Head of command, Benny about how the troops are coming along

•then start my walkthroughs, checking over the security systems, the fences, etc.

•go back to my office to discuss supplies and what not with Chuck

•lead, along side Benny and the troops, a supply run and trade with the Brits

•come back and eat dinner

•return to the tabernacle to have nightly orientation

•retire back to my cabin around midnight to sleep

•Repeat.

And that’s how my week goes. After five years of this shit I’ve grown quite grumpy, can you blame me? I mean it’s bad enough I’m not getting laid but having to take the place of a job that’s meant for an alpha male? It makes me a little rough around the edges. Especially since I deal with my heat by myself with no help from an alpha.

The week had gone on and now it was Wednesday morning, 5:30am. I was just grabbing the notes from Chuck as people started to flood into the tabernacle for morning orientation. I yawned as I waited behind the podium for every seat to be filled, letting people have their time to get going and hopefully all show up. After receiving the go ahead from Benny that everyone had arrived I started our meeting.

“Good morning all.” I said, my voice gruff and filled with tiredness. “To start off this morning I do want to welcome the newest member of the pack with a warm howl so if you all will, please welcome along with me Jack Elliot Novak to the proud parents Castiel and Kelly Novak.” The whole room erupted into howling as we all clapped and I smiled at the newly proud parents. Castiel nodded and smiled to me as Kelly did the same then everyone sat down. “Now, back to the meeting. I do want to bring to your attention that it is the beginning of fall and that means mating Season is in bloom. Now, I do know we have a few Alphas and Omegas coming into mating and I do want to remind our young ones to meet with Charlie after the meeting to arrange a cabin down at the Peak for the yearly mating Season. I’ve had too many complaints about moaning and groaning coming from the neighborhood guys so please keep that shit down at the cabins.” I smiled a bit as the room erupted in soft laughter coming from the elders of the pack. “Another situation I need to bring to your attention. My Chief in command found two young Alphas poking around in the south side of the forest. I must remind you to stay off that part of the compound and if I catch anyone else up there without authorization I will terminate you. That place is strictly forbidden for your safety and I advise you all take note of that.”

I soon finished up with orientation and was wrapping up so I could go to the Council meeting when Chuck unexpectedly came running up to me, clip board in hand. “Chief! Chief! We have a situation down at Eastgate. We need you down there right now!” He said panickedly. I nodded and bolted straight down to Eastgate, the main gate to the compound. Benny and the troops were already down there as I pushed my way through the crowd to see what in the hell was going on. I walked up in Benny with my game face on. “Report.” I demanded. “The troops were out scavenging for supplies as usual and found two unsuspecting victims held up in an attic down in the main part of town. After clearing the area the two asked to see you.” Benny informed me, his Cajun accent seeming calming to me in this time of chaos. I nodded and walked over to the two victims who had been tied up with bags over their heads. My combat boots crunched the gravel underneath as I paced back and forth in front of the two. I breathed in and immediately was hit with an overpowering scent.

Alphas.

I reach out and grabbed the bags from the tops of their heads, yanking them off swiftly to revel my childhood friends.

My eyes grew wide as I stared at the only two boys that had ever treated me like family, my home.

“S-Sammy? Dean?”

To be continued...

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#dean winchester #dean x reader #alpha x omega #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction

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the-record-columns · 5 years

Text

May 29, 2019: Columns

Amazing talent, missing tables...

By KEN WELBORN

Record Publisher

With our 14th Annual ChickenFest behind us I do want to take just a moment to mention two especially talented young people who were kind enough to play for us this past weekend.

First is 13-year-old Libby Harbour, a fiddle player who just gets better and better. At our opening ceremonies, after the VFW Post 1142 Honor Guard had placed the flag at half mast and played Taps, Libby stepped up and played the National Anthem on her fiddle. It still gives me goose bumps to think about it today. Later she played on the Tut Taylor Spotlight Stage to the delight of everyone.

Another of the many wonderful people who played was a young lady of 16 named Cali Johnson. I first heard Cali play guitar and sing during a couple of the Open Mic events at the 1915 Artisan Center in Wilkesboro. One evening she began with a CCR tune, played a couple of originals she had written, and ended by singing the Coat of Many Colors song by Dolly Parton - and nailed them all. She also performed at ChickenFest on the Spotlight stage and had folks mesmerized.

Speaking of ChickenFest, it is always something of a ritual to put our hands on all of our tables and chairs-what with them being periodically loaned out. This year it was easy, but it still reminded me about the "table" story for the ages.

