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blainesebastian · 2 years

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mutually assured satisfaction (pt3)

words: 3,109 ship: austin butler x reader summary: reader’s agent approaches her with a PR stunt to date austin butler and promote both their careers. a mapped out plan, an electric relationship–what could possibly go wrong? notes: masterlist is on my sidebar! :) previous parts can be found there. if you’d like to be added to the tag list, please let me know warnings: none tag list: @killerqueenfan, @karamelcoveredolicity, @elizabethrosecresswell, @gigisworldsstuff, @kittenlittle24, @slowsweetlove, @namoreno, @strokesofstokes, @callthedarknessdown, @kibumslatina, @al-co-hol-youlater, @frogoerson, @dancer4j

Christina just kinda blinks when you go off into this tangent about your idea for hanging out with Austin. And okay, you get that, this… ‘contract’ for lack of a better word is in place for mutually assured satisfaction. There are specific dates mapped out, a break-up in mind, what should occur before that happens—there’s no need to complicate anything by weaving in these other things. Maybe you’re not actually thinking this whole thing through. It’s just…you and Austin have been talking a lot recently, ever since that press event for Elvis two weeks ago. And while it’s mostly been Facetime, a series of texts into early mornings and late nights, and a handful of phone calls, you’re convinced that this whole elaborate charade could be strengthened by actually getting to know one another.

It’s not like you need anyone’s permission to see Austin, to hang out with him, but for some reason you feel compelled to let Christian know what you’ve been thinking about. The look on her face says she doesn’t get it; the line of reasoning just doesn’t add up.

Why is this so complicated? And then you realize you’re talking about validating the idea of hanging out with your fake boyfriend so that you can see who he actually is so that your fake relationship appears more real.

Your head is spinning.

A soft breath leaves your mouth and you tap your fingers on the surface of your kitchen counter. Austin should be over within the next half hour and the rousing goal for the night is to argue about horror movie genres and maybe check out the pool on the roof of your apartment complex. No pressure of the public eye or overthinking every look, word or gesture. You can just be, no strings attached.

Christina sighs softly, “I get it, you want to build some sort of connection because it feels weird otherwise.”

And sure, that’s a part of it? But you’re coming at this from a totally practical standpoint, “The relationship will work better if we actually get to know one another. It’s…more difficult under the microscope of everyone asking questions and making assumptions. Definitely harder than I realized.”

The last thing you want is for this to somehow implode on both you and Austin. Putting more work and time in will guarantee it’ll be fine…at least this is what you’re telling yourself.

Your agent hums, “Y/N, there’s distance within the plan for a reason. I know it feels cold and disconnected, with the calendar and sets of dates and expectations, but it has to. Otherwise? Things get complicated.”

You frown, trying to follow her line of thought. “Complicated?”

Christina chews the inside of her cheek for a moment and you know that look, she’s attempting to figure out how to break something down for you. “Don’t you think if you start spending time with him outside the ‘contract’,” And yes, there’s air quotes, “that something could develop between you two? Like I dunno, feelings?”

You blink at her, mouth opening and closing because what? How did it go from a logical explanation to that? You know that you and Austin are toeing lines, blurring boundaries, kissing and touching one another and existing in the other’s spaces but…it’s all about putting on an act, a show. None of it is real, none of it is felt. You feel like you shouldn’t have to explain this to Christina.

You open your mouth to say something but your agent continues, “That’s all I’m trying to tell you—it’s kinda like when people think having sex with no strings is a good idea. Shit happens, emotions are hard to completely ignore. I know it sounds ridiculous but the more you get involved, the more likelihood you’re gonna develop feelings for him.”

You scoff out a light laugh because that is just…that is never gonna happen. You attempt to swallow down a bout of words that claw up your throat. Feelings? For Austin? Just…

You feel a soft blush kiss your cheeks, your one hand moving to rub at the back of your neck. You get it, the whole point of this fake dating PR stunt is to avoid the feelings train but…would that even be such a bad thing in the long run? Out of everything that could happen, real feelings are not the worse thing.

“Oh my god,” Christina says suddenly, her eyes widening, “You already have a crush on him.”

“What? No.” You say quickly…too quickly. “No I don’t.” Except at this point, why even bother attempting to cover up your reaction? You let out a dramatic breath which flutters your hair and you cannot believe you’ve managed to land yourself in this situation, but you’re trying to give yourself at least a little bit of grace.

“You do, I can see it on your face,” She laughs, “Damn—boy works fast.”

To your credit? Austin’s a beautiful man—obviously his looks are a selling point, he’s got those soft curls and bright blue eyes, the long legs and cupid-bow lips. Then…not that you’re totally thinking about any of these things, because you’re not, but he’s sweet, thoughtful, funny in this corny kinda way. You fully understand how ironic this whole thing is, the fact that you were so pissed off that you even had to do this in the first place and now you’re staring at this man sometimes like he’s a tall, iced tea on a hot summer day.

But…crushes can be reversed; this doesn’t have to be a whole thing. It’s mostly about looks anyways, right? And that stuff fizzles away first.

Shaking your head, you decide to cut the head off this notion before it unravels too much out of your control. “Do I think he’s attractive? Of course. I have eyes…just, doesn’t mean that I have a crush on him.”

Christina chuckles, putting her hands up in a I give up motion, “Alright fine—just a slippery slope.”

Rolling your eyes with a soft smile tugging the corners of your mouth, you push the conversation aside—outta sight, outta mind.

The night air is warm but not balmy, it doesn't stick to skin and it's slightly breezy on the top of your apartment building. The weather is still flip-flopping back and forth, the end of summer hanging on in small ways, bleeding into cooler temperatures.

Letting the door close behind you and Austin, you set down the bottle of wine you've been sharing on a small table near the pool. The lights reflecting from the water cast cyan ripples on the pavement and Austin's skin as he sits on one of the foldable lounge chairs, toeing off his shoes. He's in comfortable clothes again, jeans and a black t-shirt, jean jacket left in your living room. Neither of you are wearing swimsuits but you had this idea to come up here anyways, you like feeling the sky opening up above you, how connected you feel this close to stars, the fact that after nine PM, no one's ever up here.

Privacy--just Austin, you and the night sky.

"I'm just sayin'," Austin continues, opening his hand up for the bottle, which you hand him, "Nothin' is beating a thriller movie."

You crinkle your nose but let that comment sit in the air for a few moments. Austin came over a few hours ago and you watched a film, I Know What You Did Last Summer, total classic. Sprawled out on your couch, you shared a bag of microwave popcorn and decided you both were going to divvy up a bottle of red wine. It's...utterly comfortable and lowkey, something you haven't done with anyone else in a long time.

No standing on occasion, not having to settle into a persona of yourself. Just watching a bad horror movie with someone who enjoys it as much as you do.

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't just say that," You smirk, pulling your hair back to pile in a large bun on top of your head. "What about slashers? Or better yet--Sci-Fi?"

Austin huffs out a laugh, which maybe shouldn't be so attractive, "Sci-Fi? What--you mean like aliens?"

And there's this skepticism there that digs under your skin, making you squirm a bit in your seat, "What? Yes I mean aliens, sheesh." Austin chuckles, his smile warm and inviting as he looks at you. You put your hand out for the bottle of wine and he does a high-five first before eventually passing over what you want. You hum, taking a small sip, "Signs, The Fourth Kind, Alien? Superior films."

He licks his lips, not buying it, but smiling a little at your passion nonetheless, "Sure, agreeing to disagree works just fine too."

You scoff and tip your head back to look at the sky. It’s a beautiful night out, your gaze slipping between stars, dark clouds, the tops of sparkling buildings and then eventually back down to Austin. Your stomach flip-flops like a pancake when you realize his eyes are already on you—not checking you out, but merely looking. Observing.

Chewing on your lower lip, you set the bottle of wine between your legs, “What?”

He shrugs his one shoulder, “Nothin’, you’re just not what I expected.”

You raise your eyebrows, unsure of how to take that for a moment, a laugh skittering out of your lungs. “What does that mean?”

He smirks too, reaching for the bottle, long fingers grasping around the neck. You notice he’s wearing rings tonight too and you…try not to think about why that makes your stomach clench. “Just—I’ve seen a few of your films like I told you, some interviews—”

“You did research on me?” You tease with a grin, like you hadn’t done the same thing many late nights after deciding you were going to do this thing together.

“Maybe,” Austin chuckles, taking another sip of wine. The bottle is almost empty and you can definitely feel the afterglow from drinking—everything slightly rose-colored, warm, fuzzy around the edges. It’s a great feeling, comfortable, not quite drunk but definitely not sober. “You’re silly, know how to have fun even if it’s with somethin’ simple. I didn’t expect that from you.”

And you’re trying to take everything with a grain of salt, a compliment, because Austin didn’t turn out how you expected either. But this is exactly what you meant when you said you thought it was important that you spent time together, getting to know what others don’t usually see? It’s only going to strengthen the fake relationship…especially since people will be looking for excuses to question everything. This relationship coming out of left field is definitely something to talk about…but everyone is always looking for that juicer story underneath.

Austin chews on his lower lip as if he’s not sure if he should say the words sitting in his mouth, he glances up at you, your eyes meeting. There’s a small smile on the corners of his lips, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but the interviews you gave within the last year, you just…seemed unhappy.”

You swallow, tearing your gaze away from him to look down at your hands on your lap. You can definitely understand that observation—but it really didn’t have anything to do with your career. “Uh,” Your eyebrows draw together. This isn’t usually something you talk about with anyone other than friends or family but…you suppose Austin is becoming…something, right?

“Well my grandma is sick.” And that’s honestly just the tip of the iceberg, you don’t really go into detail about how sick she really is, how you’re not sure how much longer she’s going to be here, how you’re worried that you won’t be able to see her that one last time before then. Any time you visit, she always asks about your movies and how she can’t wait to watch them on her tiny TV with her cats.

You swallow over a lump in your throat, clearing it after a moment before standing from your chair, needing to move.

Austin’s quiet for a few moments, lifting up the bottle of wine to hand off so you can finish it. You expect apologies and sympathies and him looking at you in a way that makes your skin crawl. He does none of that, “What’s her name?”

Hesitantly, you reach for the bottle and finish it with a few sips, “Mary-ann.”

He smiles a little and nods, running a hand through his hair, “What kind of movies does she like?”

And this…is quite surprising to you because, instead of Austin throwing empty words into the abyss—which people often do on accident because they either don’t know what to say or the grief makes them uncomfortable, he actually asks about her. There’s a warmth to his eyes, a concern and worry too, but still not attempting to coddle or placate you.

“She likes black-n-whites for sure but she,” You laugh, “She really loves Matt Damon so, like, The Borne Identity series is her favorite.”

Austin grins, “Can’t really argue about those.”

“No you can’t.” You hover in front of Austin for a moment, setting down the empty bottle on a small table between the two lounge chairs.

He tips his chin up to look at you, long legs bent and open to accommodate your body as you stand closer. You’re not sure what makes you do it, but you run your hand through some of his curls, playing with one between your fingers. Austin’s eyes are warm, his head keening a bit into the touch.

“Thank you for asking about her.” You reply, almost in a whisper and he hums off a soft noise.

Your gazes line up for a few moments and the longer you look at him, you realize that he has a bit of yellow around his pupil—just a brushstroke. Maybe it’s just from the reflection of the lights in the water behind you, hard to tell.

He licks his lips, motioning towards the pool, “You ever swim up here?”

Your hand drops from his hair and you nod, “Yeah, few times. Why?”

He shrugs his one shoulder, “Just curious.”

You’re about to ask him if he wants to go back inside or get another bottle of wine when Austin stands in one quick flourish. Before you can even comprehend what’s going on, he scoops you up into his arms,

“Austin!” You screech but it’s too late, he jumps feet first into the pool—you going right with him.

The water is warm but you gasp out of instinct, your head going underneath the water and clutching onto him as if you don’t know how to swim (you do). There’s some automatic floundering that happens and when you burst out of the water, shoving your hair out of your face, Austin is laughing.

“What is wrong with you?” You want your voice to be firm but the fact that you’re in a pool right now fully clothed, Austin cheeky as fuck across from you, it’s hard not to laugh yourself. You roll your eyes, splashing him. “Ridiculous.”

Austin hums, pushing his hair back out of his face. “Oh c’mon—I knew you wanted me in this pool the minute you invited me up onto this roof.”

Your cheeks flush a pink but luckily you think it’s too dark for him to really notice, “You just make this shit up.”

Austin smirks, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it to the side of the pool, the sopping fabric making a thick thwap noise when it lands, “I don’t think so.”

He’s so annoying.

You consider averting your eyes even though this isn’t the first time you’ve seen him without a shirt on, plenty of ways for that to have happened given film, photoshoots, the like. It’s not exactly fair however, that he just…walks around looking like that, and the fact that you’re in a pool and there’s water droplets sliding down his skin.

Well, two can play at this game.

You take off your shirt as well, tossing it aside, leaving you in a maroon lace bralette, a soft smile on your face as his eyes definitely slide over your form. You are well aware that this is probably a dangerous game you’re playing but at the same time, it feels relatively harmless. What’s so wrong with a little fizzling attraction? You’re supposed to be dating, in love, can’t get enough of the other. Right?

And yet there’s this small voice in the back of your mind that somehow sounds like Christina telling you to be careful.

“You think this whole thing will work?” Austin asks after a moment, floating closer to you in the pool.

You know what he’s talking about without having to ask, “Why wouldn’t it? We’re both dedicated to the plan, should help us out in the long run. Christina says I’ve already tacked on a few extra interviews that reached out since our debut,” You shrug your one shoulder—you’re sure they want to ask you about Austin but nonetheless, other questions about your career and the film you’re working on are bound to follow.

“And breakin’ up doesn’t look extra suspicious?”

There’s soft amusement to your face as you slide closer to Austin in the water. You suppose there is a bit of a point there? You’re kinda worried about the end game too, what it’ll look like for them to break up, if people will notice it was all a big scam or if it won’t even matter at that point because the benefits will already be done.

Reaching out for him, you settle your hands on his shoulders, “What—you just wanna stay together forever?” You tease, “Go steady?”

Austin shakes his head a little, his eyes on yours but occasionally slipping down to your lips, “M’sure you can’t wait to get out of this thing.”

Smiling slowly, you lift your chin and because of the proximity of your bodies, your nose bunny kisses with Austin’s. “Oh yeah, you’re the bane of my existence.”

