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writingfeatherduster · 3 years

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A Warm Feeling

Chapter Two: Exhaustion

Summary: Sans is tired to the point of feeling ill. Once again, Grillby helps.

Warnings for this chapter: Nightmares, sleep deprivation, anxiety, almost 4000 words I had to loosely edit to fit a satisfying Tumblr format that surely got a little jumbled in the copy-paste process

Chapter One

Read this on Archive of Our Own or Wattpad!

“SANS! TIME TO GET UP, LAZYBONES! I’M MAKING BREAKFAST SPAGHETTI AND IF IT’S COLD BY THE TIME YOU GET DOWN HERE I’M NOT REHEATING IT FOR YOU!”

Sans’s eyes snapped open at the sound of Papyrus’s voice. He groaned, rolling over onto his side. It was the day after Grillby had walked him home, and he had just started to fall asleep. Leftover anxiety from his nightmare had kept him up all night, his mind tormenting him with ‘what ifs’ and memories of unpleasant past runs. Nightmares and anxiety weren’t uncommon for Sans, but it had been awhile since it was that bad. He wanted to just close his eyes and ignore his brother, but then again, warm breakfast spaghetti was much better than cold spaghetti.

Sans sat up and stretched in a vain attempt to relieve the aching in his bones, grabbing his hoodie and throwing it on before he made his way downstairs. “Alright, alright,” he mumbled, “I’m up. Geez Paps, no need to get so rattled up.”

Papyrus groaned from the kitchen. “That was a stretch even for you!”

“Hey, I just woke up. It’s the best I got.” Sans chuckled and made his way into the kitchen, grabbing a couple of plates.

If Papyrus had pupils, his expression said that he’d be rolling his eyes. He focussed back on stirring his spaghetti sauce, letting his exasperation go for a moment. “So,” he said, “After work, I’m going to Undyne’s house to train, but I won’t be coming home. Dr. Alphys is letting Undyne borrow something called ‘anime’. Apparently it’s some kind of documentary about humans? Undyne wants me to spend the night to watch it with her and to teach me about human fighting! It may not be MTT TV, but it sounds educational!”

Something in Sans’s soul shivered at the idea of Papyrus being out of his sight the entire day. He really didn’t want to be alone in the house, and having his brother nearby helped him feel a bit more secure when his anxiety was running high. He wanted to ask Papyrus to stay home, but… how could he? Papyrus sounded really excited, and Sans felt stupid for being so clingy. “Sounds great, Paps,” Sans managed to mumble, grabbing forks and putting them on the table. Did they go on the right or the left of the plate? Eh, he couldn’t remember. He’d just put them at the top of the plate instead. Good enough.

Papyrus seemed to sense Sans's hesitation, voice taking on a tone of worry. "If… if that's not 'great', brother, I can ask Undyne if we could reschedule. I know you haven't been sleeping well, and that you get lonely when I'm not here…"

"Nah, Paps, it's fine," Sans attempted to reassure him. When Papyrus continued to look unconvinced, the shorter skeleton pulled on the best nonchalant smile he could manage. When Papyrus still looked unconvinced, he chuckled nervously. "Something in your expression tells me you're not going to take 'I'm fine' for an answer." He let the smile fade with a sigh, posture sagging. God, trying to appear fine as usual for even a minute had been exhausting. "Fine," he admitted, "I'm not doing great, but it's not a big deal, Paps. Definitely not a big enough deal for you to start cancelling plans."

"AHA!" Papyrus cried, brandishing a wooden spoon at Sans. "So you ADMIT that there is, in fact, a deal!"

"Sure," Sans chuckled, "I got plenty of deals. I'm selling wood carvings at three G a piece." Papyrus would've arched an eyebrow if he'd had one.

"Sans, you don't make wood carvings."

"That's why they're so cheap."

The taller skeleton groaned, nearly forgetting to take his sauce off the stove. "It doesn't work like- ugh, nevermind! I can see you don't want to talk about it. However," he continued, straightening up a bit to make a 'grand declaration', "If you need me for any reason, you need only call upon me, and I will return home!"

Sans smiled at his brother, his nerves briefly put at ease by Papyrus's antics. Yeah, Paps would only be a call away, right? Besides, Sans could handle a little nightmare or two on his own. He'd been fine. Everything would be fine.

Still, as the skeletons chatted over breakfast, Sans couldn't help the feeling of uneasy anticipation that followed him up. He could make it through one anxious evening on his own… right?

Sans wandered up to his post in the forest, grabbing a bottle of ketchup he’d left behind before going back around to the front and sitting down. He let his head fall back against the wood with a soft thunk. His bones ached in protest as he settled into the snow, causing him to groan. Usually he would just take a shortcut to his post from Snowdin, but he’d learned his lesson about a dozen resets ago. Shortcuts while tired? Never ended well. So, he’d had to walk all the way out to his post in the woods. He was pretty sure the walk had spent the last of the energy he had left. He would usually go all the way to the door in the woods, but even the thought of that little extra distance made him want to throw up. Or cry. Maybe both. It was just one of those days.

He took a swig from the ketchup bottle and kept his eyes on the snow-covered road, ignoring how the light reflecting off of it gave him a headache. He resolved to just keep an eye out for Frisk from his new favorite seat. It had been four days, so they could come out of the Ruins at any moment. Seriously, what was taking them so long? Sans almost wanted to just blast through the door and go find out himself. Eh, maybe on the next run. Wouldn’t that be a shock for Frisk? To see Sans in the Ruins? If he took a shortcut, maybe he could even get to them before Toriel.

Sans closed his eye sockets as he let his thoughts wander, sighing. He was actually starting to feel really comfortable. The snow was cold, yeah, but it took him way longer to get uncomfortably cold than other monsters, because of the whole ‘no skin’ thing. It must have snowed early that morning, because the top layer of powder was light and fluffy, supporting Sans’s back a bit more as he sank into it.

A tap on Sans’s shoulder caught his attention and he slowly opened his eyes. When he did, his whole body tensed.

Frisk.

The human child’s hands were covered in dust, and they were smirking as they tapped Sans awake with the tip of their toy knife. They raised it, and the skeleton didn’t even have a chance to react before-

Sans jolted awake with a shout, eye flaring blue as he gripped his chest, trying to steady his breathing as he oriented himself. He must have dozed off at some point without realizing. Shit. What if Frisk really had snuck up on him? What if Frisk snuck past him? He quickly straightened up and looked down the road. Thankfully, the snow leading down towards the door to the Ruins was untouched, bearing no human footprints, or any footprints at all. The fact that Sans wasn’t buried in snow proved that there hadn’t been any recent snowfall to cover up footprints, either. Frisk was still in the Ruins. For now, everyone in Snowdin was okay.

It occurred to Sans just how cold he’d gotten, a shiver running through him. Jeez, how long was he sitting in the snow? He really needed to start wearing a watch or something. His internal clock wasn’t super reliable when he was so tired his hands were shaking. Ignoring the protests of his joints, the skeleton got to his feet. He had to lean against his sentry post for a moment as a wave of dizziness came over him. Now that Sans had gotten a brief moment of rest, his body seemed determined to make him go back to sleep. At all costs. That couldn’t be good.

Sans turned and looked back the way he came. It was going to be a long walk home, and the longer he stayed up, the worse he felt. He could sleep at his station like he used to, sure, but after laying in the snow for who knows how long the cold was starting to get to him. He could wait until Papyrus came to check on him and ask his brother for help, but then Papyrus was sure to go home with him and fret. Frisk could show up at any moment… but what could Sans even do in this state? He probably couldn’t even stick to his usual routine, swaying tiredly on his feet as he contemplated his next move. Looking back down the road at the glistening snow, Sans made his choice. He was going home. Now. He’d get some rest before going to his Waterfall post. Then Papyrus wouldn’t suspect a thing, and Sans could recover a bit before Paps went to Undyne’s. After all, there was no way Sans was going to sleep with Papyrus gone.

Cutting through the woods to avoid most of the other sentry posts and puzzles, Sans made his way back towards Snowdin, stumbling a bit as he did. After a close call where he nearly lost his balance on the narrow wood bridge leading towards town, he was starting to think that he was developing a crush on his mattress. He did his best to look at least semi-alert as he walked through town, waving to others who acknowledged him as they went about their day.

As he passed Grillby’s, Sans slowed to a stop, looking up at the sign and briefly thinking about the night before. Come to think of it, he’d gotten a good few hours of sleep while he was sitting at Grillby’s bar. It wasn’t enough, considering those few hours probably accounted for most of the sleep Sans had gotten in the past four days, but he couldn’t imagine how much worse he would be feeling right then without it. Not only that, but Grillby had let Sans stay late, allowing the skeleton to have that much-needed rest without being disturbed. Grillby probably didn’t know how much that meant to him. Sans made a mental note to thank the bartender again later, not sure if he had given him a proper ‘thank you’ yet.

The door opening pulled Sans from his thoughts. Speak- or think- of the devil. Grillby had stepped outside, walking over to Sans with a slight frown. “Sans? Are you alright? You’ve been standing outside for a good ten minutes.”

Really? That long? Sans had been sure he only paused for a moment. “Yeah, I’m alright,” the skeleton mumbled, “Just lost in thought I guess.”

“Well,” Grillby said with a lingering hint of worry, “Why don’t you go ahead and come inside? I was about to break for lunch, myself, and I wouldn’t mind a bit of company.”

It took Sans a moment to catch up with what the bartender said, but when he did, he chuckled. “This isn’t a trick to make me rack up a larger tab, is it?”

Grillby couldn’t help the way the corners of his mouth twitched upward slightly at the comment. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll take care of that yourself later. This one is on the house.”

Grillby led the way into the bar. It was pretty slow, the only patrons being the usuals that hung around taking up seats pretty much from open to close. Sans moved to go sit at his usual barstool, but was pleasantly surprised when Grillby put a hand on his shoulder and guided him past the bar and into the kitchen. The kitchen was surprisingly small and very clean. “Nice setup you got here, Grilbz,” Sans commented lightly. “I honestly kinda expected a fancier lineup, with how busy you get some nights. Color me impressed.”

If Sans didn’t know any better, he’d say Grillby was blushing. The bartender adjusted his glasses a bit, clearing his throat. “W-well, I light to keep a tight ship, and it’s just me back here. Anyway, there’s a couple of chairs and a small table in the back right corner, over there. I’ll cook us up some lunch, you make yourself comfortable,” Grillby said invitingly.

Sans didn’t have to be told twice. He made himself comfortable in a folding chair as he watched Grillby cook, sighing as his sore legs got some relief. The kitchen was comfortably warm, and Sans found himself in danger of falling asleep again, fighting to keep his eyes open.

Grillby glanced up at the skeleton, then looked back down at the stove, where he was toasting the bun for Sans’s burger. He carefully broke the silence, softly asking, “Did you get any sleep last night? You look exhausted.”

Sans shrugged, finding himself being surprisingly candid with Grillby. “A little. Don’t worry about it, I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Grillby finished putting together the burger and grabbed a bottle of ketchup, walking over to Sans and putting both in front of him. “Perhaps you should stay here while I call your brother…”

“No!” Sans sat up straighter, then took a deep breath to calm himself down. “No, it’s okay. I don’t want to worry him. He’s got plans tonight, and you know how he is. He’ll cancel to fret over me the second he thinks something is wrong.” He looked down at the plate and mumbled a, “Thanks, by the way,” before picking up the burger and biting into it. The warmth from the food seemed to spread through him, making him relax back into his chair again. Was it bad that all it took was a burger to put him at ease for a moment? He swallowed and sighed contently, then noticed that Grillby was watching him. “Really, Grillbz, I’m fine. I can take care of myself.”

Grillby debated with himself for a moment, then decided to let it go. “Alright, if you say so.” The timer on the fryer went off and he got up, taking out the fries and tossing them in salt before dumping them into a basket. To Sans’s surprise, Grillby got another basket out and lined it with paper, preparing a small salad for himself.

“Uh, Grillby?” Sans prompted with amusement, “Doesn’t a basket of fries cancel out like, all the health benefits of eating a salad?”

