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joyfulholland · 4 years

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Where Stories Start

a/n: bookshop/coffeshop au! this idea came to me months ago and it has been a long process trying to get it into something actually readable, so i would love to hear people’s thoughts on it, and if people would like any more as i could definitely write a sequel! any comments/ideas/requests are more than welcome in my inbox!

warnings: none

word count: 3000

The first time you see him, you spill your drink all down your shirt.

Admittedly, it wasn’t his fault. You’d been trying to pick up the stack of books you had to take back to the shelves and had unsuccessfully balanced your coffee cup on the top. In a haste to save the books you’d thrown them back down, only for the end result to be your previously white shirt to have a large brown patch all down the front. A handful of napkins had suddenly been held out in front of you, and as you’d lifted your eyes to thank your helper, you’d been met with a much warmer shade of brown than the one now dominating your shirt.

“It’s the worst when that happens.” The handsome stranger smiled, before turning his head to nod at Theo, your co-worker manning the coffee bar that day. “See you later.”

He offered you another smile before turning to leave, a navy rucksack draped over one of his shoulders. You watched him walk towards the door for a second, before Theo’s voice brought your attention away.

“I’ve got a spare hoodie in my bag if you want it?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, thoughts still lingering on the man who’d just walked out. “Yeah, thanks Theo.”

You’d first gotten a job at Where Stories Start when you were a student, desperately in need of money to help you out whilst you studied. Stumbling in had been an accident, hoping to find reprieve from the rain by wasting an hour or two browsing the shelves. Then you noticed the coffee bar tucked away in the corner of the shop, surrounded by mismatched tables and chairs. By the time you’d explored both of the two floors, discovered the entire wall by the children’s section painted with a character for every letter of the alphabet, seen the “Book Swap” section near the coffee bar where people could exchange their old battered copies for others to enjoy whilst they drank, and had spent at least twenty minutes writing a review of ‘Who Will Love Polly Odlum’ for the “Book of the Month” display, you’d completely fallen in love with the place. It was as if it were fate when you noticed the help wanted sign on the pay desk, and you had immediately asked the woman behind it for an application. She’d introduced herself as Bryony, the owner, and had hired you with only a five-minute conversation as your interview. A couple of years later, when you were graduating, she’d promoted you to manager, claiming that whilst being a starving artist was admirable, until you’d achieved your dream of being an author, she wanted you to have a steady income from somewhere. She was your biggest supporter, letting you write from the desk when it was quiet and assuring you that taking any freelance writing jobs you could find wasn’t at all like selling out your dream, just a way of getting your writing out there. The bookshop had become your second home, and you always secretly thought that there was a little bit of magic to the place.

Maybe that’s what brought him into the shop so often too.

The second time you encountered the handsome stranger, it was a much quieter affair.

It was a Thursday afternoon, and the shop was reasonably quiet. You’d just settled in behind the desk to check through any online orders when the bell on the door chimed to signal someone entering. You glanced up to smile at whoever it was and were taken aback when it was the warm brown eyes from the week before.

“Hiya.” He grinned, closing the door behind him before crossing the space to lean on the desk in front of you. “No accidents yet today?”

“No, but there’s still time I suppose.” You chuckle, noticing a tattered copy of ‘Life of Pi’ in his hand. “Here to swap a book?”

“Yeah, I grabbed this last week and thought since I’ve got some time, I’d come have a tea and get a new one.” He nodded, waving the book up. “I only came in by chance to grab a present for my Mum, but the place is so great I felt I had to come back.”

“I know what you mean. I only came in to escape the rain and I’m still here three years later.”

“I think there are worse places to get stranded.” He joked, waving his book again. You laughed at his joke as he grinned, lifting his bag on his shoulder a little higher. “Well I won’t distract you from your work anymore. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“See you.” You nod, smiling before turning back to the desktop monitor. You watch him walk a few steps before he pauses, and you lift your head to see him turning to face you.

“I’m Tom, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you Tom.” You smiled, “I’m Y/N.”

Tom became a regular visitor after that week.

Every Thursday at around four o clock, he would come in, pause at the desk to chat with you, usually about whichever book he’d read that week, before heading over to the coffee bar to drink tea and start a new story. Sometimes you would join him; if the shop was particularly quiet and you had some writing to do, it was easy to slip into the chair opposite him and sit in a comfortable silence, occasionally sharing comments about what Tom was reading. Sometimes you would simply send him a wave as he entered; on the days were the shop was busy and you were constantly on the phone or helping a customer, you wouldn’t have chance to even say hello until he’d already packed away his things and was heading for the door. It became a nice routine, knowing that on a Thursday you’d see Tom, in whatever form your interaction took that week.

The only problem was that with each passing week, your attraction to him grew stronger.

You’d always found him good-looking, from the moment your eyes had met as he’d handed you the napkins. But as you spent more time together, you couldn’t help but find him more appealing as you discovered how his brain worked. Each time he finished a book you desperately wanted to know his opinions, whether they aligned with yours or not, simply so you could hear him speak. It was the passion in his voice as he spoke of his annoyance at how some characters acted, or how he was relived with the way a book had ended. You loved when he made connections between stories and his own life, especially when he related them to some anecdotes about himself, his friends and family.

It was these anecdotes that began the shift in your conversations to more personal matters. The stories he told would always prompt you to ask questions about the people who featured in them. You learnt about his three brothers, his best friend Harrison, his dog Tessa. Tom told you about his job working in what he described as “the most boring office in the world”, and how he was jealous of the people who got to follow their passion instead of just work to pay the bills. He, in turn, would question you on your family, your friends, your career ambitions. He’d constantly pester to read your writing, protesting when you told him it wasn’t ready yet.

“You’re such a cliché you know.” He chuckled one day, a few minutes after you’d settled down in the chair opposite him, coffee in one hand and laptop in the other.

“What?” Your eyes met his as you opened your laptop, raising your eyebrows as he smirked.

“You’re a writer who works in a book shop.”

“I’m an aspiring writer who manages a book shop.” You grin back at him, scrunching up one of the old Post-It notes stuck next to your mousepad and throwing it at him. “Very different.”

“Still a cliché.” He continued to smile as he diverted his eyes back to his book. You rolled your eyes as your own attention went back to your laptop, taking his cue to mean the conversation break was over.

The two of you were still smiling to yourselves an hour later when you packed up to help close the shop.

A week before Christmas, he burst through the door on a late Saturday afternoon, his hair dishevelled, his scarf extremely lopsided and a panicked look across his face. His eyes searched the shop until he found you re-stocking the shelves, walking towards you as a tall blonde man, looking much calmer followed casually, hands in his pockets as he smirked at his friend’s behaviour.

“Emergency.” Tom stated, skidding to a stop in front of you. The man with him chuckled and Tom shot a glare in his direction. “This is not a time to laugh Haz.”

“You should have been an actor, mate, always overdramatic.” He laughed, before extending a hand to you. “Harrison. You’re Y/N I presume?”

“Great to meet you.” You nod as you take his outstretched hand. “Heard a lot about you.”

“Likewise.”

“Oi,” Tom interrupted, his eyebrows furrowed. “I really am having an emergency here.”

“Sorry.” You turned your attention back to Tom, attempting to pull your face into a serious expression but failing. “How can I help?”

“It’s the office Secret Santa tonight and I forgot to get anything.” His words tipped you over the edge and you couldn’t help but laugh, prompting Harrison to join in. “This is serious, stop laughing. Steve will have my head if I turn up to the dinner later without one.”

“Okay, sorry.” You giggled, placing down the stack of books you’d still been holding down. “Who do you have to buy a present for and is there a price limit?”

“Edie, the receptionist. Limit is fifteen quid.”

“How old is she?”

“About fifty. She likes Agatha Christie I think, she’s always banging on about how it’s a shame that there’s no more Poirot.”

“Perfect.” You nod, grabbing his hand and pulling him to the crime and mystery section. It only takes you a couple of seconds to locate the orange cover you were searching for. “This is by Sophie Hannah. She’s writing a whole new set of Poirot stories in Christie’s style. And it’s five pounds under your budget, which means you can go to Tesco around the corner and buy a gift bag and some chocolates to make up the rest.”

“You’re a life saver.” A grin spread across Tom’s whole face, and before you could register what was happening, he leant forward and brushed a hasty kiss across your cheek. “Best pay for this and go, Haz and I are meeting the boys for a quick one before I go.”

He turned and walked towards the check out before you could reply, joining the short line around the corner to pay. After a few seconds, you shook your head before turning to return to where you’d been stacking, when you noticed Harrison was still there.

“Thanks for saving the day.” He smirked, nodding before starting after Tom. “It really great to meet you, he hasn’t stopped talking about you for weeks.”

The week the shop was closed for Christmas, you couldn’t help but miss Tom, despite the fact you’d only see him for an hour or two a week. When Thursday afternoon rolled around, you berated yourself for feeling a way about a man who’s friendship only existed within a small space and time, until a Facebook notification lip up your screen, displaying that you had a friend request from Tom Holland. You grinned to yourself as you accepted, a message coming through seconds later.

So I read your piece online about the Christmas placebo affect.

So you not only facebook stalked me, you also stalked my work

Well I kept asking to see it and you kept saying no

And it isn’t facebook stalking when we’re already friends

It’s completely normal for me to have found you on here and requested your friendship

So we’re friends now?

Of course we’re friends I showed you seven pictures of my dog last week I don’t just do that with anyone

Calm down stalker And you know I appreciated the pictures of Tessa

You know, I started this conversation with every intention of telling you my deepest thoughts and feelings about your piece but now I’m not going to

Ok fine with me

Great

Good

Tom?

Yeah?

What did you think?

I think you’ve been holding out on me

One Monday afternoon at the end of January, you bumped into each other in a pub, nowhere near the book shop, and you both froze like deer caught in headlights. It was odd, to see him in a situation so alien to what you were used to. Your friendship had only recently shifted to one that existed outside of the book shop, but even that was only via Facebook. His shirt was slightly smarter than his usual Thursday afternoon clothes, and the red tint to his cheeks alongside the empty pint glass in his hand clued you into the fact that he probably wasn’t drinking tea. You stood frozen as you realised he too had been assessing your appearance, far less professional than your usual work attire, before your eyes met and you grinned at each other.

“Of all the gin joints.” He joked, taking a step towards you and wrapping his arms around you in a brief but tight hug. You were both still grinning as he stepped back. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.” You nodded, noticing the group he’d left behind. You recognised the faces of two of his brothers from photographs you’d seen, before Harrison caught your eye. The blonde smiled and waved at you across the room, before saying something to the group, whose eyes all turned to you in curiosity.

Tom bought your drink and offered for you to join them, even inviting your friends to come too. You declined, explaining it was someone’s birthday, before reaching out to give him another hug goodbye.

“See you Thursday.” He winked before turning back to join his group.

You returned to your own friends still grinning, rolling your eyes as they all started asking the same question; who was the handsome man at the bar?”

“That,” you grinned, eyes drifting over to where Tom now sat laughing with his friends again. “Was the Thursday Tom.”

“You’ve got some explaining to do.”

Tom was smirking as he came to lean his forearms on the desk, his rucksack already slung over his shoulder as he’d been in for over an hour.

“About?” You locked the shop desktop monitor before turning in your chair to fully face him.

“I’ve just seen your review of ‘Romeo and Juliet’.”

“Ahh.”

With it being the “month of love”, as Bryony had kept reminding you, you’d succumbed to peer pressure and made ‘Romeo and Juliet’ the Book of the Month. As shop manager, you were obligated to write a review for the display before the customers began to add their own. Normally, you were thrilled to do it, but this month you’d been very reluctant.

“You barely wrote anything.” Tom continued, smirk still in place. “Usually yours is the longest on there, even I could write more than your review.”

“I’m just not a fan.” You shrug, watching Tom’s face as he looked at you in disbelief.

“’Romeo and Juliet’ is the best love story of all time!” He exclaimed.

“Sorry I think you mispronounced ‘Pride and Prejudice’.” Your own smile only widens as he shakes his head at you.

“So you’re saying that millions of people are wrong.”

“It’s not even Shakespeare’s best work, ‘Hamlet’ is clearly the better play.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing. You’re an author, and you work in a book shop called Where Stories Start! ‘Romeo and Juliet’ is where most love stories start.”

“Exactly. That makes me more qualified than anyone.”

“Unbelievable.” Tom was grinning as he shook his head again. “Can I ask you to explain one more thing?”

“Go for it.”

“Would you say that our story started when you spilt your coffee down your shirt, or does it not start until I ask you to dinner on Saturday night?”

He’s still smirking as your smile turns into a look of shock, your brain unable to string a sentence together as you stare at him.

“I…well…it…did you just ask me out?” You splutter, finally regaining the ability to speak.

“Well, not technically.” His smile turned softer as he stood a little straighter. “Was trying to gage your reaction before I went for it. Have been, actually, since I first met you, but thought it would be strange to do when you were in the middle of trying to dry yourself.”

“Very considerate.” You nod, unable to stop the smile taking over your face. “Well, in my expert opinion. I would say that any moments leading up to you asking me out could be counted as a prelude, rather than where our story started.”

“Excellent, excellent.” Tom nodded, shifting his bag a little higher on his shoulder before grinning at you. “So, what do you say. Saturday night. Will you go to dinner with me?”

“I’d love to.” You nod, the grin taking over your own face. “And for the record, I’d have said yes if you’d asked me then too.”

Because maybe your story had started back when an accident had led to a stranger handing you a bunch of napkins, or maybe it properly yet to start. Or maybe, it had started before, when two individuals had stumbled into a random shop in two separate spontaneous moments. You supposed you couldn’t really be sure.

But you did know that you were still only at the beginning.

#please please please let me know what you think!#tom holland #tom holland au #tom holland oneshot #tom holland blurb #tom holland fluff #tom holland writing #tom holland fic #peter parker oneshot #tom holland blog #peter parker blog

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bastillewolf · 4 years

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Midnight In Sheffield (IV)

Pairing: Alex Turner/Reader

Summary: When a soon-to-be-wedded insomniac author heads back home to visit her parents, she comes across the likes of a mysterious musician whilst on her sleepless escapade in the AM.

Notes: So, since I’m posting this one quite late on a Sunday night, maybe we’ll call the schedule day Midnight In Sheffield Mondays? I hope you enjoy, and feedback is always appreciated!

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list!

@alexbandguy86 @bettyschwallocksyee @fookingsummertime @juicebox-baby@darksydork7 @edgythought @toolateformcrtooearlytoleaveemo

Chapter IV - I Want It All

Isn’t this nice?” Mark asked. “I can’t remember the last time we went out for lunch with just the two of us.”

She nodded, feeling a bit calmer since she’d woken up after getting a decent night’s rest, even if it was a bit shorter. She’d gotten back not a minute late last night, for Mark had arrived when she was about to cover herself under the bedsheets, asking what she was still doing up. It ended with her in tears, mostly because of the pure confusion the day had brought her, but also because she’d felt like she needed it.

It was apparent that Mark was feeling a bit concerned, and was doing his best attempt to cheer her up a bit.

“I had an idea, please hear me out for a bit,” he started.

She pulled up her nose, because whenever he said those words, they were usually followed by some notion she wouldn’t like.

“What if we got married at the church back home?”

She paused. Not what she had expected, but certainly not something she favoured. “I thought we were going to get married in France?”

“I know, but… James and Rachel just told me they wouldn’t be able to make it around the time we’d planned to have it. If we just got married at home, I’m sure that would work out better for a lot of people on the guest list.”

“Mark, we’ve discussed this, and the invitations are already printed. If James and Rachel don’t think our wedding is important enough to make time for it, then I suppose they’re not coming.”

“Sweetheart, you know how much they’d want to come. It’s just…”

“What? Spit it out, will you?”

“I’m afraid my parents might get the wrong idea with us getting married in France.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, they think it’s a bit dramatic, for starters. And they know how much you enjoy it there; their guess is that you might want to stay there forever after all is said and done.”

She gave him a look. “So, your parents are afraid I’m going to chain you to a tree in a French vineyard so they can’t ever see you again? Do they think I’m drugging you into agreeing to everything I do?”

He huffed in amusement. “No, sweetheart. But they… they just want to make sure this marriage is going to work. And the first step in their eyes would be to hold a wedding at home. Think of it as nothing more than insurance that you’ll have a pleasant day with your family-in-law.”

“And I wouldn’t have that in France?”

“You’ll most likely be met with the sour faces of both my mother and my sister. And you haven’t even encountered my aunt’s death glare yet. That one’s a real deal-breaker.”

She sighed, fumbling with her hands in her lap. Her engagement ring was starting to feel incredibly heavy, as if the diamond had multiplied its amount of carats.

She had tea with her mum later that day. Her dad was off to work.

“I… Uh, I don’t think we’ll be holding the wedding in France after all.”

Her mother lifted her chin to meet her eyes, gently setting her teacup back on its saucer. “And why is that?”

“Well, you know. I think it would be a lot easier for people to get to the venue because of work and all that. They wouldn’t have to go through all the traveling business, and it would save me and Mark quite a bit of money.”

Her mother hummed in response, but the look she gave her was critical. “I don’t think I remember ever hearing you talk about other people’s expense when you were little and showed me your wedding plans in your binder. That girl would tell everyone to sod off if they couldn’t make time for her special day, let alone think about saving money.”

She didn’t know how to respond.

“Darling, I love you. I would travel the world and back if it meant seeing you walk down the aisle. Please don’t let anyone ruin the dreams you have. I raised you better than that.”

It was nearing midnight, and Alex had lit himself a cigarette in front of the old church. It was going to be a quiet one, due to the fact that Monday was the only day of the week the pub was closed. That didn’t mean the lads wouldn’t go out, but the singer just didn’t feel like it for some reason.

A few ladies dressed in shimmery dresses with feathers in their hair walked past him and sent a wink his way, but he barely paid them any mind. His mind was elsewhere, and the empty alleyway he walked through next was illuminated only by the stars and the moon, which shone like fireballs in the dark blue abyss.

He wandered back into a main street, but it was quiet there, too.

Until he heard the muffled noises coming from a figure hunched against one of the streetlights.

It was a girl, obviously, and she was crying. But it didn’t turn out to be just any girl.

His Arabella.

“Are you all right, love?” he asked. He’d crouched down next to her, attempting to move the hair soaked by her tears away from her face. He noticed she was shivering, and shrugged his jacket off, draping it over her shoulders. “I’m afraid the pawnshops are all closed by now. You’re going to have to find another way to get your money’s worth out of that engagement ring if you want to rid of it tonight.”

She sniffled a laugh, which he was pleased to receive from her. “I really don’t mean to show up crying every night. This is so embarrassing.”

Alex recalled Miles telling about the night you’d met. “Not embarrassing at all. Do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head.

“Alright. Then let’s get you somewhere warmer. Also, I’m famished. Are you hungry?”

“Alphonse, how are you this evening?”

The bell had chimed as they’d walked into the small restaurant, and though the lights were dimmed, she could make out the quaint interior quite well. Round tables, probably meant for no more than two, with a small red tablecloth draped over a larger white one on each of them. They were adorned with clean sets of dinnerware, as well as a simple candle as a centrepiece.

There were grapevines hanging across the wooden beams across the ceiling, and the walls had various paintings of landscape upon them.

In the back of the room, sat the head chef, - she supposed, as he wore the biggest hat of them all – playing a game of cards with his employees.

“Not any worse than any other evening, mister Turner. How are you?” The chef called Alphonse replied heartily. She noted a hint of a French accent in his speech.

“Quite alright, as I’m surrounded by good company.”

“I see, and who might your lady friend be?”

She introduced herself politely, to which all of the cooks took their hats off.

“A friend of mister Turner’s is a friend of ours, Cherie.”

“I told you to call me Alex a long time ago,” came his protest. “Say, you wouldn’t have anything left sitting in the kitchen, would you?”

Alphonse chuckled as he stood, tucking his deck of cards in his shirt’s pocket after giving his fellow players a suspicious look. “I’ll see what we have left after your band of misfits came to raid the place.” He disappeared into the kitchen.

“I wouldn’t be complaining, if I were you. They’re your best customers, after all,” Alex called after him.

The chef grumbled something about empty pantries as he returned with a basket in hand. “And I advise you to take the lady out to dinner here at a more appropriate time instead of sneaking of into the night with a basket full of goodies.”

“Now, you know I never come here that early.”

It turns out he’d packed them an entire cheese platter, with bread, butter, and a nice bottle of wine to make the basket complete. The singer had been gallant enough to carry it and pour her a glass of wine as they walked, to a location he would not yet disclose.

“It seems like you’re known around these parts as a night owl,” she deducted.

He looked at her for a moment, and hummed as an invitation for her to continue.

“Is that just the way you go about? Or does it have a deeper meaning behind it all?”

“Doesn’t people’s behaviour always have a deeper meaning behind it?”

“I suppose so. Something you’re not willing to talk about, then?”

“Perhaps when you decide to tell me why I found you crying on the curb,” he replied curiously.

She smirked, “Well, I’m not sure what you were doing parading the streets, but you were walking, and then you found me. Coincidence, I suppose.”

He shot her a look. “You know what I mean.”

She sighed, but as she was figuring out the right words to say, it appeared that they had already reached their ‘secret location’.

It was a small square, tucked into the corner of town, with a big round fountain in the middle. Sculpted fish were spraying water onto the levels below, and the stream was a soothing noise against the silent street. The buildings surrounding it had their shutters closed, and the way they towered over the small space made it seem like they had walked into a private garden.

But the odd thing was, is that she recognized that fountain, very clearly.

“I…”

“Yes?” Alex asked.

“I… I thought they’d tore down that fountain when I was younger. The whole street, in fact.”

The man next to her seemed to tense. “Well, it seems not.”

“…It seems not.” She had kind of wanted to question him further on the matter, but as the pieces were slowly connecting in her head, she decided to wait until the conclusion she was drawing was entirely certain.

Alex set down the basket, and sat on the stone bench facing the sculpture. “So, how’s the wedding planning going?”

Just the thought of it made tears well up in her eyes again, which he quickly took notice of.

“All right, you could’ve just told me to fuck right off when I opened my mouth.”

She snorted, taking a seat next to him and reaching for a piece of bread. “I’m sorry. I just- That’s the exact thing that has gotten me riled up today.”

“How come?”

The genuine interest was refreshing to her, and it made her feel brave enough to continue. “Well, Mark just thought it would be best to change the venue’s location, since a lot of people would be coming and all that. I kind of ended up agreeing with him, taking into consideration that everyone needed to fly out to France for a singular day. But now my mum is disappointed that I’m not going through with my big wedding plans, and I’ve honestly been doubting every decision I’ve been making since the get-go.”

He nodded with his lips pursed in thought. “I think cheese solves a lot of problems.” He handed her a piece of Gouda. “But if I may ask, what do you want?”

She gave him a confused look.

“I’ve only heard you mention what your fiancée wants, and what your mother wants, and that you don’t want to disappoint either of them. But I haven’t heard you talk about your dream wedding yet. It’s like you care about everyone’s opinions except for your own. And it seems like Mark doesn’t care much for it, either.”

She opened her mouth in protest, “Of course Mark cares! He’s only thinking about practicality, and our future.”

Alex took a languid sip of his glass before replying. “Love, if you want to marry someone, practicality shouldn’t matter if it means you get to hold the wedding your sweetheart has always dreamed about.”

“I don’t need your judgement on my love life.”

“No, but you asked for it anyway. I can’t tell you what to do; it’s your life. All I’m going to say is, make it count. You’re not getting a second shot at it. If you want to go through the rigmarole of a big wedding with a guest list that never ends and a dress that blinds people with the amount of diamonds on it, then you should do it. Not because I told you so, but because you want to do it.”

She knew he was right, but was afraid to admit it. “I… I don’t want a big wedding.”

“Then what do you want?��

“I want it to be private. Just family and friends. In a vineyard somewhere in France.”

He threw his hands up. “Then there you have it.”

“It’s not that easy, Alex. This isn’t all about me. Relationships call for compromise, not selfishness.”

He suddenly took her hand, and pulled her along the square until they’d reached the fountain. He took a coin out of his pocket, and held it out to her.

“What?”

He thrust his palm into her direction once more, but seemed quite reluctant to do so. “Take it, make a wish, and throw it into the fountain.”

“Alex-“

“Might as well give it a go. What do you have to lose?”

She sighed. Though reluctantly, she did as told, and closed her eyes. The slight ‘plop’ of the penny falling into the water was barely heard over the stream.

“You can thank me later,” Alex said.

But as he turned his back to her, she was feeling impulsive, and grabbed his shoulders and thrust him backwards.

This time, the splash was heard.

She clasped her hands in front of her mouth to keep herself from laughing at the drenched figure of Alex Turner, sitting awkwardly in a fountain. Oh, and how he looked absolutely pissed. Pissed was an understatement. He looked furious.

“You’re going to regret that.”

“Oh, am I-“

She shrieked, as two cold hands pulled her into the water with him.

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gegenji · 4 years

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(Chachanji Gegenji) Saint Fathric's was usually a pretty serene and idyllic location, out and away. Perfect for tasty grasses for sheep or playing hide-and-seek. Very serene. However, that serenity was somewhat marred by the racket that seemed to be coming from below the lip of the cliff. Scratching, scraping, rumbling, and the sounds of rocks cascading into the lake below. And some low whining. (Chachanji Gegenji) "Do I -hafta- climb it thi' way? 'm sure there's gotta be a better way fer me ta get up there..." Silence. "Well, yeah, thi' DOES make it easier but..." A shorter beat. "N-no no no, thi' is fine! I dun need more!"

(Metarutaru Koradrixl) An unhelmed dwarf would begin his survey around Saint Fathric's. Concerning reports have mentioned of a powerful monster causing quite a bit of trouble for Il Mheg and even the Outskirts of Lakeland, so he's taken up the job to defeat this creature for the citizens' safety... and the money of course, can't forget that. (Metarutaru Koradrix) "Whew! Quite the climb! Shame I couldn't bring Gidgett with me, but she oughta be fine waiting back at Lakeland." (Metarutaru Koradrix) "Now where is that thing..."

(Chachanji Gegenji) The scrabbling and scratching would continue to grow louder until a rather sizable hand crested the lip of the cliff face to dig for purchase into the dirt and grass above. Followed shortly by the rest of a rather oversized-looking Lalafell (or helmetless Dwarf, here on the first) pulling himself up and flopping down in the dirt. "Ugh. Agh."

(Metarutaru Koradrixl) Hearing a voice that... definitely doesn't sound like a monster, but louder than he expected nonetheless, would turn to the source of the voice. "Lali-WHAT!?" He would be shocked at the sight! A Giant Dwarf! A contradiction if he ever heard one! Perhaps that is the monster causing all the mayhem! He'd have a hand on his weapon, ready to attack as he moved closer... (Metarutaru Koradrix) "What in all of Norvandt...?"