The kiss seems to happen automatically, Austin cupping your cheek and pressing his mouth to yours. But as you kiss? You honestly can’t even begin to differentiate who made the first move. You suppose it doesn’t really matter, all that does is that it’s happening, that there’s this heat that’s pooling between your legs that’s undeniable.

But it’s just a crush, right? Just something physical, something fiery and primal. More importantly, it’s something that can be squashed, swept under the rug, forgotten—if necessary.

Thanks so much for reading and if you leave a comment, a like, an ask or a reblog :) always much appreciated!

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler drabble #austin butler fic #elvis 2022 #mccall writes things #mas series #mas

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sevicia · 4 months

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you WILL perceive my OC process / thoughts / ETC . had an idea for a game the other day while in the shower (they weren't kidding that shower can think) . two main characters they are sisters , you start playing as the older one ETC , and the idea is that she is withdrawn , nervous , responsible and insecure about where she is in life (she is about to start college this is important to the plot but not for what I'm talking about rn) . first instinct was to give her short spiky black hair

first thing I drew (did a couple alt hairs tho) but I felt like the expression did not match what I was going for at all (she is the type to try her best to look calm and reliable) , and neither did the clothes which I drew with the beauty of the opossum in mind . very prevalent today for no reason still a wonderful animal . I did like the hair though and I wasn't ready to give up on the opossum vibe (lol) , so I decided to do a paper doll type thing and start drawing by clothing layer so I could go slowly and think about what she'd be wearing

did not have the willpower to try & make the hair look the same in the paper doll version , didn't wanna overthink her expression either so I really ended up with a completely different character . . . who I really like !!

I have always wanted to do a story set in a cold climate , really had an idea for a different character back in high school (blonde, earmuffs, cheeks are always pink), but gave up on her when I just couldn't figure out what I wanted her to look like . . .

I got the idea for this character to be either in the 3rd or 4th year of high school , she's pretty much an outcast out of habit at this point , enjoys taking walks and being in places she has no business being in . I thought of her being talked to by a teacher (librarian?) on the subject of not just her grades but mostly her behavior at school, gives me the chance of saying if there is something bothering her and affecting her behavior then there is something she needs to get over but I really dunno how to write (think) about something like that ;_;

^ her & her bag . . . NOTHING IS TO SCALE !!!!!!! she has:

- notebook: ripped the used pages from a previous notebook and just kept the empty ones, the thing is beat up to the point the spiral's coming off and the corner of the cover is peeling off ... the cover design is a cloud castle with rainbows , a bundle was on sale and while she doesn't really like it , she doesn't particularly dislike it either .

- pencil case: heart-themed , the fabric is starting to fray after years of use . in it she has: a highlighter, a ballpoint pen, a regular pencil (chewed up), a tiny colored pencil, a container + sharpener combo, and three erasers: one of them is just a formless little thing, the other is a brand new one that she doesn't really wanna use because it's brand new, and the last is one of those useless decorative ones, shaped like a flower. no white-out because she is very very brave .

- water bottle: literally just a plastic bottle she bought a while ago & keeps washing & reusing . getting more & more crumpled up by the SECOND . . .

- strip of paracematol: self explanatory . doesn't get headaches TOO often, just often enough to justify carrying a strip of it around lol

- juice box + tupperware: her mom cuts apples for her and always gets her apple juice cause apples were her favorite fruit growing up ... she really prefers oranges now but doesn't have the heart to tell her . tupperware also has soda crackers . must be mentioned that this is NOT her lunch, just a snack. she gets free lunch at the school cafeteria ! only tasty less than half the time tho ....

- library card: she uses it a lot and has been doing so for a very long time . usually reads non-fiction about unexplained events (she likes ones involving forests the most), but is starting to enjoy horror & sci-fi a bit more lately

- Frankenstein (borrowed from the library): her current read, which she is really enjoying , though she's not sure if she is really getting the "message" of it . happens a lot with fiction books, which is why she doesn't read a lot of them

- flashlight: permanently borrowed from her dad (he insists he's gonna ask for it back eventually so she needs to take good care of it), she uses it for exploring. it gets dark pretty early and the library closes pretty late, so she just goes wherever she wants while her parents think she's at the library . they believe her because she does spend a lot of time there and she keeps feeling guiltier and guiltier ...

- opossum plushie: pretty much her best friend, she carries him everywhere . very soft fur , nice and squeezable too !!

OK ramble over for neow maybe . . .

MILA

#oc talk #oc tag #my art #long post #oc: paula

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lyraoctaviawrites · 18 days

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Thanks to Solitaire by Alice Oseman, I’ve started really enjoying writing in both first person and present tense, and I wondered what the ITP characters’ voices would be like if they were the narrator of their own book from this same perspective. Into the Phantasm is third person throughout after all.

So I decided to write a quick opening for each one because why the hell not?

If you write a lot in third person, feel free to do this with some of your own characters, it has been genuinely really fun. A simple change of perspective can do wonders.

Sarah:

Another night’s gone by with very little sleep. My eyes sting and my bones feel cold, but my alarm clock says that Sarah Taylor shall sleep no more. I think that’s a Shakespeare quote. I barely remember anything I learned in English. Why did I even quote that? Stop being weird, Sarah, it’s too early for that!

My alarm clock is way too loud. Feels like my ears are gonna fall off. I should really get a different one… I’d use my phone like a normal person would, but whenever I hear a phone vibrate I start to panic. No clue why. I’m weird. You should know this by now.

I switch my stupid clock off and get dressed into my blue hoodie and leggings. As usual, I check my mirror to see if I look okay, and as usual, I absolutely don’t. I’m passable at best and I don’t look my best today. The bags under my eyes are darker than ever and I just look really pale… It’s annoying… But, I put on my best smile anyway. I’m seeing Maya and Lillian today. A smile is the least I can do to brighten their day.

Maya:

My name is Maya Cadigan. Trans girl, half welsh, full time bitch. I love my friends, hate my mum, hate my life, hate the entire world to be honest. I just hate a lot of things, but that’s not my fault. If those things didn’t want me to hate them, they should stop being so easy to hate.

I realised I was trans a few months ago and to be honest, it’s been rough. Thanks to my mum being a phobic piece of garbage, I knew way less about being trans and queer than I should have. It took a lot of research and a lot of soul searching for me to say, ‘Hey. I’m a girl. I’m trans. And that’s okay.’

I like being a girl.

I wanna tell my friends. I don’t think I’ll be able to go into college if I don’t have them by my side in all this. I met up with them recently and hearing them deadname me made me wanna tear my whole fucking head off. I didn’t want to blame them but I couldn’t help… hating them for it. Of course, that just made me hate myself so I ended up leaving early and now whenever I think about it I cringe. I can be really illogical sometimes.

Sarah will be the easiest to tell. She’s a lesbian so she’s part of the community anyway, she’s literally the sweetest person I’ve ever met in my life and Lillian… I dunno, I guess I care a little more about Lillian’s opinion of me… Sarah first then. Before I have a chance to overthink and ruin it, I grab my phone and start typing.

Lillian:

Welp, here we go. Another day of being alive.

Late summer can be such a boring time, especially so when you’ve barely seen your friends recently and you always have to message first. It’s okay though, they both have busy lives. They both do a lot of stuff… without me… I’m gonna stop thinking about that now!

I contemplate getting dressed but I don’t really feel like going anywhere or even leaving the house. Pyjama day. Why not? Relax a little for once, why don’t ya, Lilly?

Note to self, stop calling yourself Lilly…

I don’t need my friends to have a good time. I can do all the cooking today, maybe bake something (cheesecake sounds heavenly right now, omg), and of course I can marathon some movies. Could watch a bunch of really terrible horror movies. Seems like a really terrible horror movie kinda day.

I’m fine without Sarah and Maya. Plus, when I see them again, it’ll be like they never left. I’ll be fine. It won’t ever be like the nightmares I’ve had about them leaving me. It won’t. It’ll be fine.

I’ll be fine…

Kora:

Day 272 on the run

What an exciting day this is turning out to be. This parallel dimension I’ve been reading about known as ‘Earth’ was real and I’ve just travelled to it! These magic mirrors really are fascinating. I don’t pretend to know how they work but that’s only because I haven’t finished reading the books I have about them.

I love reading so so much but I can tend to be a little slow because if I don’t give the words a little time to digest then what’s the point of even reading the book? I won’t remember any of it!

I’ve tested the mirror out a few times and it seems that moving only a short distance on Earth and warping again can cause me to appear very far away from where I first used the mirror in the Phantasm. However, when coming back to Earth, it sends me back to around the same place. I have no clue why this happens but there’s got to be an answer. My current theory is that the landmasses are a vastly different size but I have yet to prove it.

I seem to have stumbled upon some kind of training centre called a ‘College.’ Perhaps investigating it will give me some information about this amazing new world. For the sake of research, I must enter!

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scratching92 · 28 days

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So I've been working a bit on my Currently-Unnamed Lancer Module, and I feel I've hit a bit of a wall as of late with regards to what, exactly, I want it to be about.

When I started writing some background for the setting my module takes place in, I basically wanted to hit two particular notes; firstly, that the setting was a former colony that had gained independence (in this case from SecComm). Secondly, that after the revolution, the planet devolved into infighting between the various factions that had participated in that revolution, resulting in on-again-off-again warfare across the planet.

I thought this would be neat to write about because, well, as much as I love a good story of plucky rebels fighting off their oppressors and liberating themselves, I'm also from a country that actually did have, in a certain sense, a bunch of plucky rebels fighting off their oppressors and liberating themselves, and... Well, look. I'm never going to say we were wrong to fight a war of independence, but we did kinda fight a civil war immediately afterwards. Life is just messy like that. And so I wanted to kind of touch upon that sort of thing a little.

But also, after I had written that setting lore, I looked back at my outline and realized it didn't really have much synergy with what I had written, beyond that it was, presumably, one of many wars since that initial collapse into in-fighting amongst the revolutionaries. So I figured "Fair enough. Let's throw out this current outline and draft up something that does!". So I did. And I think the new outline I have is decent! But... Once again, I'm finding myself wondering if my current outline is a little too far in the other direction. I'm worried now that it's no longer about the relationship between the various factions on the planet, but about the planet's general relationship to modern Union (and the complicated relationship between ThirdComm and SecComm, with ThirdComm both being a rejection of SecComm while also in a strange sense an inheritor of it (or, at least, an inheritor of the problems it made)). And it's making me consider throwing out what I've written again.

It's possible I'm just massively overthinking it, and a lot of my problems are just things that are always going to have to be left up to a GM to prep anyway even when working from a pre-written module. I'm planning on running the first session of a playtest pretty soon, so maybe I'll feel different once I've run my current outline with an actual group and it's no longer just abstract ideas on a page. I dunno. I guess we'll see in like... two months or however long it takes me to run this playtest game.

#Lancer RPG #Currently Unnamed Lancer Module #I did actually mention some of this with my playtest group in our session 0 #if nothing else I guess I'll know one way or another if this is working once I've actually run it #maybe I'm expecting a little too much of how much structure you can even impose on something like a TTRPG module #no prep survives first contact with the players and all that #but I do feel a bunch of Lancer modules I've read #whether 1st or 3rd party #have been really good at kind of zeroing in on a particular thematic throughline or idea #and while I don't want to be too much of a perfectionist with my first ever 3rd party module writing #I do want to at least try to hit on certain ideas and themes

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ducknotinarow · 1 year

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[RaphYvonne] ❛ we can order pizza, watch a movie, whatever you want. ❜

| Muse Interaction

Raph fell back on to his bed a moment heavily sigh leaving him as he let his beak hang a little and pout. There was a lot of after math to deal with and maybe Raph was making a bigger deal out of all this stuff then he should or needed to but like was it him overthinking about it all? He had some damage to his eye over all it was fine but sometimes his vision would blur and he near lost his sight. Leo said over all he was fine Donnie also seconded on that statement. Leo just instructed that he used some eye drops to help when ever the vision issues begin. After about two weeks he would still need the drops just need to do them once a day. Seemed like something he was going to add to his daily routine. Not to mention the other uh well thing going on. Casey.

Raph had been a tad curious why they didn't make any mention about him like he had the others. Leo was his master, and teacher it seemed. He also held Mikey and Donnie in some high regard. Seemed Raph died pretty early on in the war timeline? world? or whatever Casey came from to warn them. That wasn't what was getting to him he sort of wish it did seeing how he likely could have died when he saved Leo. Taking a hit for one of his brothers never put fear in him though. One of them getting hurt? no that put fear into him and he always acted on that fear by acting like some sort of shield. No it was the fact he had a son? Look that didn't bother him it didn't it's just kind of odd to suddenly find you have this kid who looks to you for well like everything? He sighed again.

"Von I need you I dunno what to do 'bout all this." As if her ears were burning he heard the ringtone for his girlfriend go off suddenly. He fished it out and answered right away. "Hey." Maybe it was the tone in his voice but she seemed to catch on something was wrong. That did bring a smile to his beak. He couldn't really voice all that was going on in his head to anyone else lately. He didn't want Casey to get the wrong idea he was still finding his foot with them. His brothers? maybe but ehh he was still adjusting to not being the leader anymore. He felt like they all were still working on that. "I just got a lot on my head, heh for once ya know? My brain isn' used to thoughts." it was meant as a joke. So she offer the usual cure for when he needed a break, to hide away with her.

---

Yvoones place was always a nice little safe havean for him. Mostly because Yvonne was someone he could openly speak with, it was a major part of the friendship that bloomed into a crush on her. And she still offered that to him even now. It was just nice to have one thing in hus life. Just stay the same.

Large green fringers easily held around one of her small, slender hands as he stroked over the back of her knuckles.

"Its just I dunno I feel bad Von. 'Ike I'm just meant to be just adjusting to everything and be fine with how things are. It's just a lot at once. With Leo finally being serious about his role that's sloved but...where dose that leave me now on the team? And then there's the whole casey thing? I know that look on his face. It's how I looked at pop's as a kid, or Lou Jitsu before learning that was also my pop I mean course." He grinds his teeth a little chewing over his thoughts and worries. Soon sighing as he slumps back on the couch a moment. "Maybe I just need a break? Can I hide with you for a bit?" He asks he knows he never has to ask her that it was more out of courtesy that he was.