Grillby rolled his eyes. “For your information, I just happen to like salads. I prefer to have a light lunch, anyway.” He went over to the table and sat across from Sans. “Health has nothing to do with it. Besides, you’re one to talk. How many of my burgers do you eat a week? Excuse me, I meant a day?”

Sans set the already half-eaten burger down, putting his hands up in defense. “Okay, okay! Don’t go turning into Papyrus on me. My bro already gives me an earful about my eating habits, and I don’t even have ears.”

Grillby chuckled, starting to pick at his fries. “Well, just tell me that it’s because you like my cooking, and I’ll let it slide.”

Sans lowered his hands with a smirk. “Okay. It’s because I like your cooking. You make a mean burger, Grillbz, and I mean it.”

Okay, that time Grillby definitely blushed. “I-i- oh, um, thank you,” the bartender stammered, caught off guard. He didn’t think Sans would actually say it!

The skeleton laughed, wiping his hands on his shorts as he leaned back in his chair. He hadn’t felt this relaxed all day. It was… nice. “Thanks for this, Grillby. Sure beats eating lunch alone at home.” He picked up the ketchup bottle and took a long drink, setting the bottle down when he was done and leaning back in his chair. He was warm, he was fed… and he felt safe. Tucked in the corner of the quiet kitchen, Sans felt completely hidden from the world. He let his eyes drift closed, taking a deep breath…

And barely a moment later, he had finally fallen asleep.

Later that day, Sans stirred slightly, barely aware as someone draped something soft over him and lifted him out of the chair he’d fallen asleep in. He wanted to protest being carried, but instead he found himself curling into the chest of whoever was holding him, mumbling something incoherent that vaguely resembled the word ‘warm’. Whoever it was chuckled, a deep vibration in their chest that comforted the skeleton somehow. Sans sighed as he resigned himself to his new position, settling into the person’s arms…

The next thing he could remember was cold. He shivered slightly and the person carrying him paused to adjust the soft material Sans was wrapped in to cover him better. The snow crunched under their feet as they walked, and Sans could have sworn, for just a moment, that they were humming.

A sudden shift in angle caused Sans to squint his eyes open, confused. He was… in his bedroom, laying on his mattress. The only light in the room was the warm glow coming from the figure that was tucking a blanket over him. “Grillbz…?”

Grillby smiled down gently at Sans. “It’s alright,” he reassured, “Just go back to sleep.”

That was all the encouragement Sans needed.

When Sans woke up, light was filtering in through his window. A glance at his phone- when had he plugged that in?- informed him that it was a little past nine in the morning. By his standards, he was up early. By Papyrus’s standards, he’d slept in. He was definitely late for work.

Sans sat up and stretched, back and shoulders popping as everything shifted back into place. Something fell off his shoulders and he glanced down. That… wasn’t his blanket. Blinking in confusion, Sans picked up the warm black jacket he’d been wrapped in, confused. Come to think of it, how did he even get home? He had to admit, most of the day before had been a blur. He’d been exhausted out of his mind, after all. The last thing he could remember was eating lunch with Grillby.

Now that he was paying full attention to his situation, Sans realized that he felt surprisingly well rested. He hadn’t been disturbed by nightmares or resurfacing memories all night. When was the last time that had happened? His morning was just getting stranger and stranger, though not exactly in a bad way. Of course, now that he was sitting up, his bladder made its complaints known and he was forced to get out of bed. He could solve the jacket mystery later. For now, he supposed he should get his day started.

One trip to the bathroom and a shower later, and Sans was feeling more alert than he had in… he didn’t even know how long. The skeleton threw on some gym shorts and a t-shirt, heading back towards his room. That’s when Sans finally noticed him.

Glancing down into the living room, Sans did a double take. Grillby was laying on his side on the couch, glasses askew. There was a book sitting open on the floor, indicating that the bartender had fallen asleep reading. Grillby had not only taken Sans home, but had stayed with him, trying to stay awake in case his friend had another nightmare.

As Sans realized what had happened, he felt himself grow warm with embarrassment. He hadn’t meant to worry his friend, much less make him feel the need to stay the night! Despite that, Sans was actually kind of touched. No, he was definitely touched. Slipping back into his room, he grabbed the blue blanket off his mattress, quietly taking it downstairs and draping it over the sleeping fire monster. He made his way into the kitchen, thinking. He wasn’t a great cook, but hey, he could get some coffee started and at least try to operate the toaster.

Sans was just pulling the fifth and sixth pieces of burnt toast (seriously, how could anyone make a toaster this complicated) when he heard a yawn coming from the living room, followed by sleepy grumbling. He poured a cup of (thankfully not burned) coffee and headed that way, smiling a bit when he saw Grillby sitting up on the couch. “Hey. The librarians are going to get onto you if you keep leaving books laying on the floor. The pages get bent that way.”

Grillby sighed and rolled his eyes. “Good morning to you too,” he mumbled gruffly. “Did you sleep well?”

Okay, Sans should not have shivered when Grillby said that, but he certainly didn’t expect Grillby’s voice to be gravelly in that way when he woke up. It made the skeleton think of a campfire, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. “U-um, pretty good,” Sans managed. He held the cup of coffee out, which Grillby accepted gratefully.

The two sat in silence for a moment, neither of them sure what to say. Finally, Grillby spoke up. “Are you feeling any better? You looked like you felt awful yesterday.”

Sans chuckled. “Honestly? I didn’t even know how bad I felt until I woke up feeling better this morning. Thanks for bringing me home. Again.” He glanced at the floor, rubbing the back of his neck. “Did you stay up late with me?” he asked shyly. “You really didn’t have to. But, um, I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome,” Grillby said simply. “I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. I know that you can’t sleep without Papyrus home when you’re feeling anxious. Besides… I… well, I wanted to stay. I was worried.” He blushed and sipped on his coffee, not meeting Sans’s eyes.

“Worried?” Sans looked up at Grillby. This guy was just full of surprises lately, huh? “Aww, Grillbz,” Sans chuckled, unable to help teasing. “That was really sweet of you. I guess you can say you had a burning desire to help me?”

Grillby groaned. “Not before I’ve finished my coffee, Sans.”

You could have read this a day early! Stay updated on the latest chapters by viewing on Archive of Our Own or Wattpad. Also, if you've gotten this far, consider reblogging or just leaving a comment so other people can see this (and so I can stay motivated to keep writing). Thank you, and I hope you've enjoyed the story so far!

#undertale #sans #papyrus #grillby #sansby #sans x grillby #undertale fic #fanfic #my writing #dustywrites #how do you tag stuff #undertale a warm feeling #dusty fic

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madbucker · 4 years

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Silhouettes | Daryl Dixon.

Daryl Dixon x female reader.

Loosely based on the song We Will Become Silhouettes by The Postal Service.

Summary: After Rick’s death Daryl pushed himself away, but he still had someone who would check on him. Y/N cared for him and wanted to make sure he was okay. This works as the presentation of their dynamic, it’s very simple. I will dig deeper, I promise. The chapters won’t be in chronological order, but I will make sure to list it that way too in the masterlist. First part of who knows how many.

Warnings: language, gore stuff (twd style), mentions of death. Will add more warnings depending on the chapter’s content. Let me know if you think it needs some other warning!

Word count: 2.6k

Author’s note: First things first, I’m not a native English speaker, so bear with me! You can send me a message or an ask pointing out some mistakes so I can edit the post. Also, it will help me learn the language, so don’t hesitate! Now that I got that out of the way, this will start as a one shot, but I probably will add more parts to it, digging deeper into the character’s relationship with Daryl and the entire group. I don’t want to do a rewrite because I’m not patient enough and I’d want to jump straight into season 8 or something, lol. If you have any questions or want me to write about a situation in particular (like how they met, runs, the prison, or whatever you come up with) just send me an ask and if I feel like it fits with the story, then I’ll write it! Anyway, if you are into simple writing and limited vocabulary, then I hope you like it and as I said before, I’ll gladly take constructive criticism! ♥

Half a dozen years (or so you thought) of human beings not messing with nature were enough for it to come to life again. The woods had never been greener, the sky had never been more beautiful. The dead were fewer since it was harder for them to walk through such thick undergrowth without them getting stuck in a bush; it was safer to wander around and you could not be happier.

Sometimes, when you looked at the sky at sunset, or even at its darkest time, you would stop thinking about those you had lost. You would never forget them, that was out of the question, but you could enjoy things a little more. Perhaps you were getting used to the guts, the smell, the constant danger… perhaps you had realized your life was not going to change, and that the apocalypse was definitely not a dream, you might as well start seeing the beauty in all that mess.

You sat uncomfortably on the log while looking at the sky. It was full of stars, the Milky Way shining brighter than ever, and sometimes, if you concentrated and were lucky enough, you’d see a shooting star, never missing the opportunity to make a wish.

The fire next to you was dying out and as soon as the first shiver made you jump slightly, you tried to keep it alive. If he came back to the camp he would bring something to cook, you thought. And if he didn’t kick you out or tried to convince you to leave, he would appreciate that you spared him the trouble of starting a fire from scratch.

Right?

You weren’t sure. Hell, you weren’t convinced at all. When Rick died, you witnessed how he closed in once again. It had never been so bad. Not since Beth, anyway. And even then, he had never left the group for that long. He was out there looking for something. So was Michonne, you had seen her walking out of Alexandria’s gates so many times you stopped counting. And you’d follow her without disturbing her, not making a single noise nor making small talk. Sometimes you wondered if she even knew you were there.

She did, of course, you knew. At least most of the times. But, once again, you were there just in case and stayed as far away as you could.

The truth is, though, you were looking for the same thing as her. Rick’s death had broken you too. Not that it could be compared to Michonne’s suffering, or even Daryl’s, but Rick Grimes had been your best friend, your mentor, the one who taught you how to live in this world. He was the one who kept you alive until you could fend for yourself. You loved, owed, and missed him like crazy. So you never stopped looking.

Rick Grimes had died almost a year ago. And Daryl was still outside the walls. He had stepped foot in Alexandria a few times but left right after checking in on everyone. And when it was your turn to trade, or when you just wanted to visit The Hilltop, they informed you he was also going there from time to time. But he left each and every one of them.

Still, you tried to keep him company sometimes. Most of the times he refused, told you to go back and stay safe. And you didn’t fight him, not even once. You weren’t trying to push his buttons, you just wanted him to know you cared.

He did. You knew he knew. But you also knew him, and a little reassurance would never hurt.

As your mind wandered, your eyes started to feel heavy. It had been a long day, you had worked your ass off fixing some broken sinks and making sure all the cars were, at least, not about to explode. Your body ached and the thought of you doing the same thing the next day without getting proper sleep was not so attractive. And sleeping there alone was definitely not a good idea. You had to go back, even if he didn’t show up.

You forced yourself to get up, ignoring the pain on your legs, and started rummaging through your backpack, looking for the sheet of paper and the pen you had brought with you. It wasn’t the first time you had to leave without seeing him, you had to be prepared. You wanted to let him know you came.

“Water bottles in the bag. Be safe.”

A couple of weeks went by. Your work in Alexandria had kept you busy and exhausted, and Michonne forcing you to take care of Negan while Gabriel was out on a run had also mentally drained you. You couldn’t be in the same room as him without getting overwhelmed by the memories.

Not good ones. Not at all. But somehow, you managed to get in and out every day without having the urge to kill him, which was an accomplishment.

Once Gabriel and the others were back, you grabbed your stuff and headed out, expecting to be luckier this time. It was still early in the morning, so you were sure you’d be near his camp in the afternoon. Earlier than last time, maybe he hadn’t even left yet.

Without running into any inconveniences, and as you pictured, you sat on the same log as the last time around three hours before sunset. Days were getting shorter and colder, which made you wonder if Daryl would choose to stay in Alexandria the next winter.

You placed your backpack in front of you and took out the water bottles and the two unlabeled cans of food. You had come prepared to stay the night waiting, it had been almost a month since you last saw him and you just had to make sure he was alive.

Of course he is, you thought, Daryl can’t not be alive. Last man standing, right?

The sun hadn’t set yet when you heard steps behind you. You expected to see Daryl yet you grabbed your knife just in case, but there he was.