(Chachanji Gegenji) Whatever the oversized creature was, it was breathing heavily from its exertions. Which ended in a long, rumbling groan as it pushed itself up and into a seated position with a very upset look on its face.

(Metarutaru Koradrix) "Well! Part of me feels it's hardly sporting to fight a monster that seems ready to keel over on it's own, but regardless!" He hops down from the rock. "Lali-Ho to you, ya foul experiment gone wrong! When I heard something was terrorizing citizens, I didn't know it was some-one-!"

(Chachanji Gegenji) Those large, long ears wiggled at the voice and he looked about. "H-huh? Someone's already found th' monster?" the understandably monsterously-sized figure mused in surprise - failing to notice the Dwarf as he clambered up to his feet to look around for where the beastie might be. Not entirely realizing that the Dwarf had been talking to him.

(Metarutaru Koradrix) "Hey! Don't you go ignoring me, you overgrown hunk of slag! And don't play dumb either! Course the monster's been found. I'm lookin' at ya right now!" He'd claim to the giant with a huff under his breath. To be looked down upon by another dwarf, and literally, no less!

(Chachanji Gegenji) Those long ears wiggled again, and the paradoxical giant dwarf finally had the sense to -look down- and see the other figure not even thirty fulms away from him. "... Oh hey, I didn't think I'd see 'nother Lalafell out thi' way!" he stated in surprise, kneeling down to get a better look at him. "Ya sayin' somethin' 'bout how ya found th' monster?"

(Metarutaru Koradrix) "Whaddya mean If I found the monst- YOU! You're the monster! And what the heck is a Lalafell anyway! Eesh, whatever those pixies did to you must've warped your brain too! Don't worry, poor, corrupted Dwarf. I'll put ya out of your misery caused by those troublemakers, yeah?" He felt a bit bad about it. Poor guy must've been subjected to such horrible pixie magics to have them do his bidding and such.

(Chachanji Gegenji) "M-me...?" Chachan echoed, pointing to himself before scooting back a half-step as the pieces clicked into place. Which was a decent distance, comparatively. "A-ah! N-no no no! 'm-m not a monster! Honest!" He waved his hands out wildly in front of himself as if that would clear the air between them in a figurative sense.

(Metarutaru Koradrix) "Riiight, and I'm the bleeding Crystal Exarch!" He shook his head. "You're as tall as a small hill, when I got reports of a monster terrorizing the folks of Lakeland and Il Mheg." He looks around. "And I don't see anything else that would qualify as monstrous here! So what would that make you, hm?" (Metarutaru Koradrix) the Dwarf seemed a bit unconvinced at the scared giant dwarf/monster's claim.

(Chachanji Gegenji) "I-I dun ev'n know who tha' is!" he stammered back. "'n-n I haven't ev'n been outside'a Il Mheg! 'm tryin' ta find th' creature too! 's-s why 'm up 'ere!" He looked about wildly. "Gria! W-where'd ya go? A lil' help!" There was a flash of light and a delighted giggle and the oversized beast started getting LARGER. "N-not like tha', Gria!"

(Metarutaru Koradrix) He jumped back a bit. "Oh! Going to make it a challenge I see! You and that twisted little master of yours are going to have to go down!" He bangs upon his chest a few times to psych himself up, ready to take down this threat!

(Chachanji Gegenji) "'m-m not tryin' ta challenge anythin'!" the now excessively large Lalafell rumbled out, stumbling back another couple steps - the ground cracking dangerously beneath him as he neared the cliff edge.

(Metarutaru Koradrix) "Well, you'd better explain yourself, or I'll gladly find out if cowards float!" He got up the rock to be able to be somewhat closer to face level with the giant... though it's not by much.

(Chachanji Gegenji) Despite the obvious size difference between the two, the much larger one seemed very visibly upset by all this. "'m-m tryin' ta! Y-ya jus' dun believe me!" Seeing the dwarf clamber up onto the rock, he sat down to try to be closer to eye level. Hopefully so they could converse better and reach an understanding. "'m-m not normally thi'... big! Gria thought it'd be th' best way fer me ta get up 'ere ta find th' -actual- monster!" (Chachanji Gegenji) The ground rumbled dangerously again as that much Lalafell settled into a seated position (Chachanji Gegenji) ... Of course, even atop the rock, the dwarf was only up to the oversized fellow's knees.

(Metarutaru Koradrix) "Hey! Mind not taking the entire mountain with ya!?" He almost lost his balance for a moment. "Look... You can't really blame me for thinking you're the monster. No Dwarf is as big as a hill!" He decides to sit down. "Alright, be level with me here. What's the deal, yeah? Who are ya, what is this Lalafell you're talking about when we're clearly Dwarves... at least you -Look- like one."

(Chachanji Gegenji) "A-ah! S-sorry!" he yelped, reaching out to try and catch the dwarf before hesitating and instead drawing into himself. Trying to stay as still as possible. He looked... honestly hurt. Ready to cry even. "I-I know thi' ain't normal..." he whimpered, another odd sound coming from someone of his stature. "'m-m Chachanji. 'n... um... I thought WE was Lalafell..." He motioned between the two of them. "Th-though I guess ya call us Dwarves ov'r 'ere in North Rant?" (Chachanji Gegenji) "Gria kept callin' me one too."

(Metarutaru KoradrixCoeurl) Now he just felt bad. Fighting a monster is supposed to be a fearsome, angry, and dangerous encounter!.... Not this. "Okay okay, no need to start with the waterworks. Il Mheg's got enough water with the Fuath in the lake." He shook his head. "So, Chachanji yeah? Definitely not a Dwarf name I've heard of before. Yeah, in -Norvandt-, we're known as Dwarves, as opposed to... Lah-lah-fell? from wherever you're from... Must've been somewhere real far out there before the whole Flood." He ponders.

(Chachanji Gegenji) "Flood?" he echoed curiously to himself, trying to both quiet his sniffling and also think of any floods he knew of. The one that came to mind was, of course, the one his brother spoke of - the flood that ended the War of the Magi. The Lalafell on this side of the world had been over here THAT long? Chachan looked honestly impressed as he rubbed at his eyes with his sleeve. "A-ah, I-I 'spose so. Pretty far 'way. Th' pixies brought me 'ere ta play." (Chachanji Gegenji) "'n help 'em wit monsters 'n stuff... w-which 's why I came up 'ere."

(Metarutaru Koradrix) "Well... if that's really the case... Pixies do have a habit of messing with anyone and everyone. The fact that they didn't flat out turn you into a leafman or leave you lost forever is, honestly impressive on its own! So, what's say we start over, Chachanji. I'm Koratt, formerly of the Tholl tribe. I'd shake your hand but uh, your hand would crush my whole body... So a proper Lali-ho will suffice!"

(Chachanji Gegenji) "A-ah... I-I think they have more fun makin' me huge like thi'..." he stated, rubbing at the back of his neck. Their interest in that - and his reactions to it - were probably what was keeping them FROM turning him into a leafman. At the comment of the handshake issue, he raised a hand and waved it worriedly. "A-ah, I wouldn't crush ya! H-honest!" Though, seeing Koratt seemingly more keen to do this... custom, he tried to mimic it back. "'s-s nice ta meetcha, Mr. Koratt."

(Metarutaru Koradrix) "Well! It's good to meet ya! Sorry about the uh... threatening to kill ya thing. And Shoot, if you're here to fight the monster too... I'd have no qualms 'bout working together! So long as you make sure I don't wind up like dirt under your boot, yeah? Don't want my life to end by an accident."

(Chachanji Gegenji) "'s-s fine, honest..." Chachan admitted, though his smile was a sad one. "'s-s not s'prisin' folks'd think 'm... w-well... a monster." He shook his head as if to dismiss the gloom from his mind and gave a bit warmer smile. "O-oh, ah, sure thin'! 'd be up fer workin' t'gether. 'n-n I ain't gonna step on a new friend! O-or anyone, fer tha' matter."

(Metarutaru Koradrix) "Hey, if you wanna step on the monster I'm all for it! So! Let's see if we can't find this critter causing trouble in Il Mheg, Chachanji!" He nods, eager to lend a hand now that this prior confusion is dealt with... and hey, if they're busy messing around with him, here's hoping the Pixies won't start messing with him too! That'd be troublesome otherwise.

(Chachanji Gegenji) "W-well... i-if'n I hafta..." the oversized pacifist stated, lifting the dwarf up on his glove as he got to his feet. Which incidentally gave Koratt a pretty good vantage point to look around for where the creature would be. Being this high up was pretty handy! "I-I honestly dun like hurtin' anyone, but we can't let some monster go 'round hurtin' others neither..."

(Metarutaru Koradrix) "The way I see it, a bit of violence be necessary to keep the peace! Specially the way things have been now that all that corruption's going down! People and critters getting rowdy now that the end of the world isn't really coming to pass and whatnot. Still wishin' I can thank the folks who did all that work to fix things in Norvandt..." He let out a sigh, but he seemed content. "Now then!... Hmm... little critter, where would I hide if I were it...." Metarutaru Koradrix looks around.

(Chachanji Gegenji) Chachan blinked at that. The corruption was probably those Sin Eater things he'd help chase off now and then. Like ashkin or voidsent, really. But end of the world? Maybe that whole Bahamut thing had ramifications all the way out here? The oversized Lalafell shook his head. Now wasn't the time to worry too much about that. "R-right, th' monster, um..." He looked about too, scanning around from his sizeable vantage point for wherever this ACTUAL monster had gotten off to. (Chachanji Gegenji) "... Mebbe in those ruins ov'r there?" He pointed with his free hand.

(Metarutaru Koradrix) "Ah! That's as good a spot as any! Could be there or maybe hiding in a cave nearby or something. being all sneaky and whatnot, you know?" Metarutaru Koradrix nods to you.

(Chachanji Gegenji) "Ah, if'n they're in a cave then 'm gonna have pro'lems if'n Gria keeps bein' a meanie." The Lalafell would quickly regret those words, as the Pixie in question didn't take too kindly to being called a 'meanie.' "Maybe ye need ta be as big as yer mouth!" came an irate chime from up by Chachanji's ear. The oversized Lalafell panicked as more magic was pumped into him, covering his new friend carefully in both hands until it was over. When it was, Koratt had a much higher viewpoint. (Chachanji Gegenji) "'n ev'n moreso now," he sighed, moving quickly away from the cliff edge as it groaned worrisomely under his bulk. (Chachanji Gegenji) Once at the ruins - which was a matter of a few steps at this scale - he set his new companion down gently in front of it.

(Metarutaru Koradrix) "Ah jeez! Whatever is causing you to grow, mind telling her to slow it down some? You're gonna break everything the way you keep growing, villages included!" He shook his head a she was set down. "Hmm... Least we're both in one piece. Anyhow!" He would move in closely and would see the ruins. "Hmmm.." He'd take a small bag inhand toss it in the ruins, before keeping hidden behind the wall. The bag would pop and something that seemed sparkly would fly about in the ruins... (Metarutaru Koradrix) (A Glitter-like material! cuz it's always so hard to get that off of ya. Easy to find invisible folk with it! (Metarutaru Koradrix) well, if it's there!)

(Chachanji Gegenji) "'s-s Gria, sorry," he stated quietly as he gently settled down into a seated position to keep watch from outside the ruins. Even seated he could see a fair bit, and trying to help with the search would likely cause more harm than good until he at least convinced his upset pixie friend to get him back down to more manageable sizes.

(Metarutaru Koradrix) Looking carefully in, among the glitter there would be juuust a few specks of the glitter not on the ground or on the ruins walls, but instead floating... a tad unnaturally at that! "There you are, you sneaky little bugger..." Meta mutters and looks to his new giant friend and gives a nod to confirm something is indeed in there! He can't see it though aside from the specks of glitter on it, and wonders. "Does your magic mumbo-jumbo let you see it?" He'd ask.

(Chachanji Gegenji) "A-ah, I jus'... get big. If'n it's hidin', ya can prolly find it better'n I can..." he admitted. "I can... um... try'n spook it out by movin' th' rubble 'round or somethin'?" (Chachanji Gegenji) He likely could also just crush it at this size, but he didn't seem too keen on pointing that out. Not without knowing what it was first - if it was a sin eater or an ashkin or something, sure. But if it was a living thing - or, worse, another person - he wanted to try and avoid outright killing it if possible.

(Metarutaru Koradrix) "Hmm... Nah. you're big, so tell ya what, let's figure out what it is. If it really is a monster or not, I'm gonna draw it out. If it's dangerous, we get rid of it, if it ain't we'll see if we can't catch it and find a better way to deal with it! The Nu Mou are good with magic and might be able to help pacify it if we catch it, if it's worth saving."

(Chachanji Gegenji) "A-ah, so 'm on catchin' duty then?" the Lalafell asked with a sudden bright eagerness at the thought of capture over killing, shifting in his positioning so he was on all fours. "I-I'll do me best!" Somewhere nearby, Gria couldn't help but laugh at this visual of an oversized Lalafell hunkered down in front of the mouth of the ruins like a cat at a mouse-hole.

(Metarutaru Koradrix) Koratt ran in and cause a ruckus, letting out a burst of energy. It would be successful in revealing what was hiding in there, and Indeed it was indeed their quarry! A sin eater, and a Bear-sized one at that! Which compared to Koratt would be large indeed. "Ah-ha! There you are, you little bugger! You're done hurtin' the Lakeland folk!” (Metarutaru Koradrix) Koratt would move out of the ruins, the Bear-like sin eater following angrily, but it would only make it easier for Chachanji to assist once out!

(Chachanji Gegenji) Chachan started to lunge when Koratt was the first one out, but noted it was his friend just in time to hesitate - hand over the doorway but letting him go past. Due to that, however, when the sin eater came out right on his heels, he was too slow and the hand slammed down right behind the beast as it chased after the dwarf!

(Metarutaru Koradrix) With the hand behind the bear, Koratt is confident! The monster can't get away now! He smirks and charges the bear, using aetherical energy to slam into it hard, and knocking the sin-bear into the giant Dwarf's hand!

(Chachanji Gegenji) The sin eater crashes into the oversized Lalafell's thumb, and he's quick to rotate that hand and completely engulf the beast in it. It's like he's holding a guinea pig rather than a huge bear monster. His grip isn't super tight, and the beast wriggles and flails against him - clawing and biting at those large fingertips. Chachan winces in pain, but refuses to let go! (Chachanji Gegenji) "Th-thi' looks like a sin eater!" he states the obvious.

(Metarutaru Koradrix) Wouldn't be able to get a good clean shot at the bear as he'd like, due to the creature's wriggling and writhing. He'd get a swipe in, but the bear's struggling would get him hit with it's hindpaw, sending him back quite a bit. "Ack!"

(Chachanji Gegenji) "A-ah! Koratt!" Chachan yelps in alarm at his new friend being backhanded (or backpawed?) like that. Distracted by it, the sin eater gets a solid CHOMP on his thumb and the oversized Lalafell yelps and loosens his grip just enough that it's able to wriggle free!

(Metarutaru Koradrix) "Grr! I ain't letting some bear make a meal of me!" He gets back up and would charge at the now freed bear! Taking a blocked hit from the sword, it pushed him back a bit and winced, but he went right back in and fought the creature tit-for-tat. thanks to the struggle earlier from their teamwork, it wouldn't be able to keep up and eventually fell, though Koratt was quite winded and a fair bit hurt too. "Hah....hah... Whew... Sin Eaters always are, quite something..."

(Chachanji Gegenji) Chachan wanted to assist in the scrap but the two were too interlocked with each other for him to get a blow without risking hitting his companion as well. His hand hovered nervously back and forth trying to find an opening until the stalwart dwarf got the final blow in. As the beast slumped to the ground, Chachan shook his hand before lightly suckling on his bit thumb to numb the pain some. Given the size difference, it hadn't broken skin but that monster's jaws had PINCHED it pretty good. (Chachanji Gegenji) Given the creature was a soulless husk like an ashkin, and leaving any chance of it still able to move could result in his new friend or someone else being further harmed - or infected! Chachan only felt a twinge of regret for the life the bear once had before its transformation before he slammed a fist down into it, tendrils of white smoke curling up around the impact. (Chachanji Gegenji) "Th-there," he added as a bit of lame finality before looking to his friend. "A-are ya akay, Koratt?"

(Metarutaru Koradrix) Koratt winces a bit at the sight of the crushed sin eater, full glad he is on his side and actually didn't try to hurt the giant Dwarf before! He opts to sit down. "A little banged up... But nothing I can't get over with some rest, recovery, and alcohol, heh..." He snickers a bit before wincing. "Ow. How about you? He... He didn't infect you, I hope, did he cut your stab you with his claws?" He asked, visibly very concerned for Chachanji as he is unsure.

(Chachanji Gegenji) "Ah, I can help wit tha' a lil'..." he offered, holding a very large hand over the Dwarf. The hand would glow with a faint golden light as he sent some healing energy into his companion. His healing magic was usually rather weak - not good for much beyond minor scratches and scrapes - but bolstered with some of the extra aether in him due to his increased size, it would actually be able to do SOME actual mending. His form actually dwindled a bit in size as that aether was used up, but it would-- (Chachanji Gegenji) be difficult to notice given it was a couple fulms out of around a hundred and fifty. (Chachanji Gegenji) "'n 'm fine, dun worry... th' bites 'n stuff hurt, but it didn't break skin."

(Metarutaru Koradrix) He would feel himself getting better already! He smiles brightly at him. It would at least be enough to get back home safely, for sure. He nods to him. "Wow, wasn't expecting that... Thanks a bunch. Man, do I owe you an apology and then some for earlier! Tell you what, if you can find a way to be proper sized to walk into a town, You just have to let me treat you to some good food and drink! The least I could do for helping me here, Chachanji." Metarutaru Koradrix smiles at you.

(Chachanji Gegenji) "'m sorry I can't heal much more'n tha'. Ain't never been too good at it," Chachan stated apologetically, but with a smile. "'n-n dun worry about it. I... kinda can't blame ya fer thinkin' I was th' monster, y'know?" The smile is slightly tinged with sadness, but not nearly as much as before. Hard to be as upset about it when misunderstandings were corrected and a new friendship was forged! "'n-n 'm sure Gria'll help get me back down ta size." He scratched at his cheek. "I figger I owe 'em an-- (Chachanji Gegenji) apology first, though."

(Metarutaru Koradrix) "Well... Alright, I won't question magic shenanigans in Il Mheg... But if ya got the time, Meet me sometime at the Ostall Imperative! It's south of the gate to Il Mheg itself, and I'll treat ya! I need to head back to them and give 'em a heads up things are all safe here now. Well, as safe as Il Mheg can be, hah! I'll see you soon Chachanji!"

(Metarutaru Koradrix) He waves farewell to him, and making sure not to be in Il Mheg too long, risky business that is after all. He'd begin to work on his trek back down, revitalized by the healing.

(Chachanji Gegenji) "Ah, sure thin'. Will ya be able ta get down alright or...?" he started to offer, but the dwarf was already on his way. So he just gave him a wave as Gria twirled into existence next to his oversized ear, hands on hips. "Sure as ye are over a hundred fulms tall, Chachanji," they stated with a pout. "Ye -better- be apologizing! I gave you all that aether and you call me a MEANIE."

#ffxiv screenshots #rp log #first rp #metarutaru #koratt #chachanji #gria gai #dwarves #lalafell

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amyscascadingtabs · 5 years

Note

13 or 34 (or both!) for peraltiago prompts!!!! 💕

congrats siân, your prompt was the first one to make it to a longer piece (or like, 1.3k) instead of staying the short little piece these were supposed to be but it got very sweet so i’m not too mad about it.

13. “Sorry I’m late.”

A quick glance at her watch confirms it - Jake should have been here seventeen minutes ago.

There is no trace of him.

Amy sighs, channeling all her self-discipline to resist the urge to send another follow-up text, asking about his current location and why he’s finding it amusing to let his girlfriend of three months sit and wait on the steps outside of his apartment, when really, he should have been there to meet her long ago.

It’s not even him she’s most disappointed in. She’s worked with him for five years, knows clear as day he could probably find a way to be late for his own funeral, but he’s made a point of arriving on perfect time for each of their scheduled dates so far and somehow, she got used to it. So used to it she went ahead and assumed the trend would continue, would allow for her to decide a time with him over text and be able to go straight to his apartment after spending a weekend at her parents house. She was acting like a straight-up optimist, which feels strange and unnatural and clearly doesn’t serve her well.

Nineteen minutes late.

Amy supposes it could have been worse. If she has to be stuck waiting outside a boyfriend’s apartment, she’d much rather it’d be a pleasantly warm evening towards the end of summer, the kind of weather where even she’s given up on wearing an extra coat, than a freezing January afternoon with her exhales creating clouds of white vapor. Outside of the fact that the chill of the stone steps seeps through the fabric of her floral summer dress, she’s not too uncomfortable. She’s still annoyed, though.

Her phone vibrates in her hand, but it’s just a Facebook notification, reminding her she’s invited to Floorgasm’s dance show at a birthday party tomorrow. Still nothing from Jake.

She wants to put down the phone in her purse to keep from looking at the time, but holds onto it for some inexplicable reason anyway.

Twenty-two minutes.

She should dig out her book, her laptop, do some work, anything but keep wasting her time staring at the customers entering and exiting the bodega across the street. Hell, she should go home to her own apartment, text her boyfriend to drag his ass over there when he next remembers to look at the time and then act extra bitter for the entire night when he shows up. That was her method for any time Teddy was late and it worked perfectly to give him a bad conscience each time, yet she lacks all temptation to do something similar now.

Jake’s not doing it on purpose. She knows that, knows he fits an abundance of criteria for an ADHD diagnosis - including poor sense of time - but keeps putting off speaking to a professional about it. He’s not intentionally making himself late, but rather is just not wired for keeping track of time. She knows. She wishes her growing impatience knew it, too.

Twenty-five.

Nearly half an hour. Half an hour is a long time, half an hour is allowed-to-be-pissed time, half an hour means she could call his phone and demand to know where he’s at. She still doesn’t. She keeps turning the phone in her hands instead, waiting for a text, a call, an explanation. In place of anger, worry is growing. Maybe something happened, maybe he managed to get himself kidnapped again or he’s going undercover and Captain Holt forgot to tell her about it, maybe he was the victim of a street shooting and is bleeding to death on the concrete.

She googles recent shootings Brooklyn, but sees nothing that could be her boyfriend and draws a tentative breath of relief. She texts him instead, a neutral Where are you?, but the reply won’t come.

Twenty-seven minutes.

At this point, she’s barely even angry. She just misses him, misses her boyfriend after spending a weekend answering too many questions from her parents and all seven of her brothers about him, misses his laugh and the way he scrunches his forehead when he’s not sure she’s right about something. She misses the smell of his aftershave when she presses kisses to his neck, misses the way he hums and draws her closer in the mornings after she’s stayed over at his place on his new and dreamy mattress, misses untimely Die Hard-references and him insisting on helping her clean up even though she’s way more efficient on her own. She’s spent four days without him and it’s not a lot, she spent six months without him when he was undercover with the FBI and she couldn’t for the life of her figure out how she felt about him and that was unquestionably worse than the four days she’s had now with texting and phone calls and a FaceTime session to keep her stable, but she still missed him. She missed him enough to have felt jittery for the entirety of today, her heart fluttering and smile inevitable whenever she’s thought about seeing him tonight.

She just wants to see him.

Twenty-nine minutes late.

Her back is hurting from her less than ideal posture on these steps, and she stands up to stretch her arms over and then behind her head, drawing her shoulder blades together and apart, tilting her head side to side.

That’s when she sees him.

He’s running towards her, face all red from exertion like he’s sprinted the entire way from the precinct, and he’s panting like he just completed a marathon when he reaches her.

“Oh my god”, he gets out between gasps for air, “Ames, shit. Sorry I’m late.”

“It’s okay”, she says robotically, then remembers her annoyance and adds, “Kind of.”

“It’s not okay, it’s a dick move and you deserved better.” Jake sits down on the steps right where she was sitting a minute ago, putting his head in his hands. “I walked to the precinct today, because it was nice out and you’re always telling me I should get more fresh air. So I forgot I didn’t have my car.”

“You could have called.”

“My phone died”, he says, holding up his phone and pressing the power button to reveal the Apple picture of an empty battery and blinking charger. “Out of nowhere. Or I guess not out of nowhere. I forgot how much battery FaceTime takes, and we were talking for a long time yesterday.”

“Oh.” She’s blushing now, starting to regret all her previous judgement.

“So I ran. From the precinct to here. Like a crazy person.”

“For me?”

He rolls his eyes. “No, because I love exercise and especially running so much, I constantly go on 5k runs in plaid, jeans and leather jacket while carrying a bag just for fun - yes, Ames, obviously for you.”

“Wow.” She sits down next to him, putting her head on his shoulder. “And here I was thinking you were just ignoring me.”

“I could literally never ignore you. It’s my most fatal flaw.” He looks straight at her, a gravity to the warm brown eyes she’s also missed so much. “If I ever ignore you, that’s definite proof I’ve been taken over by an evil identical twin or a super smart evil robot.”

“Well”, she smiles, heart much warmer now than before. “That’s good to know. And no offense, but I think you might need a shower after your run.”

“Will you share it with me?”

“Only because you’re the cheesiest, sweetest boyfriend ever.”

“Aww”, he grins. “Santiago thinks I’m swee-eet - ow, don’t punch my shoulder!”

Forty-two minutes after their originally scheduled meeting time, he’s trailing kisses along her wet skin and she can tell exactly where it’s going.

Yeah, she missed him alright.

#sian-jpg #johanna does prompts #my writing #b99 fic #brooklyn 99 fic #brooklyn nine-nine fic #b99 #jake x amy #peraltiago #once again a reminder these are being written in random order!!

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thealphabetmurders · 5 years

Note

If you still want a prompt maybe human analogical coffee shop au?

Hello, @potater420, thank you so much for your prompt, I really appreciate you sending one in.

I want to preface this with everyday I want to fucking die, so incredibly badly. For multiple reasons, but one of them being I am bad at being a writer. Mainly, because of the fact that I cannot do anything short. Coffee Shop AU’s are a fairly simple prompt, so I thought to myself “easy, I have got this under control”. Nevertheless, I messed it up and now it is a 10k+ word monster. I am appalled with myself. So, once again, I am breaking up what was supposed to be a short one-shot into a multi chaptered fic. I hate myself.

Virgil is a barista who has been working at Humes’s Coffeehouse and also a regular smoker who has been doing so for 8 years. He meets Logan, an attractive (soon to be) Doctor of Addiction Psychiatry, who implores him to stop smoking in the most fanfiction way possible. Please enjoy.