❛ we can order pizza, watch a movie, whatever you want. ❜

He smiled softly and nodded as if she could see that needing to shake his head sitting up now. "Ya know yeah I think that be good Von. You pick the movie and I'll go up to run of the mill on my way over. Theres portals near Hueso's place won't take long? " Bright smile on his beak as he push against the mattress and sprung up to his feet quick to get out of the lair before anyone noticed he was leaving.

Raph getting up to his feet nit fully letting go of her hand. There was a fear he hadn't asked about yet but knowing what he did about Casey? What happened to Yvoone? It was always in his mind but he was worried about that answer. He doubts a break up happened. Knows damn well he never would cheated on her. Ya sperm donation is a thing but would that be what happened? He's not sure he just knows deep down Yvoone one of many deaths wasn't she?

In part it had a lot todo with his struggles with Casey as well. He wants to be there for Vasey 100% but is that him turning his back on Yvoone? With a lot of his other concerns and worries worked out he now could see this one that's been buried deep in the back of his mind. Slowly he works his fingers to let go of her. Raoh didn't know what laws timeliness held. They fixed the future he knows that but also? Dose the mean somethings never happen or will they still happen in different ways?

"I'll be back!" Leaning down to press his beak to the her forehead to place a quick peck to her.

Will Raph still lose you?

Was his thought. It's a silly and dumb worry in part he knows he just overwhelming himself a little at best. But that worry is there seeded in him. If he choose Yvoone is that turning his back on his son? Maybe? Maybe they liked to meet each other? It was like a light blue appeared over his head a moment. That might help! But pizza and movie first he can work thst out next

#muse| hamato rapheal #madamkezzie #aflockofffeathers #[ ones trash is anothers treasure aflockoffeathers]#[rise verse]#muse interactions #ic reply #stay qeued #(( I just been missing these dorks and it didn't say what verse so i picked uwu))

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bloomintune · 1 year

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I know there are varying degrees of fans for specific games or franchises, but the self-conscious part of me feels like Pokemon is one of those 'all in or not at all' franchises at times (at least in terms of interest in the games.)

Now granted, I haven't been a lifelong fan; Ultra Moon was my first game I bought (not sure if a year or two after release, but remember it being marked down at the small-ish store I worked at), with Arceus being the first I bought near release (late Feb./early Mar. after release). Arceus's gameplay kept me intrigued more than any other pokemon game up to this point - including some I tried emulating - which gave me hope that Scarlet/Violet would implement a similar battling system.

Yeah, the glitches and graphical shortcomings are it's own mixed bag for another post, but I'm pertaining to the experience around the game itself. Didn't help in the first place that my copy came in a week later than expected, though if nothing else, there were places that got their copies late as well. Not to excuse things, but at least not alone. And I'm a lot more casual in my Pokemon gaming experience. Very much an "I just think they're neat" player, and maybe an hour or two here and there.

Part of me was curious about how the online play would be, and while I have yet to try it... I dunno at this point. Not to say I wouldn't, but in the week-ish it took between the game's release and when I got the game, people were already completing the game and getting extra level ups to their teams. I don't fault that by means, and I enjoy seeing friends' styles of play and how they handle things, but when you have nearly everyone else being like level 40+ and your highest is like 15-16, it kinda makes me feel like I'm a failure if I wanna join in online teams.

Hopefully, it's just my mind overthinking as a casual fan among some of the more hardcore fans; ones that have had multiple games' pokedexes completed, most if not all the other games they've played completed. It's not that I don't enjoy the experience, and some of the fun in it is giving quirky names to the Pokemon I catch, but there's a tinge of anxiety that I'm late to the party if I'm sharing a moment that's relatively early in the game when everyone else is solidly in post-game activities.

#rambling #venting #on main since it's a general thought than just a personal vent #pokemon thoughts #I do enjoy what I've seen #don't think other life happenings on my end are helping either

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mapleshmaple · 5 years

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#so i !! ended up passingn back out and i feel like thats a testimate to how much work is wearing me out/down and hsdgjks #and mom was on one of her 'im gonna clean the ENTIRE apartment/try to and talk to you in a disappointed tone while ur half asleep'#moods and hdsjgds its. a lot and i dont know why christines so weird about doing the dishwasher btu im not gonna do that aND be the only one #helping mom with the groceries and then going to work. thats not gonna fuckign happen after the shitshow this weeks been.#sjgksmd im! gonan reply to yall and other stuff too tonight msorry about this week-- ive been wanting to draw too and its!#frustrating cuz i got all this shit i wanan do but because we're so fuckign short staffed at work im there five days instead of three/four #and shdggjsdgs i dunno its. i dunno!!!! i dunno mjust really tired and drained and feel like im already down and just #getting kicked while im down and it sucks #that and like-- ghjsdkm i dunno i know i overthink things a shitload btu would??? the uf and sf/more serious skeles like me???#i dunno i just feel like im too normal/basic for them and not cool enough and dhjndskm im gonna shut up about this i swear #its!!! jsut. been on my mind a lot lately. and i know that it doesnt really matter/why should i care they arent even real #even if my feelings are andn i should just!!! shut my feelings up and hjdgkmsg i dunno o #im gonna go do th fuckgin dishes and then head to work nshit and then pass out after again ill!! talk to yall tomorrow

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kageyuji · 3 years

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his teammate has a crush on his s/o

⤷ suna, iwaizumi, bokuto, tendou ; [gn!reader] — part 1

TAGS: jealousy, fluff(?), swearing, the teammates were written a little ooc for the plot

NOTES: if you reblog I’ll give you my first born child in return, please and thank you <3

━━ SUNA

although surprisingly good at acting fine and saying that he was perfectly calm, he wasn’t immune to jealousy in the slightest

but he wasn’t a complete dumbass either

and he didn’t know why atsumu seemed to think that he was

of course, atsumu had a tendency to flirt with anything that breathes and has a heartbeat, but suna couldn’t shake the feeling like something with off

but he knew that you loved no one but him, so he tries not to let atsumu’s jokes and teasing get to him

until he realizes that maybe... maybe it wasn’t completely harmless

The flirting was a fairly common thing at this point. Never too heavy, just little winks and cocky smiles sent your way, along with the occasional flirtatious compliment.

“C’mon, I’m just sayin’, I could treat you so much better than Suna can.”

What.

While he didn’t like any of it, that was where Suna drew the line. He didn’t say anything at first, he didn’t react at all except a furrowing of his eyebrows.

He didn’t really know what to do — he sat there for a few moments, trying to figure out if he’d heard Atsumu right and then letting that fact sink in. And then he was walking over to the other guy.

Suna had seen the expression on your face. You looked confused to say the least, trying to figure out what Atsumu had meant. Because surely he hadn’t meant what it seemed like he was saying... right?

“Come again, Miya?” Though his tone sounded somewhat bored, it was laced with hostility.

Atsumu’s face dropped at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice. It took him a few moments to regain his composure, blinking a few times and smiling.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I was just jokin’ arou-”

“Hm, you aren’t funny though.” Suna said in the same half-bored tone. He stepped closer to you, looping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to himself.

“It’s harmless flirting, it’s a joke. What, am I not allowed to joke around anymore?” He smiled, though he was clearly nervous.

Suna set his jaw, “Not with my partner, no.”

━━ IWAIZUMI

he didn’t get jealous often, he trusted you so he could usually bite down his insecurity easily

but it’s not like anyone would hit on you when mr. biceps was with you anyway

nevertheless, he doesn’t like the way mattsun speaks to you — he knows that mattsun has a somewhat unconscious tendency for dirty jokes or being unknowingly flirtatious

and he doesn’t mind usually, but iwaizumi swears there’s some times whenever the flirtatious comments seem a little too frequent

but you haven’t stated that you were uncomfortable, so iwaizumi told himself that he could grin and bear it

everyone has limits though

Iwaizumi could have sworn that Mattsun was laying it on a lot heavier now that he didn’t think your boyfriend was still within earshot.

But of course this was all just Iwaizumi overthinking things. That was all... wasn’t it? The last thing he wanted to do was to be overbearing, to be controlling, to make you uncomfortable. So he held his breath and tried to focus on anything except your laugh.

“You can come over tonight if you want, I need to study and-”

“Y/n has plans tonight, actually.” Iwaizumi cut in, and when he turned around he was glad that he had.

It wasn’t that you looked exactly uncomfortable, but it wasn’t like you wanted anything to do with the conversation either. A smile crossed your face at the sound of him chiming in, and you took a small step closer to him.

“It’s just studying, Y/n can help me-”

“I said that Y/n isn’t helping you do shit, alright?”

Mattsun didn’t say anything in response, just swallowed thickly, nodded, and walked away. You hadn’t seen Iwaizumi get so bothered by something like that — and Iwaizumi wasn’t expecting himself to either, but the expression on your face whenever he’d turned around caused him to abandon most of his filter.

“Are you ok?” You asked.

He took a deep breath and turned to you, his face relaxing. “More importantly, are you ok?”

━━ BOKUTO

he’s oblivious sometimes, too caught up in looking at the big picture to realize smaller things going on

which isn’t always a bad thing, but whenever he looked past the way akaashi was being just a little too friendly with you it was

it didn’t last long though, and once he had the idea planted in his head it was stuck and wasn’t going away any time soon

so naturally he was a little more mopey, although he didn’t say anything yet

that was until akaashi started getting closer to you, and you didn’t even seem to notice that

“Oh hey, Y/n! We can go someplace after school and study for a while. Uh... it’s just, you mentioned a while ago that you needed help in one of your classes.”

Bokuto frowned at his friend’s words, watching as you smiled and thanked the setter. The worry ate at him, but it wasn’t even jealousy at this point, just something like sadness. You agreed and it painted Akaashi’s cheeks pink, spread a smile across his face.

“But, Y/n...” Bokuto said, his voice almost a whine, though it fell quieter at the end of his sentence.

You looked over to him, seeing the pout and expression in his eyes. Akaashi seemed to notice it too, asking Bokuto if everything was alright.

“Yeah, Kou?”

“Don’t you want to go somewhere with me after school?” He said, looking up at you with hopefully eyes. You walked over to where he was sitting and reached to grab his hand.

“As much as I would like to, I really need to study. Akaashi was nice enough to-”

“Akaashi this and Akaashi that,” The whine in his voice was fleeting now as he came to realize just how unnecessarily kind his friend had been to you lately. “spend time with me, baby.”

The setter seemed a little more alert than he had been a moment ago, eyes wide and barely breathing. Bokuto’s eyes landed on him, and though his eyes were usually warm and kind, they now held a level of hostility you’d not seen before.

Akaashi was making up an excuse to leave quickly, telling you that something had come up and that you couldn’t study.

“...and maybe you shouldn’t spend so much time around him.”

“Huh, why?”

“No, I mean, you can- you can choose your friends and all, but just remember I’m your boyfriend.”

“I know, Kou, wouldn’t have it any other way. That date you offered though sounds good, anywhere in mind?”

━━ TENDOU

tendou gets jealous a fair amount, although none of his jealousy is unfounded

he’s not controlling or possessive though — he trusts you not to do anything, he just doesn’t trust other people

of course, there’d been some rumor started about how your whole relationship had been fake for one reason or the other, but now the secret was out so you’d broken up

so now these types of situations got more frequent, but if he sees you in a situation where someone is getting just a little too friendly, he’ll step in without another thought

it’s a little different whenever it’s his teammate though, especially when it’s ushijima

he tried not to let that get to him though, telling himself that it’s just like any other random person

“Y/n... could you help me?” Ushijima asked, laughing sheepishly.

But of course you smiled and agreed, then walked over to him. Tendou didn’t know what it was, honestly didn’t care, he just didn’t like how much it bothered him.

Alone, it was harmless, sure. But with everything else he’s been doing lately...

“Also, Y/n, I was wondering if I could ask you something? There’s this-”

“Y/n is busy that day sorry!” Tendou cut in, quickly turning around to look at the two of you. A smile was spread across his face, though nothing but hostility in his eyes. “They have plans with me.”

“Wait, what day?” You asked, not remembering any time recent that the two of you had planned on going somewhere.

“I dunno, whatever day he was about to say. You’re my partner after all.”

He smiled at you. Then his index finger was under your chin and he was pecking your lips. Heat rose in your cheeks at that simple action, but you tried to ignore it.

“Oh. I didn’t know that you and Tendou... I apologize, that-”

“It’s ok,” You laughed. “Half of the school still believes that we aren’t dating.”

Tendou huffed, then stepped closer to you and grabbed your hand. “But we are, and I would very much like to kiss you in public so people can see that. C’mon, where do you think there’s the most people right now, angel?”?

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bajisfangs · 3 years

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hiii hope you’re doing well! can you pls make hcs on mikey, chifuyu and baji breaking up with female reader or reader breaking up w them? whatever you feel like it

BREAK UP HCS

about ; manjiro sano, chifuyu matsuno & keisuke baji

contains ; fem!reader, angst

note ; YEAAAAH ANGST LETS GO !!! i decided to split up both the boys being broken up with and them breaking up with reader bc why not <33

MANJIRO SANO

★ BREAKING UP WITH READER

this was something that’s been on his mind lately and he concluded that it really wasn’t you, it’s all him

he couldn’t bear the thought of him hurting you when you’ve done nothing wrong and mikey thought it’s a good idea to cut ties with you this early on instead of waiting for shit to blow up in his face

maybe him telling you he wants to break up was the worst way to hurt you

he couldn’t stand the way your pretty eyes started welling up in tears and your face twitching and contorting into an expression you couldn’t help but you so fucking tried not to cry in front of him right then and there

it took a lot of energy for you to ask him “why? what did i do wrong? i didn’t mean to hurt you if that’s what i did, mikey”

he was starting to regret his decision and he knew he’d take it all back if he stayed longer, so he turned his back on you, eyebrows twitching and his nose was starting to sting from the tears pooling in his eyes

“i’m sorry.”