He had three squirrels attached to his belt and looked as tired as he could be. His expression remained blank while looking at you. You got up and stood in your place as he walked around the camp leaving his stuff and preparing to skin the squirrels.

“Took you long enough,” you said, grinning. He was okay, he was back there and despite his appearance, him being there with you was more than enough.

He sat on the log you had been previously sitting on, with his back facing you, and started working on his next meal.

“Could say the same to you,” he said calmly. He wasn’t complaining, you knew. “Working a lot?” He stopped what he was doing and turned around lightly, almost expecting to hear bad news. Maybe someone had died or run into some crazy asshole, perhaps a herd was getting close to Alexandria. He had gotten used to bad news, you all had.

Walking around him, you sat cross-legged on the floor next to the log he was on, facing him.

“Sinks, and cars, and weirdly normal stuff. Kids are okay. Nothing happened, just too much to work on while some others were away.” You stretched your arms behind you and locked your eyes on the movements of his hands. You had never learned how to properly skin an animal, even if you tried your hardest. At least you compensated it with your surprisingly great aim.

You both stayed there for a while, just him skinning and you moving around and finally trying to start the fire, and for a little bit, you let yourself forget that you’d leave in the morning and not see him again for weeks.

It wasn’t like old times where small talk was still a common thing between you two, but you were more than grateful that he was there, and that you were able to take care of him the way he took care of you so many times in the past. He had been there for you after your sister’s death right after the quarry. In his own way, of course, Daryl Dixon was not one for hugs and slowly caressing arms, but he was there. He had asked you to go with him while searching for Sophia and let you talk your sadness out, and made sure you had somewhere to crash at night when sharing your tent was just too much to handle. You had become friends. Great ones, too, because you understood each other in a way you had never understood anyone before. You knew when to stay, and when to leave; when to speak up, and when to stay quiet and just… be there.

You respected him, also. You were loyal to him and believed in his motives as the good man you knew he was. He was to you what Beth had been to him: the person who showed you that there were good people left in the world. It wasn’t a surprise for you, either, when you caught yourself watching him in a different light. Catching feelings for him came almost too easy for you as if you were meant to care for him. It wasn’t unexpected, you knew, you had always known. But it scared you.

It was terrifying to even think about the chance of losing him, or him losing you if something happened between you. You loved him, and you were certain he was aware of it, at least to some extent. He knew you cared for him, the romantic side of it was what you tried to hide as much as you could. You were loyal to your friendship and to the bond you shared. Both of you were safer that way.

You had seen Rick losing Lori, Maggie losing Glenn, and then Michonne losing Rick. You didn’t want to be the next one to experience that kind of loss. Getting close enough to imagine a future together and then them dying in your arms was the last thing you wished.

When the squirrels were fully cooked, the sun was out and the night sky was starting to get cloudy. The temperature had heavily dropped and you could almost smell the upcoming rain. In no time you would be soaking wet and wishing you were back at Alexandria with a roof over your head, but it was too late to go back, and you would have to spend at least another hour trying to convince Daryl to go with you.

And on top of that, you knew you wouldn’t manage to.

“Kinda missing umbrellas now,” you said scanning the sky. He imitated you and scoffed, biting into the last pieces of his meal.

“‘s not gonna be bad,” he scrubbed his hands on his jeans and stared at you, “you stayin’?”

You knew you were going to stay, you would find a way to do it, but his question still took you by surprise. It was the first time he suggested it himself instead of you deciding to stay on your own.

Looking at him and lightly tilting your head to the left, you smiled.

“Am I your friend again then?” You joked and he rolled his eyes.

“Shut up,” he said mockingly as he got up to put out the fire. You got up too and stretched your legs, considering keeping watch first so he could get some sleep. He looked exhausted, you figured he needed to rest, and you being there could maybe help him relax since he wouldn’t have to pay attention to every little sound.

“I’ll keep watch,” you took the gun from your backpack and checked your knife, just in case. Looking around the perimeter you also confirmed the wires and metal cans Daryl had put up were all in place, you would hear the walkers before they could get near you. “Go ahead, get some sleep. I’ll wake ya up in a few hours.” You approached his tent and sat near the entrance, making yourself comfortable with your back pressed against a tree.

Once he finished putting out the fire, he walked towards you and sat down next to you.

Shoulder to shoulder, keeping watch. It instantly reminded you of the never ending nights at the guard tower back at the prison. You remembered how you would nonchalantly talk about your life before the dead walked, how he would listen and comment on it without talking about his own.

You remembered, too, when he opened up to you for the first time.

It had taken him a couple of years of knowing you, but he finally did. And you listened carefully, as quiet as you could be and giving him all the time in the world to speak. It had been on a night like this one, keeping watch like this time too. He had told you everything: Merle, his dad, his scars, his mom. You used to be so close it ached to realize that that was now in the past. He still trusted you, but it wasn’t the same, and sometimes you wondered if it was ever going to be that way again.

Suddenly, as the first thin raindrops touched your skin, you felt a knot on your throat that you drowned with a chuckle. How long had it been since you felt like crying? Months. Probably more. You didn’t have to turn to look at Daryl to know he was staring at you.

“Dixon I swear to God,” you spoke, trying to find something to say that wouldn’t give you away, “if you catch a cold…” jokingly threatening him, you then looked at him. The drizzle making small raindrops land on his hair. You noticed how long it had gotten, making a mental note to bring some scissors next time.

He snorted, “what?”

“I’m draggin’ your ass back to Alexandria,” you stated, smiling widely.

Your smile didn’t last long, though. His face expressionless the moment you mentioned the place. You knew why. You felt like that sometimes too, but it didn’t matter who was there, it was still your home.

“‘m not goin’ back there. Not for a while.” He fidgeted with his fingers and then with an arrow. “I tried, but every time I go, knowin’ he’s there-”

“I would’ve killed him already if I didn’t have so much self-control.” You cut him off; he was right, it had taken him all of his strength to visit Judith and baby R.J. without going to the cell and finish what he swore he would finish. “Then I’ll drag your ass back to the Hilltop or the Kingdom.”

“I was thinkin’ of spending the winter there. At the Kingdom.”

Smiling, you reached for his arm and squeezed lightly, him not flinching at your touch the way he did when you first met all those years ago. That was still a thing, at least, his comfort with your touch.

“I’d love that.”

Not much was said after. He had given up and gone to sleep while you kept watch for the rest of the night. You had given up too when you realized he wasn’t waking up; you decided you would take the day off, Alexandria could do without you for a day while you recovered with a long, much-needed nap. Hearing his snores made you realize: that man hadn’t gotten proper sleep in weeks. It didn’t matter to you when the rain got heavier, though it was never unbearable. You were glad that you were there and that you could help him some way. The only way you could.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #twd fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon oneshot

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danyka-fendyr · 5 years

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Remind Me: Part 1

Okay so @dreamwritesimagines wanted this and I can generally be counted on to give her whatever her heart desires so here I am posting this a day early without editing. What can I say? It’s 2 AM and I have school in the morning I can edit later. Most of my energy is going into As the Raven Flies right now, so do not expect regular updates on this story because I am the worst. Anyway, the concept for this is basically what if instead of Billy getting his face slashed up and his memory wiped, something happened to Skittles and she got her memory wiped? So in this story Billy didn’t do anything to Frank’s family and none of the scars or memory erasure occurred. It is of course based off of Dream’s lovely Once a Year fic. I hope it uhh...doesn’t suck.

Your head hurt. It hurt a lot, actually. Damn, why did it hurt this bad?

As you came to, you realized that couldn’t be right. In fact, the more you thought about it, something seemed very, very wrong. Now...if only you could put your finger on what it was. Wait….that was it! You couldn’t put your finger on what it was because you couldn’t put your finger on anything!

Oh no.

You opened your eyes, squinting against the blinding white of the hospital lights. Hospital. You were in a hospital. Okay, you could still remember that much. Now if only you could remember your name.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, your eyes adjusted, and the man sitting by your bedside jumped. As in, actually jumped, then fell out of his chair, then scrambled back to his feet before hugging you very, very gently.

“Skittles,” he breathed. “I thought I lost you.”

“Dude…” You start speaking slowly, mouth dry. “I’m not a candy?”

He laughed, pulling back from the hug. “Of course you’re not.”

You stared. “I think you might have me confused with someone else.”

“Pretty sure I don’t. Something wrong, Skittles?” His eyebrows furrowed in concern.

You had to admit it to yourself. You had no idea who this stranger was, but he was a handsome stranger indeed. Tall, with dark hair and concerned brown eyes, the concern in them deepening the longer you stared at him like you had no clue who he was.

“I don’t know you.”

That was the wrong thing to say.

The handsome man’s face crumpled, and he looked terrified. “Skittles, stop playing with me. It’s not funny.”

“It’s not very funny for me either. I don’t know you. I don’t even know what my own name is. I sure hope it isn’t Skittles though.”

The man called a doctor, watching her with wide eyes. Thus ensued a long series of tests that you definitely did not want to take. There were MRI’s and CAT scans and all sorts of other unpleasant things, none of which you signed up for. Whoever this guy was, he must have had money, judging by the sway he had over the doctors. Did that mean you had money? That would be nice, you had to admit.

The doctors asked you all sorts of questions, like what the last thing you remembered was. Truthfully, there wasn’t much of a last thing to remember. It was something fuzzy around 8. Last time you checked, you were just an orphan with a penchant for Skittles. You did remember something about those. They were your favorite, you were pretty sure.

Eventually, it was just you and the man again.

“I guess I should introduce myself, huh?” He sounded heartbroken. You kind of felt bad for the guy. “I’m Billy. Billy Russo. We were best friends.”

“Oh. Darn it.”

“What?” He looked even more scared than before.

“I was hoping we were a little more than friends. You’re sort of hot, you know?” What? You had nothing to lose at this point, right?

He started laughing. A deep belly laugh, full and happy. It was the happiest you had seen him since meeting.

“Oh, you always were a wild one Skittles.”

“So how long have you known me for then?”

“Since you were about 5? It’s been a while.”

“Oh, so you friendzoned me.”

He laughed again, which was exactly what you had been going for. You smiled at the sound. Something about it felt right.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“So you’re the authority on me, huh? It looks like I’ll have to be doing some studying.” You frowned slightly, and his beautiful face mirrored yours.

“Don’t worry. We’ll get you back to being the authority on you in no time at all.”

You tried to smile at him, but it came up looking like more of a grimace.

“So...what was I like?”

He sat down on the edge of the hospital bed, palms face down on the blanket. “Amazing. You’re funny and fierce and stupid and my best friend.”

You couldn’t help smiling at the look on his face. He seemed to light up just talking about you, and it took your breath away.

“Was I really that great?” You asked, breathless.

“Better, Skittles. Better.”

You blushed softly. Thankfully, a doctor came in to save you. They said something about head trauma and your memories before asking you a few questions. Long story short, something smacked your noggin’ real good and knocked a few memories clean out of there. Most of it was lost on you until they informed both you and Billy that you would be staying in the hospital overnight for observation.

You shivered as they left. “I hate hospitals.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll stay with you. I mean...if you would want that.” He looked lost.

You thought for a moment. You didn’t really know this man but...for some reason you trusted him. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.”

“So…” You both sat there awkwardly in silence. “What’s the last thing you remember? Oh, shoot, I’m sorry. You already told the doc you don’t remember anything.”

“Well...there is one thing I kind of remember but I’m not sure it’s important.”

“What is it?” Billy was watching you intently now, and you wanted to squirm under his gaze.

“Umm...something about mermaids. Just something about mermaids, and then I think something hit me.”

“Wait, mermaids?” That seemed to have gotten his attention. Did this dude have a thing for mermaids or something?

Suddenly, he was all in your face, sitting up ramrod straight. You had the sense that for some reason, your nonsensical last thought meant something to him. Now if only you could remember what.

“Does that mean something to you?” You asked, confused and admittedly a little afraid.

He started to calm down, seeing your fear. “Yeah. Yeah we uh, we had a code. If you were ever in trouble-like, serious, afraid for your life trouble-you were supposed to call me and say, mermaid. That was the codeword. Mermaid.”