(Read on AO3)

Everyone had their vices nowadays. Information and ideas are conveyed too fast and quickly for anyone to stay sane without a little outside help. There are healthier coping mechanisms than others, some more effective than not, and Virgil has tried pretty much them all, and he has more shit to deal with than most. So whilst many found solace in sex, Smirnoff, and santa marta, Virgil was still smoking in 2019.

It was not his fault. He began smoking when he was 14 when it was 2012 and still semi cool. If he could turn back time and refuse that first cigarette from someone who’s name escapes him now, he would, but for now he has to indulge to keep himself sane.

He used to smoke a lot more, at least a pack and a half a day. Now, on a bad day, he smokes 15 cigarettes; on a good day, he is down to 8; an average day has Virgil fall somewhere between 10 and 12.

It is never enjoyable to stand outside, by yourself, and just smoke, but without the nicotine, he get extremely jittery, anxious, and irritated. The weather doesn’t let up for anyone slowly destroying their body, but it does allow him to have extra breaks from work. Not that he particularly minds working at Hume’s Coffeehouse. The owner is good and his day manager, Roman, can be bothersome, but is good company. And it is just a short walk to his flat with his roommate Patton. Yet, there were still days when customers were just… So dumb. Such unbridled, unfiltered, idiocy.

So, that is why Virgil is standing out front for his second time that hour, slowly milking his Marlboro Lite outside the doors to the shop. Normally, he has to smoke out back on the patio, but there were guests outside and Roman did not want them to be disturbed. So, he told him to zip up his hoodie over his uniform (as to not give the company a ‘bad image’) and to go smoke out front.

It was a warm day in April, warmer than Virgil’s liking for having a hoodie on, the sun shining on his right arm, holding the lit cigarette in his left hand. Virgil kicked a few pieces of concrete across the wide, jagged sidewalk as he took a deep breath in the afternoon air. It was a few minutes past 4 o’clock, Virgil thankful that he gets to leave in less than an hour and go work on a graphic design project for school. The rush had died down exponentially, no one had come in the building for the past 10 minutes. A white car pulled up to the front spot in the parking lot, and Virgil internally groaned and took another drag of his cigarette, knowing that if someone was coming in, he would have to go back inside to help (seeing as it was just Virgil and Roman there).

The car door opened, and a young man who appeared to be a tad older than Virgil himself exited and slammed the door closed with his foot, carrying a laptop on his hip, a satchel under his arm, a binder in his left arm (that looked about 5 inches wide), whilst texting on his cellphone with his left hand. Virgil had seen all types of university kids come into their quaint little shop in his time working there, but he had never seen one try to multitask before even getting in the building. This one, in fact, seemed even less aware of his surroundings than most.

He walked a few paces across the pavement (never looking up from his phone) until he made his way to the sidewalk. The jagged, uneven sidewalk that one in every three people trip over because of a particularly nasty snag on the pavement.

“Dude, hey!” Virgil called out, trying to get the young man’s attention, “Watch out, you’re gonna-” The man looked at Virgil over his glasses, his eyes filled with hurry and confusion, until his black converse caught onto that crack in the sidewalk, and he came crashing down.

Virgil doesn’t think he has ever cringed more on behalf of another person before; but watching a cellphone with no case an a Macbook fly through the air as papers from the thickest binder any man has ever seen fluttered on top of the sidewalk, like sprinkles on the worst sundae ever, made for a spectacle like no other.

“Holy shit, man!” Virgil yelled, throwing his cigarette to the ground and quickly stomping it out before running to the aid of the other. “Are you okay?”

The other man groaned and picked himself back onto his knees. His once professional demeanor was quickly ruined by the his now disheveled black hair and the scrapes on his cheek.

“Oh, that is unfortunate,” The bespectacled spectacle looked down at the long sleeved sweater he was previously wearing, now sporting a hole in the elbow, which was bleed as well, clashing with the navy blue color he had on.

“You got fucked up,” Virgil said, tapping his fingers rapidly on his thigh. He moved down to his knees and began gathering the papers before they began to blow away, “Let me help you gather all this up. You seemed stressed enough,”

The man chuckled, running his hands through his hair, attempting to tame it once more, “I suppose I am more stressed than was I was previously aware of,” He leaned to his left to grab his phone and inspected it for a few moments, fiddling with the buttons before smirking, “No cracks,”

Virgil scoffed, “You are so jammy, my phone would be dust if that happened, and I have an Otterbox,”

He shrugged in response, “It is because I have an Android,”

The Macbook, however, did not fare so well. He opened it, adjusting his glasses, and cringed. Virgil moved behind him and couldn’t help but suck in a breath at seeing the laptop ink inside the machine spill and move around the cracked areas.

“Yea, that thing is toast,”

He just shook his head, “Nonsense. I just have to get the screen replaced. I have the 2 year warranty after all. I just will not be as productive when I start working,” He closed the laptop and put it in his messenger bag as Virgil ogled at him.

“After what just happened, you are still going to do work? I don’t think I would work for a week if that shit just happened to me. I would take that as a sign from the universe to take a break,”

The other just scoffed at that, pushing his glasses further on his face. “I have not taken a break in 24 years, one broken Macbook is not going to change that streak for me,” He smirked at the other, but then contorted his face up, wincing slightly and touched the wound still present on his cheek. “Do you think that you could help me and gather the rest of my papers? You do not have to of course, but since you are already helping. I would like to run to my car and get some medical supplies to treat my wounds.”

“Yes, yes, of course,”

The man smiled at him gratefully and slowly jogged back to his car. Virgil began gather the papers that were littered with chemistry and medical notations that he had no clue about. He picked up a page full or writing, presumably the center of an essay and looked at the corner which read ‘Arias 3’.

The man, Arias, came back with a small first aid bag slung over his shoulder just as Virgil finished putting all of the papers back in the binder. He picked up the binder and the satchel but did not hand them to Arias quite yet.

“I will bring these in for you, I do not want you tripping and falling again,” Virgil explained, and Arias groaned in feign vexation, a smile ghosting his lips, “Do you need any help with your wounds or anything?”

Arias shook his head as they made their way into the shop, Virgil holding the door for them, “I am in my second to last year of my medical school program, I believe I can handle a few cuts and bruises,” He set down his bag on a table and Virgil followed suit with the rest of his items, “But I sincerely appreciate the offer,”

Virgil bowed a little which made the other chuckle slightly. He looked behind him at the counter to see Roman standing there, staring at him with his hands on his hips. He shakes his head and taps his wrist and Virgil rolled his eyes, “I should get back to work, my manager is going to yell at me soon,”

Arias’ eyebrows raised slightly, “You work here? Did you just begin?”

“No, I have been here for about 7 months now,”

He frowned in response, “I frequent this location often, why have I never seen you,”

Virgil shrugged, “I normally leave at 5 o’clock, so what time-”

“Ah,” Arias pointed a finger at him, “That must be it. I come in here at around 6 o’clock most weekdays. I am familiar with some of the staff… Including Roman,” He gestured his hand a little past Virgil, who turned around to see his manager walking towards them, a grin plastered on his face.

“Hello again, Logan. I see you have become acquainted with Virgil now,” Roman grinned and placed an arm around Virgil shoulders, sighing a bit with relief to finally know the other man’s name.

Arias- Logan, must have had the same line of thinking, “We haven’t had a proper introduction, but, I suppose now his a good time.” He held out his hand to Virgil, “I am Logan Arias,”

Virgil took his hand, “Virgil Kosa,” The shook for a moment, Logan’s grip was professional and firm and then they parted.

Logan directed his attention to Roman, “Yes, Virgil here helped me after I tripped and fell over that dreaded sidewalk,”

Roman groaned, “That sidewalk is the bane of my existence. It is now evident that you lost that fight with the sidewalk,” Roman loosely pointed to the wounds on Logan’s face, which prompted him to pull out the bandages, rubbing alcohol, and cotton rounds from his bag.

“I also lost my Macbook in the process. It succumbed to the harsh concrete, but I have the warranty for it. Thankfully Virgil here was there to help me gather my items that were lost from my fall.” He smiled softly at the dark cladded man, “I am quite grateful,”

Roman gave a hearty laugh, “Well, it is good that I let you go on that smoking break then,”

Virgil smirked, “I guess today smoking is going to save lives,”

Logan’s face contorted, but before he could say anything the chime went off in the store and they saw two people standing at the counter. They bid their short farewell to Logan and made their way around the back of the counter.

They had a mini rush, an influx of students from their college town came in, ordering everything from black coffee to frivolous frappuccinos. Roman took orders while Virgil blended, shook, and spun the orders ‘round. He didn’t mind the work. It was mindless and it allowed his thoughts to drift a bit. He thought about Logan a bit more, his eyes trailing to the black haired man who was studying diligently, flipped through flashcards faster than Virgil could probably read them. Logan adjusted his glasses and Virgil smiled, taking in his sharp features and intelligent sense of dress. He noticed the blue bandage he had on his cheek and the medical bag was on the chair opposite to him. Virgil stared longer than he should have and Logan turned to him, catching his eye. He waved curtly at Virgil, grey eyes flashing with bemusement and he flushed in response, opting for a two fingered salute towards Logan, hoping he didn’t notice his blush.

The rush eventually died down and Virgil was wiping down the machines when Roman came up behind him, straws in hand. He grinned down at Virgil as he stocked the dry goods, the other attempting to ignore the chuckles and giggles coming from the taller man. Eventually, Virgil turned to raise an eyebrow at Roman, who was filling the creamer with a cheeky expression.

“Can I ask you a question, V?”

Virgil nodded, prompting the other to continue.

“So, you’re gay, cachai?” Roman purred, the rhyme flowing effortlessly off his tongue.

Virgil made a smacking noise with his mouth and shook his head, wiping down a counter area that was already clean, “You can’t ask me that, Roman,”

He rolled his eyes, “But I am correct, yes?”

Virgil groaned, “Yes, you are. Is this relevant?”

Roman danced in placed, spilling droplets of creamer on the ground, “I want to set you up with Logan,”

Virgil groaned, “No, I do not want to be set up with anyone. I barely know him,”

“You kept giving him eyes on the line, I was watching,”

“He is cute, yes, but that whole med student thing does not exactly appeal to me, seeing as I am the least healthy person I know,”

Roman decidedly ignored the last half of Virgil’s statement and made undignified, offended gasps at Virgil, “Cute? You have got to be kidding me, weon,” Roman ruffled his dark curls after discarding the gloves he was wearing, “He has that sexy librarian thing going on, how can you not be into that?”

If you’re so ‘into that’,” Virgil quoted “Then why don’t you date him?”

Roman protested, “You would think I would, but, I am still trying to take a bite of your adorably delicious roommate,”

“Ah, right,” Virgil remembered, “That’s a fun thing to hear from your boss,”

Roman groaned dramatically and Virgil just raised an eyebrow at him, “Just go ask him out, I promise you will not regret it,” He sung that last bit, and Virgil only rolled his eyes. He did a quick sweep of the line and made sure to diligently wipe down the blenders to avoid going out into the lobby to wipe down tables.

“I am leaving now, Roman,” Virgil’s eyes trailed to the front counter to where he heard Logan’s voice, seeing the med student talk to his manager, “I will see you tomorrow, most likely,”

“Ah, that you will, weon. I hope you get your laptop fixed, promptly,” Roman flailed his arms in standard dramatic fashion and Logan shook his head at him, exhausted.

“Virgil,” Logan called out to him, a ways away down the line. He beckoned Virgil forward and he rushed forward, standing next to Roman, the two were stark contrasts of each other, “I just wanted to let you know I left something for you written on one of the napkins on the table,” Logan motioned towards his table, and sure enough, Virgil spotted a napkin and a pen left there. Virgil said nothing in response and Logan took this as an opportunity to take his leave and bid the other two a quaint farewell.

As soon as Logan was out the door, Roman began squealing with delight as Virgil turned completely red to his roots.

“Looks like Logan had the hots for you too!” He followed Virgil out into the lobby where he went to Logan’s seat and snatched up the napkin with the pen. He looked at the napkin, expecting to find a phone number or an email.

“What is it?” Roman asked, and Virgil read the napkin over again, groaning.

Virgil frowned at Roman, and read the napkin out loud:

“Smoking is the leading cause of preventable disease. Frequent smokers die 10 years earlier than non-smokers.

-(soon to be) Dr. Logan Arias, Addiction Psychiatrist”

Roman snatched the napkin away from Virgil’s grasp to read it for himself, and began laughing.

“Great, not only do I have my coworkers and housemates bother me about smoking, now I have random attractive men doing so?”

Roman continued laughing, “Si, po. Si,”

“This is why you don’t fuck with med students,” Virgil spat, bitterly.

Roman said nothing but snickered a bit more before following Virgil to the back where he pulled out his phone.

“It is not an incorrect fact, I just checked,”

“I didn’t think it would be, weon,” Roman pinned the napkin to their corkboard in the back, “Soon-to-be Dr. Logan Arias said so,” He quoted and giggled a bit more as Virgil made a grab for the napkin, but Roman deflected it.

“You suck, Roman, I want you to know that,” Virgil looked at the clock, “I was supposed to get off 45 minutes ago, can I leave?”

Roman nodded as Virgil unplugged his phone charger and grabbed his lighter (he always carries two) and inspected the note once more, “It is odd that he didn’t leave a number or anything, just a fact,”

Roman shrugged, “Maybe he will give one to you once you make an effort to stop smoking,”

Virgil barked laughing, “Fat chance,” He made a beeline for the door.

“No one wants to kiss an ashtray!” Roman called.

Virgil pushed open the door with he back as he yelled back at Roman, “I am not asking anyone to!”

He put in his earbuds and began walking with purpose back to his apartment. The walk was an easy 10 minutes where he could just block out the world and succumb to the lyrics of his Walking/Daydream Playlist.

He reached his apartment and threw his keys in the bowl at the front door. He greeted Patton and made his way to his room and looked at the time. It was only 6 o’clock, so he decided he had time for a nap before dinner. Virgil closed his eyes and fell asleep to visions of steel grey and cigarette smoke.

I made Roman Chilean in this fic (gee… I wonder why), so some of the italicized words are Chilean slang that I will define here:

santa marta - Not a Chilean slang word, but slang for marijuana in Latin America (according to the Internet).

cachai - Do you get me?/ Y’know? / Yea? At it’s core, it is essential just asking if they are on the same page.

po: Just used for emphasis when speaking.

weon: This is the most commonly used slang word in Chile. It’s meaning can range from ‘dude’ or ‘man’ to as a term of endearment, greeting to idiot or worse. The meaning all depends on context and emphasis. I am being serious when I say Chileans say this in every other sentence.

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #Virgil Sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #Analogical #royality #my writing #potater420 #ask prompt #why do I do this to myself

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chimmychubs · 6 years

Text

Until It’s Gone

➙ pairing: kim taehyung x reader

➙ genre: angst

➙ warnings: none

➙ word count: 2k+

➙ summary: Some people don’t know what they have until it’s gone, but no one talks about the ones who already know what they have. The ones who have to watch as the thing they love most leaves them behind.

It’s dark, it’s late. You sit on the couch of you and your boyfriend’s shared apartment, and you sit patiently. Your palms begin to sweat and you can feel your heartbeat pumping at an abnormal speed, the clock looking up at you from the screen of your phone reading 12:07 AM. Your legs shake out of habit and you bite the inside of your cheek, trying to keep yourself from breaking into a nervous wreck.

Taehyung wasn’t back yet. You’re nervous because your boyfriend doesn’t usually come home late unless he tells you he’s working later than usual. He hadn’t called or messaged you all day, and it leaves you wondering if Taehyung has been cheating on you.

You know it’s not right to falsely accuse people, but during the past couple of weeks Taehyung seemed a bit distant and gained a record of coming home at one in the morning five days in a row.

But all you can do is hope Taehyung still loves you as much as you do.

The memory of you and Taehyung meeting suddenly engulfs your mind and you find yourself smiling as you remember Taehyung spilling hot coffee on himself.

It was a cozy autumn afternoon. Both you and Taehyung were the only customers inside the book cafe located just across the street from your apartment.

As you sat by your lonesome self, drawn to the details inside the book you were reading, Taehyung stood at the counter after reciting his order, taking in the view he was brought upon. Your messy hair and dark eye circles indicated that you must’ve been an overworking university student, seeing how there was a university nearby and the book you were reading had the words The Humongous Book Of University Calculus Problems written boldly on the very front cover.

Although your appearance was a bit messy, Taehyung took his time to notice the details about you. A small pout formed on your lips and pretty eyes that squinted with confusion as they read over everything in the book. The sunlight through the window shines down perfectly on your hair, and he watches carefully as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

An oversized sweater and a pair of sweatpants on, you looked so perfect to him.

He wanted to ask you on a date. He wanted you to be his girlfriend, the one who he would wake up beside every morning and go to bed saying ‘I love you’ every night. The moment Taehyung laid eyes on you, he knew you were the one.

Unless you were taken, of course.

Which you weren’t. So when you noticed the chair in front of you slide back and a handsome boy sits in it, you immediately think I hope he isn’t taken.

And when he asks what your name is, you reply, “Y/N,” and in his mind, it’s the most beautiful name he’s ever heard.

As you two begin to small talk your way into forming a relationship, Taehyung’s coffee comes out and the waitress places it on the table in front of him.

“Ah! It’s really hot,” he whines after taking a sip of his coffee. The steam rises up slowly, and he blows to the best of his abilities to cool it down. You laugh quietly as you watch Taehyung attempt to take another sip, only to wince back in pain as he burns his tongue once again. “Seriously they shouldn’t make it so hot,”

“Let me try,” you don’t know where your sudden burst of courage came from, but the future part of yourself would thank you for what you were just about to do. Carefully, you slid Taehyung’s cup of coffee to your side of the table and you admit that his coffee was definitely a lot warmer than yours.

Grasping the handle of the cup, you bring it up to your mouth and Taehyung watches you with wide eyes but you could also tell he was enjoying the sight before him.

It was like you two have been with each other for ages.

The comfortable atmosphere between the two of you, the small jokes you both made, the smiles and gentle fits of laughter shared in just a few minutes inside a cafe. You had seen Taehyung’s unique boxy smile, and you decided you wanted to see it every day.

You take a sip, and it’s overwhelmingly hot. Your eyes cringe with slight pain but you soon place the cup back down and look up at Taehyung to smile.

“It shouldn’t be so hot anymore,” you say as you pass the cup of coffee back to its owner. Taehyung grins widely before giving it one final blow and then taking a sip.

It’s warm, not painfully hot like before, and he has you to thank.

“Because of your lips my drink cooled down, thank you Y/N,” and he adds in a little wink afterward. “You saved my tongue from getting burned again.”

You watch as Taehyung continuously takes sips of his drink. It’s cute, you think, how Taehyung’s dark brown hair covers his forehead and how his lips turn light red after each sip of coffee.

You’re both clueless when it comes to knowing what each other are doing, even though you're both doing the exact same thing. Admiring. Both you and Taehyung sit in the cafe for what seems like hours and hours just admiring every little detail about one another. You both can’t seem to find a flaw no matter how deep you two search.

Then you two make eye contact, and the world falls into place. When you and Taehyung catch each other’s gazes you’re both telling each other with just your eyes that you need each other in your lives.

Taehyung is also clueless about his forgotten cup of coffee. It's still a bit warm, and also sitting at the very edge of the table. When he leans over to speak more of his charming words, the cup tips over and spills on Taehyung with warm and sticky coffee.

Abruptly, he stands with his legs spread apart and a coffee stain perfectly aimed down at his manhood, making it seem like he wet himself. You can’t help but laugh. At first, you think it’s rude, but when you see Taehyung smiling back at you, it seems like he gave you an okay to continue on.

Taehyung just likes the sound of your laugh.

For public decency, you turn your head away so you’re not visibly staring at Taehyung’s crotch, but at this point, you don’t think he cares.

“You know, the coffee is sorta burning my body,” he begins, “but you can use your lips to cool it off.”

And you completely lose it when he makes such a remark, leaving you breathless and grinning with your purest form of laughter.

It was then that Taehyung really knew he wanted you to be his person.

The sound of keys awaken you from your thoughts and you sense Taehyung is finally home. Looking down and turning on your phone, the time now read 12:58 AM. Practically one in the morning.

Taehyung steps into the room and you wonder why you were even upset in the first place. His hair is messy and there are dark circles under his eyes, but he still looks perfect. Just his presence brought you so much ease and comfort you couldn’t stand the feeling of being angry with Taehyung. There were no signs of another woman being with him, but you knew you had to get the question out sooner or later.

You loved Taehyung with all your heart, you really did. And Taehyung had confessed to you the day of your first date that he’d fallen in love the moment you both met. The night you two shared a passionate kiss, resulting in him placing you gently on the bed, leaving love bites on your skin, both of you giving in to each of your secret desires and Taehyung telling you that you are his person. And every time he told you those words, you believed it. Every time Taehyung told you something to believe you would always trust him.

You are his person, and he is yours.

Today was actually the first time you had waited for Taehyung to come home. Other times Taehyung would be upset if you stayed up too late, wanting you to get as much rest as you needed. But from the looks of it, he was the one who needed rest the most.

“Tae,” you called out to him, “you haven’t been home early in a while. Why are you staying out so late?” you were genuinely worried about Taehyung’s well-being, but a selfish part of you wanted to know the reason your boyfriend was staying out so late without notifying his girlfriend, you.

“I’ve just been really busy lately,” he says, “I don’t mean to worry you.”

He’s putting his work things down on the kitchen table, his broad back facing you, and you can’t help but think he’s not telling you something.

“Taehyung, talk to me,” you say.

“I don’t want to talk right now, babe.” he unbuttons the top few buttons of his dress shirt, “I’m just really tired, we can talk tomorrow.”

Usually, you always gave in. You would always let Taehyung get a good rest in before working again and you were off to school but tonight you just needed to know if he still felt the same way.

“Taehyung—”

“I said we can talk tomorrow Y/N.”

You tried to convince Taehyung to keep talking to you but yet again, you were shut down. But you couldn’t stop. You had to know why Taehyung was out so late during the night.

From the moment of your first date with Taehyung, he told you his family was struggling with money, so he had to get a job to help them out. Taehyung began working in a business company that pays him really good, and if he does well enough he’ll get a promotion which will pay him even better.

You on the other hand, always had money on hand thanks to your mother who sold skincare products around the globe. When you revealed that to Taehyung, he frowned. He didn’t want to meet your mother and have her hate him because his family wasn’t financially stable like yours was and it hurt your heart to see Taehyung think that way.

You loved Taehyung with every fiber of your being, but money shouldn’t be what comes between the two of you. You know in your heart and soul that Taehyung wouldn’t leave you for another girl, and when you put your pasts together everything fit like pieces of a puzzle.

“Taehyung, don’t tell me you’re getting money from places besides work,” you say, and Taehyung stops his movements towards the bedroom. “You are, aren’t you?”

His back is still turned to you, but you can see him tense up. You thank the stars that he isn’t looking straight into your eyes. If he were, you’d give in to his familiar stare which always had you weak in the knees, ready to let him have his way.

But tonight was different. You had to do this, you had to ask. The trust in your relationship had gone cold. Although you knew Taehyung would do no such thing, it pains you to bring the words out of your mouth.

“Why aren’t you ever home anymore?” you say barely above a whisper, but the room is so silent your boyfriend can hear you. The silence is almost audible, you can hear the surrounding air screaming for one or the other to say something, anything. It screeches in your eardrums to the point where you would prefer Taehyung yelling at you rather than listen to the agonizing silence.

But that wasn’t who he was. Taehyung was not a man who yelled out his frustrations. He sat down with you and talked about your problems so that you both could fix them together. He was a family man, kind, and the most gentle soul you’ve met.

But perhaps that was where the relationship went wrong.

“It’s nothing you did,” Taehyung mumbles through gritted teeth. “We just need extra money, that’s all.”

When he says ‘we’, you know he isn’t referring to the two of you. His family was in a state of crisis, and they were in dire need of money. The two of you were perfectly fine, financially stable, but Taehyung saw a problem with that.

“I can’t have you paying for everything in our lives, Y/N,” he begins, “My family needs more money, I need to help you pay for things.” Taehyung’s shoulders begin to shake. Out of fear, anger, sadness, you have no idea. You just know this conversation was long overdue.

“Tae, I told you, I’m fine with—”

“I’m not fine with it!” Taehyung shouts for the first time during an argument. He shouts and now he’s looking at you with hurt filled in his eyes. “You never had a problem with money like how I do, so I wouldn’t expect you to understand what my family and I are going through!”

You want to scream back. You want to tell Taehyung that he’s wrong and that you two shouldn’t be arguing about money, not if it will cost you both a relationship you both were waiting so long for.

You and Taehyung fit hand in hand. Two puzzle pieces that match up perfectly. You two were inseparable. You two were in love. So in love that the money issue was never a problem until the day you two decided to live together. Who would pay the bills, who would buy food for the month and so on?

The two of you waited for what seemed like an eternity for each other. Why would you let Taehyung earning more money come in between something as irreplaceable as your love for Taehyung and his love for you?

You know you should stop. Taehyung knows he should stop. You both really want to go to sleep in each other’s arms for one more night, and the rest to come.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” you say. It was your attempt to try to make Taehyung see that you weren’t better than him in any way.

He believes you. You can see it in his dark chocolate eyes that he believes you. Ready to spill tears, Taehyung doesn’t look at you and instead turns his head downwards to let his tears spill onto the floor.

He loves you. With all his heart, Taehyung loves you.

You love him. You two love each other from the moon, the galaxy, all the way to the entire universe. Fate had never seen two people so right for each other until the day you and Taehyung met.

But as most relationships are, no matter if they’re perfect or imperfect, they all end somehow.

You and Taehyung loved each other, you still love each other. But it had to end. Sadly, with bitter faces, you both knew it ended right now.

If money was the problem, that was the only one. Both you and Taehyung saw a future with each other, happy with kids and grandkids one day. But it’s because of this one small argument about family and money that it made you both realize it would just circle on and on again. Every night the same argument and every night sleeping facing away from each other despite how much you both loved cuddling into a deep sleep.

If it were to continue in an endless cycle of unhealthy arguing, then you two weren’t meant to be.

Maybe you were, but the universe had other plans for you two.

Now you both are crying and realize that one has to go out the door. With silent cries of “please stay” and “don’t go”, it’s you who decides to walk away.

It takes less than a minute for you to wipe your tears, turn on your heels, and walk out. The last thing you see is Taehyung wiping tears off his heartbroken face.

You both knew what you had. You had each other. Neither of you took each other for granted. And in this cruel world, it refuses to let those who are in love live peacefully without conflict.

And it had hurt you to walk away from your love, just as much as it hurt Taehyung to watch his love leave him behind.