☆ BEING BROKEN UP WITH

he knew it was going to happen one way or another and to say the least he expected it

he’s fucked up and he knows it and he knew you wouldn’t be able to handle him very well - he was too much and he knew that

you were crying, he doesn’t know why but you were and normally he’d offer a shoulder to cry on but... is there a reason to now that you were gone? you dumped him

“it’s okay.”

you could never forget the small and gentle smile on his lips that day, and it was like the both of you had freed each other from your cages

though knowing mikey, he had cried himself to sleep

CHIFUYU MATSUNO

★ BREAKING UP WITH READER

chifuyu ignored this thought for a while, denying it every possibly way he could but... he just can’t keep fooling himself anymore

you deserve better the second he explained himself - “i can’t keep making myself believe something that isn’t true... i’m sorry.”

chifuyu wasn’t the best at explaining his emotions, he stuttered a lot and he was snotty to begin with, he didn’t even know he was crying while speaking with you

he cares about you and he never once failed to make you feel loved for and that is something that you loved about him... everything about him

it was bittersweet to say the least, he wanted to stay friends but you asked for some space before you could feel comfortable being with him as friends

☆ BEING BROKEN UP WITH

king of overthinking

at the heat of the moment he couldn’t imagine his life without you and he was so close to driving himself mad

he asked what he did wrong, he promised he’ll be better just don’t leave him

you told him to calm down because he was holding your hand tightly, cheeks so wet from his tears and you could barely see his pretty blue eyes

it was heartbreaking to see chifuyu react the way he did, but after giving him some time and explaining to him that you just couldn’t see him any more than just a friend or a brother, he nods and says he understands

he offered his friendship because he genuinely didn’t want to lose you as you were one of the bestest friends he’d ever have. it’d just... take a while for his feelings to go away

KEISUKE BAJI

★ BREAKING UP WITH READER

he sounded like he rehearsed it, but he actually did the night before only because he didn’t want to fuck up and he didn’t want to be nervous, which he still was

you agreed with him, and your reaction was totally not something he expected, but you expressed to him how sad you actually feel about the break up

you loved him of course, and he loved you and maybe you’re exaggerating, but he was the best at making you feel loved, important, cared for. it was bittersweet to know that while he’s still in your life as a friend, things won’t be the same anymore from that point on

keisuke felt the same way, and maybe this decision would later kick him in the ass, he was at least glad that you were understanding of it

later that night, he couldn’t sleep due to him thinking maybe this was a bad idea

☆ BEING BROKEN UP WITH

a water dam in his eyes

it’s not like he doesn’t agree, whatever you choose he respects it wholeheartedly, but you can’t blame him for crying, right? he was sensitive to his feelings, and he was truthful when it comes to you

like mikey and chifuyu, he asked you why? what did he do wrong? is it because you got sick of him leaving the toilet seat up? he sucks at cooking? what?

“i’m sorry,” he told you. after everything, he still had the backbone to apologize to you. he had nothing to apologize for, you told him, why are you apologizing? “i dunno. maybe i just didn’t do enough.”

keisuke interrupted your response by telling you his mother wanted him home before dinner, which wasn’t true because he told his mom he’ll be with you.

#togeskitten ꕤ #tokyo revengers keisuke baji #tokyo revengers baji #tokyo revengers manjiro #tokyo revengers mikey #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers scenarios #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo tevengers manjiro sano #tokyo revengers chifuyu matsuno #tokyo revengers chifuyu #baji x reader #mikey x reader #chifuyu x reader

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toujoursmiraculous · 3 years

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Thoughts and Reaction to SIMPLEMAN

A day late but that's what happens when good subs aren't out until the next day, and you're busy that day. This episode is so sweet and wholesome that it was worth it, for sure. I'm still not sure which one is Ella and which one is Etta. They're always addressed together so I just don't know, but I'd like to. ;-; (Note: Looked it up on Wikia, the one in pink with seafoam earrings is Etta, the one in seafoam and pink earrings is Ella) See Nino knows. Nino's concerned about Marinette babysitting three kids already. He lives with one all the time, times that by 4 and WOO that's crazy. Sweet of her to want to ensure her best friend has some time to relax with her boyfriend. Oh. OH those poor Kwami! Especially Fluff and her ears being pulled like a game of tug-of-war! I can see it now, Fluff now traumatized by young kids. So if Alix ever has any in the future, they better grow up knowing about Fluff right away or she's in for a horror show. PV TRAILER AND MUSIC! I'm such a fan of the music and the PV that when my sister told me about it, it made me even more excited for this episode than I already was. And I was very excited already! Manon: So? Aren't you going to answer it? She knows what's up. So Adrien's calling asking Marinette to help sew on a wing? Because nobody else there can do it? I dunno, sounds kind of sus to me, Adrien. Are you sure you're not using that as an excuse just to see your "friend"?

Marinette's biggest problem is thinking so far ahead in her brain that when she goes to speak, she's either way far ahead of herself or gets everything mixed up as it comes out of her mouth. If she just lived in the moment and didn't plan (which being Ladybug that's probably very hard not to do outside the costume), she'd be able to do this and overcome that fear of rejection as well. She seems to have that part fairly taken care though. When Gina said she was in China to learn Kung Fu and met a girl that reminded her of Marinette, instantly thought about Fei. How could it not be her? Rolland gets asked to babysit, immediately is like "Let's do something fun and dangerous!" Tom must have had an interesting childhood with Rolland and Gina. o.o Clearly Rolland doesn't realize who the heroes are based on. Or just completely forgot he met them when Bakerix. xD Adrien's so sweet with Marinette, even if he can't understand a single thing she says. That's adorable. But a really good way to thank her could've been "Would you stay and watch the photoshoot, and then maybe we could go do something fun/get something to eat after?" BOOM. Problems solved. But I have a feeling this may come back later, and maybe that would turn out better. Marinette's grandparents tend to give Hawk Moth/Shadowmoth the most sass and trouble in comparison to other Parisians. XD Rolland is so sweet to these kids, and they are so caring towards him. It's so wholesome! Just think: if that helicopter wasn't crashing behind her, she would've screamed she loved Adrien. So close. Simpleman is the chillest akuma. Being all "Hey kids, even though I'm akumatized, let's go out into the city!" and the kids are like "Yeah, okay. Hey let's get ice cream!"

Him protecting them from all the flying pizza boxes that guy was throwing around everywhere was super sweet too. LB and CN: Things are complicated. So we should find Shadow Moth directly. Let's run around the city screaming for him to come find us so we can fight him! I seriously think if Chat Noir or Ladybug brought up the fact that their identities made things complicated, they would've revealed themselves right then and there. LOL at the old school fighting and them behaving like young children xD "NO!" "I'm NaNa, ClaCla is no longer with NaNa! Paris is really messy! BuggyBug, KittyKity, help us!" Oh this is going to be so hilarious in the English dub with the voice actress who also voices Nathalie. XDDD A bouncy ball is very complicated for Ladybug. That a literal 5 year old can figure out. Wow this villain's power sure did a number on her. xD I find it all the more stressful actually, that Chat Noir and Ladybug can remember what they were doing the whole time they were affected by the akuma. That means if Marinette said she loved him, or they revealed their identities, there would be no going back or being able to make an excuse for it. Can we just talk about how those kids could understand that the reason he wants things to be simple and is upset that the world is so different, is because it scares him and he doesn't think he's capable of learning and changing with the world? A majority of adults these days can't even take two seconds to try to understand someone else's situation(s) before judging and being outright nasty people towards them. Yet these kids were able to do so. And a lot of kids actually are like they are in real life. Some may see this as an episode just for kids to appreciate, but there's a lot in here that's aimed at adults, too. Adults need reminders and these lessons just as much, if not more so than young kids. It's adults that lose their way and needed to be reminded of it, as they have a greater immediate impact on the world. I've seen so many people judge Rolland, make assumptions about him which is almost always the very worst things they could think of. But this episode shows how caring and willing to learn and understand he really is, he was just hiding behind his fear of change and not being able to keep up with it. Some lessons in this episode for the adult viewers are: -You're never too old to learn, get over your fears, try new things, become a better person, and see things through new eyes. -Don't over-complicate or overthink, but don't be lazy and think keeping everything simple will actually in reality be the answer, sometimes it can make things worse! -Kids tend to see the world as things are, not what they think it should be, or believing they're the center of the universe like adults tend to do. -Being wise means knowing that regardless of your field, educational background, age, or lived experiences, you don't know everything, there is always more for you to learn about everything out there. The kids in this show are quite wise, as they know that there is so much they don't know and how they treat learning new things. They also know how adults tend to understand, or act like they understand everything, so we as adults aren't used to it when we don't and react negatively to that because it scares us when we don't know. In that way, this episode was very brilliant! Also that hug at the end, oh you can bet these kids are going to want to go visit Grandpa Rolland, and honestly I'd love to see bits of them here and there, their bonds are adorable and they've changed his life in such a positive way. Also the pure Ladynoir without another hero or Alya or any kind of upsetting situation was honestly such a breath of fresh air! Maybe not the kind of Ladynoir people wanted, but it made me happy. Marinette acknowledged her problem is she's scared of Adrien rejecting her. First step is admitting it! Can't blame her for not being able to do what she wanted, she only just realized the issue after all. It's going to take a little time now to work on it! Is it just me, or

does it seem Adrien's almost trying not to laugh when she was messing up and then asked if he liked fishing? XD Maybe it was the actors tone with the facial expression but it seemed that way! But the way he just watches her run away and does that adorable little chuckle... Oh Adrien, we really need you to start realizing why you keep doing that. "She (Ladybug) reminds me of your grandmother and you know what? You look exactly like her (Ladybug)." Well. Oop. He's onto you! Apparently Rolland isn't blind, as not a single character suspected her from her personality or appearance to be Ladybug so far. Even Adrien only began piecing it together due to circumstances (and his own personal wish that Marinette is LB, you can't convince me otherwise this isn't true). This is going to come back later, possibly Dearest Family? Overall such a good episode with a lot of things in it, if you decide to watch without high expectations or biases. After all the angst lately, it was certainly needed as a nice change of pace.

#ml #miraculous ladybug #miraculous tales of ladybug and cat noir #ml spoilers #ml season 4 spoilers #ml spoilers season 4 #simpleman #simpleman spoilers #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #ladybug #chat noir #rolland dupain #chris lahiffe #ella cesaire #etta cesaire #manon chamack #toujoursmiraculous' thoughts and reactions #thoughts and reactions

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someonestolemyshoes · 2 years

Text

Edge of Rain

Pairing: Bokuto/Akaashi (pre-relationship) Show: Haikyuu!! Rating: Gen Summary: Bokuto is behaving in a very un-Bokuto-like way, and Akaashi, as usual, overthinks everything.

“Akaashi! Akaashi, you picked up! I thought you might be sleeping.”

Akaashi does not point out that he had been sleeping. Or that Bokuto’s repeated phone calls had woken him up, or that Kuroo had texted him to demand he answer Bokuto’s next call so that he would stop calling Kuroo to whine about Akaashi’s silence.

Instead, he says, “I’m not sleeping, Bokuto-san. What did you need?”

Admittedly, Akaashi has a fair idea of the answer already. Bokuto doesn’t make a habit of calling past midnight because Bokuto, contrary to popular belief, sleeps like the dead from 10pm until 5am, every night, without fail—unless he has a reason not to. A reason to stay up late. A reason to call Akaashi the moment the clock strikes midnight, and to call incessantly, until Akaashi will hear what he has to say.

A very good reason. Something like, today being Akaashi’s birthday.

With a sigh, Akaashi rolls onto his back, phone pressed to his ear. He stares up at the ceiling and waits, waits for Bokuto’s excited ‘Happy Birthday, ‘Kaashi!’, or, ‘I wanted to say it before anyone else!’ or, ‘wait, did someone say it already? Tell me who, Akaashi! I called dibs!’ or some other very Bokuto-type thing to say, but what he hears instead is:

“Have you ever seen the edge of a rain storm?”

Akaashi stays silent for a long while. Too long, probably, because Bokuto takes it upon himself to fill the empty space.

“I was thinking about it before, you know, when the storm hit earlier? And it was raining loads, buckets, but Kuroo said they had no rain at all. And Kuroo isn’t that far away, right?”

“Right,” Akaashi says.

“So I was thinking that the rain must have stopped somewhere between here and Kuroo. And even though it’s not that far, there’s a lot of houses and a lot of people, so someone must have seen where the rain stopped. And I can’t stop thinking about it—how cool would that be?”

“Very cool, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says.

“Right? How come we’ve never seen it?”

Akaashi flips back onto his side and tucks himself into his pillows. It’s strange, and probably stupid, that he feels a little disappointed. He double checks the date on his phone—December 5th, 12:13am—and presses the phone back to his ear as Bokuto says, “it’s always either raining or not raining, how does that work?”

Akaashi shouldn’t be bothered by Bokuto’s lack of birthday greetings. Bokuto is neither stupid nor forgetful, but the way his brain works is quick and clumsy; it’s not that Bokuto has forgotten his birthday, necessarily, it’s just that his thoughts have shifted rapidly in another direction, caught on a line and pulled helplessly along. He hasn’t forgotten. Akaashi knows this because Bokuto has never forgotten anyones birthday, not ever, not once he has been told about it. It’s quite a remarkable skill, all things considered.

But knowing an important date and remembering to talk about it are two different things. This is what Akaashi tells himself as Bokuto thinks up ridiculous answers to his own question—Bokuto hasn’t forgotten Akaashi’s birthday, he just hasn’t remembered to talk about it yet.

“Perhaps you should look it up online.”

“I’ve tried! I tried that, and I asked Kuroo, and he doesn’t know either. And if Kuroo doesn’t know, and you don’t know, I dunno who will!”

It’s not like it matters anyway, Akaashi thinks. That Bokuto might have forgotten his birthday. Bokuto has a lot of things to think about, between volleyball and school and what he is going to do once school is done in the spring. It’s reasonable to assume that Bokuto’s priorities would be elsewhere.

But perhaps it stings just a little, that Bokuto hasn’t wished him a happy birthday when he has the space in his brain to think about weather systems in the small hours of a Sunday morning.

“There are plenty of people far more qualified than Kuroo-san and myself,” Akaashi says, perhaps a little coldly. If Bokuto notices his somewhat frosty tone, he doesn’t say anything, and for that Akaashi is thankful. It’s unfair of him to be bothered, and worse still for him to take it out on Bokuto.

“I know, I know. But you’re both smart! The smartest people I know.”

“Thank you. Is there anything else?”

Bokuto hums for a moment, wracking his brain. Akaashi can vividly picture the way his face is twisting, mouth pulled to one side and brow scrunched low as he tries to organise his thoughts.

“Mmm. Nope! No, that was all. You should be sleeping anyway, ‘Kaashi.”

Bokuto’s tone is serious, almost stern, as if he isn’t the reason Akaashi was awake in the first place.

“You’re right. You should be as well.”