“Mermaid?” That was weird.

“Yeah. It goes back to something that happened when we were kids.”

You nodded slowly. You supposed it made sense that your codeword wouldn’t make sense. Not without the proper context and memories, which you were lacking on.

“So wait...if that was the last thing I was thinking about, wouldn’t that mean…”

“What happened to you wasn’t an accident like the doctors have been saying it is.”

Billy didn’t look surprised. Just angry. Frighteningly angry, and suddenly, you felt like you had a chillingly good look at who the man really was. The look in his eyes made it clear he would go to the ends of the Earth to rip whoever hurt you into a million different parts, to pull their limbs off piece by piece and break their soul apart between his bloodied hands after. But somehow...you weren’t afraid. Something in you said that this was Billy, your Billy, and he would never do that to you. He would protect you. Always.

Instinctually, you reached out to hold his shaking hand. He looked down at it, as if just now realizing his rage had moved him, physically.

“I’m going to find out who did this to you, Skittles. I’m going to find them, and I am going to make them pay.”

“I know, Billy,” You said. “I know.”

#dreamwritesimagine #once a year #once a year fic #billy russo #billy #russo #billyxreader #reader insert #billy russo imagine #billy russo fic #billy russo fanfic #billy russo fanfiction

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ionchef · 6 years

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King of Anything - An Escaflowne Fanfiction

A/N: The other day, I re-discovered Sarah Bareilles' King of Anything and it prompted this one-shot to form in my head. Now, granted, that song is more about a guy with correctile dysfunction aka mansplaining syndrome but it's not about that. It's specifically one line in the song that inspired this story. Well, just go with it.

If you're on Insta and are curious how I imagined Merle, go you to 'angelganev' and look for a pretty recent drawing of a super adorable pink-haired girl with two buns.

This is meant to be light-hearted entertainment. Don't take it too seriously.

[Edit 09/16/18: Couldn't have been more wrong about this being a one-shot. I have decided to pick up this story again and am in the process of creating an outline. Stay tuned!]

I'm just playing in Shoji Kawamori's sandbox again, making zero coin off this story.

King of Anything

Act 1, Chapter 1:

In which Van opens a door and Hitomi drops something.

It was dumb. Dumb and boring. Dumb because the physicians were still, after a whole damn week, refusing to allow him to leave his bed, and boring because of, well, being stuck in said bed without any sort of entertainment whatsoever. It was a just cause for slow but gradual declivity into insanity. He had been told numerous times that he still needed rest and even though hotly contested by himself, there was absolutely no debate about it.

Van Slanzar de Fanel, heir to the throne of Fanelia and soon-to-be-crowned king was, until further notice, strictly ordered to rest. To say that he was miffed about it would have been an understatement. If he had to swallow so much as another drop of the bitter, medicated tea they brought twice a day, he would most definitely hurl. If he had to taste it even one more time, he couldn't be held responsible for what he was going to do.

Oh how gladly he'd instead fight that bloody dragon again. All the dragons in Fanelia, no scratch that- all of Gaea, actually- just to get his hands on a freshly brewed, delicious cup of hot, steaming coffee. The lack of caffeine was another, very undesirable, side effect of the bedrest they still had him on. Not even his younger sister, Merle, could be convinced to smuggle a cup out of the kitchens for him, and she would pretty darn well do nearly anything for him under normal circumstances.

At present, said younger sister was still in her usual post on the floor next to his bed, holding onto his hand and napping with her head resting on the mattress, legs curled up by her side. Pink hair, which she liked to carry in two small buns on top of her head had become disheveled from moving around and was beginning to spill onto the crisp, white sheets near their arms.

Of course, Van had told her already days ago that spending every waking hour with him was not necessary. As it was, however, they were the only two remaining members of the royal family so her protectiveness towards him was not entirely unfounded and it wasn't like he wouldn't act in a very similar way if the roles were reversed.

Funny, Van thought now as he stared at the fresco on the ceiling above his large four-poster. Funny how Fanelia's capital was protected by tall, metal walls topped with electric fences to keep out the land dragons native to the kingdom but when it came to traditions, they had no qualms whatsoever about sticking the last male heir of their royal family into an ancient, primitive armor and pushing him out the gates, armed with nothing but a sword and a shield. Not to forget, that was after his brother had already failed at the rite of dragon-slaying years ago.

When Merle finally woke from her early afternoon nap by his side, she stretched and fixed her hair before popping some gum into her mouth. She loved gum and even though the governesses who were supposed to educate her in proper behavior and etiquette befitting a princess kept taking it from her at every possible chance, she always somehow had a piece in her mouth again mere minutes later. It was pretty likely that she had a secret cache somewhere in her room. Clever. Van could really learn something from her in those regards.

"Van, I think it's time for your tea again soon." She announced while getting to her feet, smoothing the wrinkles out of her favorite yellow sundress in the process. "I'll go grab a snack from the kitchens and bring you a cup myself."

Van's eyes widened at her words but he said, "sure. Thanks, Merle," while one of his eyes involuntarily gave a nervous twitch. There was no use in arguing about it. His health was her top priority and it had made her unsympathetic to any and all of his complaints about the foul-tasting brew.

Over my dead body! Was what Van actually thought after the ornate door clicked shut behind his sister. In the blink of an eye, he was out of his bed and across the room, stripping off his black, silk pajama shirt with a few quick movements on the way. He winced a bit when his right arm protested. Ah yes, the injury. The very reason for his much abhorred, mandated bedrest and sole justification for why they were still keeping him quasi-locked up in his own, royal chambers.

Van had managed to slay the dragon but not before the beast, in return, had wounded him with the sharp, bony protrusion at the end of its tail. In hindsight, he had been lucky to get away with only a deep gash on his sword arm considering the beast could have roasted him to a crisp in a matter of seconds. Sure, it hurt but he seriously doubted that a flesh wound warranted anything more than three days of bed rest. They had stitched it together pretty well, after all.

What he really, really needed right now was a good cup of coffee to satisfy the craving and lift his spirits after lulling about and vegetating in the same spot for days. Enough was enough. He needed to get out of here. Only for an hour or two at least, before he'd lose his mind completely.

Luckily, there was a pair of ordinary denim pants way in the back of his closet, behind the suits with the royal crest and the scratchy embroidery around the tight collars he usually wore when going about his duties. No, going out by himself and enjoying some much-needed freedom would only be possible incognito. Luckily, the pants still fit and comfortably so, although he couldn't remember when he even had the chance to last wear them.

Probably sometime before Balgus insisted on upping the sword training to make sure Van wouldn't suffer the same fate as the oldest Fanel offspring. The combat training had eaten up a good chunk of his free time. It was fine, though. Really. He never complained about it. If anything had happened to him during the rite of dragon slaying, all the uncomfortable responsibilities would have fallen upon Merle. Not a royal by birth, his adopted sister would have had to marry some foreign aristocrat to be able to even stake a claim to the throne and Van just couldn't leave her to such a fate. He didn't consider himself particularly fit to rule even now but at least he had received some formal instruction alongside Folken since their father had passed years ago.

Van hastily picked a button down shirt from the endless pile of fresh laundry and yanked the sleeve up his sword arm where the thick bandage was, rolling up the cuffs to just under his elbows after hastily closing the small buttons, only haphazardly tucking it into his pants after. Wait, what was he doing? He didn't have to do this. This was incognito prince Van. He tugged the, now slightly wrinkled shirt, back out of his pants and let the hem hang comfortably loose.

Unfortunately, the royal wardrobe almost exclusively offered a wide array of polished dress shoes. A pair of soft, brown loafers meant for traveling in the summer was the least fancy thing he could find. Perfect, and who needed socks anyway.

When looking into the large full-length mirror, Van noticed that his hair was in a state of complete disarray from the restless tossing and turning he had been doing in bed all day. How convenient. It looked a far cry from the usual, slicked back style which had become his signature look over the past years. A faint smile formed on Van's lips when combing his hand through the mess to drag some of it across his forehead and cover more of the dark skin and trademark garnet eyes he could easily be recognized by.

Drat. This was indeed a dead giveaway. Looking around… Ah-ha! The royal wardrober's least favorite pair of sunglasses just so happened to be Van's favorite. He usually sported them during sword lessons in the relentlessly hot Fanelian afternoon sun and that was pretty much the only reason they had not yet mysteriously disappeared from his wardrobe. The lenses were mirrored, framed by a thin, metallic wire and would completely hide his eyes from anyone. Dressed like, perhaps, a preppy-looking university student, he would be able to roam the streets freely. Just so long as he got out of here before Merle was back, of course.

This was, without a doubt, the worst day in Hitomi Kanzaki's life. Not only had she been soaked from head to toe by a surprise rain shower this morning, torn a lace on her favorite pair of sneakers, and walked in on her two roommates making out with each other in their apartment living room. No, she had also just dumped a whole, fresh carafe of coffee onto the floor behind the counter of the little coffee shop she worked in. It was a good thing there weren't any customers in here at the moment. This was still a slow time of day what with it being a bit after lunch but too early for people to stop in for a pick-me-up on the way home from work.

Perhaps, if she had known that it was about to get even worse, she wouldn't even have left her bed this morning.

Of course, right then, while she was still kneeling on the floor to take care of the mess, the bell on the door chimed behind her to indicate that somebody had entered. Hitomi plastered a fake smile on her face. "Hey! Welcome! I'm sorry I had a small mishap. Will be right with you." She announced while scrambling to her feet from her kneeling position on the floor and gingerly dropping a handful of glass shards into a nearby trashcan.

The tall guy who was passing through the doorway at first appeared to be unusually nervous for a customer. He was checking first left, then right over his shoulder to perhaps see if he was being followed. Then, seemingly more relaxed, he casually sauntered up to the counter where Hitomi was still standing in a puddle of lukewarm coffee, the soles of her sneakers squeaking as she shifted her weight.

"Afternoon. I'll have a cup of coffee. A very large cup of coffee. Black." The man said upon arriving at the counter. Hitomi eyed the dark-skinned stranger more closely before replying.

His clothing was a bit disheveled, the slightly too elegant dress shirt wrinkled at the hem, and his face accessorized with a pair of mirrored shades which completely hid his eyes. He didn't seem to be planning on taking them off like anybody else would have by now.

An ebony mess of hair covered his head and fell across his forehead in charming disarray. He could be handsome, but it was hard to tell without seeing his eyes.

"Sorry, I just dropped the carafe a few minutes ago and need to clean up this mess before I can get a new one from the storage room in the back." Hitomi apologized, visibly a bit annoyed at her own clumsiness. "If you don't mind waiting a little, I'd be happy to make fresh coffee."

The guy scratched the back of his head while turning his head again to look through the large glass windows on either side of the door through which he had just entered while saying, "sure no problem."

Hitomi nodded and crouched down on the floor again to pick up some more of the many glass shards that littered the immediate area. Before she could proceed, however, the guy had come halfway around the counter. What in the world was he doing?

Van saw an unmistakable hue of scarlet pass by the storefront. A royal guard. Damn, they were fast. Surely, his sister had alerted them immediately after she had returned to his room and found him missing. With nowhere else to hide, he quickly stepped around the counter to where the young woman was kneeling to shield himself from view. "Let me help you with that," Van mumbled and moved to reach for a piece of glass near him.

"Wait what are you doing? Don't cut yourself!" Hitomi exclaimed in alarm. It most definitely wouldn't do to have a customer get injured while picking up broken glass.

Hitomi's hand shot out and grabbed the dark-haired guy's arm. Her fingers wrapped around it firmly, pulling him away from the glass and catching him slightly off guard with her reaction. His head moved up and the lenses of his glasses reflected Hitomi's own face back at her. "I don't want you to hurt yourself." She said a bit annoyed but meaning well.

She was pretty. No make-up, short hair, and with a few freckles across her nose from being out in the sun.

"Fine then. Do it all yourself…and let go because that hurts!" The stranger replied, clearly irritated, and winced a bit while readjusting himself and attempting to get back up.

Hitomi's eyes widened when she released his arm. "By the gods…did…did I do that?" She uttered in horror upon seeing that where her hand had been only a moment ago, a scarlet splotch was beginning to bloom on the white fabric of his shirt.