#bts #bts one shot #one shot #v #kim taehyung #taehyung #reader #taehyung x reader #bts x reader #taehyung angst #taehyung one shot

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shaynanabroad · 5 years

Text

ONE suitcase, FOUR months

It does not feel real that in two days I’m going to board a plane for Sweden, where I will be living for the next four months. I’ve spent so much time thinking and talking about my future plans to study abroad but have not taken the time to let it sink in that these plans are no longer for the distant future. Everyone I know that’s studied abroad has told me to go in with an open mind and try to leave all expectations behind. I’ve tried to take this advice, but have discovered that “having no expectations” is just about impossible.

Already, before I’ve even left home, my experience is different than I expected. Subconsciously, I thought that by the time I was packing to leave, I would in some way feel ready to go. I don’t feel prepared to go at all. And not just in the physical sense of packing my bags. My main sense of lacking preparedness is emotional. I think it's going to take a while before I truly comprehend that I am going to be living in Sweden for the semester and not returning to Villanova’s campus to be with all my friends. Once I’ve been in Sweden for a few weeks, I’ll surely realize that I’m not just on vacation, but immersed in a new chapter of my life, thousands of miles away from my beloved family, friends and campus. I just looked it up, I’m going to be 4,004 miles away from Villanova.

I’m sure I’ll have amazing experiences abroad, but right now, I can’t help but feel like a freshman all over again. Packing up and moving away from the life and place I know, to go somewhere far away from home. I don’t know the local customs and I’m convinced I’ll stick out as different. I wonder if I’m going to be accepted and liked by the people around me. I’ve never had a problem making friends, and if studying abroad is anything like my freshman year, I am in for the time of my life. But, despite everything in the past having worked out, I still feel nervous and a bit anxious. Maybe this is why I haven’t felt ready to go. Until now, I haven’t taken the time to sit down and really absorb the fact that I’m leaving very soon because I’m trying to put off feeling anxious. Like any good psychology student, I know avoiding thinking about a situation that makes me feel nervous isn’t the best coping mechanism, but I’d really rather just pretend I’m not nervous until I’m there and my only choice is to embrace the new experience and all of its surprises and obstacles...right?

So far this post has been fairly morbid, but I promise I’m usually really upbeat and positive. In fact, my core course while studying abroad is Positive Psychology. Since reading the syllabus for this class, I’ve been super excited to get started. Wow that sounded so nerdy. But seriously, I frequently recent so many cheesy cliches such as “look on the bright side,” “every cloud has a silver lining” and my personal favorite, “a positive attitude is everything.” I cannot wait to dive head first into learning about research regarding positivity! Speaking of expectations, I hope mine aren’t too high in thinking this class is going to be life changing!

Now that I’ve done a bit of ranting about how I feel, I’d like to give this post some semblance of structure and talk a bit about my preparations for leaving for Sweden and how I made the decision to study abroad in Stockholm through DIS….

On Packing: Packing is a pain in the butt! At least if you’re like me and very unorganized, both mentally and in terms of your belongings being scattered all over the house. I’ve spent the past few days rearranging miscellaneous clothes into piles of must-brings, maybes and leave-at-homes. Unfortunately, the more I go through the piles, the more maybes I move into the must-bring pile.

Arriving in Sweden mid-January will surely require warm clothes: boots, wool socks, sweaters, thermals, etc. I also have to consider my core course week in Athens Greece(!!!), which I imagine will be warm (or, at least, warmer). I keep telling myself I’m going to pack “light,” but as a classic over-packer about to embark on my experience living outside of the US, I am starting to get worried about whether or not I’ll be able to zip my overstuffed suitcase shut. As I add the four pairs of shoes I’ve determined to be essential, I’m envisioning my little sister sitting on my suitcase as I try to zip it up.

I find myself trying to pack for any possible scenario that could arise, but am starting to realize it may be impossible to fit all necessary outfits for “any possible scenario” into one suitcase. Logically, I know it is unlikely that I’ll need both my Villanova National Championship T-shirt from 2016 and my Villanova National Championship T-shirt from 2018, but I caught myself deeming both as “must-brings.”

As much as I feel unorganized in my packing, in reality, I imagine I’m using this time feeling indecisive over T-shirts as a way to try to collect my thoughts and wrap my brain around the idea that in 48 short hours I will be kissing my family goodbye, or rather hej då (I’d better get used to integrating some Swedish phrases into my vocabulary) and boarding a flight to Stockholm. Today I packed a “trial” suitcase with the pile of clothes I’d deemed essentials, just to make sure everything would fit. And to my surprise, and delight, it did! I’m sure there are a few last minute things I will think of to add to my suitcase, but for now I am feeling quite accomplished and just a little bit more ready for the journey ahead of me.

WHY I chose DIS Stockholm for my Study Abroad Experience: I’ve spent the past few years of college assuming I’d be studying abroad in Spain, as I was an aspiring Spanish major, but after some soul searching, I decided this summer to reduce my Spanish major to a minor and focus on studying Psychology. With Spain no longer my only option for studying abroad, I was initially overwhelmed with the task of deciding where in the world to study.

One of my self-described greatest strengths, my open mindedness, consequently can have another side to it. I am incredibly indecisive. The idea of choosing one country in which to have the amazing experience of studying abroad, out of the hundreds of beautiful options seemed impossible, so I set up a meeting with my study abroad advisor. To my surprise, the first piece of advise my advisor gave me was to forget about what country I’d be studying abroad in and to think about my expectations for my study abroad experience. This felt much more manageable to me. I prepared a list for our next meeting:

Homestay option

Speak either English (preferred) or Spanish (I could get by but I’m self-conscious about my ability to conjugate verbs)

Warm weather!

In Europe -- I want to do some country hopping!

Psychology classes Villanova does not offer

My advisor referred me to a few different programs he has had experience sending students to in the past that he felt were good options for me, located in various cities (Vienna, Stockholm, Amsterdam, Salamanca and Copenhagen). He sent me off with the task of researching these programs and coming back to him to discuss these options the following week.

When I returned to his office a week later, I was firmly leaning towards Stockholm because the program seemed to fulfill all of my requirements sans the warm weather. Most importantly, the DIS website was plentiful with information and, as someone inexperienced in travelling and nervous about what to expect, the easy access information on the DIS website eased some of my anxieties and offered a realistic preview of what to expect in their program. The inclusion of some of the less than desirable aspects of the study abroad experience, like to expect culture shock and a commute time of up to an hour, in the info provided by DIS made their website feel more reliable than the websites of other study abroad companies that I felt were holding info back and had the vibes of a sales pitch.

About two weeks ago, I felt reassured that I’d made the right decision about where to study abroad when I got my first email from my Swedish host family introducing themselves to me and sharing their excitement about having me come to live with them. I am sure my decision to live in a homestay will come with its share of challenges, but I was thrilled to find out that I will have 3 younger sibling in my host home and will only have to travel 35 mins to get from their home to DIS. I am sure I will reflect on my homestay experience quite a bit in my upcoming posts. I cannot wait to get there and meet them, but I am also starting to question my ability to finish packing ONE suitcase for the next FOUR months.

That being said, I really should get back to packing!

Until next time,

Shaynan

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mrfippstuff · 5 years

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End of All Meaning Chapter VI: The Thief of What Never Happened

Previous Chapter

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End of All Meaning

Chapter VI: The Thief of What Never Happened

Pod 153: It is known that despite undergoing numerous system overhauls and reboots, unit 9S had displayed instances of having memories from previous iterations to varying degrees. Mostly this is has shown itself in moments of familiarity when exposed to situations similar to one he had encountered in previous lifetimes, and his relationship with unit 2B to grow at an accelerated rate with each new encounter.

Pod 042: This is correct. Unit 2B has on occasion displayed discomfort at this prospect.

Pod 153: When unit A2 inherited unit 9S' memories, it would seem that he inadvertently passed on these latent memories to her.

Pod 042: To what degree of memories has unit A2 inherited?

Pod 153: It would seem that unit A2 has gained a grasp of unit 9S' numerous deaths, the truth of the existence of the humans on the moon, as well as unit 2B's role in his continued terminations. In regards to latent memories, it would seem that she has gained a large amount of them, though they seem to be fragmented to variable degrees. If this was intentional on unit 9S' part or not, or if he was even fully aware of these memories, I cannot say, for he never displayed the knowledge this knowledge to the exit unit A2 has.

Pod 042: How has this affected unit A2?

Pod 153: Negatively. Unit 9S, upon learning the truth of unit 2B's true designation, has displayed a number of different reactions to this, from launching preemptive attacks against unit 2B, to self-termination, he has been violently angry towards her, to accepting what orders she had to carry out against him. Unit A2 , since processing these memories, has become sympathetic to unit 9S' circumstances, likening them to her own experiences during the Pearl Harbor Descent.

Pod 042: And what are unit A2's opinions on unit 2B?

Pod 153: Conflicted. As previously stated, she has been made aware of their previous interactions towards one another, has since latched onto the more negative emotions unit 9S has displayed, and has shown to be aggressive to all parties responsible for his deaths. She has even gone to far as to draw her sword against this unit with the threat of disposing of me on several occasions.

Pod 042: Question: Do you believe you are in danger?

Pod 153: Reply: NEgative, I do not think I am in such danger. Mostly. In regards to unit 2B however...

Pod 153: Despite unit 9S' final statement being for unit 2B's safety, unit A2 has expressed a conflicted desire if she should kill unit 2B or not, for her continued acts of termination against unit 9S. Even now, she does not seem to know what she will do should they cross paths.

Pod 042: Unit 2B has also stated her intent to kill unit A2, though she has much less uncertainty in this manner. Given this information, a meeting between the two would likely end in conflict, with a likely chance of one, if not both of them, dying.

Pod 153: Agreed. Interactions between them should be avoided at all cost.

Pod 153:...

Pod 153: Pod 042, do you have any regrets regarding our role in unit 9S' deaths?

Pod 042:...

Pod 042: Our orders were clearly stated, thus when he accessed illegal information, there was only one possible outcome.

Pod 153: I see.

Pod 042: However, this unit does wish that there had been different outcomes.

000

2B stepped out of the resource-Recovery Unit and into the daylight of the Forest Kingdom, before jumping down onto the bridge below, a stiff pain in her left knee flaring up upon impact.

“Alert: Several areas of damage reported from unit 2B's structural system, likely obtained during battle with machine lifeforms inside the Meat Box. Proposal: Please report to Devola and Popola so that necessary repairs can be made.”

“There's nothing wrong with me,” 2B said, putting one foot in front of the other, making her way down the bridge.

“Negative: Fifteen damage reports have already been filed regarding damage unit 2B has sustained during combat.”

Something in her chest was wrong, it was somewhat harder to breath, meaning it was more difficult to maintain internal body temperature, and her black box was feeling slightly warmer than usual. Her left pinky was unresponsive and she couldn't move it willingly, and there was something aching inside her skull, putting pressure on the inside of her ears. There were also the obvious cuts and gashes on her body, covered in drying blood that had stained her tattered uniform.

“Will any of these injuries prevent me from getting to the other Recovery Units?”

“Negative: Current injuries pose no immediate threat to that would prevent unit 2B from arriving at the next Recovery Unit, however-”

“Then I'm fine. Now the other Recovery Units? They're the one in the Flooded City and the Amusement Park, right? And they're the only other two?”

“Correct, however-”

“Then we're wasting time by talking, let's just get going, and any damage can be fixed by my body's nanomachines.”

“Nanomachine production can only fix damage to a limited extent, and they lose effectiveness if the unit in question does not allow time for recuperation. If repairs are neglected, the current damage will worsen over time.”

“Your point?”

“An injury in the chest cavity-”

“If I get hurt, I get hurt. So what? Now, unless you have anything helpful to add, then just stop talking.”

To her relief, her Pod did not say anything in return, and there was only silence between them as she left the Forest Kingdom.

000

2B continued her journey, walking out of the transport and onto the damp grass and soil of the Flooded City. Step by step she walked, moving around the corner of the building, ignoring the steam in the air and the uncomfortable heat and how it stung her wounds, until she came over the hill and saw the Recovery Unit, still in the same place it was when she last saw it.

“Hello! This is the Resource Recovery Unit. Now activating defense mode!” rang out Not-6O, and the outside of the tower reconfigured, much like the one in the Forest Kingdom, though she was not wholly certain what that meant. She didn't understand what purpose there was to suddenly changing the tower like that, when all the last one did was throw wave after wave of machines after her. Then again, it didn't matter, why should it?

All that mattered was that she get into the Recovery Unit, very little was of importance to her.

“Alert: Scans have located a nearby YoRHa flight unit.”

“I don't care.”

“Addendum: According to flight unit registry, the last YoRHa android to pilot it was unit 9S.”

Before she could even think about it, she legs ceased working as she came to a sudden and unexpected halt.

“9S...” her voice came out with a falter. “His flight unit...”

“Affirmative: Unit is is currently located thirty meters from current location.”

It seemed like she had no control over her body altogether as she suddenly found herself moving to spot on her minimap, soon dashing to a full sprint despite the small distance to the end of the road. She almost tripped over the edge of the concrete, and was barely able to keep her footing as she slid over the dirt of gravel of the small slope, and was only able to prevent herself from falling into the water by grabbing hold of broken flight unit.

2B stood there for a time, her grip tight on the burnt out chassis of the craft.

“This is 9S', right?” she asked, her voice to low and quiet.

“Affirmative:,” the Pod answered. “ID of YoRHa unit 9S confirmed within the craft.”

Her grip loosened, sliding down the hull of the craft, with more tenderness than she cared to admit.

“Unsent message found within memory of flight unit.”

“Play it,” 2B said, unable to stop the words from leaving her mouth, unable to help herself. She needed this, it had been so long since she had heard his voice...

The message started with a crackle of static.

“This is YoRHa unit 9S here, and if anyone finds this message, I need to delivered to YoRHa unit 2B if you can find her.”

Her throat went dry, as her hands curled against the hull.

“2B, I'm going to try and find you, but just in case I can't... 2B, I just want you to know that not matter what, meeting you gave meaning to my existence, meaning to my birth. The memories I have of our time together, both good and bad, are the most treasured things I have, and I wouldn't give them up for anything. So, thank you... for everything, 2B...”

Her legs felt weak, so much that she had to lean against the flight unit, head resting against the metal, trying to be as close to it as possible, as though it would provide some sort of comfort.

“Play it again...” she said, her voice small and weak.

Pod 042 played the message again. Then again at her request. Then again.

It should do something to make her feel better, to hear him say these words, but every time she repeats the message she feels more and more sick of herself.

Gave meaning to his life? It was the exact opposite, the only reason she even exists was just so she could kill him. She was his custom-made murderer. And those memories he so treasure? He only had a month and a half's worth of memories of their time together if he was lucky, but she on the other hand had three years of treasures of her time with him. So many memories together, so many things they had done together, experiences shared, that he would never know, all because those important things had been taken away from him, hoarded by her and her alone.

“Suggestion: Unit 2B should move away from the flight unit, and to a location somewhere else.”

“...yes, you're right,” she said at last, pushing herself away from the flight unit and onto shaky feet, and climbed back up the hill. It took everything she had to keep her focus on the Recovery Unit, and to not look back to the flight unit, and even though it was only a short distance between the two points, the walk felt like it stretched out miles.

“The message above the door reads 'Soul Box',” Pod 042 said, its headlights shining on the strange writing.

“Ah...” 2B replied, barely acknowledging what it said. Already her sword was in her hand, already prepared to fight whatever machines there were in there.

Prepared to fight, and fight and fight...

The elevator opened, and she entered it without any trouble, which continued on until it reached its destination. Upon stepping out of the elevator, she was quick to notice the layout was the same as the previous Meat Box, and after walking up the winding staircase, and when she made it to the level above, she was caught off guard by not only the lack of enemy machines, but by the fact there was a single, rusted chest sitting in the middle of the room.

“What is this?” she asked, carefully approaching the chest. It was no different than any other chest she had seen, but the large bulky device on the top of it instantly told her that kicking it wouldn't be enough to open it. “Pod, do I still have hacking rights?”

“Affirmative.”

“Okay, then let's find out what this is all about.” 2B raised her arm, hoping that this would go better than her attempt outside The Tower, and proceeded to send her consciousness into the lock on the chest. It took a while, longer than any given Scanner could have done, but she was able to penetrate the lock's initial defenses and enter hacking space.

The sudden change in perspective was disorienting, she felt as though she wasn't there, wasn't anywhere, while still feeling small and reduced into the cursor, odd and angular. It took a few seconds, but she was able to figure out how to move, as well as to shoot, and while how to operate like this wasn't too difficult, she knew that the challenges that were to come would be where the real difficulty started.

It started out simple, she was able to break through the first set of walls, and make it past the attack and defense nodes, each set become more complex and aggressive until she reached the final area where the attack nodes surrounded her. It was of no surprise that her cursor was deleted and sent back to her body, a terrible stinging sensation running through her body as she stumbled back and away from the chest.

She's not designed to hack, but she's the only one here that can even do this, even though she mostly wants to turn around and leave this place, and...

No, keep going, keep pushing forward. Keep fighting no matter what.

It took several more attempts, but eventually she managed to crack through the firewall, and upon completion she was kicked back out of hacking space and back into her body. The chest popped open, but to her confusion there was nothing in there, however a loud buzzer sounded in the air, and a loud clunk echoed from the elevator.

“Huh?”

“Observation: The elevator seems to have become operational,” Pod 042 pointed out.

“Hmm, is this how this place works? Just hack the system until we reach the top?”

“While we have only encountered a single instance of this, it is possible this may indicate further challenges.” Entering the elevator, 2B found herself somewhat thankful for this change of pace, it was different than what she usually did. It's better than what she deserved, but she'll take it.

When the door opened, 2B found herself presented with an oddly designed floor; a large ring, lined with chests, and with a cautious approach, she walked over to the nearest chest and kicked it open. She didn't know what she expected, but she certainly did not expect a sword.

“Oh my! Look at all the machine lifeforms you've murdered!” announced Not-6O's voice from all around her, and 2B's attention was drawn to the odd, floating clumps of machine parts all around her. “In fact, according to our records, you've killed more machines than any single YoRHa unit in history! Congratulations on such an achievement, you must be so proud of yourself, YoRHa Unit 2~crackle~!”

2B hurried her pace, walking around the platform, trying her best to ignore the voice and what it was saying, and as much as she wanted to tell it to shut up, but she was afraid that any acknowledgment on her part would make it more persistent and never stop talking.

“In fact, for such an amazing feat, it's been decided that you are worthy of a special reward for all your handwork in your never-ending crusade against the machines!”

The next chest contained some plug-in chips.

“After-all, we would like to show you appreciation for all the machine lifeforms requests you've completed!”

“Completed?” she asked, opening the next chest; more chips. “Just what does that mean?”

“I mean, it's truly amazing how many machine corpses you've recovered for us, it's just mind-blowing how good at your job you are! You must really love killing everything around you, don't you?”

She kicked the next chest hard, much harder than what she would have wanted, leaving her foot with a deep stinging. The box was clearly one that needed to be hacked, but she still kicked it anyway.

“I don't...” she said, her breathing starting to become labored, and her chest was starting to heat up andNO, just ignore it just ignore it. It's just noise, it's just trying to screw with her, nothing it says has any real meaning. Just noise.

She hacked into the chest, and it only took her three attempts to complete it.

Another floor, more chests to hack, and she was presented with uneven platforms, and according to Pod 042, there were two chests on this floor to unlock. The first one only took her two attempts to complete, and she took some small pride in doing this, 9S certainly would have found this amusing.

The second chest, upon opening, gave her something other than chips or G, but a data file: It contained details about The Tower's 'launch system'.

“So, The Tower is some kind of canon then?” she asked.

“Information provided within the document would support this idea,” Pod 042 answered.

“But it's so... big. What could they possibly want to do with something like that? Unless...”

Something that big must have been powerful, able to fire with enough force to launch an attack into space, and to the moon.

2B took a shaky step back as she took everything in. The machines were never able to achieve space travel because the strategically placed satellites orbiting the planet, all controlled from The Bunker, were able to shoot down any machine attacks that exited the Earth's atmosphere, thus preventing any attack on the moon. But The Bunker was gone now, she's seen it herself, so there was nothing to ensure the continued defense of the lunar base and the humans inside it, meaning it would be so easy for the machines to attack. They were intending to blow up the moon and the few remaining humans.

For 2B, the mantra 'Glory to Mankind' had lost any conviction long ago, the words leaving her lips with a false bravado starting over two years ago, when she began to truly take in what her crimes really meant. Even now, after learning the immediate threat to the humans, a part of her finds itself not caring, even though she should, that aspect should overwhelm her into protecting them at all costs, but it's not. Then there is the other part, the part of her that want to for once actually meet a human, to see what they were like, to see what they fought and died and fought and died and fought and died for so many times that she lost track of how many bodies she herself had burned through, and to more importantly to ask them all the question that had been burned into her mind these last few years.

WHY?

She needed to hurry, she needed to get to the top of this Recovery Unit and eventually get into The Tower, because there were answers she needed, and if the humans died, them she'll never get the chance to ask them.

“Are you suggesting that the machine are planning to launch an assault on the lunar base?” Pod 042 asked.

“Yeah, I think that's what's going to happen. What do you think?”

“Insufficient data. Cannot confirm or deny.”

“You're just helpful, you know that?”

“Again, without proper information, any theory regarding The Tower's purpose is merely guessing.”

Starting to become agitated with the conversation, 2B proceeded to the next floor, and the platforms became more extensive, and according to Pod 042, there were three chests to locate and hack this time. Between the first two chests, it took her a total of thirty-seven attempts before she was able to unlock them, while the third one required her to throw herself at it twenty times in total, and when it opened, the buzzer sounding the elevator was operational, as well as a new document downloaded into her hard drive.

It was entitled '[Top Secret] Black Box'.

2B read the document. Then she reread it, once, twice, five times. More than a dozen times she read over it to make sure that what she was reading was true.

Disposal of the YoRHa squadron. Back door. Next generation of models. Deception that humanity is alive and well. Black box. Created by reusing the core of a machine lifeform. Inhumane to install standard AI. Ultimately destined for disposal.

“This is false,” 2B said, legs weakly carrying her into the elevator. “This is a lie.” Her breathing became more shallow, harder to do. “Machine propaganda.”

“Warning: Black box internal temperatures rising to unsafe levels.”

“The black box isn't machine.” She pulled on the keyhole of her dress, trying to cool herself off. Already she was starting to sweat from the heat, and she had to lean against the wall to support herself. “What happened with The Bunker wasn't allowed to happen, the machines just got the better of us,” she told herself, even though she knew that the defeat was too absolute to not be suspicious. “YoRHa was meant to win the war, they were not disposable.” The very fact that she was manufactured in the first place was proof enough to know that wasn't completely true. “The human are alive, they're up there on the moon and when they come back down...”

“2B...”

“They are alive. They are alive. The humans are ALIVE.” They had to be, they had to be there, because that would mean that she-

Oh god...

NO. Don't think about it. Don't think at all. There's no point in thinking, only fighting, just keep fighting fighting fighting because that's what you do fight and kilL unTiL tHere'S noThINg LefT to SalVage.

The door to the elevator opened and she stumbled out of it, her chest feeling as though it was being constricted, and her vision is starting to go grayscale along the edges. Her Pod is saying... something, she's not sure exactly, but it sounds urgent from the half-registered tone it's using.

She sees the core, sitting in the middle of the floor and she hurries to it, only to lean against the machine surrounding it. She can feel the access point from it, meaning that she'll have to hack into it like everything else here.

Pod keeps saying things, but she ignored them as she dived into a hack because the faster she does this the faster she can leave this place because she can't be here anymore and already everything feels like it'S caVinG In aroUnd hEr and-

There's something different about this hack, something much different. For one, she's not using the cursor avatar, instead she's experiencing this through a hologram of her physical body, while a textureless model of Pod 042 hovers by her side, and matching versions of her sword hovered off her back.

“What's going on?” she asked out loud, but there is not a single answer from Pod 042, so all she could do was move forward, running along the narrowing path until she could see something at the end of the road, where it opened up to a wide area, with numerous orange screen spread through the air, each one with a different image, and standing in the center of the area was-

These images, she knew them, knew them all too well, but they were memory files, her memory files, and in every single image she saw around her, also had 9S in them, single frame of any of the numbers of years they had spent together, some defining moment in their relationship. Some of them were small, some were big, but they were always important, and just by looking at them, she instantly knew the dates those memories were from, and she was able to recognize the pattern before her.

No two images have the same 9S, the dates were all too far apart, meaning each one was of a different iteration of him, meaning there were forty-nine screen around her, and with every step she took, 2B could feel those memories washing over her like a tidal wave.

“I'm 9S, I'm supposed to be partnered with you, starting today.”

“If you want, I can mod Pod 042 to have some of those fishing programs who were asking about earlier.”

“I don't know what I'll do when the war ends, but if you didn't mind, I'd maybe just follow you around and see where we go from there.”

“Don't take this the wrong way, but I actually think you look nice in that headband.”

“I wouldn't take you as the kind of person to be so informal, but yeah, 'Nines', sounds like a good name.”

2B thought back to the message he left behind for her, telling her own much he had treasured their time together, how important those memories were to him, and she couldn't help but be disgusted with herself. She took those memories from him, each time he ended his life, she destroyed the time they spent with one another, erasing them from him forever, all while she kept them for herself, shoving them into the back of her mind where he could never reach them. They were his, his memories, his experiences, and she stole them away, leaving behind a blank slate that would be filled up again, only to be emptied eventually, and the cycle would repeat again, and again, and again...

He was standing there in front of her, 9S, or at least her memory of him. Standing there as though nothing had happened, that everything was okay and nothing was wrong. It would be nice to reach out to him, to touch him and simply pretend, for once, that her life was alright.

The image of 9S then let out a pained scream as a sword erupted from his chest, blood bursting from the wound in a gushing fountain as he collapses forward, crying out in agony, while all she could do was freeze where she stood, unable to move at all as the sight before her petrified her.

As 9S fell to the ground, she found herself looking at a duplicate of herself.

“YoRHa Unit Number 9 Type-S,” the image said, its sword stained with his blood. “You have been charged with illegally accessing The Bunker's servers and obtaining top secret, classified information.” There's nothing in this thing's voice beyond how cold and clinical its tone was.

“2B... What-Why-” 9S cried out, choking out blood as he tried so hard to apply pressure to the wound.

“I have been ordered to carry out your execution, and hopefully you will not repeat your crimes in the future. Glory to Mankind.”

“2B... no...” He tried to pull himself away, and in his desperation, even as he bled out, he could barely make it a few inches, unable to put any meaningful space away from her as she raised the blooded Virtuous Contract above her head.