“I know! I’m tired. But I couldn’t stop thinking ‘til I heard your thoughts.”

“I see,” Akaashi says. “I’m sorry I didn’t have more to say.”

“S’okay. Sleep well. And eat a good breakfast! We’re gonna do 100 cross shots tomorrow. Unblocked!”

“100 unblocked cross shots is impossible, Bokuto-san.”

“Oi, oi! That’s a bad word, Akaashi.”

Akaashi blinks. Replays the sentence in his head. Checks every word, and considers that Bokuto might have misheard something he said. But then Bokuto lets out a little huff, and he adds, “you shouldn’t say impossible. Everything is possible! 100 unblocked cross shots, 100 untouched serves, 100 perfect sets—heck, I bet seeing the edge of the rain is possible too. Just gotta try hard enough to find it.”

“That’s very philosophical of you,” Akaashi says.

“I have profound thoughts sometimes,” Bokuto says. And then, “did I use that right?”

“Yes.”

“Cool. Now I really gotta go! All the profound thinking made me extra tired. Sleep well, ‘Kaashi.”

“You too.”

Akaashi hangs up and stares helplessly at his phone. December 5th, 12:32am. He only has himself to blame, really, for his disappointment. He had observed Bokuto’s birthday greetings to everyone else on the team, and at some point in time Akaashi had rather stupidly presumed that Bokuto held him in some esteem—Bokuto was with him more often than he was with the others, at lunch and break and late practice, and they often walked home together, and Bokuto trusted Akaashi with things he seldom shared with others, like his failed math test score, or that one time he forgot to put on his underwear before morning practice.

At some point, Akaashi had taken these things to mean that Bokuto was perhaps more fond of him than he was anybody else. And this came hand in hand with the assumption that Bokuto would both remember his birthday, and be even more eager to celebrate it than he usually was.

Silly. Sillier still, to be upset over something so small. So insignificant. It isn’t like Akaashi is big on celebrating his birthday anyway—last year the team had pooled together to give him a small cake and some presents before practice, and Akaashi expected this year would be much the same, and that was perfectly fine with him. Though without Bokuto to remind them, perhaps they would do nothing at all.

It’s fine. It doesn’t matter. Akaashi rolls from one side to the other and back again, adjusting his pillow and blankets until he is comfortable, but it takes a long while for his mind to settle, and when sleep finally comes it is restless.

Akaashi wakes in a sour mood.

He tells himself it isn’t because of Bokuto and the forgotten birthday. He tells himself it is because he is tired, and then because he burnt his breakfast. Because the shower was luke-warm, and the towel on the rail was still damp from the night before. Because the sky is overcast. Because the wind is frigid. Because a car honks at him for stepping into the road without looking—but he might have been looking, if he hadn’t been so busy stewing in the unpleasant bitterness percolating from his brain to the back of his throat, down into his gut where it settles, heavy and acidic.

Bokuto doesn’t meet him during the walk, and his absence gives Akaashi more time to think. Thinking is what Akaashi does best, but it is also one of his most troublesome attributes, because Akaashi has never mastered the art of simply thinking until a thought is done. Until a reasonable conclusion is reached. Akaashi overcooks it all; turns everything over and over in his head, teasing out every possible option and every potential outcome until the whole thing is charred beyond repair.

Bokuto must dislike him. This is what Akaashi is mulling over as he closes in on the clubroom. It’s hard to imagine Bokuto seriously disliking anyone, really—but Akaashi is thoroughly convinced that Bokuto must dislike him, because it is the only logical explanation as to why Bokuto didn’t jump at the chance to wish him a happy birthday when he called. It is a senseless argument, because Bokuto’s every other action indicates otherwise, but Akaashi has grilled this thought until the edges have blackened and burned and the conclusion so far is this; Bokuto Koutarou is a birthday fiend, but Akaashi’s birthday is not important enough.

The clubroom is empty, but there are bags and clothes strewn around that tell Akaashi the team is already in the gym without him. He certainly isn’t late, which means everyone else is early, and Akaashi can’t say he is surprised. He has seen plenty of birthdays, and planned plenty of surprises. The whole thing is perfectly routine, and as such, Akaashi is ready for the cheers when he opens the gym door, but the size of the cake and the number of presents piled next to it does catch him a little off guard.

Bokuto is in the back of the group, cheering with the rest, but it is Konoha and Komi who surge forward and steer Akaashi to the little table. Akaashi blows out the candles on the cake after a protracted pause, during which he fumbles around for something to wish for, but can think of nothing but Bokuto and his ominous distance and silence. The team cheer again and shove their presents at him—a couple of books he had expressed interest in in passing, a new water bottle, a selection of his favourite onigiri from his favourite store, some fun coloured tape for his fingers—but Bokuto remains in the background, teetering on the edge of the group.

Nobody else seems to find this strange. Akaashi gives them all a polite thank you, and then the coach is dispersing them to warm up, and the cake and presents are moved out of the way, and Bokuto has still said nothing to Akaashi directly.

Things change, once practice starts. Bokuto seems more like his normal self, obnoxiously loud and demanding Akaashi’s attention. He hasn’t forgotten his promise of 100 cross shots, though he concedes at 40, when Akaashi’s arms feel leaden and his fingers sting, and 50% of them were blocked.

“One day, Akaashi,” he says, in his Serious Bokuto voice, as they chug down water and catch their breath. Akaashi nods, and waits for something more, but then Bokuto is slamming the mouthpiece down on his bottle and straightening up, hands planted firmly on his hips. “Line shots now!”

He is met with a resounding groan.

“Practice is almost over,” Konoha says. “And it’s Akaashi’s birthday. Let him have a break for once.”

“It’s fine,” Akaashi says, and he means it. Practicing with Bokuto is exhausting, physically, but Akaashi never really gets tired of it. And it’s not like he has any other plans for the day—and maybe he’s a little hopeful that Bokuto will rectify his uncharacteristic birthday silence.

Konoha wrinkles his nose. “You’re just as weird as he is, Akaashi.”

“Thank you,” Akaashi says. Bokuto grins proudly.

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

Bokuto deflates.

The team clear out quickly enough, with a few parting well-wishes to Akaashi, and a stern, “don’t forget to clean up when you’re done,” from Washio, and then they are alone. Bokuto picks up a ball from the cart and spins it between his palms.

“Ready?”

Akaashi nods, stepping into position by the net. Bokuto’s grin is terribly contagious.

“Give me a good one, Akaashi!”

And that is how it goes. They talk little, besides calling for the ball and compliments for a job well done. Bokuto is as brazen as ever, eyes light and alive, mouth spread in a wide smile as he repeats, again and again, “your tosses are the best!” Again and again, Akaashi fights to keep his expression neutral, and to control the swell of heat in his face at Bokuto’s earnest praise.

Despite the gloomy start to the day, Akaashi feels satisfied by the time they are done. Bokuto had energy to spare, but their were stomachs growling too loudly to continue on, and it is with the promise of lunch that Bokuto agrees to pack down the net and tidy away their mess.

But without volleyball to guide them, Bokuto’s silence returns in full force. The quiet is all the more apparent without the rest of the team to fill the empty space, and Akaashi is all the more confused by it. Bokuto never cleans up without fuss, but today he does, and Akaashi doesn’t miss the occasional frown furrowing his brow as they pass by each other.

Could he be in one of his slumps? Akaashi can’t think of any specific reason that Bokuto might be upset—practice went well, Bokuto was in good form. Had Akaashi ended extra practice too early? That couldn’t be it, according to the clock they had run on even longer than they usually did.

Akaashi can only assume, between Bokuto’s intermittent pouting and his mysterious silence surrounding Akaashi’s birthday, that Akaashi has done something to upset him. Nothing comes to mind, no teasing, snapping or dumb-idea-wrangling that might’ve soured Bokuto’s mood.

Akaashi is still thinking intensely on it by the time they are done tidying, and he continues thinking while he gathers up his presents and his cake, while Bokuto (quietly) locks the gym doors and (quietly) leads the way to the clubroom, while they change (quietly), and (quietly) wrap themselves up in coats and scarves and gloves, ready to face the chilly walk home.

Akaashi is picking up the gift bags containing his presents, when Bokuto finally speaks.

“Here, gimme.”

Akaashi blinks at Bokuto’s outstretched hand. Bokuto wiggles his fingers, and then, when Akaashi doesn’t move, Bokuto leans over and takes the gift bags from his hand.

“You carry the cake,” Bokuto says.

“I can manage everything.”

Bokuto smiles at him. “I know. But it’s easier this way, right? You won’t have to worry about dropping anything.”

Akaashi wasn’t particularly worried anyway—the presents aren’t heavy, and the gift bags make it easier to carry everything—but he nods and picks up the cake anyway. “Thank you.”

“Welcome!”

Bokuto seems both perfectly normal, and very not normal at all as they walk down the road. His posture is relaxed, Akaashi’s present bags slung back casually over his shoulder and his free hand jammed into the pocket of his trousers, but he is silent where Bokuto is usually full of chatter. His face is upturned, watching one lone, heavy grey cloud shift lazily overhead. The air around them is still, but painfully cold.

Akaashi looks up at the cloud too, and then he says, “did you find an answer to your rain question?”

“Huh?”

“About where the rain ends. You wanted to know why we never see it.”

“Oh!” Bokuto squints at the cloud, lips down-turned at the corners. “No. I looked for ages, but I couldn’t find a good answer at all.”

“It must have bothered you a lot to keep you up so late,” Akaashi says. Bokuto looks quickly at him and then away again, and perhaps it is Akaashi’s imagination, but his answering laugh sounds a little forced.

“Yeah! Yeah, it did. Weird, huh?”

“Very. You usually sleep well.”

Akaashi expects another emphatic Bokuto reaction, but is met instead with a hum, and a resounding silence. Quiet space feels awkward, with Bokuto. Static. Akaashi has never before wished so badly for Bokuto to behave like Bokuto. They walk on, but after a little while Bokuto’s footsteps slow, and then he comes to a stop altogether, and when Akaashi turns to look at him his gaze is cast down at his feet.

“Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto takes a large breath. The kind of breath Akaashi takes before a serve, deep and full, steadying. The kind of breath Bokuto never has to take, because Bokuto never has nerves to calm—normally. Nothing about this situation seems very normal to Akaashi.

The tips of Bokuto’s ears are red. Akaashi might’ve attributed it to the cold, if Bokuto didn’t choose that moment to lift his head and reveal his equally red face, which isn’t from the cold at all.

Bokuto sets Akaashi’s present bags on the ground, and swings his own bag around to his front, unzipping it and staring into it. The entire pattern of behaviour is odd, and frankly a little unsettling—because if Akaashi didn’t know better, he would say that Bokuto looked nervous, and stranger still, embarrassed.

And then Bokuto is reaching into his bag, and with a quick motion he pulls something out of it and clamps it tightly in both hands. A present, Akaashi realises, messily wrapped and finished with a ribbon fashioned into more of a knot than a bow. Bokuto holds it out at arms length like he is presenting Akaashi with a bomb ready to detonate, and with another quick, full breath, he yells, “Happy birthday, Akaashi!” and squeezes his eyes closed tight.

Akaashi can only stare at him. He had thought that Bokuto forgetting his birthday was strange enough, but this—this is downright bizarre.

“...thank you,” Akaashi says, once he has gathered himself. He takes hold of the package—whatever is inside feels soft, plush beneath his fingers—and waits for Bokuto to relinquish his death grip on it before he draws it in. He holds out the cake instead. “Could you hold this?”

Bokuto winks an eye open. “Mm? Oh! Yeah. Yeah.”

He holds the cake with marginally more care than he had the present, but he looks impossibly more antsy now, watching Akaashi closely as he tugs at the knotted ribbon, and searches for a gap in the tape.

“Sorry it’s late. I wanted to give it to you earlier,” Bokuto says quickly, “but I thought it’s maybe kinda weird? I dunno, it’s not the same as books or food or tape—but I saw it and I thought you’d like it? Maybe? Don’t worry if you don’t though! It’s not a big deal. It’s probably stupid anyway.”

Bokuto trails away as Akaashi manages to rip into the paper. He peels it back carefully, revealing thick, midnight blue wool. Akaashi gingerly picks it out. With Bokuto’s rambling, Akaashi had expected something gaudy. A t-shirt with a stupid catch phrase, maybe, or something covered in owls or volleyballs or little onigiris, but as Akaashi lets the fabric unravel he realises it is none of those things. It’s a scarf, plain and simple, thick and cosy and impossibly soft. Akaashi balls up the wrapping paper and slips it into his pocket so he can examine the scarf with both hands.

“You always wear the same one,” Bokuto says by way of explanation. “And it’s nice! It’s really nice, but it doesn’t always look very warm, and it must be kind of old now, right?”

“Right,” Akaashi says quietly.

“Right! And—I wasn’t sure what to get you anyway, ‘cuz you’re kind of hard to buy for, Akaashi. But then I saw it, and I thought, maybe...I dunno. I thought it’d suit you, I guess.”

Akaashi can’t be sure whether the scarf suits him or not, but he is very certain that Bokuto made a good choice with this present. Akaashi’s other scarf was old, and he had been meaning to replace it with something warmer and less threadbare, but he never would have chosen something quite so indulgent. There is no price tag, but from the quality of the wool alone Akaashi knows Bokuto must’ve spent a sizable chunk of his allowance on it.

“Do you like it?”

Bokuto looks eager, like a dog waiting keenly for a reward. Akaashi squeezes the scarf in his hands and nods once, hard.

“I do.” And then, to prove his sincerity, Akaashi unlooped the old scarf and folded it neatly into his bag, before wrapping his new, incredibly soft, wonderfully warm scarf around his neck. Bokuto’s smile comes slowly, spreading over his cheeks and into his eyes until the intensity of it is blinding.

“Yeah? Really?”

“Really. It’s very nice.”

“Gah, good! I know I said it’s fine if you didn’t like it, but I don’t think it would’ve been fine at all. I was thinking about it all night, I couldn’t sleep at all.”

Akaashi raised a brow at him. “I thought your rain dilemma kept you awake.”

Bokuto, to his credit, has the decency to look a little sheepish. “It did, kinda. I was already awake though. Just gave me something else to think about, instead of worrying so much.”

Akaashi nods. He tucks his face into the warm wool and thinks about their phone call, about the haphazard conclusions he had drawn from it.

“I think I owe you an apology, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto cocks his head. “Hm?”