"How in the…was there glass?" She stuttered before scrambling to her feet too, the mess completely forgotten while she checked her hand back and front to see if a stray shard had caught itself on there without her noticing.

"Oh dear. I'm so very sorry. I don't know how that happened! Please let me take care of that." She said with a horrified expression on her face, motioning towards the guy's arm which he was cradling a bit protectively by the elbow. "Your coffee is obviously going to be on the house," she said for a lack of anything else.

Van couldn't help but be a bit amused despite the accident. The young woman, probably around his age, had not the slightest idea who he was even though the news about his injury had spread like a wildfire. When she took his hand, he noticed that it was much smaller than his and soft, not calloused from holding a sword nearly every day over the last five years or so.

He was used to being treated with respect and a sort of standoffish care by the staff, never ever being dragged around. Certainly not ever being dragged around the counter of a tiny coffee shop and maneuvered into a worn, wooden chair next to a square table by the wall.

"Wait here. I'll get some first aid supplies," the woman said while she hurried towards the back, skidding a bit through the spilled coffee near the back counter on the way. She was athletic looking, dressed in tight khaki shorts and a green polo shirt under the short, brown apron that was wrapped around her waist.

When she came back, she was holding a white plastic box with a red cross on the lid. "Don't worry, I know what I'm doing. I'm in nursing school. I just work here to make a bit of money on the side." She said while depositing the container on the table.

"Really, I'm so sorry I don't even know how that happened." Hitomi stammered again, looking at her hand as if to check again whether she had perhaps spontaneously sprouted a pair of sharp talons without her own knowledge.

Van didn't have the nerve to reply. What was he supposed to say without giving himself away? He was currently also busy staring at her face again. As flustered as the young woman with the short, honey blonde hair was, she was becoming prettier by the minute. Maybe it wasn't just her looks but also her naturally endearing demeanor. He didn't really protest either when she investigated the sleeve of his no longer completely white dress shirt.

No cuts or holes were to be seen, of course. A bit bewildered, Hitomi scrutinized him, her face so close to his that Van was afraid she would see right through the lenses of his mirrored shades. "I can't get to your upper arm. Would you mind just taking it off?"

Van only stared at her while his eyebrows traveled far above the metallic rim of his shades. Was she serious?

"I see shirtless male patients during my rotations all the time. It's not a big deal." Hitomi assured him, the professional through and through.

Quite serious, so it seemed.

Fine then, Van thought, slowly becoming extremely curious and also a bit uncomfortable due to the freshly leaking wound. Perhaps it wasn't such a bad idea after all to at least have it wrapped up. Walking down the street with a bloody arm would most certainly draw a whole lot of unwanted attention.

He fumbled with the buttons of his shirt a bit, the stinging pain in his injured arm making his fingers slightly clumsy. "Here, let me help with that," the woman immediately offered when she saw that he was getting nowhere. Her hands gently pushed away his and deftly undid the button row in mere seconds. If it hadn't been for his naturally dark complexion, the faint tint of red on Van's cheeks would have been blatantly evident. It wasn't every day that a woman undressed him.

Okay, maybe she shouldn't have so vigorously insisted on helping because this, this was most definitely a first. Normally, Hitomi's professional attitude surpassed any and all awkward situations but the slightly arrogant guy with the ebony hair, the sunglasses he still didn't feel the need to remove, and the wrinkly, bloody shirt looked quite a lot more built, no…let's call it 'healthy'…than the average guys who normally came by the teaching clinic to get free urgent care. This wasn't even a guy. This, most definitely, was a man.

A man who was quite a sight to behold. Hitomi realized that not only had his face a dark taint, his skin was dark, no, bronze all over, making it ostensible that he was a native Fanelian, much unlike her who had moved here from Northern Asturia a few years ago.

His dark skin spanned across a slim, well-muscled stomach, a broad, equally toned chest and nicely shaped shoulders and arms. Hitomi gulped and only somewhat regained her composure when the man carefully peeled the blood-soaked sleeve down an already bandaged upper arm. The bandage, of course, was soaked too.

It seemed like a fairly serious injury and this finally caused Hitomi to snap out of it and back into professional nursing mode. "Good grief, where did you get that injury?"

The dark stranger froze in his movements for a second before answering. "Don't worry about it."

His evasive reply rubbed Hitomi the wrong way but she decided not to question him any further for the moment. Getting his arm cleaned and wrapped up was more important right now.

Van was relieved by her reaction but then winced when she removed the dripping bandage. Her hands were quick and careful but the sticky fabric pulled uncomfortably on the wound, making Van hiss and squirm in his seat, the injured arm jerking away by reflex.

"Hold still you're only making it worse." She admonished him, pushing down on his shoulder to prevent his arm from moving out of her grasp again. The royal physicians, as dedicated as they were, usually apologized profusely at any small sign of discomfort from him when changing the bandages. Not her, though. How irritating and refreshing at the same time.

"Looks like a few stitches have come loose." She said full of concern. "Obviously I can't fix them with what I've got here but it's small enough for me to use a taping technique that will hold that part of the wound together. It's likely going to scar a bit more at this point, seeing as how the healing process already started…around a week ago, I'd judge?"

A pretty darn precise estimate. An estimate that would have maybe given him away anywhere else but this woman was clearly not one to follow the news very closely.

"I don't care," Van replied finally. He really didn't. It wasn't like many people would see it anyway, what with him being stuck wearing these awful formal suit jackets all the time. By Escaflowne's scaly hide, one of his first orders would be to completely re-design any and all of these damn suits. For the past years, Van and his sister had still been bound to the etiquette and traditions set in place by the long line of royals before them but things were about to change drastically.

"Okay then," the woman replied and began rummaging through the box to retrieve a bottle of antiseptic. When she began to clean the bloody gash, a crease appeared between her eyebrows. "How on Gaea did you even do this?" She couldn't help but inquire again. "The edges are all jagged and torn. Not something you'd get from anything I can think of except...," she shook her head now, the thought being too silly to finish.

"Except from what?" Van couldn't stop himself from asking.

"Except from…being outside the walls, fighting a wild beast." Hitomi exhaled audibly after saying it. "…but that's madness. Who would be idiotic enough to go out there?"

Who indeed? Van had to wholeheartedly agree with that last part, albeit quietly so and in his head.

This man dressed in a once crisp button-down shirt certainly didn't seem like the kind who would willingly head out for an adventure beyond the walls and make it back alive to tell the tale. Then again, he did look fairly strong, Hitomi couldn't help but be reminded of that fact as her eyes wandered back across his exposed upper body again.

Nope. This was not the time for wandering thoughts. Most definitely not.

"I'm going to need you to push down on the dressing for a moment while I look for something." The blonde woman instructed him while already beginning to rummage around the box for more materials with one hand, while still applying pressure to the wound with the other.

Van wordlessly and obediently complied. It was truly something to behold. The temperamental prince of Fanelia normally did not like to follow anything that sounded like an order, especially not by the physicians, and if, then not without making his extreme displeasure known.

He numbly reached around with his hand and placed it on the woman's smaller one which was pressed onto his upper arm, compressing the wound with a piece of thick gauze. His larger hand had firmly trapped hers in place. As a response, her face immediately flushed a charming shade of red and they stared at each other for the duration of several heartbeats.

"N…n…no I mean…I need my hand." She stuttered charmingly.

"Oh, right. I'm sorry." Van replied equally flustered and let her retrieve the appendage from his hold.

She quickly claimed it while averting her face to go through the box again instead. "My name is Hitomi, by the way."

"Hi-to-mi." Van tested out her name slowly. It definitely was foreign. She likely hailed from one of the other kingdoms.

Her name sounded very different when he said it and it somehow had a nice ring to it. The thought made Hitomi's heart beat oddly fast for a moment.

"What's yours?" She asked the man to distract herself from the feeling.

Shit. "Uh…never mind that." Van replied evasively. It had come out a bit more rude than he had intended.

Hitomi pursed her lips a bit at the answer. She had just begun to think that maybe he wasn't as arrogant after all but clearly, she was mistaken.

"Suit yourself," Hitomi replied as she finally found what she had been looking for. What a weirdo. Undoubtedly good-looking but definitely weird. It would be best to get him out of here asap after making sure that wound was taken care of properly.

Hitomi unboxed the flex tape and cut a few strips off the roll while a strange silence lingered between them. The dark-haired stranger pulled a bit of a grimace again when she asked him to remove his hand and began to tape the top edge of the long gash. He groaned in response to the intense discomfort.

It obviously hurt and no wonder, the wound was deep. Any sane person would be resting, taking it easy instead of wandering around, buying coffee. Hitomi's eyes darted to the man's face right next to hers. He was watching her intently, probably to make sure she wasn't going to botch him.

She finished stretching the last piece of tape across and smoothed it down as gently as possible. Van's face tensed once again. "Just making sure it's sticking well to the skin. I stretched it pretty good so the elasticity of the tape trying to revert it back to its original length will be pulling the wound together.

"Ok, great." Was all Van managed to say when he regarded her big eyes from behind the privacy of his shades. They were green, he now noticed. Her eyes. So green. At that moment, those green eyes flickered over to the side, distracted by something she saw outside. Van quickly turned his head to follow her gaze.

Damn. A royal security guard was right outside again, scanning the immediate area for any trace of him.

Van panicked. What if they saw him? Would they recognize him despite the hair and the sunglasses? In a desperate moment of sheer lunacy, he reached for Hitomi's shoulder and pulled her around to the other side, effectively shielding himself from view.

Hitomi shrieked a bit when he grabbed her with gentle but deliberate force and moved her. In her still slightly bent-over position, she lost her balance and nearly stumbled over her own feet but Van caught her around the waist so that she landed on his lap instead.

Arms flailing briefly, Hitomi supported herself on the next best thing she could reach- a muscular shoulder and a solid portion of pectoral. If she hadn't been so shocked, she would have immediately scrambled back to her feet but the guy had his one arm wrapped tightly around her waist while the other rested on her bare thigh, halfway under the short apron.

Color and heat tinted Hitomi's cheeks once more when she noticed how close their faces were again. So close she could feel his breath brush across her face and feel the warmth radiating off his broad chest. What in the world was happening? Why was she not getting up right now?

Van gulped when he felt her slender form against his. She was clearly some kind of athlete, he decided when his hand on her bare thigh felt lean muscle there. This was most definitely more than he had bargained for. His eyes briefly darted back to the window on the side, taking note of the security guard who was now all too close to the storefront, attempting to look inside past the cursive writing that decorated a good part of the window with the coffee shop's name.

That's when the usually dignified but stubborn prince of Fanelia panicked even more. For a lack of time to come up with a smart plan and to save his hide from being found, he unwrapped his good arm from Hitomi's waist, reached around the back of her head and pulled it across the short distance between them.

Without much warning at all, poor Hitomi found her lips crushed against those of the man whose lap she was presently still trapped on.

Hitomi's grip on his shoulder and chest immediately tightened, her fingers digging into the muscle mass in either location. Van's eyes rolled back to the window nervously while his lips were locked with hers. The royal guard was turning his head away, seemingly embarrassed at having caught two lovers in an intimate moment.

He left only a moment later, but Van's lips didn't seem to want to detach themselves from the woman's silky, soft counterparts. Relaxing a bit, his eyes slipped half closed, matching hers. This was exhilarating and just probably the most scandalous thing he had ever done.

Van couldn't resist and carefully moved his lips against hers, eliciting a small, muted noise from the woman who seemed to be resurfacing from her state of stupefaction. Just as fast as it had begun, it was over. A bit delayed, she finally recoiled in complete and utter shock and scrambled off Van's lap. His hands fell away, although a bit reluctantly, in the process.

"What on Gaea do you think you are doing?!" She exclaimed in a much more high-pitched voice than before, touching her lips with the tips of her fingers before using the same hand to slap him so hard across his left cheek that the stupid sunglasses finally fell off his face and bounced onto the floor. "You can't just do that!" She yelled angrily while taking another step away. "Who made you king of anything?!"