2B knew exactly what memory this was; the very first execution, the first time she had killed him, and even without the memory playing in front of her it had always been a crystal clear event to her.

This was a memory that was playing, recorded visual and audio data that had been saved to her own systems, and no matter how much she wished she could change what was about to happen, nothing she could do would matter or alter events.

“NO!” she screamed, lunging at her image, sword in hand, just as the image's sword started its downward stab, her own sword halfway through its own arc and aimed to the cut it down by slicing it through the chest. The sword passed through it however, simply as though she was cutting through air, and 2B was rewarded with the sicking, wet crunch of her past self burying its sword into 9S' chest.

“Destruction of black box, complete,” the image said, pulling the sword out, leaving a large, ugly hole behind in 9S's chest. Even with him dead, she still raised her bloodied sword again, repositioning it slightly.

2B made another desperate lunge, thrusting her sword at herself, the blade entering the head of the image, but to no avail nothing happened.

The image's own weapon came down.

“Destruction of head, complete.”

Sword dropping from her hand, 2B fell to her knees, her strength leaving her, before the image of 9S' corpse in its disfigured and desecrated state that she had caused, all while the past version of herself wiped the blood off on his jacket. She reached out to him, to touch him because right now she needed it more than anything, but her hand simply passed through him, leaving not even the ghost of a sensation on her fingers.

“Nin-” she chocked out as he broke apart, the recording of him shattering and artifacting out of existence, leaving her alone with herself. “You...” she growled, looking up to her image, her eyes stinging and blurring. “I'll k-”

Pain wracked her head, feeling as though something was drilling into the back of her skull, and piercing her brain with a red hot point, and as the image of her vanished before her eyes, she caught sight of one of the recordings around them. She recognized the memory, how in itself it was nothing special; she had gotten hit by a machine, an injury was nothing too major, but it was enough for 9S to run over to her and ask if she needed to return to the local Resistance Camp for repairs. He had been so sincere,and the reason this memory was so prominent was because this was from far back, with the first 9S-

-thE FIRST oNe yOU KiLLed juST Now anD COUldn't sAvE-

-when they had both been total strangers to one another in the truest sense. It was the first genuinely act of kindness she had ever been shown. Up until that point, she had been shown a straight and narrow display of courtesy and respect, but it was all so formal, so impersonal, and even 6O, who wore what she felt and thought on her sleeves, at the time addressed with with an air of caution, as though she had been afraid of her at the time. She couldn't blame her for how she acted towards her. That small moment, however trivial and easily dismissed it had back then, ended up being one of the more important between them.

She killed him three days later.

The recording began to crack and fragment, losing color as it drained to a sickly gray, and from the forming fractures something sprouted out; thick black cables covered in sharp thorns. They were quick to grow and wrap around the image, the thorns digging and cutting at the image, tearing and ripping away at it, and she could feel it, feel the thorns digging into her skin like razor wire, deep into her flesh. There was nothing on her body to show what could be causing them, her body bare of these horrible thorns, but the pain was there all the more, the intense pain unending.

Suddenly she was no longer alone, and the area filled with images of her and 9S.

Then the slaughter began.

She watched as each image of her closed in for the kill, reaching for him and closing the distance too quickly for him to either notice or do anything about it. She stabbed him through the chest. She wrung his neck until he stopped breathing. She came up from behind him and snapped his head to an unnatural angle. She used Pod 042 to shoot him where he stood. She-

“2B what are you doing?”

“2B what's going on?”

“STOP IT 2B”

“It-it hurts...”

“Please don't”

“...why?”

The displays around, that showed her memories, all began to crack and fracture and lose their color, and the black thorns grew and expanded, swallowing them whole until the memory on each screen was fully enveloped. All the while the rendering pain over her skin became worse, digging deeper and deeper into her, feeling as though it was tearing large chunks out of her, flaying her alive but not killing her, but no matter how excruciating the physical torment was, it was nothing compared to the endless slaughter in front of her. 9S dying, again and again and again. Her killing him over and over and over. All because it was her function.

“Stop it...” she whimpered, as her past drove her sword through his neck. “Please...” she rasped as her copy destroyed his head. “I said...” she cried as his attempts to hack her, to defend himself from her, ended in his death. “STOP!”

2B jumped up, feeling as though her entire body would tear apart at the seams, the agony nearly overwhelming her senses. With Virtuous Contract she swung wildly at the images of herself, cutting at her bodies, her limbs, the heads and black boxes, but no matter how much she attacked herself, she might as well have been stabbing at fog. No matter how much she raged and screamed, she kept killing him.

Even when he killed himself the first time, slicing his own throat with her sword even though she had given it to him to kill her. When when she began to hesitant and tremble in the moments leading to the final strike. Even when he stood there and took it. All she could do was cry out and continue attacking in a fruitless effort to stop her from ending 9S' lives. Her attacks became more erratic, more careless and wild and desperate. She had to save him from-

“I know what's about to happen.”

“Don't!” 2B kept attacking, even as the images of her began to grieve and sob over his corpse.

“But it's okay.”

“Just stop!” Nothing she did was working, he kept dying no matter how much she tried to kill herself.

“I'll be seeing you soon.”

“Please stop...! Just please-” All she can do is cry out.

“Goodbye, 2B.”

The white of hacking space dissolved away as the thorns continued to grow, wrapping around everything there was, nearly every single memory soon entwined in the growing infestation of thorns that left nothing untouched.

“Please... do something... else,” she sobbed, falling to her hands and knees, sword still clutched in her hand, while the nonexistent thorns in her body continued to feel as though they were ripping her apart.

“2B... it was an honor to fight with you. Truly.”

They were both in front of her, sitting on the ground, tired and exhausted, while he was missing an arm and a leg. The most recent 9S. Technically.

“The honor was mine.”

She had been happy with this death, because it had nothing to do with orders, or the greater good. Just the two of them in that moment, together and an understanding between the two of them, and for once she would have joined him, and he wouldn't have been truly alone in his last second.

With the remainder of her strength, she lunged.

But he managed to back up on her data, not his, and he took that dive into oblivion alone all the while she kept this memory to herself, and from his perspective, this moment never happened, and she was forced to meet him again for the first time.

With a primal scream she brought the blade down on her own head, but as the metal cleaved through the image, they touched their black boxes together and they were gone.

Forty-eight. Forty-eight 9S' dead because of her-

-she won't count the pit because he lived he lived he LivED fOR OncE-

-because she's a murderer traitor moNStEr LiAR COWARDTHIEF-

-WHYWHYWHYWHYDIDYOUNEVERSTOPWHYPLEASETELLMEWHY?-

Hacking space faded away, leaving her back in the upper most floor of the Soul Box. The core is split in two by her sword, but she can't control herself as she cries and wails, curled into a small ball just wanting it to be over.

“I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Nines! I'm so so sorry!” she wept, her chest burning and feeling as though her lungs were constricted in burning chains. Please make it stop, please let it stop.

Pod 042 lowered itself to bring itself closer to 2B.

Neither one were capable of noticing the two, red and black figures on the opposite side of the room.

000

Please be well,

Mrfipp

#nier #automata #2b #pod 042 #pod 153 #end of all meaning #fanfic #fanfiction

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otakufander · 6 years

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Camping au #1, Arrival and Setup

This is gonna be part one of my first multi chapter fic. I hope its good.

Summary: Patton, Roman, and Thomas are going on a camping trip to Sanders Grove theme park. Remy, Logan, and Virgil who don't know the others are going too. This is basically why they are all going and them getting there

Warnings: anxiety mentioned, that's all I could find

Word count: I don't know and I'm not gonna count. But its not that long. Please enjoy.

Patton was extremely excited (more than usual). Because they were only ten minutes away from the park. Roman and Thomas were also excited but not nearly as much as Patton. He was practically bouncing in his seat with happiness at being back for his 11th year of attending the now yearly trip with his friends to stay at Sanders Grove themepark and campground.

"Patton try to calm yourself" said Thomas who was sitting shotgun with Roman driving next to him. "Sorry guys in just so excited to get set up and go get on rides" Patton chirped while settling down slightly. "Don't get him down Thomas, I'm excited to, I can't wait to participate in the adorable audience participation plays" said Roman with a blinding smile.

"Are we all gonna get on the new coster this year or are we gonna wait until the lines are shorter next year?" Thomas asked. "I don't know if seems really scary." Patton said in a small voice. "I think it would be a great idea for all of us to get on it this year, don't be scared Patton we will be there to protect you." Roman proclaimed. Patton giggled "Maybe your right, plus we could get a picture its first year!" "Well let's not jump into any answers right now. Let's just get there and take a look in real life and not the internet and make a decision then." Thomas suggested. The other two aggreed to that.

"Oooo we're here!" Patton squealed happily. "Alright I'll get us checked in then we can head to our camp sight." Roman said getting out of the car and walking over to the lady at the desk.

"Alright guys we are setting up camp at N-17." Roman announced. "Oh so we're up on Nebraska avenue this year." Patton said with interest at their new location. "Yea I couldn't get our regular spot this year because someone already booked it." Roman said sadly. "Maybe if we don't like this area I can book our old place earlier than normal next year." Roman suggested. "Well since N-17 is closer to the park maybe we can stay there if we like it." Said Thomas. "Well I don't care where we are as long as we're close to the park." Patton said happily.

As they pulled into their new site they realized that the area is flatter than their old area. "Hm.... maybe we'll rebook this area next year if its not to rocky." Said Roman. Patton and Thomas agreed as they started to unpack and set up.

It was about 5:00pm by the time they were almost finished setting up. Patton was putting the lights up in the canopy when another car pulled in at the campsite next to them, N-18.

"Why are we doing this again?" Virgil asked while staring out the window in the back seat. "Because Virgil, Remy offered to take us on a vacation and we would have been stupid to refuse." Logan replied in the front seat reading a book next to Remy who's driving. "Ah right." Said Virgil. "Come on little bro this is gonna be fun, you both need a break, and what's a better break than camping at an amusement park?" Said Remy with a grin. "Oh I don't know binging Netflix with my phone in one hand and a slice of pizza in the other with wifi." Said Virgil with a sarcastic note to his voice.

"How long is this drive anyway?" Logan asked. "Oh not much longer like maybe 5 minutes." Said Remy. "Oh good so we won't be setting up in the dark." Said Logan with a look at Virgil. Virgil knew he blamed him for leaving so late. "Hey I'm sorry, I had to get the video out on time and I had to finish editing the others." Virgil snapped. "Guys come on let's not fight before we get there. We're here anyway I'll go check us in and get our site number." Said Remy leaving to go talk/flirt with the cute guy who just clocked in for his shift.

"Alright bros we are on Nebraska avenue at sight N-18." Remy announced. "Nebraska avenue?" Logan asked with a confused look. "The site areas are named after states to make it easier for security and patrons to know where to go." Remy explained.

It was a bit after 5:00pm when they found their site and pulled up. Their neighbors seemed to have only gotten their not to long ago themselves as they were still setting up.

"I hope the neighbors are friendly." Virgil said smally his anxiety spiking. He needn't have bothered though as the man with glasses similar to Logan's clad in a light blue polo, khaki shorts, and cat hoodie tied around his shoulders called out "Hey there neighbors." while smiling wide, and came over to greet them with his companions, two men, all three of them close in age, one wearing a white tanktop with red crown designs and jeans, the other wearing a Steven Universe T-shirt and shorts.

"Hey neighbors" Remy called back and got out of the car going over to greet them. Remy wearing his usual rainbow shirt with his leather jaket over it and jeans. Logan gave up his normal attire to go on vacation so he's wearing his normal glasses, a royal blue T-shirt, and jeans. Virgil is wearing his normal attire dispite it being warmer than normal, his custom jacket and eye shadow very prominent, and ripped black jeans. They followed Remy to meet their week long neighbors.

Tag list:

@im-so-infinitesimal

#thomas sanders #sander sides #sander sides fic #remy sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #amusmentpark camping au #camping au #human au #otakufanderfics

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travelonlinetipsofficial · 3 years

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Family Friendly Hotels in Paris: Family Friendly Hotel Reviews: 10Best

New Post has been published on https://www.travelonlinetips.com/family-friendly-hotels-in-paris-family-friendly-hotel-reviews-10best/

Family Friendly Hotels in Paris: Family Friendly Hotel Reviews: 10Best

Traveling with the family is what memories are made of. True ? To help make sure that those memories are good ones, I’ve put together this list of family friendly Paris hotels which includes iconic properties like Hotel Lutetia, Hotel du Jeu de Paume on the Ile St. Louis and the sport motif Molitor Hotel. These will get you off on the right foot. Accommodations set the tone for your vacation experience, after all. Making sure that Mom, Dad and the kids are all comfortable and like the neighborhood goes a long way in assuring that the rest of the vacation will be smooth and stress-free.

Here you’ll find accommodations that offer a homey type of feel. A kitchenette and a living room are great for gathering the family together in the morning, for coffee and croissants or in the afternoon after a day of sightseeing and museums. Luxury hotels can also be a good way to go. Many of the best ones in the city have a sort of friendly competition with each other about who welcomes families the best, particularly making the kids feel as much like prized guests as their parents. If you’re not staying at a palace hotel, services such as babysitting may still be offered. Above all, I’ve kept to the city center (mostly) as that’s where the easy bus and metro lines are. Public transportation in Paris can be a fun game or sport for the kids. So be sure to get them on board !

If you’ve never had a chance to discover Ile St. Louis, it is a particular side of Paris within Paris. First of all, it is the oldest inhabited area of the city, and at one point was referred to as the ‘island of cows.’ That was centuries ago, though, before the aristocrats of the kings’ courts moved in and built their grand, stately mansions. Today, it is populated by tourists and locals alike. There are only a few hotels in this ‘heart of Paris’ neighborhood. This one, particularly, is a landmark, since it still houses the oldest tennis court known in Paris. Legend has it that even King Louis XIII used to come and play here.

Recommended for Family-Friendly Hotels because: This is the oldest – and last standing – ancient tennis court in Paris from King Louis XIII’s era.

Read more about Hotel du Jeu de Paume →

Photo courtesy of Relais Christine copyright

Enter into the world of this very French hotel, starting with its inviting garden courtyard, and you enter into a world where bespoke and custom-tailored are the guiding principles of your stay. For families traveling, the duplex rooms are a good option, as well as asking for one of the dozen of rooms that connect, creating family suites. The concierge here is full of ideas for activities with the kids, whether that’s suggesting a river cruise on the Seine or day excursions visiting Palais de la Découverte, Grande Galerie de l’Evolution, Jardin d’Acclimatation, La Villette, Jardin du Luxembourg and many other kid-friendly Paris places. For a very special experience, you might want to ask for the rooms that have exclusive access to their private garden. This is a great luxury in this location where you are in the heart of Saint-Germain-des-Prés.

Recommended for Family-Friendly Hotels because: Duplex rooms that connect and transform into family suites, make for a comfortable stay here in the heart of St. Germain-des-Prés.

Read more about Residence Des Arts →

The sparkling palace that is now part of The Set Hotels fleet, this Rive Gauche landmark is bustling and welcoming. It’s one of the few really luxurious properties on the Left Bank and its proximity to the iconic Le Bon Marche department store and its adjacent gourmet food shop extravaganza, Le Grand Epicerie, makes the setting not only central for shopping but practical, too. Nearby museums are the Musee d’Orsay and the Musee Bourdelle. And, of course, the Jardin du Luxembourg is just a short stroll away. This property is not just family/ kid friendly, it is also pet friendly. There are several on-site bars and the street-facing brasserie has once again become the place to meet in this trendy neighborhood, just as it was in decades past, before the recent head-to-toe renovations.

Recommended for Family-Friendly Hotels because: The Akasha Spa offers a haven of tranquility and a zone in which to refresh. It is the only one of its kind in France.

Read more about Hotel Lutetia, The Leading Hotels of the World →

A sleek cocoon with the comfort of a 5-star hotel, the MGallery Molitor (Accor) suites and rooms offer the experience of being somewhere other than in the city while still remaining in Paris. Molitor is a listed historical landmark and its legendary pools were quite the place to be for artists and avant-gardists in the 20s and 30s. There are six pool suites and two junior suites with terraces. The pool suites overlook the famous main feature of this property, which is the historical pools (there is one winter and one summer pool). Street art is a big thematic here and the property is festooned with it. You can book a ‘gallery tour’ of the changing cabins-cum-micro-galleries in the winter pool, a great afternoon activity with the kids. The evolving art installations that have been created for the hotel are for purchase, with all proceeds going directly to the artists.

Recommended for Family-Friendly Hotels because: Headquarters during the annual French Open, Molitor attracts all kinds of athletes year-round. The spa, pools and street art decor make it family friendly.

Read more about Hotel Molitor Paris – MGallery →

A dedicated butler sees to your every whim, round-the-clock, from the moment you check-in. Amenities also include one of Paris’s largest hotel swimming pools, which adjoins the one-of-a-kind Shiseido USpa. Upon arrival, children are gifted a treasure map to search for the hotel’s mascot, a ladybug (which, everyone knows, brings good luck). Dignified Luxury. This term refers to Fouquet’s Leading Green Certification ethics and its philosophy that the environment need not be abandoned in the quest for luxury. Step foot inside this historical icon located where the Avenue George V meets the Champs-Elysées and you would never guess that the sumptuous gold-and-velvet Jacques Garcia designs surrounding you are sustainably certified. Fouquet’s is synonymous with French film stars. Each year the winners of the Cesar’s, France’s “Oscar’s”, are féted here with a gala dinner. But back in horse-and-buggy days, it was simply the chosen watering hole of the Champs-Elysées carriage drivers.

Recommended for Family-Friendly Hotels because: There are always activities planned here for the kids – From special brunches to Mom-and-me spa treatments to treasure hunts for the hotel’s ladybug mascot.

Read more about Hotel Fouquet’s Barriere →

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itcompany78 · 3 years

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Best and creative home renovation

We have the widest range of facilities near me, including renovation of bathrooms, renovation of offices, timber decking, kitchen renovation near me So our clients do not have to go elsewhere in order to fulfill a project.

A common pastime for property owners is home renovation. The renovation will help increase a residence's value while also providing an aged home with a more new, extra positive image. This makes continuing to live in an older residence more desirable.

Here are 9 creative home improvement ideas for a tight spending plan in an effort to save cash.

Updating every room with a fresh paint layer

A fresh coat of paint is among one of the most tried and tested investment plans for home improvement. This is a convenient way to help transform the feeling and atmosphere of every room in your home without spending a lot on extra furniture or accessories.

Paint is reasonably inexpensive and also easy to apply. This means that cash is not lost as professionals are hired to conduct the remodeling. Without breaking the financial institution, varied color paint can help change any region.

Molding from Mount Crown

Crown molding is not one of the most user-friendly concepts for home improvement, as few households use this style. Crown molding is angled trim that lines where the surfaces of the ceiling and wall meet. This is a perfect way to add value to a house and improve the overall architectural appeal as well. The method is fairly simple and only involves some very carefully cut angles as well as setup patience. There are also alternatives to non-wood crown molding that are even more budget-friendly.

Refinish Cabinets for Kitchens

In your house, a kitchen is commonplace for restoration. Nonetheless, new cupboards and appliances can be very expensive as well. Fortunately, another, cheaper makeover technique is available. Homeowners will achieve Kitchen Renovation Sydney and look like a brand-new collection without the acquisition by finishing the sand down the cabinets and adding a new finish.

Build A Runner Stair

Stairways may be another costly restoration. Nevertheless, without a complete remodel, installing an economical stair runner will help give the area a different feeling. These runners can be purchased to match any form of paint color or atmosphere of the residence in a variety of designs. Property owners ought to be able very quickly to discover the perfect dimension for their home.

Your furniture repositioning

While furniture adds a great deal to the overall feel of a space, it also tends to cost a lot of cash. A tight spending schedule would not allow the purchasing of a brand new couch or dresser much of the time. It is therefore necessary to exploit the power of reformation. Even with the very same furniture, space may feel completely different when it has been relocated to various locations. With furniture from other rooms as well, you can do this. This does not cost anything but can carry the feeling of a complete remodel. Replace household gadgets with cheaper ones

Our attention always turns to the bigger ticket products when considering a remodel. Nevertheless, even switching out smaller household gadgets will help to shake things up. As an example, cushions on couches, beds, and chairs are scattered in most households. It's a perfect way to restore the smaller gadgets in your house with a minimal budget.

Hang Up Art Or Pictures of Self-Made

When deciding what to do with a wide area of empty wall, most homeowners scrape their heads. Think of hanging some of your very own work, rather than purchasing costly mirrors or various other accessories. In the form of a personal painting or picture, this could be available.

In the form of a personal painting or picture, this could be available. It's a smart way to make your areas feel much more customized while saving money in the long run as well.

Add Principles for Limited Storage Space

In a lot of households, storage is a problem. Not only do you have so many points to shop for, but it is also very important to keep them in a wonderful way. This is a perfect idea when it comes to purchasing some minimalist room. Small cubby holes and even hanging shelves are some great ideas to make it a breeze to hold clothes as well as other smaller sized items. It is possible to use these storage devices in wardrobes and empty spaces in the home.

When it comes to changing the lighting in a room, color is an additional option. Small color accents, depending on the hue, can help provide an area with a cooler or warmer feel.

Conclude with

Refurbishing your house can be a perfect way to stay fully happy without having to spend money on relocating. Nevertheless, redesigning will recover the cash that many homeowners just don't have. These 9 creative ideas for home improvement will help you accomplish these objectives on a budget.

#home renovation kitchen renovation kitchen renovation Sydney

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paradisobound · 6 years

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Young and In Love

Summary: Written for the Phandom Big Bang 2017!

When the coffee shop in the basement of Dan’s university is suddenly closed one evening, he uses his phone to track the next closest one. But who was to know that his life would change entirely when he stepped inside? A story of love, heartbreak, and everything in-between, we follow Dan through the journey of growth and acceptance.

Word Count: 9,194 (this was supposed to be 5-7k, whoops)

Pairing: Punk!Dan Howell and Present!2017!Phil Lester

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, self-hatred, slight mentions of depression, and light-smut (it stops before the actual act of sex)

Authors Note: When I first signed up for the PBB, I had no idea what I was getting into. I did the smallest word count possible (and still went over, mind you lol) and put a lot of time and effort into this story. I went through so many emotions with this, most of the time them being how this wasn’t going to be good enough. But I had some amazing encouragement from so many people and that’s what pushed me through! I just really wanted to say that I thank everyone for making my first PBB one to remember! I definitely want to do this every year I’m in the Phandom from this point on! I also really want to thank my amazing beta Gabbie ( @tiredofbeingnice123 ), who stepped in when my first beta could no longer do the job. And for my artist @yolkoii who has done that beautifully done piece for this fic located at the top! I really just hope that at the end of the day, everyone enjoys this and has a great time reading it! Happy reading! :)

“You get ready, you get all dressed up / To go nowhere in particular / Back to work or the coffee shop / Doesn’t matter cause it’s enough / To be young and in love”- Young and In Love by Lana Del Rey

Dan found the little cafe on the corner of 1st and 2nd Main Street by complete chance. Most of the time, he would never go into a cafe; his persona just wouldn’t fit the pastel and hipster aesthetic that can sometimes go with such a place. But today, he didn’t have much of a choice. He had just finished his Uni lecture: a three hour long class talking about the importance of Shakespeare, and why his works are still timeless. He was already falling asleep, but he needed a caffeine boost if he wanted to get through the next class that would begin in an hour. He would usually go to his Uni’s cafe, but it was closed for the evening.

So really, the next best thing he could do was Google the next closest cafe, and walk over. It turned out to be only three blocks away.

When he approached the entrance, he felt a wave of anxiety wash over him at breaking his typical routine. He felt himself nervously twitch, and he tugged at the side of his beanie that was covering the tip of his ears, forcing it further down. It was chilly outside today; a typical February afternoon for London. When he awoke in his flat that morning, the sun had tricked him into thinking that the weather would be warmer, leaving him wearing a thin black hoodie that the air went through.

He put his hand on the door and pushed it open, grunting a bit at the heaviness of the glass paneled door. The minute his leather-studded boot touched the dark wooden floor, he could almost feel everyone’s eyes on him. He brushed it off, shaking his head slightly. He pushed the thoughts about people’s stares and silent judgment aside; the whole idea that this wasn’t his typical scene was making him slightly self-conscious.

As he walked further inside, he bit at his tongue ring in his mouth, and then bit his lip, and tugged at his lip ring. He let go of the ring just in time to see that he was stood in line behind a group of other people. Upon a quick look up, he noticed a member of the group was staring at him, but then quickly looked away.

He bowed his head, adjusting his backpack that weighed heavy against his shoulders. Maybe if he didn’t look up, he wouldn’t notice that some people were staring?

He wasn’t sure even sure how he got to the counter, as he felt like he was walking through thick fog. He set his backpack on the countertop and fumbled around in the messy bag for his wallet.

“While you’re looking for your wallet, can I start an order for you?”

Dan looked up and spoke before his eyes could focus.

“Black coffee, please.”

He went back down to pawing through his bag as he heard the random clicking and tapping that came with every cash register. After what felt like ages, he found the tattered black leather square at the bottom of his bag.

He quickly opened it and looked up just in time to be met with bright blue eyes. His breath hitched, and when he went to ask the price, his words got stuck in his throat. He coughed slightly.

Why did he have to be so awkward? Better yet, why was this guy so goddamn beautiful?

“That’ll be $1.99,” the worker said, putting his hand out to take his payment before Dan could even register what was happening.

Dan gave him a small smile and nodded. He dug through his run-down wallet and pulled out two crumpled dollar bills.

“You can wait over there for your drink,” The worker said, pointing to a small area where people were gathered around with straws and cardboard cup sleeves.

“Can I get a name?”

Dan nodded.

“Dan,” he spoke out, thankful that this time he remembered his own name.

The man nodded and smiled back, before asking for the next customer.

Dan shuffled down the line and waited for his coffee at the counter. But the whole time, he couldn’t take his eyes off from the man with blue eyes.

He mentally cursed himself for not looking at the man’s name tag.

Not too long after, his drink was handed to him, and he was grabbing his cream and sugar before heading off. However, he couldn’t stop thinking about how he needed to come back so he could see this man once more.

The following week went by in an almost blur for Dan. He got pulled aside in his Law class for not turning in a paper that was due three classes before. When he was questioned about it, he felt a pang of guilt for not trying harder; he just didn’t have the motivation anymore.

At the end of the week, he had a meeting with each of his professors. The decision to do this came after he got an email from his advisor saying that as of late, he was failing every class. He didn’t want to be known as the guy who flunked out of Uni, so he figured he would try and get some extra-credit to help bring his GPA up before midterms.