“When you called and didn’t say anything, I thought you’d forgotten it was my birthday,” Akaashi says. Bokuto’s eyes go very wide, and he lets out an indignant squawk.

“Haaah?! I could never! I’m good at birthdays!”

“I know. I’m sorry I doubted you.”

“So you should be!” Bokuto says, with a little huff. He relaxes, and gives Akaashi an open, honest look. “I’m really glad you like it though. And I’m sorry I made you worry—”

“—I wasn’t worried.”

“You definitely were. I bet you thought about it and thought about it until your head almost exploded. But honestly, I was trying not to think about your birthday at all. I thought it was maybe a strange present, compared to all the other stuff the team got, and I really wanted to give it to you from me, not from everybody, but I didn’t want you to think I was, like, weird or anything for buying it.”

“It’s too late for that, Bokuto-san.”

“Akaashi!!”

Akaashi lets himself smile, just this once. Bokuto’s lamenting expression pauses, and then softens. He blinks slowly, and Akaashi feels acutely warm. He tucks his face deeper into the scarf to hide his flushed skin.

“Thank you. It’s not weird at all. It’s very thoughtful.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm.”

Bokuto inflates like a balloon, right from his diaphragm, lungs filling and chest puffing out. “I am thoughtful, aren’t I? I always buy the best gifts! It’s the best, right?”

“I think the water bottle was very thoughtful too. I needed a new one.”

“Akaashi!”

The return of Normal Bokuto, as abnormal as he may be, is a relief. Akaashi feels a little stupid for dwelling so much on his strange behaviour, when he should have known that Bokuto was prone to being just...strange in general. In hindsight, it is perfectly fitting that Bokuto would work himself into a slump over something as insignificant as a birthday present.

He is on the verge of apologising for his teasing, because Bokuto has a look very reminiscent of a kicked puppy, when a fat droplet of water hits him on the nose. It is followed swiftly by another against his cheek, and his shoulder, and a few to the top of his head, and then the sky above them opens up in earnest.

The rain is freezing, and beating down on them hard enough to sting. Bokuto looks up in surprise, and then wails, squinting painfully as the frigid water pelts him in the eye.

He hurriedly scoops up Akaashi’s bags, looping them onto his wrist so he can keep one hand free to grab onto Akaashi’s cuff. “C’mon!” He yanks Akaashi forward. “Your scarf’s gonna get all wet!”

Akaashi stumbles forward at Bokuto’s insistent tug. They hurry into a nearby bus shelter, ducking out from the onslaught. The rain only grows heavier by the second, splashing a fine mist near their feet as cold water meets cold stone. It’s loud overhead, clattering against the roof, but not loud enough to drown out Bokuto’s long, petulant whine.

“Gaaah, I didn’t even bring an umbrella! I thought it was gonna be dry.”

“I don’t think an umbrella would do much good anyway,” Akaashi says. It is appeasing in part, but mostly honest—an umbrella would protect their heads and shoulders and little else from the torrential downpour. Bokuto deposits Akaashi’s cake and bags onto the bench and plops down beside them.

“It’s cold.”

“It is,” Akaashi agrees.

“We��re gonna freeze to death.”

“That is a gross exaggeration.” There is a pause, where Bokuto simply squints over at him, so Akaashi adds, “gross as in obvious or blatant, not gross as in disgusting.” Bokuto gives a nod of understanding.

“We’re gonna freeze but not until we die then,” he amends, looking satisfied with his correction. Akaashi, feeling generous and in surprisingly good spirits, which has nothing to do with Bokuto not forgetting his birthday or Bokuto going out of his way to get Akaashi a very nice gift, lets him have this one.

“The rain will pass,” Akaashi says, peeking up at the sky. “There’s only one cloud.”

Bokuto grumbles, jamming his hands into his coat pockets and tucking his face into his own thinner, less soft, less comfortable scarf.

“Stupid rain,” Bokuto mutters, kicking a small pebble out of the shelter and into a rapidly growing puddle.

“The cloud is only small, Bokuto-san. Just think,” Akaashi says, tucking his face deeper into his own scarf to hide his smile, “the edge of the rain probably isn’t very far away at all.”

#Haikyuu!!#bokuaka #bokuto koutarou #akaashi keiji #happy birthday kaaaaaashi!!#I really wanted to write smith for the best boys b-day bc he deserves!!#my writing #eep I'm nervous HAHA I haven't written bokuaka in......ever really #apart from one time we don't talk about

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tinyjeanmarco · 3 years

Note

Helloooo 🥺🥺 idk if ur into writing hurt+comfort but I’m in such a big fat mood to cry rn and there’s not a lot Porco angst out here... I was thinking along the lines of modern au and ur already in a relationship but ur incredibly insecure about urself and the relationship, but Porco reassures u in the end that he really does love u and goes out of his way to prove it <3

(I realize u likely won’t get this done tonight and I’ll probs be in a better mood tomorrow BUT it’s still true there isn’t a lot of Porco angst out there!!)

Also if u don’t write angst pls ignore this!! Thank you 💖💖

teddy (a hurt/comfort fic)

hello my darling!! i hope that you’re in a better mood now and don’t want to cry anymore! （＞д＜） remember that it’s okay to cry and to take care of yourself. your body loves you and you should show it just as much love. i do really love hurt/comfort fics! they always make me feel so soft in the comfort part. 🥺 i’ll do my best to write this! i think porco can be a real comforting boyfie that just cares so much about you. ♡ also sorry this was so late after your request, love. (｡ ́︿ ̀｡) i listened to idontwannabeyouanymore by billie eilish, and emotional anorexic by svavar knutur while i wrote this so you kinda get the vibe i was feeling while writing!

wc: 1,818

modern!porco x gn!reader

warnings: some angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending, i swear.

he’s just busy, you thought as you exited the coffee shop. you clutched the cup in your hand tighter as you checked your phone for what must have been the twentieth time that hour.

you texted your boyfriend, asking if he wanted to do something that day, but alas, it’s been a few hours and no response. you knew he had classes, but they should be done by now, meaning he was just ignoring you at this point.

no, he’s busy. you reminded yourself. yet, you weren’t sure how much longer you could buy that thought. you couldn’t tell if that was true anymore, or if it was just a way to keep your bad thoughts at bay.

you debated texting him again, but were worried that you would annoy him. maybe that was the issue in the first place; he saw your text and wanted a break from you, thus making him ignore you. it had already been nine months since you started dating, maybe he was annoyed with you.

you picked up your pace as you walked back to your apartment, no longer wanting to be around people, in case you broke down in some way. you knew it wasn’t the best to be alone when you felt like this, your friends telling you that getting out and doing things would take your mind off your anxious thoughts.

you couldn’t seem to text anyone to tell them you felt trapped.

stepping inside your apartment, you locked the door behind you and toed off your shoes before making your way to the bedroom. you tossed your keys on a table as you walked by.

your mind just kept racing faster the more you were alone with the silence that was suffocating you. the best course of action was to take a nap, you decided. so, you changed, and put on one of porco’s hoodies that he gave you.

yet, when you settled under the covers, sleep wouldn’t find you. your insecurities picked you apart down to the bone. at this point, you had felt like you were being drowned. it was so hard to swim in the fog that was your head.

your brain had managed to convince you that porco was tired of you, and it was on its way to make you think he would break up with you. in the back of your head, you knew this was false, yet it kept persisting. it wouldn’t leave you alone.

instead of ruminating about things you didn’t want to, you thought maybe putting on one of your sad music playlists would help quiet the thoughts, which, in hindsight was an okay idea at most. it really only served to upset you even more.

you didn’t even notice tears were leaking from your eyes until you found your nose was beginning to clog. you wiped at your eyes, and just cried harder.

you were trying so hard to be okay, but your insecurities would not leave you alone. you hated it so much. you just wished they would leave you alone. tired, you were so tired of always feeling like not enough.

normally, you would communicate to porco about how you were feeling because communication and telling the other how you feel in a relationship is rule number one. yet, you were so convinced he didn’t want anything to do with you at the moment, so you refrained.

the only option left was to just keep crying until sleep somehow made its way to you.

a few hours later is when you woke up, thanks to the constant buzzing of your phone. why couldn’t everyone just leave you alone?

sighing, you did your best to wipe the sleep from your eyes before you squinted at your phone screen to see who was calling.

your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach. it was porco. what would he want? was he finally going to break it off? would he tell you that your texts got on his nerves so he needed space?

you decided you didn’t feel like answering it, not wanting to deal with whatever it is he had to tell you. you weren’t mad at him, you just didn’t want to be even more hurt than you were already. that means ignoring everything completely.

after the phone finally stopped ringing, you kept getting texts from him but you just put your phone on do not disturb and shut your eyes again.

you had fallen alseep again, but it didn’t last as long as earlier, because you happened to hear a soft knocking on your bedroom door. shooting up into a sitting position, you scanned your room for a nearby weapon. who the fuck was in your apartment?

the answer came when a gentle voice, which you didn’t want to hear, followed the knocks.

“baby? are you in there?” and ever so slowly, the door pushed open. your body felt like it was made of lead as he stepped into the room. you forgot you had given him the spare key.

“oh, were you asleep? i’m sorry if i woke you, sweetheart.” he made his way over to your bed and sat himself on the side of it.

“yeah, i was asleep. it’s fine though, i needed to wake up anyways.” you mumbled out. he nodded before speaking again.

“what’s got you down? and don’t tell me nothing because i know you only take naps when you’re upset or it’s exam week.” he reached a hand out to take yours, gently stroking the top of it with his thumb.

“are you tired of me?” you blurred out, not quite answering his question, but to porco, that was enough of an answer that he got what was going on.

“no, no, no, baby. why do you think that? talk to me, honey.” his other hand that was not in yours, reached up to gently cup your face, encouraging you to speak.

“i dunno, you had to be not answering my texts for a reason.” you sniffled, tears coming to your eyes again today. when would they just stop and let you be happy?

“i’m so sorry, baby. my phone died today after i got called in for an emergency shift at work, and i didn’t have a charger at work. i promise you, i’m not tired of you. i was thinking of you the whole time i was working. i’d rather be with you then at that dump.” he gave a small squeeze to your hand. you squeezed back.

you had felt a little of the weight lift off your heart at his words, but you had spent so long today just overthinking and assuming you were right. the sadness wasn’t going to go away immediately.

“i’m sorry i overthink so much and always make you deal with it.” he just tutted and crawled on the bed to plant himself right beside you, pulling you into his chest.

“don’t you dare apologize. you know i care about you and have no problem making you feel more comfortable.” you felt yourself melt at his words and sink into his embrace. with every word he spoke, the thoughts in your head got quieter and quieter.

you closed your eyes and just listened to his heartbeat for a second before saying anything else. one of his hands reached up to your face and wiped the last of the tears away.

“thank you, porco.” you sighed and snuggled in even closer.

“you don’t need to thank me, this is what i’m here for.” a kiss is pressed to the top of your head, and you feel him shift. “now, how about i run to get stuff to cook for you and we can spend the rest of the night in?”

“you don’t have to, pock. i’m okay with just ordering a pizza or something.” you turned to him and pressed a kiss onto his nose before connecting your lips together.

“but i wanna.” he mumbled into your lips, not wanting to break the kiss.

you eventually reluctantly agreed, and decided to hop in the shower to melt away the rest of the day’s stress as you waited for him to return. he promised it would only be fifteen minutes max that he’d be gone.

the hot water running down your back felt like heaven. you could feel the knots in your neck and shoulders just dissolve under the heat. you were okay, not like earlier when you were wrapped up in despair.

you still felt tired and a little numb from the thoughts that polluted your head that day, but at least you no longer felt the need to cry. now you just craved the touch and comfort of your boyfriend, whenever he returned.

as you were getting dressed after your shower, you heard porco call out that he had returned from his shopping adventure. pulling his hoodie back over your head, you shuffled out to where he was unloading the groceries he had purchased.

when he saw you, he hurried to grab something he set aside and made his way over to you.

he got you a giant, cuddly teddy bear and some of your favorite chocolate bars.

“what’s all this for?” you inquired.

“i got it for you, to help cheer you up and kind of apologize for being irresponsible.” he scratched the back of his neck, a light red dusting his cheeks.

“pock.. i don’t know what to say. you really didn’t have to do this.” you took the bear from his hands and hugged it close to you.

“but i really wanted to, and it’s to make up for you being sad. whenever i’m not around, you can just hug the bear and pretend it’s me.” he set the chocolate aside on the counter and went to pull you into a hug, effectively squishing the stuffed bear between your bodies.

“this bear will never live up to the expectations of cuddling with you, pock.” you let out a small chuckle.

“well, then i guess i’ll just have to be sure to cuddle you as much as i can.” he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“you won’t hear me complaining.” you leaned into him and pressed your lips together, craving his affection. “now, please cook for me, baby. i’m really hungry.”

you tried to give him the best puppy eyes you could muster. he laughed and gave you another quick kiss before pulling away and turning to the rest of the things he bought.

“of course, just make sure you sit there looking pretty and i’ll get right to it.” you finally felt a big grin form on your face, finally relaxed.

you hated that you could get so sad and insecure sometimes, but porco understood you, he didn’t judge you. you could always trust him to pick up the broken pieces when you didn’t feel okay.

#porco x reader #porco galliard x reader #aot #attack on titan fanfiction #aot x reader #snk #snk x reader #porco #porco galliard

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suite43 · 3 years

Text

(summary: starscream and bumblebee have an argument, and turn to trusted friends for some advice. or: several long and winding paragraphs about love, redemption, and what we are worth. alcohol warning.)

"Be honest with yourself," Starscream sneered. "If we hadn't been forced together, do you really think you'd give a scrap about me?"

"Why does it matter?" Bumblebee shot back.

"Because, Bumblebee, you're wrong. You think you care, you think you're in love with me, but you're not. You were forced to be around someone you hated and you had to find some way to be okay with it because you're a good little autobot and you overcompensated. You're a victim of proximity. We both are. But y'know what? You're free now, so go ahead and run along back to your life and your friends and people you actually give a shit about beyond finding the moral high ground and leave me alone."

"Unbelievable," Bumblebee muttered. "You're unbelievable! Do you know how to do anything except wallow in denial? What is your fucking problem?"

"My problem at the moment is that someone was deluded enough to think he could squeeze millions of years of monstrosity out of me by telling me he loved me."