It involved my dear friend Max Joines

Not too long after we built The Record Park, Max, and his wonderful wife Jane, were planning some kind of soiree for one of their sons who had graduated from college. Max called me to see about renting my tables for the event-note I said rent-he doesn't know how to accept a favor-yet he will do anything for anyone-anytime.

He finally agreed to borrow them and picked them up on the appointed day-12 of them which he securely strapped to a trailer and was on his way.

The event was a great success, and I can personally attest to the food being amazing. The next week Max called to set up a time to return the tables and I went to the park to meet him.

I waited. And waited. Then I got worried-Max is always early, not late. I was about to call Jane to check on him when he finally drove up-looking like his last friend had deserted him. It seems as though while loading up the tables, he only had 11, not 12. He drove the route he had taken with the tables hoping to find the one that had somehow blown off. He made that trip about three times before deciding to give up and come on.

Nothing would do but he wanted to buy me another table. I tried to assure him it wasn't that big of a deal, but he kept insisting. After a bit we unloaded the tables with Max apologizing all the way.

Then I saw it. The 12th table. It had never left the building because it was so covered up in junk that we both missed it. I thought about trying to get Max out of the building without telling him, but soon thought better of it. The simple fact that he never had 12 tables to begin with took a bit to sink in, but relief took over aggravation and he was soon smiling as only Max Joines can.

We decided to end the day by agreeing that "...sometimes you simply cannot see the forest for the trees."

Words to live by, eh Max?

Truth is on Israel's side

By EARL COX

Special to The Record

Israelis are very good at many things but public relations is not one of them. It seems they are always defending themselves rather than pointing out their positives and this is largely due to the way mainstream media reports any and all news about Israel.

One of the major charges of the anti-Israel media is that Israelis are hate-filled, evil people who live in a perpetual state of animosity and fear. Of course, if these critics were to visit Israel, they would see that the people of this special little nation go about their daily tasks with great freedom, purpose and enthusiasm. Public places are bustling with active and smiling people, none of whom seem intimidated or fearful. Ben Yehuda Street in downtown Jerusalem is alive with people from around the world visiting the many shops and restaurants, enjoying the music of street musicians and engaging in activities which underline Israel’s freedom and sense of safety and security.

The young nation of Israel enjoys great freedom of speech and movement which cannot be found in any Arab or Muslim nation in the Middle East. In Israel there is also less crime — whether robberies, rapes or killings — than in any other country of the world.

The international media consistently attempt to paint Israel as undemocratic, discriminatory and racist — even going so far as to accuse Israel of being an apartheid state. Of course, everyone in the country knows that they have a well functioning democratic government, quite different from all the surrounding, authoritarian Arab and Muslim governments of the Middle East. Every Israeli adult, including women, has the right to vote; and what many do not know is that there are more than a million Arabs who are Israeli citizens with the same rights and privileges as all other Israeli citizens — including representation in the Knesset.

Furthermore, most Israel bashers do not realize that more than a million Arabs live in the Jewish cities of Jaffa, Haifa, Nazareth and others without fear of being harmed or discriminated against. And they don’t realize that in the Galilee, dozens of Arab villages are mingled among Jewish villages, with the Arabs free to come and go and do as they please. Half of the Old City of Jerusalem is inhabited by Arabs, and all Arabs have free access to the Muslim shrines on the Temple Mount however the same is not true for Jews and Christians. The Temple Mount is controlled by the Jordan-based Waqf which is an Islamic trust that governs the Temple Mount compound. Jews and Christians are forbidden even to pray on the Temple Mount.

Now, like any other nation on earth, Israel is not perfect; but its critics will have to look long and hard to find discrimination or apartheid. Yet they report such untruths without blinking. Another charge on the list of the anti-Semitic media is that Israelis are hateful and violent people who react with disproportionate force to any small Arab or Muslim provocation. If these critics would honestly compare the actions of the Arabs to the reactions of the Israelis, they would see a great difference.

Palestinian Arab terrorist groups have regularly attacked innocent Israeli civilians ever since Israel was restored as a nation. They have fired explosive rockets into civilian villages, and they have sent suicide bombers on to Israeli buses and into Israeli gathering places. Their leaders have urged people in their mosques and children in their schools to hate and kill Jews.

In response, Israelis have refused to descend to the same level of depravity as their enemies. Only when their patience has been exhausted have they reluctantly retaliated in self defense; and even then, they have been extremely careful to avoid harming innocent civilians — especially women and children.

Through it all, the Jewish people have proved beyond any doubt that God has miraculously brought them back to their ancient homeland, He has justifiably restored their nation, and He has divinely preserved and prospered it. Israel has fulfilled the Torah promise that it would be a good land, “a land flowing with milk and honey.”