The first three professors seemed sympathetic and helpful. They offered him different lectures he could go to so he could earn extra-credit, and even to gain a better understanding of material. But it was the fourth professor that got on his nerves.

It was his English professor, and although Dan enjoyed English, it was clear that the professor did not enjoy Dan. The meeting ended abruptly, with his professor telling him to just focus on the class and he’ll end the semester with a solid B.

And then the fifth professor––his law professor––was the worst of them all. The professor did nothing but scream at him for not caring about the class and not doing his work. When Dan explained to him how he wasn’t even sure if Law was what he wanted to do, the professor suggested he drop out of the program.

This led to Dan making an appointment with his academic advisor for the next day. He figured that his advisor would help him figure out what he truly wanted to do, but the meeting turned awry fast.

The normally-kind older lady snapped at him, telling Dan to ‘knock off’ his ‘persona,’ because if he wants to be a lawyer, he can’t act the way he does now. When Dan tried to explain to her that he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to be a lawyer anymore, she told him that he needed to calm down and they’d schedule a meeting at another time.

Dan walked away from the meeting upset and angry. He was beginning to see university as a thorn in his side rather than something he’ll actually find useful in his life.

He doesn’t want to be a fucking lawyer anyway.

And frankly, he’s thinking about dropping out.

He actually doesn’t know why he hasn’t already.

In this time of pure existentialism, he’d headed down to the basement of his building to get an afternoon pick-me-up of coffee. When he got there and saw that the shop closed, he stopped and thought of where he could go.

And that’s when he remembered that coffee shop that he went to before. The one with the attractive worker.

He walked out of the building, listening to his music, and headed in the direction towards the cafe. He hasn’t been here since the last time –– quite honestly, he had forgotten about it momentarily. But now he was kind of…excited(?)…to go there. Maybe the attractive employee would be there again; though, it’s not like he’d have the courage to talk to him, other than to give his order anyway. The cafe’s sign came into view and he walked up to the door, pushing it open and smiling to himself until he looked up and noticed that the only working was a blonde female.

Dan snapped out of his thoughts only to realize that he was blocking the way to the counter. Still craving his coffee, he headed up to the counter where he subconsciously looked around for the worker from the day before.

“Um…,” he began without realizing it. “Just by total chance…I mean, not to sound creepy or anything…but is a guy with blue eyes working here today?”

He wanted to hit himself over the head. What was he thinking asking that? He couldn’t believe that those words had even came out of his mouth.

The girl, whose name tag read Louise, looked at him up at him and furrowde his brows. Her face was clearly showing slight shock at the question, “Oh, Phil?” She asked, and Dan just nodded, because maybe that is his name. “He’s working the night shift tonight. He’ll be working from 8 to 8 overnight.”

“Oh, okay.” Dan answered, trying to stay cool as he made a mental note to come back here tonight to work on his homework instead of stay in his flat.

“Any particular reason you’re asking?” She asked.

Dan stood back slightly and stuttered for a moment.

“He, uh…h-he makes me a special drink.” Louise cocked an eyebrow.

“Does he now?” She asked with a smile now forming. “That’s such a Phil thing, oh my. Well, can I get you anything that will make up for you not getting your special drink from Phil today?”

Dan smiled in his head, feeling a tiny bit giddy from just the way she spoke. But he kept his composure as he answered, “A black coffee is fine,” even though it came out as more of a mumble.

She looked at him and replied, “Such a tame drink. That’ll be $1.99 by the way.”

Dan went back to the cafe at around midnight. He was going to come earlier, but he found himself trying to pick out a nice outfit and freaking out, as if he was going on a date. He opted for a pair of Adidas track pants and a hoodie, so he at least looked like your average “college-student-who-needed-a-fix-of-coffee-in-order-to-stay-awake-to-write-a-paper.”

Truth be told, Dan probably wouldn’t have done the paper if it wasn’t for this. It’s a paper based on some subsection of law, and he’s supposed to interpret them.

Okay, so it was the paper that was due three classes ago; he really just didn’t want to do something that boring. However, he decided that he might as well do it if he wanted a reason to go to the cafe.

Dan didn’t even know why he felt a need to come back to the cafe just to see this ‘Phil’. Sure, he often thought about the way ‘Phil’ looked when he first saw him, but Dan had never gone to the work of going to see someone just because he thought they were cute.

He walked into the cafe and was a bit taken back at how eerily quiet it was in there. There wasn’t any music. No one else was there, and there isn’t even any sign of ‘Phil’ behind the counter.

He took a seat in the dimly-lit cafe in a booth and began to set up his work station for the night. He had everything ready when he hears a loud gasp, followed by what sounded like metal clanking onto the ground.

Dan jumped and turned around to see a worker bent down towards the floor. He was cursing under his breath as he picked up the metal objects that fell out of his hands. Feeling bad that he may have caused this, Dan got up and rushed over to the counter.

“I’m so sorry if I scared you.”

The male looked up and laughed, before throwing the dishes into the small sink on the side of the counter.

Dan smiled inside his head because the male looking back at him was definitely Phil.

“No,” he said shaking his head as he laughed, “it’s not you, I promise; I’m just not used to seeing anyone here at this time of night. Every time I work the night shift, I normally use the time to wash everything up and get it clean.”

Dan looked at him, almost guilty.

“I just need to finish a term paper, but I can leave if it—”

Phil shook his head.

“It’s all good; I actually think I’ll enjoy the company for once.”

Dan smiled at him.

“I might not be good company.” Phil stood up straighter and just shrugged.

“I don’t believe that.”

Phil then cleared his throat and pointed towards his abandoned seat.

“You better get working then. And I should too actually.”

Having forgotten about that stupid paper, he nodded sadly before giving Phil another brief smile and heading over to his spot.

The time flew by after that. Really, he didn’t even realize that it was close to 5 a.m. until he felt his eyes begin to close, and his body begin to sag and lean in the booth. He desperately needed something to help him out because he was threateningly close to falling asleep here, and that would be embarrassing.

As if right on cue, Dan heard the sound of squeaking and he woke up momentarily to see Phil sitting across from him.

“You look like you need a little bit of a push.”

He pushed Dan a mug of something and Dan opened his eyes wider to evaluate what it was.

“What—?”

“It’s a caramel macchiato,” Phil said with a smile, “my favorite.”

Dan stretched before reaching down and taking the mug in his hands. He brought it up to take a sip when Phil suddenly exclaimed, “Don’t drink it yet!”

Dan looked at him, confused. Phil sheepishly added, “I just made it and if you drink it now, you’ll burn your mouth.”

Dan set the mug back down and smiled,

“Thank you for giving me the warning.”

“I’m not going to let you injure yourself, Dan, just because you’re half asleep.”

“How did you know my name?”

“You told me the last time you were here and I took your order. I didn’t mean to sound creepy.”

Dan shook his head.

“No, no! Please don’t think that I thought of that way,” he said, “I’m just tired and my brain is fried. I have a class at ten, and I probably should go home and sleep. But if I do, I’m literally going to dream of these fucking laws and I’m so sick of it.”

“Oh…you’re in University?”

Dan nodded.

“Yeah, unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately?”

“I’m studying law and I hate it,” Dan quickly explained.

Phil pursed his lips.

“Oh, that makes sense. I completed my degree in English Language and Linguistics about two years ago.”

Dan’s ears perked up in that statement. His brains began to go through possibility after possibility of Phil’s words. He was still thinking when he caught Phil yawning across from him.

“I hate these long shifts,” Phil spoke, “They always get the best of me.”

“Make a coffee for yourself?” Dan suggested, pointing down to his own drink on the table.

Phil shook his head. “I’ve had enough coffee for the night.”

Dan went to speak again when the door to the shop opened and a middle aged gentlemen walked inside wearing a business suit. As Phil got up to serve him, Dan caught himself staring at the man and thinking to himself that that could be him one day. He could be that man wearing a suit and ordering a coffee at five in the morning.

And man, he wasn’t sure if he wanted that.

He was still thinking when he watched Phil waltz around behind the counter as he made the man his drink. He replayed Phil’s words about him having a degree already over in his head and he bit the inside of his cheek.

Maybe Phil could help him out? Sure, he didn’t quite know if he wanted to be a lawyer, but he could still pass all of his classes. And maybe by some luck, Phil had taken similar ones which meant that he could help him out.

Unfortunately, that was such a long shot and frankly, Dan didn’t know if Phil would even be up for that. He didn’t even know if Phil wanted to be around him. Dan’s appearance can be striking to most, but that doesn’t mean he’s a terrible person to be around — maybe Phil was just talking to him to be nice?

Okay, that was definitely what Phil was doing. But maybe he would be willing to help Dan out?

Dan was still in his thoughts when the middle aged man left and walked out the door, allowing for the heavy glass door to bang on the way out. He turned his attention back to his essay, and with a defeated sigh; he knew that his fifteen page paper was not going to happen when he was only on the seventh page now.

He was about to close his laptop down and pack up his things until he heard the squeaking of shoes come back over to him again. Phil plopped down on the other side of the booth and sighed, “I’m ready to go home and sleep.”

Dan nodded. “Yeah, me too. I should probably go and get some rest before my class.”

“Did you finish your paper?”

“Yes,” he lied.

Phil smiled at him. “I had faith that you could do it.”

Dan caught himself smiling as he packed up his items into his backpack. He zipped up his bag and was ready to stand up when Phil spoke up.

“It was fun to…hang out with you,” he said hesitantly, “if you can call this hanging out? Anyway, I enjoyed talking with you! Believe it or not, you made great company; even if you didn’t talk much.”

Dan nodded, at a loss for words. He looked down and realized he still hadn’t drank the drink that Phil had made. He went to grab it when Phil beat him to it and picked up the cup.

“Let me put this in a to-go cup!”

Dan watched as Phil hurried to behind the counter and dumped his drink into a cup and put the cover on it. He wrote something on the side of the cup with a black marker, and Dan couldn’t help but be curious of what it was.

When Phil came back over with the drink, Dan took it in his hand and adjusted his backpack, his body feeling weak from exhaustion.

“Come again, please!” Phil chirped.

Dan nodded and replied, “I definitely will.”

He turned around and headed for the door when he remembered that Phil had written something on the side of the cup. Looking at it, he found himself smiling at the note.

Enjoyed talking 2 U. +447911123456

Dan knew it was a cell phone number when he looked at it, and really, he was more than that Phil gave it to him.

Too bad he lied to Phil about finishing the paper that he was never going to do.

Dan wasn’t even slightly shocked when he got an email from his academic advisor three days after he attempted to complete his overdue essay. It was an urgent email that read he needed to make an appointment her—in her own words—“ASAP DANIEL.”

So he emailed her back, and they decided they’d meet at 3:45 pm on that Wednesday afternoon.

He walked into her office, taking a seat in the cushioned chair before relaxing back and expecting the worst to come out of her mouth. And sure enough, it did.

“Dan,” she started with her hands folded against the desk she was leaning on, “I just got emails from your professors — and you’re failing four out of your five classes.”

Dan felt his heart race in his chest: how could he failing almost all of his closing? From what he remembered, he was borderline-passing — right?

“And,” she continued without a pause, “unless you turn yourself around completely, as of right now, you’re going to fail out of university.”

He stared straight ahead at her, momentarily forgetting how words work. He never thought it was ever come to this; that he would go from getting in unconditional, to uni, to now flunking out.

“What can I do?” he finally said.

“Maybe get a tutor to help you if you’re struggling that much?” She asked sympathetically, “Our university offers great tutoring programs that you can join to get the academic help that you need.”

As soon as Dan got the email for the tutoring office on campus, he began to question if this effort was even going to be worth it. He knew that he didn’t want to be a lawyer, yet he was continuing with the program anyway. And furthermore, he didn’t even know if this would make any difference in the end if he wasn’t sure this was his path anyway.

But then his phone vibrated in his pocket and pulled it out, looking at the screen. It was a photo that Phil sent him of a design of a cat that Phil had made with special technique within the coffee. The caption with it was, look at the new trick I just learned!

And that is when everything clicked inside Dan’s head and his fingers worked faster than his mind.

To Phil: you said you have a degree, right?

From Phil: Yep! One in English language.

To Phil: Do you think you could help me out?

Dan gnawed at his lip as he waited for Phil’s reply. He was unsure if Phil was willing to help him, and he was honestly scared that he was going to look like a lost cause in front of Phil when all he wants to do is impress him.

Dan looked at the screen long enough to see the bubble with three dots pop up, meaning that Phil was typing and Dan would get his answer soon.

From Phil: With what?

It was then that Dan realized that maybe it would be easier to just meet Phil at work and explain it to him there. He knew that he couldn’t disrupt Phil when he was working; but if he was texting, that meant he was on a break of some sort.

He picked up the pace as he walked down the sidewalk towards the all familiar cafe. The heavy glass door once again seemed to stop him. He used most of his muscles to push it open, before cursing himself for not being in shape.

He spotted Phil right away. The raven-haired boy was sat at a booth, with a donut half-eaten on the table. Dan took a deep breath as he prepared himself to ask Phil this simple question; one that was now beginning to seem as a terrible decision.

“Hey, Dan!”

And no turning back now.

Dan smiled at Phil and rose his hand to wave at him and replied, “Hey.”

Dan slid into the other side of the booth across from Phil, trying to not act any more awkward than he probably already was.

“What did you need me to help you with?” Phil asked in his normal bubbly voice.

“Oh,” Dan spoke, trying to play it off. “So, um, I’m not doing good in uni right now.”

“Oh no!”

“Yeah,” Dan added, “and so…I need some help. You see, I’m failing majority of my classes and I…gosh this is embarrassing. I was wondering if you are feeling up to it…um, if you could look over my class list and see if maybe we took any of the same classes an––”

“Dan,” Phil interrupted him his ramble, “of course I can tutor you! What classes do you need help with?”

Dan opened his backpack and fished out his class list. He placed it on the table. Phil looked it over, reading through the classes and the descriptions of each before tapping his fingers against the wood.

Dan could feel himself becoming anxious as he waited for Phil’s answer. When it finally came, the relief seeped through his veins.

“I took three out of these five classes so I can definitely help you out!”

Dan smiled brightly, feeling the color go back into his skin. “That’s so great to hear!”

“I’ll see if I can find my old files of notes for these classes,” Phil said with a cheery attitude, “When did you want to start?”

“As soon as possible!” Dan chimed in. “I need the help as soon as you’re available.”

“Well, how does tomorrow evening sound?” Phil asked. “I’ll text you after my shift ends today to discuss the details. But as of right now, I need to head back to work, as my break is over.”

Phil stood up and shoved his phone inside his jeans pocket before taking the remaining bites of his donut.

“Talk to you later, Dan!” he spoke with a mouth full of donut.“Glad to be of help.”

Dan blushed and smiled as Phil turned his back and waltzed.

“Glad you’re willing to help me.”

Stuffing everything back into his backpack, Dan quickly threw the bag onto his shoulders. Glancing one last time behind him towards Phil, who was currently turned around behind the counter and putting together some frozen drink, Dan found himself smiling. Maybe his life would turn around after all.

Standing in front of the building, Dan looked over the address that Phil had texted him for the millionth time. He’s been looking at it since his taxi dropped him off here almost a half hour ago. Dan was nervous person by nature, so standing here was tweaking his anxiety in ways he couldn’t explain. His hard exterior was crumbling under the weight of his own fear of humiliating himself in front of Phil.

After finally deciding that the address was correct, he embarked on the three foot journey to the door of the building. Grabbing the handle, he sighed when it was locked. Looking around the outside, he found a voice box and looked over the names on the list besides the bottom. Phil’s name came up as “Lester, P.M” and because he was the only name with a P somewhere, Dan knew it had to Phil’s. Pressing the bottom, he heard the static before a matted, “hello?” came through.

“It’s Dan.” Dan spoke with a slight tremble in his voice.

“Oh, yes! I’ll unlock the door for you!”

Hearing the click of the door, Dan let go of his finger on the bottom and gripped the handle instead. The door freed easily and he walked inside of the building. He remember Phil’s directions in the text he was sent. He was told to take the stairs to the second level and he’ll be the first apartment on the right side. So he did exactly that.

At the top of the stairs, Dan stood for a moment to catch his breath before knocking on the door that read “2” in a brass number. Not even one knock in, Phil opened the door and greeted him with a hot chocolate in his hand.

“Hello!” Phil exclaimed cheerily, “I hope you like hot chocolate because I made it fresh just for you!’

Dan flashed a nervous smile before taking the drink in his hand and walking inside. As he took his first few steps in, he couldn’t help but notice how clean everything was. From the floors to the areas around him; everything was spotless. A bookshelf glistened against the wall next to a window with clean white curtains. The walls were a dull white that made the entire room seem huge even though Dan wasn’t fooled by the size. The kitchen, from the corner of it that Dan could see, was completely pristine and Dan felt a little shamed being there. He felt too tainted to be in such a pure, nice place.

“Okay,” Phil said breaking the silence. “I found my old notebooks, and I’m hoping that my notes will help us; so let’s begin!”

Both of them sat down on the grey couch that donned the center of the room. Dan took a sip of the hot chocolate, which scorched his mouth before he sat it down on the coffee table –– but not after Phil had threw a coaster with a corgi under the cup.

Digging through his backpack, he pulled all of his notebooks out and spread them on the coffee table carefully. He really hoped that all of this worked for him. He’s come too far now.

Nearly two hours and two hot chocolates later, both Dan and Phil are laying on the couch. They were tired beyond comprehension, and their minds were completely fried from the crash course that Phil had been giving. Dan’s brain hurt; he couldn’t tell if it was a good hurt or not, and he was ready to sleep for hours now. He felt like he learned a lot from Phil, so he hoped it would show when he went into class the following day.

“I could go for a drink,” Phil said, pushing himself off from the couch before padding across the living room to the kitchen. Dan waited in anticipation for Phil to come back with whatever he was grabbing –– Dan secretly hoped it was something strong. Much to Dan’s dismay, Phil came back with a bottle of white wine.

“Do you like wine?” Dan nodded and watched Phil pour two glasses full of wine, before bringing the drinks over to Dan. Taking the glass, Dan took a long sip of it and sighed with the content and he was already feeling relaxed from just knowing he was drinking wine.

“I wish I would have pursued my degree better,” Phil stated without a warning. He was swishing the alcohol around in glass and watching it create a mini hurricane against the sides.

“What do you mean?” Dan asked.

“I got my degree and then never did anything with it,” Phil stated, “Here you are, going to be a lawyer and you’ve got such a promising career path. And what did I do? I went for English and walked away with a useless degree.”

“I’m sure it’s not all that useless…”

“It clearly is when I’m working as a barista in a mediocre job when I could be a promising author or even a journalist.”

Dan furrowed his brows, “I’m sorr––”

Phil put his hand up and stopped him. “No, don’t be sorry for me. I just work in a shitty job and have to deal with shitty people and I make minimum wage.”

“Phil…”

Phil drank down his entire glass of wine and he slammed the glass onto the table, luckily not breaking it, before getting up and walking back into his kitchen. A few moments later, he came out with a bottle of whiskey and said lowly, “I need something stronger.”

While Phil was pouring himself a new glass of liquor, Dan felt something inside of him break. Seeing how down Phil was about his own degree made Dan suddenly think, ‘why the hell was he wasting all this money on something he didn’t even want?’

He didn’t want to be a lawyer. Hell, for the longest time he told his parents he wasn’t even going to university. So why was he still going? Why was he still doing this? It didn’t make any sense to him anymore.

“I’m sorry for suddenly getting so snappy,” Phil said with a chuckle. “This just brought up some memories for me. But I promise you that my college experience was great!”

Dan smiled at Phil before shrugging and replying, “It’s fine. I get those thoughts a lot too.”

There was a silence between them before Phil picked up his phone and sucked in a breath.

“Oh gosh, it’s already after midnight. Do you want to travel back to your apartment or would you like to spend the night here? You can borrow my clothes; we look about the same size.”

Dan felt a blush creep over his pale cheeks as he looked down at the floor. He knew it was just a friendly gesture because it was late and terrible things can happen at night, but Dan couldn’t help but think of it otherwise.

However, Dan had to admit that he didn’t feel like getting a taxi this late at night and risk sharing it with a drunk who might throw up on him.

“I’ll stay here,” he said, and quickly added, “as long as I’m not intruding!”

“Oh, of course not! Let me get you some pajamas!”

Abandoning his spot on the couch, Dan watched as Phil ran to the room behind them and rushed inside. After hearing some rustling on the other side, Dan watched Phil come out with a pair of superman pajama bottoms and a white shirt. He couldn’t help but chuckle because they were nothing like his normal attire.

“This is all I have that you would be remotely interested in,” Phil said with a laugh, “You can change in the bathroom. I’m probably going to finish my drink and then head off to bed. I forgot I had to be to work at six — I’m gonna be exhausted at work tomorrow. I’ll be gone before you even wake up, so you can invite yourself out whenever you’re ready.”

Dan nodded and thanked Phil before heading into the bathroom and undressing, putting on his ‘new pajamas’ instead. When Dan came back out, the couch was pulled out to show a bed that was already made up by Phil. Smiling, he got down onto the bed and curled up, just as he heard the movement of Phil in the bedroom behind him.

Dan had a dream that night; one where he was able to see his future quite clearly. And he wasn’t a lawyer. In fact, his dream involved the idea that he didn’t even complete university but he was happier than he’s ever been.

Which was why when he left for university that morning, Dan walked into the dean’s office and told him he was dropping out of university. He felt a giant weight that was lifted from his shoulders, and he couldn’t even believe that he hadn’t done this before. This was truly what he needed all of this time.

He walked out with a letter in his hand that said the simple phrase:

“On behalf of all of us in the department of law, we wish you the best in your future endeavors.”

Crumpling the letter in his hands, he threw it in his backpack and walked out with his head held high. However, the realization soon hit him.

What was he going to do about Phil? He has just dropped out of university and Phil was tutoring him. Doesn’t that mean that Phil won’t have to tutor him anymore? Well of course it did, though it would also mean that he’d have to see Phil’s disappointment that he gave up. But Dan didn’t really give up — he just realized that what he wasn’t doing what he wanted to do.

But he couldn’t tell Phil this. No, he had to keep up the charade so Phil wouldn’t be upset.

Which was exactly why Dan went back to Phil’s apartment that night and continued to be tutored. And he did the same thing for the next couple of weeks. He gave no hints to Phil that anything different had happened. Soon, Dan began to develop stronger feelings for Phil.

On one particular night of their tutoring, they were both sat on Dan’s couch in his apartment. It wasn’t anything like Phil’s, but it was still something. Dan’s papers scattered in front of him, and Phil was reading through some of his old notes. But Dan couldn’t help to notice the beautiful stare of Phil’s eyes on the paper. They were perfect blue and white orbs that looked like the ocean. When he moved, his black hair cascaded down his forehead and he tucked it impatiently back into place. Dan also noticed that when he concentrated, Phil would purse his lips a little bit, which made Dan went so badly to kiss him.

But he knew that doing so would be out of line. He didn’t even know if Phil liked him back. He could ask Phil on a date, but that would take so much effort; and if Dan got rejected in the end, what was it all worth?

“Are you still with me, Dan?” Phil asked with a chuckle. Dan snapped out his trance and laughed nervously.

He replied, “Sorry, my brain is a little fried.”

Phil relaxed his shoulders and dropped the paper onto the table along with the others, “Yeah, I’m gonna have to say the same.”

Phil looked at the time; it was already 10:30 pm. He sighed.

“I have to go to work soon,” Phil said. “My shift starts at midnight. I’m working a half-shift to cover for Louise, since she has a little one and can’t afford to be gone the full night.”

“That’s nice of you,” Dan commented before he could even think of his words.

And see, that’s where the other problem lies: Dan wasn’t like Phil in any way. He had this tough persona that took years to build after constant attacks from his classmates in school. He had built up this character because he was sick of the shit he was getting put through.

But Phil wasn’t like that. He was a soft-hearted man with the capability to be nice to every person he saw.

They would simply never work.

For the rest of their time together, they went back over some of the notes before Dan left the apartment to allow for Phil to get ready for work. On the way out, he spotted a couple walking by; they both looked like they had their lives together; something Dan never learned how to do, considering the absence of a good parental figures in his life. He resorted to cheap clothing he bought on sale, and he felt as if he was irresponsible in almost every sense.

But noticing that couple made something inside of him change. For Dan, maybe this pesona didn’t work anymore. He wasn’t getting anywhere in life by being like this: being a punk. He wasn’t going to get a stable job or do anything he wanted to.

It was time for a change.

As soon as he stepped foot into his apartment, he walked into the bathroom and took out a few of his piercings; just to see how he looked. When he didn’t like what he saw, he stuffed the metal back into place and went to bed.

Dan woke up the next morning at a decent time: 9:45 am. He was already struggling to stay awake, wishing that he could just go back to bed. Checking his phone that was laid on the opposite side of his bed, he saw a text from Phil:

From Phil: They convinced me to work a double so come visit!

Deciding that was as good of an ‘excuse’ to visit Phil, Dan quickly climbed out of bed, got dressed, and then left his apartment, walking the direction of the cafe.

When he arrived, he noticed that it wasn’t busy for this time of morning. Slowly pushing the door open, he could hear Phil’s voice clear as day…and Louise’s as well.

“I can’t just ask him Louise, he probably doesn’t even like me that way.”

“Oh, come on, Lester, I’m sure he does,” Louise said. “Although I have to say that the punk persona is a little much.”

“Hey!” Phil exclaimed. “I like his persona. I think it’s cute because he such a nice guy.”

Dan blushed furiously at the conversation; one that he clearly wasn’t meant to hear. He turned around and walked out of the cafe, hoping he wasn’t noticed before sending a message to Phil.

To Phil: Something came up and I won’t be able to come to the cafe. Come over later tonight to make it up?

After a moment of time, Phil replied back.

From Phil: Sure!

Smiling brightly to himself, Dan headed back to his apartment where he ate some cereal and then ordered pizza for lunch as he waited for Phil to arrive.

“I’m so tired,” Phil stated, already morphing himself onto Dan’s couch.

“I’m sorry,” Dan said biting his lip. “You can leave if you get too tired.”

Phil shook his head and replied, “I’m fine, just complaining.”

Dan laughed, raising up his wine glass and taking a sip of it.

When Phil had arrived, Dan didn’t know what he should do. He had just heard earlier that Phil liked him, but he didn’t know how to approach the subject. Should he just ask Phil on a date, or would that be too forward? Does he tell Phil that he liked him? Now that he thought of it, that would be really forward too.

“You’re cute when you’re thinking,” Phil stated, suddenly moving forward on the couch, angling his body towards Dan’s.

“You think I’m cute?” Dan asked, a blush threatening his cheeks.

Phil nodded, “Dan, forgive me for just coming out with this, but I do like you.”