"Primus, Starscream, if you're not interested just say so! If you're angry, if you're scared, fucking say it! But you don't ever get to tell me how I feel!" Bee was screaming up at Starscream, pain and frustration radiating from him. "I don't know where I'd be if things were different and I. Don't. Care. I like my life, Starscream. Despite everything, I'm happy with it and I'm glad you're in it! Apparently you aren't, and if that's true you can leave! You've always been free to go whenever you fucking feel like it! But you haven't! So pardon me for assuming you had something going on in that thick fucking head of yours!"

"Oh, please-"

"No! Shut up! I'm not done and for once you are going to listen to what I have to say! You try so hard to convince everyone that you've got some black heart, that all you are is violence and malice, and I know that's not true! Whether you want to believe it or not I've seen what you're capable of! I know you, you let me know you, and I decided that I fucking love you and I'm willing to keep loving you even when you're a cruel, stubborn bastard. If you really want to leave, leave! Go! But don't run because you're afraid, or because you think I don't know what I'm getting into."

Starscream didn't say anything, just stewing. Bee tried to collect himself, mentally urging Starscream to just fucking say something.

"You don't know me."

"For fucks sake, Starscream," Bumblebee sighed and decided fuck it and gave into his impulse, pulling Starscream by his collar down into a kiss. He was frustrated and Starscream was caught off-guard, so it was messy and clumsy and awkward, but after a beat Starscream grabbed his helmet and pulled him into it harder and Bee nearly forgot he was ever angry in the first place.

It felt like a million years had passed when they finally pulled apart and Bee let his heels fall back into the ground. Starscream stared down at him, face unreadable.

"Sorry," Bee said, barely even whispering, hands settled on Starscream's chest. "I just. How do I prove to you that I mean it?"

"You can't," Starscream responded, pulling away from Bumblebee's touch. Bee just watched him go.

He sighed. Starscream would be back when he was ready. Or he wouldn't. Either way, Bee would be here.

///

"Are... Are you okay, Starscream?" Thundercracker asked, peeking out the door to the balcony.

"I'm fine."

"Um... Why are you on my roof?"

Starscream was sitting cross-legged on the roof of Thundercracker's apartment, staring off into the distance, one hand held over his mouth in thought, fingers idly tracing his lips as he couldn't drag his mind away from flittering fancies of Bumblebee and kisses and love. Thinking about dozens of late-night conversations and well-meaning gifts of cheap high grade and the way he laughs and the way he looks beautiful even when he's angry and- hm.

"You know about things, don't you, Thundercracker?"

"Most people generally agree the answer to that question is 'no', but. Maybe? What kind of things?"

"What does it feel like to be in love?"

"Oh. That kind of thing. Uh," Thundercracker climbed onto the roof awkwardly, pulling himself up next to Starscream, legs kicking where they dangled off the edge. "You know I don't really mess with all of that, right? Dating and stuff. I don't do it."

"But you know things," Starscream said. "You're better with feelings then anyone else I know."

"Not true," Thundercracker said. "You know Bumblebee!"

"That's exactly the problem, Thunders."

"Oh. Oh." Starscream could almost hear the gears turning in Thundercrackers head as he connected the dots. "Are you in love with Bumblebee?"

"No. Yes. I don't know. If I knew I would know what to do about it and I wouldn't be here asking you for romantic advice now would I?"

"I suppose."

"So then how am I supposed to know?"

"If you're in love?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I've never been in love. I don't know. But, in the movies, it's like... Usually two people kind of get stuck together in some kind of situation, y'know, they meet and they don't really like each other much at first. But then you think about them all the time. And then you keep running into them, and even when you think they're annoying, something about them is still kind of endearing. They make you happy. And then there's some big fight or misunderstanding or somebody gets scared or has to leave and it looks like nothings going to work out, but eventually they decide that they like being around each other enough that it's worth working out whatever they fought about or giving up whatever's keeping them apart, and then, happily ever after, I guess."

"Just like that, huh?"

"Only in the movies. There's no end credits in real life."

"So what happens next, then?"

"I guess just what happens with every other kind of relationship. You keep being happy and working and then fighting and deciding its worth trying again over and over until you give up or somebody dies."

"Unfortunately I don't think death is a viable reprieve for my situation."

"Oh yeah, I guess not. Sorry."

"No, it's okay. He's easier to tolerate when one of us is dead."

"I guess the question, then, should be, is he worth it to you? Are you going to get off the plane to Santa Fe or New York or Chicago and run back to him, or are you gonna go be a well-respected but no-fun businesswoman in the big city forever?"

"What?"

"Sorry, I think I got lost in the metaphor," Thundercracker laughed, a big, booming thing, clumsy and well-meaning and earnest, just like the mech it came from. "Something in there was probably good advice, though. You should ask me things more often."

"I really should," Starscream sighed, leaning over and laying his head in his trinemates lap. Thundercracker didn't stop him, and let one hand fall to rest on Starscream's midsection, just to say I'm here when you need me so Starscream can reply I know, Thank you, I'm sorry by taking that hand in his and squeezing it lightly. They watched the stars twinkle across the horizon as lazy clouds sauntered by, and Starscream started to wonder about what he was worth.

///

Bumblebee trudged into Maccadam's, his normal sunshine dampened by how just miserable and unfair everything seemed. He took his usual spot at the bar and ordered a drink, half as strong as usual so he'd have to spend twice as much money if he wanted to do something stupid, letting his thoughts brew around as he sipped.

"Hey, bigshot! How did it go?" Wheeljack slung his arm around Bee's shoulder, energetic as ever, but Bee just groaned and slammed his head into the bar.

"Terribly."

"Weelllll," Bee could practically feel Wheeljack trying not to say 'I told you so'.

"He's just. Agh!" Bee said. "He was just himself, y'know, determined to be as difficult as possible and allergic to his own happiness. And I yelled at him, which I probably shouldn't have done, and then I kissed him, which I definetly shouldn't have done, and now he's probably never going to even look at me again."

"Well, y'know what they say, fortune favours the bold and all that!" When Bee gave Wheeljack a skeptical, dont-try-to-make-me-feel-better kind of look, Wheeljack just doubled down, squeezing his shoulders. "Seriously, you shot your shot! That's all you can do, and if he didn't want you that's his loss!"

"He was scared, Wheeljack. I know him, I know that that's his fucked up defense mechanism or whatever and I knew he was gonna try to drive me away. Why did I let him drag me into that?"

"Because you care, Bee. You care a lot. You aren't the kind of person who can see somebody struggling and just leave them to it. You're like, literally incapable of not lending a hand. Especially when you love somebody."

"So then why the hell did I have to fall for the hardest to love cybertronian there is?"

"Oh, I'm sure there's been worse.I mean, Nova-"

"Not really the point."

"Oh. Because you have horrible taste?"

"That's more like it," Bee grinned. "Cheers?"

"To shit taste!" Wheeljack agreed, clinking their drinks together.

"Absolutely."

They left the bar a bit later, neither of them really drunk so much as in the zone, as Wheeljack liked to put it. It was right before you got too drunk to really do anything sensible but drunk enough that you didn't overthink things, and it was just the right level of alcohol consumption to go for a walk and talk about life.

"So, what're you gonna do then?" Wheeljack asked after the conversation had trailed off.

"About what?"

"Starscream. Y'know, I don't think he's very good for you."

"I dunno," Bee shrugged. "And i know. I know nobody thinks he's a good person but he tries, Wheeljack. He really does! He just, he's scared. All the time, I think, of everything. He doesn't trust me, or you, or anyone at all, and I hate it. I hate that he feels like he can't trust me, even after all the stuff we've been through. It makes me mad! Not even mad at him, just mad at- at- I dunno, at the universe, at the war, at Megatron, at every shitty thing that ever happened that made him feel like he needs to be afraid all the time. I want him to be safe. I want to make him feel safe. But I dunno how and he won't tell me, and how can I tell him my stuff if he won't tell me any of his, and if we never tell each other anything then it's not all that much of a relationship."

"I mean, what do you even want from someone like that? He's not got a lot to offer. I mean, he's kinda hot if you squint, I guess, but other than that?"

"I think 'kinda hot' is the understatement of the century, Wheeljack. But... I dunno, I just. Want something. I want him to be able to tell me he cares about me. I know he does. But I want him to say it. I want it to be real."

"Why? You're a good person, Bee, it's not like you don't have options."

"Because I'm happy when he's around. I feel more like myself. I feel like my life is better when he's in it. For better or for worse, he's got a perspective nobody else does, and he always comes up with things I'd never even think of. He's smart and observant and funny just as much as he's a wise-ass and a smug bastard. For every inch of him that's irritating there's another bit that's incredible. And a lot of that incredible feels like our little secret, like he only lets me see those parts of him, and I like that too. And, I dunno, I get to be angry and there's nothing wrong with it. He's never mad that I'm mad, he never tells me that getting pissed is a waste of time or energy, he just lets me be. He argues, but he doesn't try to stop me or make me be polite and friendly because he doesn't need or want me to coddle him. I like the idea of taking care of him because it's less actually taking care and more just. being there, and letting him do the rest. I share my input and he gives his, and eventually he comes to the answer on his own and I get to see him being better. He gets better because he wants to, not because I'm forcing him to."

"I guess I just don't get how Starscream becomes a better person without you dragging him into it."

"People are fundementally good, Wheeljack. Don't look at me like that! It's true! Everyone wants to be loved, and really we all want to do good so we feel worthy of being loved, but it's about opportunity. When your needs aren't met, it gets harder and harder to do good. When everyone around you treats you with cruelty, it gets harder. When everyone believes you're a monster, why even bother trying to prove them wrong? All it takes is one opportunity, one chance to do the right thing, one person to say I know you know what's right for someone to take a step in the right direction. I didn't do anything to him, I just. I tell him what I know, which is that he doesn't enjoy who he became any more than the rest of us, and I give him space to know that even when it's scary and even when he loses everything, I'm on his side. Even the worst of us can improve given the chance. I really do believe that. I mean, you were at Megatron's trial. He opened the matrix. If that guy, given the opportunity, decided to turn himself around, why can't Star?"

"Did you kiss him and then yell at him or yell at him and then kiss him?"

"What?"

"Earlier, when you said you guys fought. Was it all like 'oh im in love with you' and then you kissed and then you fought afterwards? or was it like 'oh we're fighting by the way I love you' and then you kissed?"

"Uh, neither. I told him I was in love with him and he told me I wasn't and that made me really really angry, and I'm not even sure why honestly. And then I kissed him, to uh, prove I meant it, I guess? Not my best idea."

"Maybe you're just tired of being told what to do."

"I think I just don't like other people telling me what I am. I know what I am. I'm Bumblebee!" He took a deep breath and started yelling. "I'M BUMBLEBEE! I'M ALIVE AND I'M IN LOVE! AND I KNOW WHO I AM!"

"HELL YEAH!" Wheeljack threw his arms up, just enjoying the act of making noise as they wandered back to Bee's apartment, and eventually the two of them devolved into pointless hollering and whooping, until someone somewhere through a little chunk of metal and bonked Bee right in the back of the head with a SHUT THE FUCK UP! and the two of them just started laughing, both trying to shoosh the other as they eventually made it into Bee's apartment and Wheeljack settled on the couch, barely sparing a muffled g'night buddy before passing out, leaving Bee alone to stare out the window and think about what he wanted.

///

Bee rolled out of bed the next morning to the sound of a knock at the door, rubbing at his eyes, wincing at the too-bright sunlight. He wandered past where Wheeljack was snoring on the couch, muttering a yeah, yeah, I'm coming, to the door as the knock came again, less sure of itself this time.

He wasn't really sure who he expected to be at the door. But it both was and wasn't a surprise to see Starscream standing there.

"Bumblebee." He said plainly.

"Uh, good morning," Bee responded. "What's, uh, what's up?" Ah, that felt like the lamest possible thing he could've said. Nice one, Bumblebee.

"I... I want to apologize."

"You... what?"

"I'm sorry," he muttered, hands clasped in front of him, not meeting Bee's eyes. "I. For everything. I'm sorry I'm impossible. I'm sorry I'm cruel. I'm sorry I'm petty. I'm sorry for my ego and my selfishness and for how I only drink the most expensive wines, even when you buy me the cheaper ones. I'm sorry because I know that none of this is going to go away and I'm going to have to keep apologizing over and over and it's going to get old. I'm sorry for doing every possible thing I can to drive you away and I'm sorry you're not stupid enough to fall for it because your life would be a hell of a lot easier if you would. This isn't easy. And I could stand here and apologize for hours and I still wouldn't hit everything, but, but. You're... I'm missing my train for you, okay?"

"Uh. You lost me on that last bit."

"Thundercracker's advice only comes through rom-coms, so, sorry for that too, I guess."

"It's okay. Uh. Thank you for apologizing. And I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry that I'm stubborn, I'm sorry for yelling, I'm sorry that I'm touchy and pushy and too much in all the ways you aren't. I'm sorry I always have to feel like I'm winning, I'm sorry about all my moral grandstanding, I'm sorry for all the ways I make you feel like a bad person. I'm sorry for the days that I don't have the patience, and I'm sorry for the days I have too much and it makes you mad, and I'm sorry I thought I could make you love me in the way I wanted just by pulling hard enough."

"It's okay. It's... It's okay."

"Are we... are we okay?"

"Yeah. I think so. For now. And if we aren't later, then I think we can figure it out." Starscream let his hands seperate, and Bee reached out to take them in his own, intertwining their fingers.

"Okay."

"Only if you want to. I know I'm not easy."

"Neither of us are easy. But that's okay. I meant what I said. I know what I'm getting into. If you think we can figure it out, I'd like to try, at least."

"I think I can do that. I can try."

"You wanna start by kissing me properly?" Starscream's face flushed bright pink.

"That sounds as good a place to start as any."

#red.doc #starbee #sorry for still not properly posting things to like. a website. this is the best ur gonna get beloveds #anyways. this was much much shorter and then i added the TC segment and got carried away #the tc bit is my favourite bit btw. its good.

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trulymadlysydney · 3 years

Text

Somewhere In Time: Ten

“I wish it need not have happened in my time," said Frodo. "So do I," said Gandalf, "and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”

― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

tw: Death, Loss of Parent

Previous Chapters HERE

***Please Do Not Repost Without Permission***

March 10th, 1990, 11:54am

Seventeen year-old Oliver Ward sighs, glancing mindlessly out the window of the old retirement home and fighting a yawn.