Van's head was still turned to the side from the force of her quite mighty whack. Hitomi stood across from him, panting a bit from anger and confusion while her hands were balled into tight fists. He slowly rose from the chair and retrieved his beloved shades which had landed not too far away. Straightening himself, a single chuckle filled with dark mirth escaped his mouth.

He just couldn't help it right now. "My father." Van finally replied with a single, raised eyebrow as his garnet eyes caught her angry, green ones.

That's when it hit Hitomi. The man's dark, native look, his wound which seemed to have been inflicted by a wild animal from beyond the wall, his reluctance when it came to tell her his name, and then those uncanny, garnet red eyes. Of course. She had heard about it last week on the news but not really paid attention all that closely. The council of advisors had finally decided to send the youngest, male heir of the royal family beyond the walls to complete the rite of dragon slaying. He had returned successfully but sporting a pretty gruesome wound.

Prince Van de Fanel undoubtedly looked a lot different than on a TV screen or in newspaper pictures. His hair was normally always impeccably styled, combed to the side or slicked back while dressed in expensive, tailored suits featuring the Fanelian crest and fancy embroidery.

It indeed was the worst day in Hitomi Kanzaki's life. Not only had she been soaked from head to toe by a surprise rain shower this morning, torn a lace on her favorite pair of sneakers, walked in on her two roommates making out with each other in their apartment living room, and dumped a whole, fresh carafe of coffee onto the floor behind the counter of the little coffee shop she worked in. She had also slapped the heir to the throne of Fanelia. Quite hard.

Hitomi felt hot, then cold, then hot again for a whole array of reasons. Embarrassment, confusion, but most of all, anger. She gritted her teeth. "You!" She hissed, eyes glinting with agitation. "…you…..," she continued with a slightly different expression on her face, brows twitching and a finger pointing at Van across the distance as if she wanted to impale him with it.

Van could nearly see the gears in her head turning. "You?" Van supplied dryly while Hitomi was still processing the events.

She sucked in a deep, calm breath and repeated. "Y…you…your majesty...my…my most sincere apologies." She finally finished but crossed her arms in front of her chest defiantly, averting her gaze and then added more quietly, "I had no idea."

Her reaction then was somehow a bit disappointing but understandable given the circumstances. Van continued to be amused nonetheless.

He sighed and took a step closer to her, completely ignoring the fact that he was still shirtless in this establishment with very large windows. What she had settled on saying was betraying what she felt on the inside. Of course, she had every right to be angry after he had forced himself upon her out of the blue. Future king or not, such a behavior was unacceptable and it was only due to a momentary lapse in judgment that he had allowed himself to act in such a despicable way.

"No," he finally sighed a bit regretfully. "It's me who should apologize. Please forgive me. I was…only trying to escape the palace to spend an hour by myself. I've spent every day since returning from beyond the wall in my bed, being treated like some gravely wounded invalid. Next week, I'm supposed to be shouldering the burdens of an entire country…and all I wanted was a cup of coffee."

Why was he suddenly saying all those things, trying to justify himself in front of this woman? Why was he pouring his heart out to her? What nonsense was he blabbering? She finally looked back at him again with an expression he hadn't expected from her. Pity.

This time it was him who almost recoiled in shock when Hitomi's gentle hand reached out for him. With a feather-light touch, she grazed his offended cheek, about to reply when her words were cut short.

The small bell above the door chimed violently as it opened. Only one individual Van knew could open a door with such panache. "Lord Van." His sword master's deep voice boomed across the small room.

Van's shoulders slumped when Hitomi's hand immediately pulled away from his face. She latched the other one onto it and began to knead them awkwardly.

"You have had the whole palace going wild for the past hour. Everybody is looking for you." Balgus said in a calm but tense voice. His intimidating appearance doubtlessly was the reason for Hitomi's new, fearful facial expression.

Van rubbed the bridge of his nose before replying. " I know. Please give everybody my apologies."

It took a bit of convincing to ease Balgus' mind and Van had a feeling that the man was making it difficult on purpose to make up for the troubles he had caused with his disappearance. No, Hitomi had certainly not harmed him. She had merely taken care of his wound after he had carelessly overexerted himself while out and about. It had been solely his fault for putting a strain on it which had caused some of the stitches to loosen.

A month later, king Van Slanzar de Fanel rested his forehead against the heavy doors of his chamber. Finally a moment of peace on this otherwise busy afternoon. It was as if everybody had done a complete 180 on him in the weeks following his coronation. Nobody lectured him anymore but instead offered council with bowed heads, seemingly bending to his every wish. It was fake, frustrating, and fodder for fury deep inside. Then he remembered something.

A small smile tugged on his lips when that particular thought came to mind. His fingers were still wrapped around the door handle of his chambers but before re-opening it and slipping out, the king hurried over to his dresser to find his favorite shades while raking a hand through his hair in an attempt to mess it up as well as possible. Somebody still owed him a coffee…

Tbc...

_________________________

If you liked this, wander on over to FFN where I have published some more Escaflowne fanfiction.

#escaflowne #escaflownefanfic #AU #writingtofreemymind #ishouldprobablybedoingadultstuffinstead #KOAescaFF

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finn-nelson-for-the-win · 7 years

Text

Before the World Stops Turning: Pt.3

Hello again! I’ve spent the last week doing A LOT of writing because for whatever reason my Uni classes haven’t been as time consuming, so I decided to make the most of my lack of social life and just write the next 5 or so chapters of this fic so they’ll be ready to edit and post even once I begin to get busy again…Anyways, this chapter is a little boring, but it explains a couple things and acts as a short transition chapter to get to some more fun stuff in the next chapters.

If you’d like to be added/removed from my tags list, don’t hesitate to let me know!

Everything I’ve written can be found right here!

I hope you enjoy this chapter! (As always, additional notes and random commentary I have will be at the end beneath the tags)

Rae and Izzie had spent a few hours at the café the previous night eating, recapping the highlights of the concert, and posting some of the better pictures that had been taken using both of their phones to Izzie’s social media accounts.

By the time Rae made it back to her apartment in the taxi that Izzie and her had split, it was already in the early hours of the morning and Rae’s exhaustion had caught up to her so much so that she fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow when she got in bed.

It could not have been more than a few hours later when Rae was awoken by the bright morning sun streaming in through her partially open curtains and the sound of her phone buzzing violently on her bedside table.

Who the fuck would be trying to video call me right now?!?

“Uh, yes, hello?” Rae replied when she answered the video call without checking to see who it was that was calling her at such an early time.

“Rae-Rae! I’m so glad you’re awake! I didn’t wake you, did I?” Izzie replied with a cheerful smile.

“Uh, ‘course not, Izz…” Rae replied, her voice still thick with sleep, as she rubbed her eyes slightly to finish waking up.

“Wonderful! So you’ll never guess how many social media notifications I woke up to when I checked my phone a little while before I called you…”

“Oh really? I bet your friends that bailed on going to the concert with you are ruing the day, huh?” Rae replied as she sat up in her bed with a pillow propped up behind her back to get into a more comfortable position.

“Probably, yeah, but even better than that…So you know how I posted all the concert photos online last night, yeah? And you know how I tagged the bands and band members that were in the pictures? Well…” Izzie smirked and paused for dramatic effect, causing Rae to chuckle.

“C’mon Izz! You can’t keep me in suspense like this…you simply must tell me everything,” Rae replied with a teasing edge to her voice.

“Hey now! The sass is unnecessary, but I’m a good friend, so I will tell you the rest of the story…so this morning I woke up to see notifications on my phone saying that a couple members of Kings and Queens liked and shared the group photo I posted of all of us!”

“Oh, that’s wonderful, Izzie! I’m so happy for you!” Rae replied in complete sincerity because she could tell how excited her mate truly was

“Oh that’s not all…I also saw that I was followed by the Kings and Queens Band account as well as one of the band members! Isn’t that so exciting, Rae? I simply had to call you and I felt this warranted a video call instead of a boring old phone call…I also had a question to ask you…”

“Yeah, that’s so great, Izz! They were all really nice guys, so it’s no surprise that they like to interact with fans like this…What did you want to ask me?”

“Do you remember how many band members were in Kings and Queens, Rae?”

“Uhm, maybe five? Lead singer, drummer, bassist, and two guitar players I think…so yeah, five! Why do you ask?”

“Huh, that’s what I thought…it’s not a big deal, but I was looking at the group photo that we took that I posted online and only see four band members and I wasn’t sure who could be missing. I’m pretty sure everyone was there when we posed for the picture…” Izzie replied, her eyebrows knitting together slightly in confusion.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure everyone made it in…wait a second! Maybe not…There was one guy that was busy and rushed in at the last second, but I’m not sure if he made it into the picture.”

Rae powered up her laptop and brought up Izzie’s account where that picture—along with about a dozen others—was posted and zoomed into the photo to get a closer look.

Izzie sat waiting patiently for Rae to speak after taking another look at the photo, but she was soon caught off-guard when Rae laughed aloud suddenly.

“Holy shit, Izz! Take a look at this! You’re right—well sort of…the photo we took has all band members, but it technically only has three fingers from the fifth band member on the far side of the frame.”

Rae turned the camera of her phone to show the group photo that she been looking at on her laptop and began to show Izzie what she meant.

“As you can see, there’s the two of us and Chop next to me…there’s two guys back behind the three of us…and on Chop’s other side is one of the other band members, but if you look very closely at this fourth guy’s shoulder, you can see three fingers and someone’s hand resting on his shoulder!”

“Okay, I think I see that…but are you sure it’s not someone else’s hand though?”

“That’s what I thought at first too, but the angle that the hand is resting on his shoulder makes it seem like there had to be another person standing just outside the frame of the photo!”

“That’s so funny, Rae! I wonder which of them got left out…”

“Huh, yeah…do you remember who was who? Or what was the name of the band member that followed you after you posted the pictures online, Izz? Maybe we can figure it out like that.”

“Uh, okay…well I know that the one with the glasses next to Chop is named Archie. I’ve been following him on social media since I first found out about the band a while back. I think the taller guy in the back is named Alex…and I’m pretty sure the guy with the drumsticks next to Alex is the drummer, Danny…I don’t remember who else could have been left out…”

“Okay, well that’s four of five band members. Did any of them follow you on social media?” Rae asked as she tried to recall the names of the different band members that Chop had told them when he introduced her and Izzie to everyone in the band mere hours ago.

“Uh, no, actually! The guy who followed me is someone called ‘Finn Nelson’…huh, I guess that settles it! Finn is our three-fingered mystery boy!”

“Mystery solved! I knew we’d be able to figure this out!” Rae called triumphantly before shifting her attention to her mat that seemed to be engrossed in whatever she was currently doing on her phone.

“Dear lord, Rae…I’m looking through our mystery boy’s profile and he’s great…there’s a lot of cool sunset and photography-type posts, but the few selfies and band promos where you can see him…wow,” Izzie replied looking away from her phone only for a brief moment to make sure that Rae was still paying attention before continuing, “it’s a shame all you can see of him in our group photo are his fingers because he is proper fit!”

“Oh is he, now? I thought you had a thing for a certain lead singer of Kings and Queens, Izz…”

“I do still like Chop…he’s quirky…but this lad? Holy shit, Rae, he’s perfect for you!” Izzie replied giving Rae a suggestive smirk and eyebrow raise.

“Uh huh…well, I guess I’m just going to have to take your word for it, Izzie!”

***

It had been nearly a month since Rae had first agreed to accompany Izzie to a concert in the city in which four bands she had never heard of were performing at a local bar, but in that time, Rae’s interest in the bands that they had seen had only continued to grow.

Upon Izzie’s insistence, Rae had even borrowed the Kings and Queens CD Izzie had purchased after the show and Rae spent a week listening to the album end-to-end. By the time she returned the CD to her mate, she had familiarized herself with most of the songs and had chosen her favorites.

“So Izzie, how have you been as of late? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!” Rae playfully whined during one of her weekly Thursday lunch dates with Izzie when they both happened to have a break in their schedules to hang out for a few hours.

“It’s only been about a week and a half since I last saw you, Rae! Remember when we had the movie night at your apartment and you returned my Kings and Queens CD to me that you had borrowed?” Izzie replied as she lifted the sandwich she had ordered from her plate and took a large bite.