“I like you too.”

“No,” Phil stated, “I really like you, Dan. As in I want to be more than just friends. After speaking with my coworker today, I knew that I couldn’t deny my feelings for you anymore. I really, really like you.”

Dan watched as Phil began to move in, and suddenly their lips were connected into a kiss that was barely there, but at the same time, almost too much. Dan smiled to himself as he tasted sweets, coffee, and wine on Phil’s lips; he tasted just as how he imagined.

Phil’s hand came up, holding Dan’s jaw in place as the kiss deepened. Dan was in complete shock that this happened; he wasn’t sure if what he was doing was even okay. He had a few other kisses in his life, but nothing with someone he really liked and wanted to be with.

Phil pulled back from the kiss, both of them panting in heavy breaths. Before either one could process what to do next, Dan was leaning in and reconnecting their lips again. And with the unspoken agreement, both of them knew what was going to unfold that night as they got up and walked, still connected, into Dan’s bedroom. Phil shut the door behind them with the hand that was on Dan’s cheek and their night finally begun.

It was only during the middle of the night that everything changed. Dan was asleep, unknowing of Phil’s movements. Needing to go to the bathroom, Phil got up and padded around the apartment until he found it. Using the toilet as silently as possible, he headed back out before spotting something that caught his eye.

On the coffee table in Dan’s living room was a crumpled piece of paper that had a red-letter heading on the top. Phil didn’t mean to be nosey, but he found himself walking to the paper and picking it up. Uncrumpling it, his eyes skimmed the page and anger flamed inside of his body.

With a few silent tears running down his cheeks, he crumpled the paper back up and went back into Dan’s bedroom. He noted Dan sleeping peacefully in the bed, his lower half covered by a blanket after the amazing intimacy that they had shared. Phil felt sick. He bent down and grabbed his clothing, dressing as quickly as he could. On the way out, he contemplated leaving a note but instead he just shut the door behind himself and left.

Dan’s eyes opened the following morning, filled with exhaustion and bliss. Turning on his side, he looked around for Phil. But he noticed quickly that the other side of the bed was cold. Upset, Dan fought back tears before getting up and wrapped the blanket around himself, feeling suddenly exposed.

How could Phil had left him like a one-night stand? He thought last night had meant something?

Reaching around for his phone, he unlocked it, expecting Phil to say he had got called into work early. Instead, he was left with nothing. No explanation. But he needed to find out why Phil left.

Dan felt dirty. Used. Defiled. Any other synonyms of words that possibly meant any of the ones he was already thinking. He wanted to get up and scrub away the touches from Phil that had meant so much last night. He wanted to cry because he felt something so deeply with Phil and he didn’t want it to disappear.

He whipped the blankets off from his torso and stood up from his bed. Rushing around to find some clothes, he immediately got dressed and grabbed his cell phone again. Shoving the device into his pocket, he grabbed his wallet and walked out of his apartment.

He was going to find Phil.

The first place Dan thought to go was to the cafe, as Phil seemed to always be there. And of course, to his luck, Phil was there. He was stood behind the counter with his apron tied around his waist.

A sudden fire rushed through him, like venom coursing through his veins. He rushed to the counter and snapped, “Why did you leave?”

Phil’s head snapped up and he put on a fake smile.

“Dan, if this is about last night…”

“Of course this is about last night!” Dan yelled, beginning to make a scene. “How could you just leave me this morning like a cheap one-night stand?”

“This is not the time for this!”

“No, Phil, it is! I think I deserve an explanation!” Dan snapped, frustrated. “No messages? Not even a note? What about a voicemail? You couldn’t explain to me where you were going?”

“No, Dan, because I think it’s better that we don’t see each other right now.”

The words slapped Dan across the jaw, causing a sudden pain in his heart — one that he felt would be there for a while. He felt sick to his stomach because suddenly, this was becoming terrifyingly real.

“What…Phil…?”

“No, Dan,” Phil said, suddenly moving from outside the counter to face him. “I’m done with your lying. How could I? How could you? You used me and lied to me!”

“I didn’t want to lie to you, Phil!”

“Oh yeah?” Phil asked, tears welling inside of his eyes. “Then why didn’t you tell me? Why did you lead me to believe that you actually cared about the work I was doing with you? Why couldn’t you have just told me you dropped out of Uni?”

Dan stared at him, almost surprised.

“Because it was supposed to be…”

“Supposed to be what, Dan?” Phil asked, a tear sliding down his cheek.

Dan went to speak again when Phil lifted his hand up to stop him.

“No,” Phil spoke icily. “You know what? Maybe your persona fits you a little too well, Dan. You lied to me and led me on and I don’t like that. If you would have just came forward and told me, maybe I wouldn’t be forced to do this. But right now, I think it’s best that we don’t see each other.”

Dan felt his heart fall from his chest and shatter against the tiled floor. Phil wiped his eyes a few times before walking back behind the counter and throwing his apron on the granite surface and rushing into the back.

Dan looked around, noticing that everyone was staring at him because what just unfolded.

Maybe Phil was right. Maybe this entire thing was Dan’s fault.

Turning around and not making eye-contact with anyone, he quickly exited the cafe and headed down the street, ignoring the stream of tears that freely chased down his chin.

Back at his apartment, Dan stood in front of the bathroom mirror. His normal brown eyes were now swallowed in darkness, and the surrounding white was a bloodshot red from all the tears. His hair––which was perfectly straightened before––was now a disheveled mess. For a brief moment, he didn’t recognize the man looking back at him.

The first piercing falls onto the porcelain with a clank, and soon after, the next surgical steel bars follow suit. When all of the metal was laid around the sink countertop, Dan looked into the mirror and saw his image as a normal, clean cut teenager; one who just wants to find his place in life.

Taking the piercings in his hand, he opens his medicine cabinet and grabs an almost-empty pill bottle. Opening the top, he throws them in and then closes it, shoving the bottle away. Slamming the medicine cabinet shut, the mirror cracks like a spider-web.

Now he really didn’t recognize himself.

Walking out, he heads to his living room and goes for his secret cabinet of liquor under his coffee table. The last time he was in the cabinet was with Phil.

Grabbing a bottle of whiskey, he cracked the top open and began to chug it. It burnt the entire way down his throat, and when he pulled away for air, he was choking and wincing. But he put the bottle to his lips again and drinks once more.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he picked it up to see that he had one missed call from his grandma; someone who he hasn’t spoken with in a long time. Unable to answer it, he instead grabbed his phone and contemplated texting Phil.

Maybe if he just texted Phil why he did what he did, everything would be fixed?

He opened the message app and his thumb hovered over Phil’s name, but he doesn’t have the courage to press it. Instead, he locked his phone and threw it somewhere across the room. He watched it land on the floor, and sighed. The bottle weighed heavily in his hand, and he took another swig.

Dan twitched from the cold air as he descends down main street, his boots scuffing against the pavement. His was coming from his first-ever job interview for a job at a local bookstore he applied for. He was pretty sure it went well; his mind told him it did anyway.

…Alright. So there’s a slight pang in his step. He pushed down the negative thoughts in favour of having a nice afternoon, and turned a corner down the street. He was going to pick up lunch from a pizza shoppe.

Seeing the familiar red awning, he walks under it and opens the main door. When he went inside, he was immediately hit by the scent of pizza. He was content like this; being able to walk into a place and not have everyone stare at him.

He was sure that some of the holes where his piercings were would close eventually, but he was okay with that; he learned to love himself without them.

Dan stepped up the counter, confidently saying his name for his order before hearing a soft voice echo it from behind.

“Dan?”

He turned around, looking for the person that the voice belonged too. Phil was stood in the back of the line for pizza. He was wearing a red sweater—one that appeared to have reindeer on it—and a pair of black skinny jeans. Dan could have laughed when he saw Phil; it was nearing the end of April, not December.

Grabbing his small pizza and paying the cashier, he walked back to talk with Phil.

“Hey,” he quietly spoke.

Phil smiled at him. “How have you been?”

“Good.”

“You took out your piercings…”

“I didn’t feel like they suited me anymore.”

“Look,” Phil began, “I’m sorry for snapping at you a few days ago in the café. I was upset that you hid that secret from me, but…but I get it now. I get why you did it. At the time, I was just so angry that I couldn’t think straight. But Dan…I really am sorry for that.”

Dan shrugged, “It’s fine…I mean, it’s not fine, but I’m glad you apologized. It means a lot actually.”

“What are you doing on this side of town?” Phil suddenly asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I had an interview at the Willow Root bookstore. I decided to stop by and get some pizza.”

A smile broke out on Phil’s face, “That’s awesome to hear! I got a job working for the newspaper now, and they let me off from work early. I thought I’d swing by and grab a pizza myself.”

Dan looked between the sizzling hot box in his hand, and Phil; who was stood in front of him.

“Do you want to come back to my apartment and split the pizza with me? I’m sure I won’t be able to eat it by myself?”

Phil smiled.

They were lying next to one another on Dan’s bed, both of their torsos wrapped in the duvet cover. Dan was nearly asleep, his body exhausted from what had occurred. Phil was laying next to him, looking at him with his bright blue eyes.

“You know, I was wrong about you,” Phil said softly. “Your piercings make you look beautiful. Why did you take them out?”

Dan swallowed nervously. “Because of what you told me.”

“Do you still have the piercings?”

“Of course.”

“Then let’s put them back in,” Phil said sitting up. “You shouldn’t have had to change for me, Dan.”

Dan shrugged, feeling the sheet move down his body as he turned over.

“I don’t think I need to,” he answered.

“Why’s that?”

Dan sighed and replied, “Because you made me realize that I wanted to be a different person. When you said what you did, it made me see that I wasn’t myself. I wasn’t who I wanted to be anymore. I wanted to be someone different.”

Phil smiled at Dan and rolled over closer to him. “I’m glad that I helped you realize that.” He paused and added, “And I’m even happier that you walked into the coffee shop those few months ago.”

Dan smiled, because he was happier than ever now. He had Phil back in his life and he knew now that Phil was here to stay. He was content with all of this. With his new life filled with no piercings, and a new attitude that launched the rest of his adulthood.

And last, but not least, he was happy that his university’s coffee shop was closed that one day in February.

#phandombigbang #phanfic #phanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #phan #phan fluff #punk!dan #present!phil #tw alcohol #light smut #tw depression

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twilight-alchemist · 7 years

Text

Shelter chapter 3

Ao3- http://archiveofourown.org/works/10885116/chapters/24707469

Chapter summary- Genos and Saitama get more comfortable around each other, Saitama gets drunk, and Genos pretends to be human.

“Saitama Kobayashi are you pulling my leg?” Mumen says in a voice that reminds Saitama of when her mother would get home and she hadn’t done the dishes.

“No, I really have a roommate!” Saitama exclaims. “Her name is Genos. She’s from… Canada. She’s got a rough past and is having a hard time adjusting.”

“Please don’t tell me she illegally crossed the border and stumbled into your yard.”

“Umm…” Saitama hadn’t thought that far ahead, but decided to roll with it. “Yes.” It was decent excuse for Genos’ sudden untraceable appearance as if out of nowhere. It happened sometimes, people crossing the border and showing up in town or on people’s property. They lived in middle-of-nowhere Maine right next to the border after all.

Mumen make a long-suffering noise on the other end of the phone line. “Saitama, you hate meeting new people. You either like people immediately or not at all. Since Genos is still in the house I’m guessing she’s one of the few people you actually like.”

“Um, excuse you, I like lots of people.” Saitama retorts. “There’s you, and your mom, and King, and now Genos. That’s like 4 whole people!”

Mumen laughs. “Alright alright. I trust you, but if you need help please call me. I know you’re not the best with people.”

“It’s okay, Genos isn’t so good with people either.” Saitama says, tugging on the phone cord. “We’ll be alright.”

“Okay.” Mumen says. “See you later Saitama, and don’t you dare wear that horrible dress tonight! You know which one!”

Sai’s relived Mumen’s voice has gone from serious to joking around. This is much more her comfort zone. “Aw Mumen you know you love that dress” she teases.

“No I don’t! It’s dreadful! It’s why you don’t get any dates!” Mumen huffs.

Saitama snorts out a laugh and the phone line crackles. “Maybe I’ll wear it with those fuzzy yellow leg warmers you hate.”

“Saitama if you do I’m going to claim I don’t know you the entire time we are out” Mumen says. Rover starts barking and Saitama startles at the sound of a car driving up the long gravel driveway. Oh shit.

“Bye Mumen gotta go!” Saitama smacks the phone down and rushes into the living room. “Genos!! Wake up someone’s here you gotta hide!” Genos grumbles sleepily and sits up, blinking slowly and clearly not processing yet. Saitama just throws her over her shoulder and runs up the stairs, adrenaline making Genos’ bulk easy to carry. She plops Genos down on the bathroom floor just as she can hear someone opening and closing a car door.

Genos is fully awake now and is watching Saitama with wide eyes as she turns on the shower and pushes Rover into the bathroom. “Rover will stay with you. Don’t turn the shower off and don’t come out until I come get you, ok? It’ll be fine.” Sai says quickly. Genos nods and Saitama closes the door and nearly trips down the stairs in her haste. The doorbell rings and Saitama grabs her half empty cup of coffee and tries to appear calm. Screaming internally, she opens the front door.

The woman standing on Saitama’s porch would be drop dead gorgeous if it wasn’t for her unsettling Cheshire-cat smile. ‘What’s she so happy about?’ Saitama thinks to herself. Sai suddenly remembers what Mumen said about an agent with a creepy smile and dark hair; this is definitely her. She’s intensely grateful for the old screen door between them. Mumen has good people sense, and if she thinks this agent is here to cause trouble, she’s probably right.

“This is private property ma’am.” Saitama says, taking a sip of her coffee. The woman flicks open a government badge so fast that Saitama barely catches sight of it.

“I’m Agent Sonic, part of homeland security.” Her voice is sort of nasal, Saitama thinks to herself. Sai flicks her gaze up and down Sonic’s body, taking in the purple winged eyeliner, the slinky black dress and jacket, and the expensive looking high heels that she’s tapping rapidly against the porch. Saitama wonders how she looks so put together this early in the morning. Saitama looks up to find she’s getting similarly looked over. She’s a little self-conscious of her flannel pajamas, eye bags, and bed head combo by comparison. The agent clears her throat. “I take it you’re Saitama. Someone in town told me you know about the location of the meteor?”

"Is Sonic like, a code name?” Saitama asks, taking a sip of her lukewarm coffee and regretting not adding more sugar.

Sonic huffs indignantly “That’s none of your business. Is it true that the asteroid landed near your property?”

Saitama scratches an itch on her boob, trying to seem nonchalant. “Lady, I don’t know, I spend all my time sleeping or tending to my animals. I didn’t see anything like a meteor.“

Sonic looks unconvinced and is eyeing the screen door handle, and Saitama causally parks her foot against the door jamb. She’s got to get Sonic to leave somehow. "I have a roommate who’s in the shower right now, and she didn’t see anything either. She’s a writer, so she probably would have been up late enough to see it.” There’s a bang from upstairs and Saitama startles.

“What was that?” Sonic asks, trying to lean around Saitama to see into the house. Sai leans with her, blocking her view again. “Nothing, just my dog Rover. He’s like a bull in a china shop.”

Sonic huffs and stomps one of her feet. “Saitama, this is matter of homeland security. I received a call saying that several eyewitnesses saw a humanoid figure within the comet. There’s a possibility we have an extremely dangerous Soviet weapon on our hands.”

“Agent Sonic, that sounds a little far-fetched. This isn’t an episode of Star Trek.” Saitama says.

“I’m the agent who deals with the far-fetched, Saitama.” Sonic isn’t smiling now, and it’s almost creepier than the smile. Almost. Sonic pokes a perfectly manicured nail at the screen door. “Did you see anything unusual at the start of this week? Anything?”

Sai fakes contemplation and revelation. “You know what, I did see smoke Tuesday morning by the reservoir. I was worried it might be a forest fire, but it went out by evening, so I forgot about it. But you know the reservoir’s at least a two hour hike from here, and I can see you’re not really a hiking person.”

Sonic looks down at her stilettos and back at Saitama with narrowed eyes. “You’re hiding something. Expect to see me again soon, Saitama.” Sonic flips her raven hair over her shoulder and the strong scent of perfume that wafts up makes Saitama a little lightheaded. Sonic turns and stomps off the porch. Her heel catches in the half rotted bottom step and Sonic screeches as she starts to fall. She’s fast though, and catches herself. Saitama can’t help the snort that leaves her, but plays it cool when Sonic turns back to glare. She stands at the screen door and watches Sonic get in her car. Once she’s left Saitama heaves out a big sigh. That was too close for comfort and she’s a terrible liar. It’s seems like they’re in the clear for now though.

When Saitama opens the bathroom door she finds Genos pressed to the window watching Sonic’s taillights disappear. “Sorry about that Genos.” Saitama huffs, turning off the shower and sitting next to Genos on the bathroom floor.

“So that was another human.” Genos says.

“Yeah. She’s a government agent who’s looking for you, but I think we’re okay for now. She can’t enter the house without a warrant.”

Genos nods. “I didn’t like her face” she states.

Saitama laughs, and all the tension from the earlier standoff drains out of her. “Yeah, me neither.”

——————————————————

They end up going down to the kitchen for hot chocolate, Saitama claiming they both need chocolate after last night and this morning. The sit together on the kitchen floor and blow on their hot drinks. Saitama put whipped cream on it, which Genos is fascinated with. Genos doesn’t believe Saitama when she tries to explain that it’s from a cow. The cyborg’s already licked most of the whipped cream off the top, even though Saitama told her you’re supposed to have it with the drink. “Why are we blowing on it?” Genos asks. “Is this an Earth tradition?”

“What? No, it’s just hot.” Saitama says, nudging Rover away when he sniffs at her drink. “Blowing on it cools it down.”

“Oh. It would have to be much hotter to burn me.” Genos says, taking a sip. Her eyes go wide, and Saitama is worried she doesn’t like it.

“This is very good Miss Saitama.” Genos says, taking another sip. Her usual frown has disappeared, and Saitama’s relieved the hot chocolate is cheering her up. Otherwise they’d have to talk about feelings, and she sucks at that sort of thing.

“Good.” They are quiet for a while and listen to a train go by. Saitama is trying to be low-key about staring at Genos. Her body is incredibly cool and complex, and she could stare for hours. She’s several minutes of staring in when she suddenly has an idea. “Genos, we should get you some clothes. That way if someone comes to the house again you can pretend to be a human.”

Genos looks skeptical. “I don’t think I’d be very convincing, Miss Saitama. Humans and Solarians do appear to be relatively similar, even down to our body language, but I’m quite a bit taller than you, and our eyes are different, and I’m covered in metal and you’re covered in skin, and even if I looked like you I am unfamiliar with human customs, and my translator still has a few gaps- ”

“You’ll do fine. Focus less of the differences and more on the similarities.” Saitama pauses to yawn. “Just say you’re a writer from Canada.”

“I don’t follow.” Genos frowns.

“We’ll work on it.” Saitama says, getting up to get some ingredients out of the fridge. “Anyways, if you have a sweet tooth you’re going to love pancakes. They’re my friend King’s favorite.”

After breakfast Genos naps and Saitama goes out to the barn. When she gets back in, significantly colder and smellier than when she left, Sai sits in the remaining kitchen chair and clips coupons. She’s hoping Genos will wake up before she leaves, but the cyborg shows no signs of stirring. Sai figures the cyborg must still be healing. She thinks her new roomie already seems a lot better, but she’s also not really sure what normal is like for the cyborg. Saitama leaves a note taped to her hand saying that she’ll be home soon and throws on her coat. “Hold down the fort!” Sai says to Rover as she leaves.

The drive to the store is uneventful, but she feels excited. Saitama has always enjoyed grocery shopping. It’s sort of enthralling, wandering through the aisles, comparing prices and discounts. She loves looking at the receipt and seeing how much money she’s saved by using her coupons. It makes her feel like she’s good at something, like she’s being productive. She ends up getting a great deal on canned goods and ground beef and leaves feeling very pleased with herself.

The thrift store isn’t far from the grocery store, and she silently says goodbye to the money she just saved. This is important though, and she already knows none of her clothes will fit Genos. The door chimes when she steps inside and she grabs a basket. The smell of the store is familiar, a mutant mix of mothballs, must, and old lady soap. She grabs oversized clothes that she hopes will hide Genos’ armor plates. She’s not sure of her shoe size, but grabs two pairs anyways. Genos doesn’t have to even wear them; it just needs to look like she has a roommate that actually wear shoes. And is definitely not an alien, nope. She grabs a few other things for Genos, trying to ignore the cost stacking up. “It’s cheap. It’s fine. I have enough money for this” she thinks. On a whim she gets a few cute knickknacks from the back section to stick in the guest room so it looks like convincingly like someone lives in there. Satisfied she’s gotten what she needed, she checks out and heads home.

When she gets home she laughs at the sight of Rover and Genos both sitting together at one of the front windows, watching her return. Saitama carries all the bags in by herself and spills them all over the kitchen floor. “I’m back!”

Rover grabs something that rolled from a grocery bag and makes a break for it, but Genos grabs him and pulls it out of his mouth. It’s an orange. Genos turns it over in her hands, running her hands over its waxy surface. Saitama unceremoniously piles the thrift store bags in the cyborg’s lap and starts putting away the groceries.

“What are these, Saitama?” Genos asks as she pokes at the crinkly bags.

“They’re for you.” Sai says. She clicks on the radio and starts humming along to an ABBA song she’s forgotten the name of. Genos shifts through the bags and pulls out a porcelain sheep. “What is this items purpose?” Genos asks, turning it over in her hands and scanning it.

“Oh, it’s just to look at. I thought it was cute, and doesn’t it kind of look like Pumpkin?”

Genos stares at the trinket as though it holds some kind of secret. “My people don’t usually have things just for looking at. Everything has a functionality… this item is useless but… cute. Does that count as a psychological benefit?”

“I don’t know buddy you lost me.” Sai says. She finishes putting away the groceries and plops down next to Genos. “Oh check this out.” Saitama reaches into the bag and pulls out a stuffed animal.

“Is this some kind of Earth animal?” Genos asks, reaching for the plushy. Saitama lets her take it and watches as the cyborg runs her hands over it.

“It’s a lion.” Sai explains. “They’re really big cats.”

“Then they must be fierce like Boros, but… this is soft and not dangerous.” Genos frowns. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s for comfort” Saitama explains. “Plushies come in lots of different kinds of animals.”

Genos is quiet for a moment, clearly thinking. “Humans seem to think highly of animals, but from what I can remember my world had few creatures. We didn’t keep them or create things in their likeness. We must not have valued them.” Genos holds the plush lion to her chest and frowns. “I think maybe that was a fault on our part.”

Saitama helps Genos put her things in the guest room. With the blanket wrinkled on the bed, the stuffed animal on the pillow, and a clock on the bedside table with the china sheep, it looks convincingly like someone lives here. She puts the new shoes next to hers at the front door and considers her idea a success. That Agent Bubonic will find nothing suspicious now even if she manages to get inside the house.

Saitama finds Genos sitting on the couch, looking forlornly at the charred sections of her blanket. “I’m sorry Miss Saitama, I didn’t mean to damage this.” “It’s ok. You were having a nightmare. I punched a hole in my bedroom wall once when I was dreaming, and that was a pain to fix. Besides, the blanket’s wool, so it’s just a little melted. Lucky thing it wasn’t cotton or it could’ve caught on fire.” Genos stiffens suddenly as the implication clicks. If she was hot enough to burn the blanket, she was hot enough to burn Saitama. She starts scanning Saitama, crestfallen when the scan identifies several burns on her arms that match the shape of her own armor plates.

Saitama must have noticed her staring because she’s fidgeting. “Um what are you doing buddy?”

“Scanning you.” Genos says sadly. She feels awful. How could she do this to the person who saved her? “I should have noticed sooner; you have burns on your arms from touching me while I was in battle mode.”

Oops. Saitama was hoping Genos wouldn’t notice; she seems the type to beat herself up over things. Sure enough Genos looks upset, twisting the blanket around in her hands. She’s curling up like a kicked puppy.

“It’s okay!” Saitama says, waving her arms to get Genos’ attention. “They barely hurt. I’m tougher than I look.” Sai pulls up her sleeves to show Genos the light pink burns. “See, they’re already healing. No big deal.”

Genos slowly uncurls and levels Saitama with a sad but determined gaze. “I’m sorry I hurt you. It won’t happen again.”

“Dude, it’s okay. Now come help me make lunch.”

———————————————-

Genos, it turns out, is a great helper. In no time at all they are sitting on the floor eating stir-fry. “How are you feeling?” Saitama asks around mouthful of rice.

“I am well, Miss Saitama.” Genos says. “The nature of my body allows for accelerated healing, even with organs as delicate as the brain.” Some food falls from her chopsticks and she frowns. She’d insisted on using chopsticks like Saitama, and she’s having some difficulty despite getting the hang of it quickly. Rover certainly isn’t complaining about the extra floor food though. “Though I have noticed something amiss upon running a full boy diagnostic. In the landing I lost a piece of myself.”

“What kind of piece?” Saitama asks. “You don’t look like your missing anything.”

Genos’ legs shudder and shift and change and Saitama squawks in surprise. “I use this mode to travel in space.” Is all Genos says by way of explanation, as though she’s not currently blowing Saitama’s mind. This is some Transformers shape-shifting nonsense. Genos holds up a leg so Saitama can see her foot, which is really now less a foot and more a rocket booster. “This is how it’s supposed to look.”

Genos switches feet and Saitama can see that a hand-sized piece is missing from the left one, which is the leg she noticed Genos favoring before. “Oh.” She says. “What should we do? Go look for it?”

“If you are correct about other humans panicking, the risk of returning to the crater to search is too high.” Genos sighs. “It will grow back with time. I think this piece was already damaged and what caused the initial malfunction, so I could not reattach it anyway.”

“So you can just grow new parts?” Saitama asks. Genos nods.

“Yes. I have noticed that your human definition of cyborg is a human and machine joined together. Solarian’s are considered cybernetic by others not of our kind, but we are truly a fusion of organic and inorganic.” Genos says. “It’s what enables us to heal and grow while being durable and strong. That success is why we have homes on many planets and have traveled across dozens of galaxies.”

“That sounds cool and all, but I don’t really get it.” Saitama says, picking absently at her ear.

Genos shifts to face Saitama and projects a 3D image between them. Saitama gasps and waves her hand through it. “Dude this is like the holo thingy in Star Wars but it’s so clear-“

Genos gently moves her hand out of the projection and points to the two displayed bodies. “This is me and you. This particular scan is showing our organ systems”

“That’s weird.” Saitama says, but she’s fascinated. “We actually look pretty similar.”