The God-given innovation of the Jewish people, along with their indomitable spirit and high ethical values, has made modern Israel a great wonder of the world … in spite of what the anti-Semitic international media think or say.

Stop. Just stop…

By HEATHER DEAN

Record Reporter

"Happy Memorial Day!"

Does anyone besides me want to rip down the signs with that phrase off of business windows, and give a good tongue lashing to anyone who says it?

Discussing plans to sit by the water and barbecue, because "you're so stressed out from of life in general and need a break" isn't showing respect for the Fallen. Let’s discuss their “day at the beach” on June 6, 1944, compared to your lovely long weekend, shall we?

Yes you have a first amendment right, but please don’t be thoughtless- no one says “HAPPY anniversary on the day your momma died” so why would you make the appellation to Memorial Day?

Let me put this into perspective:Just last year hundreds of us in several counties lined the highways, standing in silent respect for local State Trooper Samuel Bullard, who gave his life to fulfill his oath "protect and serve."

The summer before that, thousands of us lined the highways from Wilkes County Airport all the way to Ashe County for Dillon Baldridge, who gave his life trying to protect his friends and comrades, and the freedom we hold so dear.

Putting up American flag window clings, lining your yard/business with tiny flags (that are made in CHINA) that have gotten rained on and knocked over and are lying in the grass, is NOT showing respect for those that gave all. Not to mention against flag code, but that’s another column.

What this is, is a long weekend to reflect on those who are no longer with us. Our Veteran parents and grandparents who fought perhaps; and especially Chris Thompson, Larry Bauguess, Sam Bullard and Dillon Baldridge.I am never happy about the loss of life, but I am eternally grateful, and hold a space at my table on such days to the fallen, and the families left to grieve their absence.

The local VFW Post is holding a traditional ceremony, on actual Memorial Day, May 30, (this Thursday) starting at 10 a.m. I encourage you all to be there, to give thanks to the men and women who gave everything for you.

A Dipper Full for Everyone

By CARL WHITE

Life in the Carolinas

I’ve been spending more time in the garden lately.

It all started at Kindred Gallery at Rosemary House Bed and Breakfast in Pittsboro. It was during an interview with noted folk artist Cher Shaffer.

We were coming to the close of our second on camera visit when I asked her what she would recommend as a good thing for all of us to do in order to have greater peace and happiness in our lives. That’s easy she replied, “Play in the dirt and do it often. It will help you connect with the earth and life.”

I listened as she explained on her thoughts. It seemed reasonable but it would be on my drive home that my mind would give it a good thinking over.I had already done a bit of planting in the garden. However, I had not thought of it as playing in the dirt.

At the same time, I could tell that Cher was serious with her words. So, I committed to the idea. I knew it would be a challenge because it had been many years since I had done anything resembling playing in the dirt. So much so that I honestly could not remember ever playing in the dirt.

While it has been a busy time for the show, I decided that working time in for dirt play was now on my must do list, even though I had no idea how it was going to work out. We had already planted some tomato and cucumber plants; however, I knew we needed more plants.

I decided to visit some new greenhouses in hopes of inspiration for new plants and to question plant people on how they play in the dirt. I soon found out that I was not alone in how I thought about gardening. To some it’s a lot of work and not playful at all. That however was not the case with most of the people I spoke with. As it turns out the smell and feel of dirt brings happiness to many people.

With this idea in mind I purchased a wide variety of tomato, pepper, okra, and other plants. I like dill so I decide that an herb garden might also be a good idea. I may have gone a bit overboard.

As I drove home I though about all those plants and the task ahead and the more I thought about it the less playful I become.

Unloading the car, I realized that I had almost 150 new plants. The first day I planted and watered one flat, the next day I did the same and within a week I had them all planted.

It was on the third day of this process that as I was bending over planting pepper that I become a bit dizzy, so I took a knee in the dirt. For the first time during this process I was feeling the dirt. The smell was sweet, and the dirt was becoming playful.

At that very moment I was flooded with memories of childhood times in the garden with my grandmother. It was as if I was there again walking with her as she was giving each plant a dipper full of water.

I could hear her say, “A dipper full for everyone.” I could see my Dad picking green beans in the summer. I was flooded with warm comforting memories of family now gone but still in the garden. Every morning I get up early and go play in the dirt. I water the plants; everyone gets a hello and full dipper of water.

They are all doing well, and I have learned how to play in the dirt.

And I can tell you one thing for sure, it’s a good thing.

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