“Has it really been that long?” Rae replied with a chuckle as she used her fork to stab a cherry tomato from her salad and brought it to her mouth.

“Oh, that reminds me! Did you see that Kings and Queens announced that they’re playing a show at the same bar we saw them last time in a couple weeks?”

“No, I didn’t see that! Where did you find that out? I’m pretty sure I’d remember if they had posted something on the band page…”

“Do you not follow all the individual band members as well as the main band account?”

“No, I just follow the band’s page, I think…”

“Ah, well that explains it then! I think Archie might have posted it? I’m pretty sure he mentioned that they have discounted tickets for sale too if we don’t want to pay the fees for buying the tickets online or wait to get them on the day of the show. I think we just have to let them know how many tickets we want and they’ll deliver the tickets directly to us!”

“Oh wow, that’s perfect! Do you know what day the show is? If we’re both free we should definitely go see them play again!”

“I don’t know the exact date, but I can check…So you don’t even follow Finn’s account, Rae? Why the hell not, babe?”

“Because, Izzie! I’m not going to be one of those girls that thirst follow band members and try to be a groupie at every single show! He’s just a normal person, even if he is as perfect looking as you seem to think he is!”

“Well, I suppose…wait a second…have you still not seen what he looks like yet?”

“Erm…no, I guess I haven’t…well not specifically, at least. Every time you tell me that I should check out his profile, I forget or get distracted and I’ve never gotten around to it, I guess…”

“Well then, love…prepare to be blessed by the beautiful specimen of a man that is Finn Nelson, lead guitarist of the band Kings and Queens…” Izzie said without removing her eyes from her phone as she typed and clicked rapidly before passing Rae her cellphone as if it was a sacred object that must be handled with extreme care.

“Holy fuck…”

“I know, right?”

He looks so familiar…wait a second, is that—no, it couldn’t possibly be the guy that I stumbled into before the show…could it?

“So Rae…was I right or was I right? Finn is basically a god, don’t you think?”

“Yeah…he’s definitely, uh, well…I think I know him…”

“Holy shit, really? How?”

“Well, I don’t know-know him…do you remember how when we were standing outside the bar before the concert I told you that I ran into a guy and I dropped my phone…well this is the guy I bumped into…I just don’t know how I never made that connection!”

“That’s so crazy! What a weird coincidence though…”

“No kidding! Well, I have an Abnormal Psychology class to get to right now, but it was really nice meeting you for lunch today! I’ll check when Kings and Queens are performing and maybe we can reach out to them for a pair of discounted tickets?”

“Yeah, for sure! Just let me know if you think you’ll be free and we can work out all the details.”

***

By the time Rae walked into her apartment after a busy day of classes and studying for the finals she had coming up in all her Uni courses, the sun was already mostly set and the sky was streaked with the final remnants of pinks and oranges in a mostly blue and purple backdrop.

She immediately changed into an oversized t-shirt and a pair of patterned lounge pants before sitting down at the desk in the far corner of her bedroom and powering on her laptop.

Okay, let’s take a look to see when this upcoming Kings and Queens concert is gonna be…

Rae pulled up the band’s social media profile and saw a post that was only a few hours old with a picture of the promotional poster for this particular show.

Rae: Hiya Izz! I just checked the date for the K&Q show and I’m free if you still wanna go! It’s two Fridays from now…the Friday of exam week, I think?

Izzie: YES I STILL WANT TO GO! I have a final exam that morning, but I’ll definitely be free that evening.

Rae: Great! I’ll go ahead and let them know that we want tickets so we can get the discounted price for the tickets, yeah?

Izzie: Perfect! That sounds good to me, just let me know how much I owe you for my ticket, yeah?

Rae: Will do!

Rae set her phone back down on her desk beside her laptop and went back to reading the post in which the Kings and Queens band page had announced that they were playing the show and were selling a limited number of tickets at the lowest possible prices.

Rae was debating between commenting on the post about needing tickets or sending them a private message before ultimately deciding to ask them about the tickets privately.

Hello there! I saw your post about the show you are playing at the end of the month and I saw that you have a limited number of tickets available for purchase at reduced prices. I’m interested in purchasing a pair, please…

@eveerez @tinakegg @hey1tskat1e @lurkernolonger @milllott @nutinanutshell @i-dream-of-emus @milymargot @vivammfd @bitchesbecrazy89 @arathewallflower @mallyallyandra @kneekeyta

A/N: Poor Finn :( First Rae brushes him off when he’s trying to be friendly and now we find out that he was “accidentally” cut out of the frame for the photo that they took after the first show. All I can say is you really have to be careful who you ask to take pictures for you using your phone at concerts because you never know what you’re gonna get…

So I don’t know about you guys, but I’m really enjoying what I’m dong with switching POV between what’s going on with Rae and what’s happening with Finn. I’m also making a point to have the timelines match us as much as possible from one POV to another with no overlap, so fingers crossed that I don’t end up fucking this up or making the story too hard to follow lol…

Also, how cool is it that their band is willing to sell discounted tickets to fans and deliver them to the people wanting the tickets. I know a number of people that are in local and mid-level bands where I live and this is something that they commonly do when the bands playing are lesser known or when there hasn’t been enough time for the concert to really be promoted in order to have a full crowd, so a lot of local bands will try to entice friends/family/previous fans that have seen them by offering to give them discounted tickets. I’m not sure if this is a common practice in other places too, but I think it’s pretty cool.

Writing this story is making me really miss all the concerts in sketchy bars and small venues I went to with my best friend at the time when I was 15/16/17 years old…ah, the memories *looks wistfully into the distance*

This entire thing has been super scatter-brained and confusing, but this is me we’re talking about, so what did you all really expect? Hahaha…I hope you enjoyed this chapter and the next one should be coming very soon as well…I’m still trying to decide exactly when, but I can assure you that it will be relatively soon. Stay awesome, my friends!

#Finn-Nelson-for-the-win #Before the World Stops Turning #Part 3 #mmfd #my mad fat diary #mmfd fanfic #my mad fat diary fanfiction #My writing #the concert series

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whimzea-blog · 7 years

Text

Day to Night 1/2

Title: Day to Night

Author: whimzea

Pairing: Zane/Heath

Summary: Heath and Zane's Valentine's Day is very different than last year's.

Also up on AO3 here. (I needed a break from Better than Sex, so...yeah. Here dis.)

***

February 10

Zane and Heath were at Todd's house. They had just filmed a bit with Scotty, who had kicked them out of his room as soon as they had finished so he could edit.

It's not you, it's content, he had said before slamming the door in their face.

Youtubers.

"Hey, remember last year, on Valentine's Day, when we hung out at the apartment? That was fun, right?"

Heath was sitting on the counter now, eating an apple. Zane was in perfect range to get sprayed with Red Delicious as he asked the question. He grimaced.

"You guys gonna do that again this year?" Todd asked, wiping his face with a towel. He had just come back from a run, had stripped his t-shirt off, and was drinking a protein shake while sweat clung to his perfect body. Zane hated him.

"I mean, yeah? We don't have any girls to spend it with," Heath answered. He didn't look at Zane.

Technically, Heath was right. Neither he nor Zane had a girlfriend this year. He didn't mention that he and Zane happened to be dating each other, but they were still very on the down-low. Only one person in the whole world knew, and only because he had walked in on them fooling around in Heath's bedroom.

Poor Kam.

And guys didn't go out for Valentine's Day with each other, anyways...did they? Zane didn't know very many gay guys to ask.

Valentine's Day had always seemed like it was meant for girls, with the flowers and whatnot. What the fuck did he care about roses and candles?

He could fuck with chocolates, though.

"Aw, well, I'm sure you guys will have fun," Todd said, polishing off his shake.

"What about you? You want in? Boys' night?" Heath asked, his voice hopeful.

"I have a girlfriend, bro."

"Oh yeah." None of them had ever seen Todd's girlfriend, but he assured them that she was very real. Zane and Heath had theories to the contrary, but that was for another time.

Heath chewed thoughtfully. "What about Jay?"

"Girlfriend," Zane and Todd answered in unison.

"Joe?"

"Girlfriend."

"Dommy D?"

"Girlfriend."

Heath thought harder. Scott, David, Kam, Jason, fuck, even Alex Ernst all had girlfriends now. Gabbie, Carly, and Erin were all seeing someone. Elijah and Christine were in London.

"Durte Dom?" Heath said hesitantly.

"Fuck no," Zane said immediately. He hated that kid. If there was one way to make your subscriber count go down...plus, he was fucking gross.

Heath opened his mouth to speak a couple more times, but closed it each time. Zane couldn't think of anyone else, either.

"Well, looks like it's going to be Coffee Talk: Valentine's Day Edition," Todd said, shrugging. "Could be worse."

He saluted them and walked off to his room. Heath sighed.

"You don't have to sound so fuckin' disappointed," Zane said, punching Heath lightly in the arm. "We'll have a good time."

Heath rolled his eyes and grabbed the keys to his new truck, jumping off the counter. "Have to spend every other day with your scraggly ass, and now Valentine's Day too."

Zane watched Heath walk to the front door. He didn't know whether or not his feelings should be hurt.

Heath turned when he realized Zane wasn't following him. "Let's go get coffee, bitch."

Zane grinned. He guessed not.

******

February 14

Zane's eyes blinked open.

Sun was streaming through his bedroom window, a cool California breeze following it in. Game of Thrones was still playing on the TV from their marathon last night. It was unlike them to fall asleep during their favorite show, but yesterday had been brutal. Zane guessed they had probably filmed twelve hours total.

He looked down. Heath was curled against his side, one of his arms thrown over his chest, his head tucked almost into his armpit. He was snoring.

Zane looked at his watch. 9:30am. Thirty more minutes, and then he'd get up. Get Heath up. But for now, he was cozy as fuck.

He wrapped his arm around Heath and pulled him closer to his side. He let his hand settle on the small of Heath's back, under his shirt.

BANG BANG BANG.

Heath was startled awake, sitting up fast and looking wildly around him.

Zane sighed. So much for thirty more minutes.

"You homos decent?" Kam shouted through the door, banging on it a few more times.

"Yeah," Zane called after a few seconds, sitting up. Heath rubbed his eyes violently with his fists, trying to become conscious.

Kam barged in, a bag thrown over his shoulder. "So Meghan and I are going to Palm Springs last minute. Won't be back until tomorrow night. Make sure you water my plants- it's Saturday."

Zane managed to nod. Heath was staring at Kam, unable to figure out how someone could have that much energy.

Ten seconds later Kam slammed the front door behind him, leaving Zane and Heath alone in an empty apartment for the next 36 hours.

This occurred to Zane as Heath flopped back down on the bed, groaning.

"Fuckin' asshole, coulda just texted us that instead of waking us up." Heath grabbed the fleece blanket at the edge of the bed and wrapped it around himself, rolling over a few times to make himself into a blanket burrito.

Zane knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. He was energized, all of a sudden. The whole apartment, all to themselves. Complete privacy. For once.

Zane padded out to the kitchen and put on the coffee before heading to the bathroom. He showered quickly, avoiding the itching feeling he had to put a hand on his dick. Not yet.

It wasn't until he was dressed, swiping through the notifications on his phone waiting for his toast to be ready when he remembered that it was Valentine's Day.

It was why they had spent twelve hours filming yesterday, trying to get everyone's vlogs shot so they didn't have to work today. But Zane and Heath hadn't talked about after that time in Todd's kitchen, and it wasn't truly on his radar.

Except now, seeing everyone's cute posts, it sort of was. He wondered if Heath remembered.

He poured a cup of coffee for Heath, fixing it all up, before bringing it into his bedroom. Heath was snoring again, still wrapped up in his blanket.

Zane shook Heath's shoulder until the other man woke. Heath whined.

"Coffee," Zane offered, holding it under Heath's nose.

Heath reluctantly opened one eye, then the other, and set up, wrestling with the blanket to free his arms. He accepted the coffee and took a sip.

"Mmmm." That was about as articulate Zane expected him to be, so he turned to leave to go water the plants while Heath became a real person. But Heath grabbed on to his hand before he could go, tugging on it.

"Yes?"