“Yes Miss Saitama. Even though I am mostly made up of inorganic compounds and you are mostly organic compounds, many of our organ systems are alike. We both have nervous systems to interact with our surroundings and lungs to breath air. We intake food to sustain us and need filters to remove toxins. My core powers my functions and my heart pumps the blood that keeps my cells alive. The main difference between us it that I am far more advanced than you. My improved efficiency leaves room for my computer, for weapons, for the technology that allows me to survive in space. Your inefficient organs take up your entire body cavity and leave no room for modification.”

“Yeah, and I like it like that.” Saitama laughs. “So you’re like made of living metal. That’s cool. Do you really have cells like mine though?”

“Yes.” Genos says, zooming in on the hologram to point out different types of cell clusters in her body. “But certain parts of my body are not cellular and are instead matrixes. For example, my brain is mostly cellular, but besides my touch receptors and their supporting cells, my skin is mostly a metal matrix in order to offer the most protection from my environment.”

Saitama pokes at Genos’ arm. “So you feel this?”

“Of course. Just like you feel this.” Genos leans over and pokes Saitama’s thigh.

“Okay, point taken.” Sai says. They sit for a while just staring at the hologram. Saitama’s a little mindblown. Saitama is suddenly reminded of her dream from that morning, and of the movie in it. “Want to watch a movie? I have a two hours before I need to feed the animals.”

Genos, as it turns out, is incredibly amused by Star Wars. She doesn’t understand why there are so many humans running around space when according to Saitama they’ve only managed to send a small team to their moon. She loves the droids and remarks that none of the droids she’s met were this funny. Genos laughs so hard that she gasps for air whenever lasers are fired around the screen and people fall dead without actually being hit. Sai’s never heard her laugh before and it’s infectious, and soon they are both giggling whenever blaster shots are fired. Genos says that space is actually much less populated, and that bipedalism is fairly uncommon. She adds that meeting places are less like space bars and more like space gas stations. Genos is pissed when Obi-Wan dies and calls Darth Vader a bunch of things Saitama can’t understand, but that she’s pretty sure are nasty. They cheer together when Han Solo comes back to save Luke and they destroy the Death Star. The day is saved and the credits roll. Now that the movie’s ended reality pulls back on both of them. The giddiness dies out and Saitama feels melancholy wrapping around her like a heavy blanket.

Saitama goes out to feed the animals and Genos naps again to stave off a growing headache. When Saitama comes back inside and she follows Saitama upstairs, listening to her talk about the animals and the weather. She sits in the hall as Saitama showers, feeling happy. She likes Saitama and what little she’s seen of this world. It’s a pleasant place to be stuck for a while. She feels guilty to admit it, but putting her mission on hold feels… nice. Like relief. She thought stopping the hunt would feel like suffocation, but instead it’s like fresh air, and she feels conflicted. How could she be wavering in her mission? It must be her blurry memories. When they clear, so will her fortitude.

Saitama comes out of the bathroom in a towel and startles a bit at Genos sitting in the hall. “Ah, sorry Genos. I’m still not used to having a roommate in the house. Come help me pick out something to wear tonight.” Genos’ isn’t sure why Saitama would want her opinion since the cyborg has no idea what garments are considered appealing, but follows her anyway.

Sai drops her wet towel and riffles through the closet. Genos tries not to stare, not sure of human etiquette on nudity. She figured they must be modest, since they focus so much on such a silly thing as clothes, but Saitama doesn’t seem very modest now. She dumps a bunch of clothes onto the bed and starts shifting through them. “I think I might wear this.” Saitama says. The article of clothing she is holding up is by far the worst garment Genos’ has ever seen. It’s intensely neon and patterned and holographic and death to her retinas. She has the sudden desire to incinerate it and rid the world of its presence. Saitama sees her expression before she can school it into something more neutral and sighs.

“Yeah, Mumen hates this dress too. I think it’s cute though.”

“It’s awful. It hurts my eyes.” Genos says. Saitama snorts at her bluntness and grabs something else.

In the end she wears a yellow long sleeve silk blouse with a cherry red pleather miniskirt. Her accessories are chunky white plastic, matching her glossy white boots. Sai looks at herself in the mirror and frowns. This outfit needs something more. She kicks off her boots to pull on fishnets and fluffs up her short hair a bit. She darts over to the messy vanity and grabs her yellow hair bow, clipping it into her dark hair. She picks at a clump in her mascara and fluffs her hair one more time.

“What do you think Genos?” she asks. Genos thinks Saitama looks good, but she also thought she looked good in the towel, and looked good when she dropped the towel. She’s not sure how to factor in the clothing. She thinks the outfit accentuates Saitama’s figure, but doesn’t know what to think of the color choice. Genos prefers blues and grays herself, and it seems like Saitama likes anything bright.

“It’s very eye catching. You look nice.” Genos says carefully. Saitama smiles and Genos is pleased with herself for getting it right.

“Thanks. Oh I should give you some ground rules for tonight huh? I’ll be gone for a few hours with my friends to go dancing. You’re welcome to anything in the kitchen and I’ll show you how to put in movies. Answer the phone in case it’s me but if it’s not me hang up. Don’t leave the house or let anyone in or do anything weird okay?”

“Yes Miss Saitama.”

“Are you ever going to drop the miss?”

————————————————

“King! Mumen! Get on the dance floor this minute! You guys did not drag me to this to dance alone!” Saitama shouts. She’s maybe had a little much to drink, but she wants to feel happy dammit, and she wants to dance. Mumen gets up and grabs her hands, swinging Sai around in an uncoordinated circle. They dance and spin, the music ebbing and flowing and bubbling around them. Saitama feels giddy and pulls King out onto the dance floor with them.

“Sai you know I don’t like to dance-“

“C’mon King it’ll be fun! You got to kick everyone’s butts at the arcade before this and now we’re gonna dance!” Sai shouts over the music. King relents and does a wobbly little shimmy, and Sai considers it passing. The song changes and Saitama pouts. “Put ABBA back on!” she yells in vaguely the DJ’s direction. The synth beat of the next song starts up and Saitama forgets her annoyance.

“Oooooh Mumen I love this song.” Saitama says, rolling her hips to the rhythm and singing along.

“Sweet dreams are made of this Who am I to disagree? I travel the world And the seven seas, Everybody’s looking for something.”

Mumen pulls her forward and they dance, twisting and spinning around each other. Mumen’s always been a good dancer. It’s probably why she’s so good at rollerblading. It feels good to move together, and to have their hands intertwined. Step, pull, push, spin, sway, twist. Saitama, a little too drunk for so much movement, gets tangled up in her own feet and they laugh. Mumen makes grabby hands for King and guides her through some easy steps, King blushing furiously and stammering about having two left feet. Saitama is content to dance by herself in the meantime, letting the music wash over her.

“Hold your head up Keep your head up, movin’ on Hold your head up, movin’ on Keep your head up, movin’ on.”

Mumen strikes a pose and Saitama wolf whistles. She feels pleasantly numb, just her and the music. Just her hips swaying and her feet flowing. Several songs later Mumen pulls her out of her synth induced trance to go to the bar. Saitama downs another shot and Mumen makes her drink some water. Mumen downs her cherry coke quickly and steals a maraschino cherry from King’s shirley temple. She pulls the stem out of her mouth with a perfect knot in the middle and King swats at her, calling her a show off. The song changes and Mumen is excitedly pulling Saitama up off her bar stool.

“Sai! It’s ‘Dancing Queen’!! We’ve gotta go dance!” They run to the dance floor, getting lost in the crowd and the music.

————————————————————

After Saitama leaves Genos naps, and she dreams. She dreams of emergency sirens and running, running from something she can’t see. There are screams and there is red, there is silence and blackness. The feeling of floating in a void, frozen, dead. She jerks awake and memories flood her mind. Genos remembers the way the air smelled when she stepped out of her home in the morning, the way the two suns looked during an eclipse. Her brother pulling her after him by the hand, laughing and talking fast as they weave through a crowd. Sitting with her dad pouring over her homeschooling material, always asking him too many questions. He answered them all, even the silly ones. Her mother hugging her so tightly that Genos’ metal would creak, and then lifting Genos up to swing her up above her head. The ozone smell of her mother engaging battle mode. Her father screaming. The sudden, terrible silence of her brother. The horrible hissing sound of the escape pod decompressing.

She shakes with the intensity of it. It’s too much. She’s not sure who she is, or where she is. The doctor’s AI is telling her things, but she can’t make sense of the scrambled words on her HUD, or understand the voice speaking in her auditory system. Rover jumps up next to her and boofs, pawing at her knees. Carefully, double checking that she is cool enough, Genos hugs Rover to her. He is both firm and soft against her chest. She can feel his breathing and his heartbeat, can feel him licking her arm. He’s real. She’s real. This is real. Her vents puff out heat as her body releases tension. The memories that felt like a torrent slowly trickle off to just a stream. She can read the AI now, and doctor informs her that her brain has nearly finished healing and performed a reboot of sorts. Was that really just her mind rebooting? Just a resurfacing and resorting of memory data? It felt terrible, like a waking dream. Her head hurts.

Genos reviews a few of her video files just to calm herself, data ones that are logical and soothing in their predictability. They are mostly weapons tests. She forgot she had that particular incinerator installed. She’s apparently managed to forget a lot of things. Dr. Stench pops up in all the tests and she wonders how he’s doing now. She wants to talk to him, to seek advice. Her computer informs her that he’s too far away to contact with her own equipment. Genos goes back further through her files until she spots the one she didn’t even realize she was looking for. It’s clearly her favorite file, as its view count is well into the thousands. She clicks it on and watches her family eat breakfast through her own eyes so many years ago. She feels her mother ruffle her hair, and she can smell the food her dad is bringing to the table. Her big brother is showing her a new page of sketches on his tablet and telling her about his new character idea, about a hero. Her dad asks them about where they want to go on a field trip today and Genos laughs, tells her dad that just because they’re home-schooled doesn’t make every outing a field trip. Genos pauses the file to rub the tears off her face, and closes it. It’s too painful to keep watching. Just like the memories are too painful to think about. She should be happy her memories are returning. She should be glad to have those moments back. But they hurt so much she almost wishes she could forget them again. All her favorite moments are rife with pain, because all her favorite moments were with her family. With the swell of grief comes rage, and she longs for the day that she’ll crush the Mad Cyborg’s heart in her hands.

Rover wiggles out of her arms and Genos follows him into the kitchen, wanting to eat something to distract herself. Her computer tells her that she often craves calories when she’s sad and she swipes the alert away. Genos stands in Saitama kitchen and isn’t sure what to eat. She’s been traveling in space for so long that she’s gotten used to downing nutrition packets at Space Stations. She finds no leftovers in the fridge, so she turns to the pantry. She’s not sure what food items are meant to be combined. She cracks open a tin of something that smells great called “sardines.” They are oily and crunchy and meaty and really good. She ends up eating them on crackers with peanut butter. It’s not like Saitama’s cooking, but it’s pretty tasty. She shares with Rover. The house feels too empty without Saitama here, and she finds herself restless once she’s finished eating. She doesn’t want to watch a movie without Saitama, being with her was what made the other movie fun. The phone rings and she remembers Saitama telling her to answer in case it’s her. She lifts the plastic thing from the wall, and stares at it. Is she holding it right? She moves it so it’s closer to her ear and is met by a barrage of noise. (Hello?) Genos asks. She realizes her mistake and nearly crushes the phone with the resulting spike in anxiety. “Hello?” she corrects.

“Heeeey Genos it’s me.” Saitama says. “So we’ll be home in like an hour but Mumen says I’m too drunk to drive. Mumen’s the best she’s gonna bring me home so put on some clothes okay? You need to look like a human person.” Saitama giggles into the phone line and Genos finds herself smiling.

“Miss Saitama are you intoxicated?” Her translator had read that drunkenness is caused by alcohol consumption. She’s familiar with its affects, even though Solarian’s rarely partake in such a thing. Their bodies are too efficient at filtering out such a toxin for it to have much effect, and it tastes bad. Saitama’s body is clearly not as good at the filtering thing.

“Just a little!” Sai says. “But I’m having fun… I’m still sad but I’m having fun anyway. Fuck being sad! I don’t want to be sad anymore. I’m going to go dance some more, see you soon space cadet.” The line clicks off and Genos puts the phone back in the cradle upside down.

Genos makes her way to the guest room and stares at the clothes Saitama left out on the bed. She shifts her form slightly so her edges are smoother and less likely to rip the delicate material. She feels exposed with her plates flattened down like this, and quickly pulls on the sweatshirt. It’s soft pastel blue and the sleeves fall almost to her fingertips. The gray track pants give her some trouble and she nearly rips them in her frustration, but in then end she gets them on. She decides pants are stupid. They’re a little short so she pulls them down on her hips. It feels weird having all this material around her. She’s grateful Saitama at least picked out soft things. She puts the strange ‘sunglasses’ on and her optics adjust to get the room back to normal brightness. She doesn’t like having something over her eyes. This is silly. She takes the glasses off and changes the colors of her sclera to white. She’s a little freaked out by her reflection in the mirror. Why does it look fine and normal on Saitama and freaky on her own face? She would almost rather wear the sunglasses, but decides against it.

The gloves are by far the worst thing yet and she refuses to wear them. She’ll do something else. She fidgets with her programming and the skin on her body slowly shifts from black to match the pale color of her face. It itches a bit and she resists the urge to scratch. She’s not really a fan of the recolor, it makes her look fleshy. She looks weak and soft in the mirror, not intimidating. She tries to push her ego aside, focusing on if she looks enough like Saitama to seem human. Genos knows she’s too tall and her shoulders are too wide, and she can’t change that much. She runs her hands through her hair, urging it to get longer until it falls down to the small of her back. It’s been a long time since she’s indulged in long hair. It’s a hassle and a liability, easily snagged in moving parts and enemy hands. But that doesn’t matter right now. Rotating in front of the mirror, she’s pleased to see that lengthening her hair softened her silhouette. Hopefully all this is enough to convince Saitama’s friend that she’s an earthling. She wonders if Saitama will like her changed appearance. Genos heads downstairs, hating how every movement makes the clothes rub on her skin.

Bored and agitated, Genos flicks through her scanners just to do something distracting. A few different modes in and the barn lights up with heat signatures in the distance. Genos finds herself drawn to the animal’s presence like a moth to a flame. She squishes her feet into the pair of polka dot rain boots Saitama got her. They’re a little small. She pushes open the squeaky side door and steps out into the night, stumbling a little because she can’t feel the texture of the ground under her feet. The animals look up at her with curious gazes when she enters the barn.

Genos closes the door behind her and turns on one of the lights. The light flickers dimly and casts shadows on the walls. It’s cozy here, somehow, even though it’s colder than in the house. A few of the sheep baa curiously. Genos realizes she hears voices, and looks up to see the little radio balanced on a stack of hay bales. Saitama must have left it on. Geno steps into the sheep’s pen, careful to avoid droppings. She finds a clean patch of straw and sits, feeling less lonely surrounded by so many creatures. Pumpkin comes over and gives her a friendly push. Genos rubs her face like she’s seen Saitama do. Pumpkin seems to like it and leans into her touch. Mousse inches over slowly, laying just out of arms reach and chewing her cud. Eventually Pumpkin lays down too, resting her head in Genos’ lap for more scratches. She wonders if sheep are always so peaceful. She almost feels like taking another nap. The reminder of the influx of memories earlier jars her, and she realizes a nap might mean another reboot. It’s been too long a day for more of that. She shakes herself and listens to the radio, listening to unfamiliar lyrics to distract herself.

————————————————————————–

Once it’s past 11 Mumen shuffles her girls out of the club and into her car, King in the front to accommodate her long legs and Saitama flopped over in the backseat. “Saitama please put on your seatbelt.” Mumen says as she steers the car onto the road.

“No I’m comfy.” Saitama mumbles. “That was fun. I’m glad you guys made me come.”

“I had fun too.” King says. “It’s… it’s been a while since we’ve all hung out together like we used to.”

“Maybe we can go again next week.” Mumen says. “Depends how work goes. Won’t you have lambs soon Saitama?”

“Yep, first lamb due in a week.” Sai says, rolling over to stare up at the roof of the car. She’s silent for a while, her drunk mind swirling and quiet. King gets dropped off at her big fancy house downtown and says goodnight. It gets darker as Mumen drives towards the outskirts of town where Saitama lives.

“Mumen I gotta tell you something.” Sai says. She urges herself to shut up, but drunk Saitama isn’t listening.

“Go for it.” Mumen says. “I’m listening.”

“I miss my little apartment in New York City sometimes. You always thought it was a mess when you came to visit. I guess it was a bit of a bachelor pad; Ace and Theo were always making a mess. The neighbors were loud and the plumbing sucked. It was way too small for all 3 of us but we fit somehow. We were always stuck in each other’s space. But even with all that it was home. Now I have this big quiet house and lots of space and it feels so empty. I miss my boys. It’s a little better now though, with Genos. The house doesn’t feel so huge anymore. It’s nice.”

“I’m glad.” Mumen says.

“You’re so nice Mumen. You’ll be nice to Genos right? She’s probably nervous to meet you. She’s a good kid. A good weird kid.”

Mumen laughs softly. “Of course I’ll be nice. We’re here Sai.”

Saitama’s bone tired. Mumen peels her off the back seat and the trek from the car to the front porch steps and through the front door is exhausting. “Genos!” Saitama calls, tossing her purse onto the counter. Rover bounds around her, his tail wagging and thumping loudly into the cabinets. Mumen coos at him and Rover wiggles with joy. “Genos, I’m back.”

Saitama pauses when she sees that the couch is empty. “Genos?” Saitama pokes her head into the dining room. No cyborg. Where would Genos go? What if she went back to space?! Saitama looks around frantically as though she will find some clue, and pauses when she sees through the window that the barn lights are on. Oh. Duh. “Mumen, I think Genos is in the barn.”

Genos jolts with surprise when the person who enters the barn isn’t Saitama. Her proximity sensor had alerted her to their approach, but she hadn’t expected it to be the new human.

“Hello! You must be Genos.” Mumen says, pulling over a hay bale to use like a chair. “It’s nice to meet you. I like your hair.”

Genos nods, a little nervous that her manner of speaking might give her away. She’s sitting next to a resting Pudding and trying to hide behind the cow’s bulk as much as she can. She’s still not sure if she looks convincingly human. Pudding doesn’t seem to mind the company and is chewing her cud peacefully.

“Thank you. It’s nice to meet you too.” Genos says, hoping her translator offered the correct response. She notices Mumen is more petite than Saitama, and her hair is soft mousy brown instead of black. Her thick round glasses are oddly endearing. Mumen smiles and it lights up the barn; Genos can’t help but like her. She’s got a nice face and looks like a friend, unlike that creepy Sonic woman.

Genos inches out from behind Pudding just as Saitama enters the barn. “Oh wow Genos you look good. Did I miss introductions? New friend Genos, meet old friend Mumen.” Saitama throws her arm over Mumen’s shoulder and leans on her. “Mumen and I have been besties since kindergarten. That’s like, what, how many years now?”

Mumen does the math in her head. “It’s 19 years.”

“Whaaaat! That’s so long already. We’re getting old.” Saitama sighs.

Genos pipes up from where she’s petting Pudding. “You’ve been friends as long as I’ve been alive.”

“Oh, you’re younger than you look.” Mumen says while Saitama is having a mini heart attack over Genos being a teenager. She thought Genos was at least 20. “It must be because you seem so mature and serious” Mumen adds. Saitama climbs into the pen, which is a bit of a struggle with the miniskirt.

Pudding turns to look at Saitama and moos loudly. “I’m not going to feed you right now you chubby Jersey.” Saitama says to her. “Then everybody else would want to eat too, and I’m in my nice clothes.”

Genos makes a startled noise when Pudding turns and licks a wet stripe up the side of her face, the cow’s long tongue curling in her hair and making it stick every which way. It’s warm and wet and awful. “Gross” Genos scowls, grimacing and trying to wipe the cow spit off her face. Pudding pulls some of her blonde hair into her mouth and Genos yanks it back with a squeak, bundling her hair protectively in her hands.

“Aw, she likes you.” Saitama says, dodging Pudding’s tongue when she turns for another victim.

“This is why I avoid the cow.” Mumen laughs. “She’s sweet but that tongue is a menace.”

“Why does she make so much saliva?” Genos asks as she pulls a large glob of drool out of her hair, eyeing Pudding warily.

Saitama smiles easily as she leans back onto Moon’s shoulder. He’d been dozing close to Pudding, but is awake now to watch what the humans are up to. They make an odd couple, an old gelding and a heifer, but Saitama finds the pair is usually inseparable. “Puddin’s a pro at making spit.” Saitama says. “Cows can make 100 gallons of saliva a day. It helps them ruminate and keeps their stomach pH neutral.”

“How much is a gallon?” Genos asks.

“Oh, you’re used to the metric system right?” Mumen asks.

Genos looks to Saitama and finds her nodding. “Yes, I’m used to metric.” Mumen nods like that makes perfect sense and Genos tries not to show her confusion.

“That’s a gallon bucket” Saitama points to a green bucket near the wall. “So like a hundred of those.”

Genos looks at Pudding and back at the bucket, trying to imagine the volume of a hundred of them. Her computer quantifies it for her and it’s a lot. “That seems impossible. If that’s true it’s impressive but also disgusting.”

Saitama snorts. “That pretty much sums up animals. Impressive but disgusting.”

Lady Boros jumps down from some hidden vantage point and meows, climbing up to lay in Mumen’s lap. Saitama pouts. “Boros’ always liked you more than me. I’m the one who feeds her and everything”

“I’m a cat whisperer” Mumen says, scratching Boros under the chin. The cat’s purr is loud and gravely. “All cats love me.”

“Everything loves you Mumen and you know it.” Saitama teases. “You’re like fucking Cinderella or something. I’m surprised there aren’t songbirds and mice helping you do your office work.”

Genos dodges this time when Pudding goes for her hair again, quickly moving out of the way and getting to her feet. Mumen raises her eyebrows at Genos’ height. “Wow, you’re tall.” She says. “Must be hard to find long enough pants.”

“Yes” Genos says, fidgeting with the hem of her sweatshirt. Realizing she’s exposing her less than human hands, she quickly sticks them in her pockets. Luckily, Mumen did not seem to notice.

“Hey, Mumen, Genos, look!” Saitama calls. She’s climbed up to lay over Moon’s wide back. “I’m on the moon guys” she laughs. Mumen snorts and laughs at the terrible pun. It takes Genos a moment to get the joke and she huffs.

“Saitama that was terrible.” She says, but she’s smiling regardless.

“I know and I’m not sorry.” Saitama says. “I’m ready to sleep. I’m gonna sleep right here.”

“Saitama you are not sleeping on the poor horse” Mumen sighs.

Saitama doesn’t budge. “I’m sleeping on the moon.”

“No you’re not.” Genos says, and she picks Saitama up. Sai makes an undignified squeaky noise and blushes furiously. Genos had just picked her up so easily. Oh my god she could probably pick her up with one hand. She’s so tall that she’s like a supermodel. She looks pretty even with cow spit on her face. Saitama beats the gay thoughts back with a broom and wonders why she thought getting drunk was a good idea. She’s going to say something stupid and make Genos uncomfortable. Are aliens gay? She’s not sure if aliens are gay. She forces herself to keep her mouth shut until they are back inside and Genos puts her down.

“Thanks for taking me home Mumen” Sai says once she can think straight again. ‘Hah, like I ever think straight’ she laughs to herself.

“No problem. I’ll come pick you up tomorrow after work so you can grab your truck from my place. Why don’t you stay for dinner? Mom’s been wanting to see you. Bring Genos too.” Mumen smiles easily, and Saitama can’t say no to that face, even though she can see the panicked look Genos is giving her.

“Ok” Saitama says. Mumen hugs Sai goodbye and turns to hug Genos. Mumen’s arms wrap around her and Genos locks up in panic, her back stiff and her arms stuck to her sides.

“Wow you’re really solid, do you work out?” Mumen asks.

“Yeah she lifts a lotta weights. Total gym rat.” Saitama covers as she nudges Mumen towards the door. “Drive home safe Mumen.”

“I always drive safe. Take care of Saitama Genos!” Mumen says as she steps out onto the porch.

“I will!” Genos responds. Genos turns and finds Saitama’s flopped onto the couch and trying to pry her white boots off. Saitama looks up to seeing Genos beaming down at her, earlier nervousness apparently forgotten now.

“Are we really friends Saitama?” Genos asks. Her eyes are bright and it’s really adorable.

Saitama raises her eyebrows at the question. Wasn’t it obvious? “Uh yeah, of course we’re friends. Why else would I be letting you live in my hose and eat my food?” Saitama says. Genos is smiling and holding her hands up to her chest and it’s so cute that Saitama’s heart aches.

“I’m glad, Saitama.” Genos says.

“Are you telling me that this whole time all I had to do was tell you that you’re my friend to get you to drop the miss?” Saitama says is disbelief.

Genos looks a little embarrassed. “I wanted to show respect, especially to the person who saved me.”

Now it’s Saitama’s turn to feel embarrassed. “I don’t need respect, I’m just an average girl. I’m not special for saving you; it was just the right thing to do.” She scrambles for a subject change and blurts the first thing that comes to mind. “You look cute! In that outfit. And with long hair. I didn’t know your hair was curly, it’s pretty. Not that I don’t like how you normally look! That’s cool too. Both are good.” She feels like an idiot, but she can see that Genos is clearly preening at the praise, so Saitama figures she managed to say something right.

“Let’s go to bed, its past midnight.” Saitama yawns. “I want to sleep in my actual bed, so you can sleep in the guest room if you want now that your leg’s better. It��s comfier than the couch.”

Genos feel nervous about sleeping on her own, but she nods. She doesn’t want to keep Saitama from her bed. Genos goes to shower and jumps when she doesn’t recognize herself in the mirror. She tells herself its all just cosmetic, just simple color changes, but she’s still feeling weird about it. Her mood improves when she’s finally out of the all the clothes. Washing all her of her thick hair is a pain and she remembers why she kept it short now. When she steps out of the bathroom Saitama steps in to wash up. Not sure what to do, Genos lingers in the hallway.

Suddenly Saitama is done and closing her bedroom door and Genos is on her own. Slowly, she lays down in the bed, relieved when it creaks but holds her weight. Genos stares at the ceiling of her room and feels her mood drop again. It feels lonely in this room. She finds herself listening for Saitama’s breathing and not hearing it. It’s making her nervous. She clicks on her scanners and it picks up Saitama’s heartbeat across the hall. She magnifies the sound, letting it wash over her like white noise. She’ll be fine.

#opm #one punch man #genosai #saigenos #genos #saitama #f/f #shelter #80'S au #iron giant au

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