Heath didn't respond, but after glancing out the open bedroom door into the very empty apartment, turned back to Zane and gave him what Zane had come to know as Heath's "I want you to kiss me" face. It strangely did not really involve his lips, but was all in his eyes.

Zane obliged, leaning down to place a soft kiss on Heath's lips. Zane knew better than to attempt to give Heath a proper kiss, as his morning breath was absolutely atrocious (even covered up by coffee) but it seemed to do the trick. Heath smiled and continued to sip.

*****

Two hours later Zane was sitting on the couch editing when Heath, freshly showered and dressed, joined him.

For a Saturday, it had already been productive as fuck. Zane had eaten breakfast, watered the plants, had clean clothes spinning in the dryer, and had made significant progress on editing Monday's vlog. So when Heath sat beside him and nuzzled into his neck, he didn't feel bad about shutting the computer, setting it aside, and pulling Heath into his arms.

Heath was considerably lighter since finally getting on board with Kam's healthy eating suggestions, and it was much easier to get him settled comfortably facing Zane, straddling Zane's lap, his arms wrapped around Zane's neck.

Now that Heath's breath smelled like Colgate and not ass, Zane kissed him with gusto. He ran his hands along Heath's flanks and back under his shirt, letting Heath explore his mouth with his tongue. Zane marveled at the emptiness of their apartment, how the only thing he could hear was the sound of their lips meeting and Heath's soft moans of pleasure.

For once, their kisses weren’t frantic. They were long and deep and left Zane totally breathless, and Heath’s lips swollen and bruised. He could take his time to suck on the spot below Heath’s ear (and Todd could be damned, because his neck kissed gave Heath way more than the heebie jeebies) his collarbone, his throat.

Heath leaned back, sliding his hands under Zane’s t-shirt and lifting it up past his pecs. He whined, tugging on it, and Zane followed orders, lifting his arms so Heath could pull the shirt over Zane’s head and fling it on the other side of the couch. Heath tugged off his own shirt and pressed his chest into Zane’s, kissing him and rubbing against him like a cat.

Zane had been amused to learn that Heath was obsessed with his body hair. The way he had found out, though, had been something out of a sitcom.

About a month ago, they had been fooling around in Heath’s bed, and Heath had rubbed against him, much like he was doing now. Zane had been too busy to do any sort of manscaping that month, so he had been approaching Tom Selleck levels of chest hair.

This was not really an issue, usually. Except a month ago, Heath had nipple rings. And nipple rings and long chest hair definitely do not mix.

It wasn’t until Zane had felt a sharp pain near his left nipple that he looked down. Heath tried to pull away, and Zane gasped as he felt the pain again. Heath flopped on top of Zane.

“I think...my nipple ring...is caught in your chest hair.”

“Christ,” Zane said. Then he laughed.

Heath couldn’t help but join, and soon they were a breathless and still giggling, semi-hard and still stuck together.

“Fuck, can we vlog this? This is quality content,” Zane choked out, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Not on your life.” Heath slid a hand between them, and after a few moments and one chest hair ripped out later, they were unstuck.

“Maybe it’s time for me to actually wax...like, everything, not just a strip or two for clickbait,” Zane mused, looking down at his torso.

“No,” Heath said quickly. So quickly that Zane raised an eyebrow, and Heath blushed.

Hmm. Zane filed this information away for future use.

“I mean, that would really hurt, right?” Heath tried, but his argument seemed sort of weak, especially considering that he had already started to play with Zane’s chest hair again.

“Not as much as getting one of our nipples ripped out,” Zane reasoned.

“I’ll just take the rings out. I’m getting tired of them anyway,” Heath offered, still unable to look Zane in the eye.

Zane considered this. While he liked to play with Heath’s rings, and Heath liked to have them play with, it seemed like the hair was the more valuable commodity.

Plus, it would hurt like hell to get waxed.

Now, a month later, with Heath pressed impossibly close, Zane appreciated Heath’s sacrifice even more.

Zane slid his hands down the back of Heath’s shorts and into his Hanes, grabbing two handfuls of ass. Zane could feel Heath’s cock jump at the touch, and his own hard cock was pleased to feel Heath’s hands at his fly, trying to undo his zipper.

Zane had a mind to pick Heath up and haul him to the bedroom…

...when his phone rang.

“Ignore it,” Heath breathed into his ear as he finally pulled out Zane’s dick from his pants, giving it a nice hard stroke.

“Nnghhh,” Zane responded articulately.

Heath was in full-on sex kitten mode now, slipping off Zane’s lap so he could kneel in front of him. Heath licked his lips before pulling Zane forward, settling in between his legs so he could get his mouth on Zane’s cock.

“Fuck,” Zane groaned. He looked down. The visual was extraordinary. Zane’s cock was an average length, but it was thick, and Heath’s lips stretched perfectly over it, taking it all, tasting it all, wrecking Zane with his tongue.

Zane again thought about moving this into the bedroom, but there was no way he was gonna interrupt this for one fucking second. It was too good. When did Heath get so good at sucking cock?

Thirty seconds later, his phone rang again.

“Come on,” Zane whined, frustrated.

Heath pulled off Zane’s cock with a pop. “Ignore it.”

“I can’t. It might be my mom. She usually won’t stop if it’s something important.”

Heath sighed and sat back on his haunches while Zane dug in his pocket to retrieve his phone.

“It’s David.”

Heath rolled his eyes. “Typical. Ignore it.”

Zane hesitated. “Baby, we don’t make enough money on our own to ignore a call from David Dobrik.”

Heath couldn’t argue with that. Zane answered the phone. “Yeah?”

Heath looked longingly at Zane’s cock. Well, he didn’t have to talk, right?

“I mean, yeah, I guess we can but I thought - oh fuck-” Zane gasped. Heath grinned around his cock.

“Oh, I just, stubbed my toe, walking around. You know how I am,” Zane said, laughing awkwardly. Zane gave Heath a “you fucking bitch” look, but Heath just shrugged.

“Yeah, yeah, um, we’ll be there. Sure. Gotta go. Bye.” Zane hung up and exhaled, tangling his fingers in Heath’s hair.

“You’re gonna kill me,” Zane groaned. Heath hummed, sending lovely vibrations through his dick. He shuddered.

Ten minutes later, and he was in nirvana. This was by far the best head he had ever gotten, and from a man who had only sucked a cock three times in his life.

He guessed this was just one of Heath’s many hidden talents.

Or he just really liked Heath. And Heath’s mouth. But mostly Heath.

“Gonna come,” he breathed, but Heath continued on as he was. His orgasm hit him like a ton of bricks, and he pumped into Heath’s mouth for what seemed like an eternity.

“Jesus fuck,” he sighed, collapsing back onto the sofa. Heath smiled smugly and wiped his mouth.

“So, what did David want?”

#zeath #zane and heath #ficlet

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pianosmasher · 7 years

Text

Polyamory thoughts:

What I want to explore - and what I meant by making this post last week - is what would be an inescapable contradiction in the cultural consciousness. Everywhere I look, I’m seeing two polar attitudes in romantic relationships: passionate monogamists and wholehearted polyamorists.

One of the things you’ll read in the updated edition of The Ethical Slut is Easton and Hardy relishing in how commonplace the word “polyamorous” is in the queer community - to the point where its abbreviation, “poly,” actually signifies the whole word when said aloud. To give proper context to this statement, it’s worth noting that the queer lexicon is (as was once described to me) a labyrinth from which there is no escape, with words falling in and out of use and connotation on an almost daily basis. I myself am only able to keep up with the language by being connected to those within the community through this platform and others, and it’s amazing to watch things come and go. (For example: it’s been a full year since I’ve heard the word “pansexual.” Most people have allowed “bisexual” to absorb the connotations of the word, and those that identify as such often expect others to understand that they do mean all genders, and not just two at the ends of the gender binary). So the fact that a word and its abbreviation have made it out of the fringes and into the commonplace even within its own community is certainly worth celebrating. Easton and Hardy are right to mention it as significant.

And to speak further to polyamory’s legitimacy: unlike the “free love” of the sixties, which was mainly used to describe behavior after the fact, “poly” describes a set of principles, a lifestyle with definite rules and opportunities for trust among its individuals. In this way it is nearly identical to monogamy. And also like monogamy, common acceptance of the term in a cultural arena legitimizes these principles. In both polyamory and monogamy, we agree not to “cheat.” We agree to be honest. We agree to be intimate. We agree to be passionate. We agree to love so long as the expectations that go along with the labels attached to love - “lover,” “boyfriend,” “partner,” etc. - have agreed-upon meanings and rules between the two of us. In other words, if we can recognizably talk about it, we can participate in it publicly. When people ask about our behavior whenever it seems out of the ordinary, we will simply inform them that we are together, partners, dating, whatever the practice tells us will make the most sense to say.

This is all not to say that polyamory is “normal.” This is just to say that enough people know what it is to know what to expect out of polyamorous individuals without needing a separate explanation of the practice. Enough people know that it is a possible arrangement, and so it becomes an institution of sorts. It holds gravity in the form of its meaning. And to clarify, just because a pathway is available doesn’t mean it’s often taken, or even considered on equal terms - look no further than the cultural spike of interest in polygamy during the mid-2000’s as an example, and how even today it’s held in a negatively transgressive light. What this all is to say is that polyamory has become known. It is here more than it has ever been before.

And I find that fascinating.

I find it fascinating during a time when marriage equality - a monogamous institution - has been strengthened by the supreme court with nationwide power. I find it fascinating whenever I see “wholesome” cultural content (memes, etc.) about how love and support really can be true from one person to another. I find it fascinating when I remember how many dating apps are out there (Tinder, OK Cupid, Grindr, etc.) specifically with the goal of connecting one person to one other person for a romantic interaction, and that those using these apps looking for a third or a fourth are ridiculed for being outliers (though, admittedly, often this is rightfully so). I find it fascinating that, at a time when monogamy couldn’t be more permeable, powerful, and popular, polyamory has, in however small a capacity, risen into the cultural consciousness.

One would think that the idea would be shoved down in disgust, waiting its turn until monogamy could be deconstructed for its flaws on a grand public scale (again). But a good number of my friends are polyamorous, and so are a few minor celebrities I follow on social media. It’s here. Against the odds, a new identity has arrived in parallel to the strengthening of its converse. And I’ve been obsessed with that seemingly impossible thing for some time now. I can’t stop thinking about how strange that is.

For an example of what I mean: I consider a part of the gray area in between to be hookup culture. Now I’ve been to several parties in my life, and had several men and women hit on me pretty hard at these parties. But consistently it’s never been a matter of hooking up once and maybe we’ll do it again. It’s “I’m in love with you, let’s get coffee Sunday morning.” And after talking to my friends that are similarly approached, they encounter similar difficulties even when the physical aspect of the hookup does happen: emotions and expectations intervene shortly after the tryst begins, and the whole thing spectacularly derails. Hookup culture is the one being pushed around.

‘And then there are Tinder dates, which too often happen once and go nowhere. There are bars and clubs, but everyone is on their phones or with their friends. We don’t connect the way we used to. We read situations differently and we don’t talk about how until it’s too late. And if you ask me, we want structures to help ourselves understand how to interact with each other again.

And there’s monogamy, a structure with an infinitely-long history of expectations and behaviors. And there’s polyamory, an equally-thorough but barely established structure, sitting in the corner ready to answer your questions if only you’d just ask.

I know all of this is anecdotal. I know I don’t have the facts to back this up. But these are my observations, my intuitions that I cannot deny. It is what I feel is true. And I may not be alone in that.

And so I wonder what will happen, should polyamory continue to rise. With a whole new set of values and expectations opened up to our realm of possibility, who would we be? What would our problems be? Who would our lovers be? And how would we love differently, if at all? Because you could be poly and only have one partner your whole life. It’s a question of opportunity. It’s knowing you could have more if the opportunity came. What would that knowledge, resting in the back of your mind, do to how you would see your partner? What would it do to you?

If I could love the whole world, one person at a time, who would I be? In a world like that, who would you be? And who would you be to everyone else in your life? To me?

#Ross writes things #I know it's long but please read if you have the time #I'd love to hear your thoughts on this

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