It isn’t that he doesn’t love his Saturday mornings spent with his ninety one year-old companion, because he does. In fact, most Saturdays he forgets that this is even an extra credit assignment at all. He knows, of course, how terrific this is going to look on his college applications-- but he doesn’t think of it like that. Over the past month or so, he’s befriended the older gentleman he’s been assigned by his AP psychology teacher, and the old man has taken a liking to him as well. Most Saturdays, Oliver loses track of the time because he finds himself lost in some story the old man is sharing with him.

This Saturday, however, Oliver doesn’t much feel like socializing.

It isn’t anyone’s fault but his own. Not really, at least. The previous night had been spent tossing and turning in bed, with a total of two non-consecutive hours of sleep. He’s exhausted, he’s bummed, and he’s pretty sure he’s lost the girl of his dreams.

“Awful talkative today, aren’t you?” The older gentleman speaks in his thick accent from his spot on his recliner, drawing Oliver from his thoughts and startling him.

Oliver turns, softening when he sees the man’s understanding smile. He chuckles sheepishly. “Sorry, Mr. Styles. Got a lot on my mind I guess.”

The gentleman— Mr. Styles— nods knowingly. “Well, I figured as much,” he says. “And I know how that goes. Do you want to talk about it?”

Oliver sighs again, moving closer to Mr. Styles. “I’m afraid it’ll bore you, sir. And I’m not sure you’d understand.”

Mr. Styles grins a dimpled grin, with a twinkle in his eye. “Try me.”

That’s something that Oliver loves about Mr. Styles. He’s never judged Oliver, no matter how silly he thinks he sounds, and honestly he gives better advice than anyone Oliver has ever known. He seems to have an air of mystery about him-- he always has-- and Oliver is sure that Mr. Styles knows at least two secrets of the universe that he’s keeping to himself.

So he shrugs, taking a seat on the bed beside the old man. “Okay. So. There’s��. a girl.”

Mr. Styles nods understandingly. “Always is, isn’t there?”

“She’s the grade below me. She’s my best friend, but lately it’s been…. I don’t know, kinda more than that? I think?”

“Mutually?”

“Yeah, I mean…” Oliver fiddles with his hands in his lap. “Yeah. We’ve been hanging out and stuff. Even kissed a few times.”

Mr. Styles wiggles his eyebrows. “Oooh, I see.”

“But lately I feel like…” Olivier sighs. “I don’t know. Like she’s getting bored with me.”

Mr. Styles sits back further in his seat, reminiscent of a therapist in his comfy chair. “What makes you say that?”

“I think she wants me to like… commit.”

“Ah.” The old man chuckles. “I see.”

Oliver eyes the older gentleman, curious as to how Mr. Styles could possibly understand any of this. As far as Oliver knows, Mr. Styles has never been married. A few times, he’s mentioned a girl from his youth, but never anyone after that. All Oliver knew about the girl is that she up and left, leaving poor Mr. Styles alone and heartbroken. And truth be told, Oliver had always found it silly how Mr. Styles had never moved on from that.

Oliver shrugs. “Anyway… I dunno. She’s been playing hard to get recently, like maybe she’s bored with me? Like, she flirts and stuff, but then when it doesn’t go further I feel like she gets annoyed. And...I want to commit, but what if I’m getting mixed signals, you know? I mean like, what if that’s not actually what she wants? You feel me? What if I ruin what we have going by trying to label it? And besides,” he sighs, “I find out soon if I got into Syracuse. And if I did get in, I would start there in the fall. What if she doesn’t want to do the long distance thing?”

Mr. Styles chuckles wittingly, but not in a condescending way. “Well first of all, son, I think you’re completely overthinking this.”

This brings a smile to Oliver’s face. “I have been known to do that.”

“That being said, you seem to really like this girl. And from the sound of things, she likes you as well. Am I wrong?”

“Well, that’s the thing. We’ve kissed and stuff, but like, what if I’m reading it wrong?”

“How can you possibly read a kiss wrong?” Mr. Styles grins.

Oliver sighs. “You’re right. I know. Feelings are just… really hard.”

“Who is the lucky lady anyway?” Mr. Styles settles further into his seat. “Can’t say I recall you ever mentioning having a girl.”

“Her name is Roni,” Oliver says. “Well, Veronica. She goes to my school. I think I may have mentioned that.”

Oliver has launched deeply into the backstory of how he and this girl met, completely unaware of the way that Mr. Styles’ face has gone entirely ghostly white. The old man is frozen in his chair, unblinking, and hardly listening to a word Oliver has said.

He doesn’t even realize he’s cutting Oliver off when he speaks. “I’m sorry… what did you say her name was?”

“Roni?”

“Last name?” Mr. Styles presses.

“Uhh… Elliot?”

If Mr. Styles didn’t look ill before, he certainly does now. Oliver takes notice of this, rising to his feet. “Mr. Styles, are you alright?”

Mr. Styles blinks a few times, his breath heavy as shakes his head. For whatever reason, he won’t look at Oliver now. He looks at the wall, out the window, at the floor-- literally anywhere but at his young companion. Oliver begins to grow worried, and he steps towards Mr. Styles, putting a concerned hand on his back.

“Should I call the nurse?”

It’s when Oliver asks this that Mr. Styles seems to regain some sense of consciousness back. He blinks up at Oliver, almost like a curious little child, and shakes his head-- as if reminding himself to be present. “No,” he says quietly. “No, don’t call the nurse.”

“You’re scaring me,” Oliver admits. “Where did you just go?”

Mr. Styles swallows thickly, eyes growing misty. “You said… Veronica Elliot?”

Oliver nods. “That’s right.”

The way that Mr. Styles scans Oliver’s face makes him grow anxious, and it becomes apparent that Oliver wants to let go and perhaps take a step back. He’s a good kid though-- one who genuinely cares for Mr. Styles-- so he stays put. “Sir?”

Mr. Styles lets out a shaky breath, obviously still processing everything that’s going on, before looking back up at Oliver “I just--” He trails off, noting for the first time the worry in the young boy’s eyes. He softens just a bit.

“Yes. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” Oliver says. “I can call the nurse, it’s not a big deal! I just--”

“No,” Mr. Styles says, suddenly seeming more like himself than before. “No, there will be no need for that, son.”

Oliver hesitantly relaxes, still keeping his eyes trained on Mr. Styles’ face. “What just happened?”

“It’s nothing,” Mr. Styles says, the slightest bit of color slowly returning to his face. “I just… knew her mum. That’s all.”

“Oh!” Oliver seems to take this as an acceptable answer, obviously relaxing again. “Yeah. Her mom died like, five years ago actually. It was super sad. Car accident.”

“Five years ago,” Mr. Styles repeats, more to himself than to Oliver. “God.”

“Yeah,” Oliver says, nodding. “She’s okay! Lives with her grandparents. They’re super cool.” He smiles suddenly, as if remembering something. “They like me a lot.”

Mr. Styles smiles absently. “I’ll bet they do,” he says gently.

“Anyway,” Oliver sighs, “I don’t know. Do you think I should go for it?”

Mr. Styles takes his time with his answer, still trying to process everything he’s hearing. Oliver seems preoccupied with his own thoughts, which is good because he doesn’t notice the dampness of Mr. Style’s eyes.

What Oliver doesn’t know is that Mr. Styles is reliving every memory he has with the same girl Oliver is fretting over. Mr. Styles is suddenly twenty-five years old again, in 1925, dancing in his living room with the girl from the future, and he’s young and head over heels in love with her. He’s remembering everything that the young girl had told him about her timeline, about the boy named Oliver who was waiting in the future for her-- who befriended her shortly after her mother passed and asked her to be his girlfriend just before he graduated.

This all checks out, and it makes Mr. Styles’ heart feel something it hasn’t felt in ages. He blinks a few times, trying to clear out the moisture in his eyes.

“Well,” Mr. Styles says, after a long pause. “I think that… life is too short to let something so good pass you by. Do you really like her?”

“So much, Mr. Styles.” Oliver nods eagerly. “And I think she likes me too, I’m just scared.”

Mr. Styles shakes his head, doing his best to cover up the shakiness in his own voice. “Don’t be. You need to make this girl your own. You never know what tomorrow holds. You don’t want to lose her, and spend the rest of your days wishing you still had the chances that you have now.”

Oliver can tell that Mr. Styles is deep in his own head now, and he debates even speaking at all. Mr. Styles continues on. “Can’t even begin to tell you how much I wish I could go back and change some things. Make some better decisions.”

“I know what you mean,” Oliver says, even though he really doesn’t. How could he?

“And,” Mr. Styles says, making an effort to sound less philosophical--less introspective-- and more human, “from the sounds of things, she really likes you, too, son.”

Oliver smiles. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Mr. Styles swallows a lump in his throat. “Take my advice, and don’t mess this up with her. She sounds like a once in a lifetime kind of girl.”

“But what if--”

“No more ‘what if!’” Mr. Styles sounds more stern than Oliver has ever heard him, and it takes Oliver aback. “Get her. Love her. Love her now. You don’t realize how important she is, Oliver. These feelings are real. These feelings make life worth living. You can’t pass them up because you’re too scared.”

“And if she doesn’t feel the same way?”

“She does.” Mr. Styles softens as soon as he speaks, as if realizing he’s being far too blunt. “Oliver, she does. Trust me on this one.”

Oliver opens his mouth, then closes it. Mr. Styles somehow seems to read his mind, and he continues speaking. “Make her your girl.”

“You really think I should?” Oliver asks quietly.

“I know you should.”

After a brief pause in which the two stand seemingly at a hold, Mr. Styles clears his throat gently.

“Don’t let her pass you by,” he says, for emphasis.

Oliver smiles, nodding his head in finality. “Alright,” he says. “You’re right, Mr. Styles. I can’t let her pass me by, can I? I really like her, and--”

“And I know she likes you, too.”

“Yeah. I’m gonna call her.”

Oliver moves like he’s going to leave the room, stopping abruptly as if realizing that he’s here because of school. The two seem to have the thought at the same time-- that Oliver is getting college credit just for spending a few hours a weekend with Mr. Styles, and they laugh awkwardly together.

“Sorry,” Oliver says. “I didn’t mean to--”

“You know what you can do for me, son?” There’s a smile on Mr. Styles’ face, but there is a serious edge to his tone of voice. “Genuinely?”

“Anything,” Oliver says. “Anything you need.”

“Bring her in.” Mr. Styles smiles, contrasting Oliver’s confused expression. “Bring her in, and let me meet her. Hm? Would love to meet her.”

“Yeah?”

Mr. Styles nods. “Yeah,” he says, somewhat absently, but with a smile for Oliver nonetheless. “Would love to see the young lady that’s done such a number on you.”

Oliver laughs, and even Mr. Styles lets out a personable chuckle-- as if he’s in on some joke that Oliver didn’t know he was keeping.

“I suppose I could bring her in,” Oliver says, “but again, I don’t want it to be weird--”

“It won’t be,” Mr. Styles says. The playful gleam still lingers in his eyes. “What, am I not interesting enough for her?”

Oliver laughs. “No, no! She’ll love you!”

The words hit the old gentleman’s heart in a way that Oliver doesn’t notice.

She did love him. She does. She just isn’t aware of that yet.

“I hope you’re right,” Oliver adds. “About all of this, I mean. I hope she does like me and I’m not just… I dunno, reading too far into it?”

“I can assure you that you aren’t, Oliver.”

There is no trace of doubt on Mr. Styles face, and it makes Oliver both nervous and reassured. He smiles. “Alright then,” he says. “I’ll talk to her.”

Mr. Styles relaxes into his chair, nodding his head in finality. “Alright then,” he echoes. “Good man.”

Oliver returns once again for his weekly visit the following Saturday, only this time, he’s hand in hand with his new girlfriend of four whole days. He’d taken Mr. Styles’ advice and asked her to be his after confessing everything he was feeling for her. She, of course, felt the same way, and though it didn’t come as a surprise to Oliver it did come as a great relief.

Roni hadn’t seemed as thrilled to go share the news with Mr. Styles, however, once Oliver brought it up.

“Why did we have to come so early though?” Sixteen year-old Roni whines, as she and her new boyfriend Oliver make their way into the Senior Citizen’s home. “Like, couldn’t we have come in the afternoon? I’m sure Mr. Style wouldn’t even know the difference.”

Oliver chuckles. “It’s Mr. Styles,” he corrects, “With an S. And he seemed really excited about this! This is the time he gave me, so this is the time we’re here.”

“Why was he so excited anyway?” Roni asks, picking at a hangnail on her thumb. “He doesn’t even know me.”

“No,” Oliver says, “but he knows me. And he helped me out a lot! Gave me a lot of advice about you. Least I can do is introduce him, you know?”

“I guess,” Roni mumbles to herself as Oliver checks in at the front desk.

Everyone here seems to brighten at Oliver’s presence. All the little old ladies know him by name, and he’s quite the charmer. It’s one of the reasons Roni likes him so much, really. He talks so fondly about his Saturday’s spent here, and Roni can’t think of a single person his age who would enjoy it as much as he does. It’s cute the way he gushes about Mr. Styles, and how he had mentioned him when he’d asked Roni to be his girlfriend-- officially-- four days ago.

Truly, Roni feels like she owes a lot to this Mr. Styles, and she really can understand why he would want to meet her. The least she can do is thank him for telling Oliver to man up and commit already.

Oliver clips his badge to the collar of his shirt and gives Roni a little visitor’s sticker on which he’s scribbled her name with a green sharpie. He’s dotted the “i” with a little heart, and it makes Roni’s cheeks grow hot when she notices. He smiles, nodding his head towards the receptionist and interlacing his fingers with Roni’s.

Roni follows her boyfriend down the long hallways, into the elevator (where she has a mini makeout session with him because, come on, who could resist him when he’s looking this cute?) and onto the third floor.

He leads her out into the hallway, trying his best to dismiss how flushed and messy he looks (honestly, Roni takes pride in her work) and giving Roni’s hand a subtle squeeze as they walk along.

Roni looks at the doors as they walk, subconsciously counting the numbers in her head 304, 305, 306… each room an entire home to these people. Each room a final resting place for all of them.

Oliver stops walking in front of door 310, and suddenly Roni grows nervous. Her stomach seems to do cartwheels as Oliver smiles down at her. “You’re gonna love him,” he says quietly, as if to reassure her. “He’s the coolest.”

Before Roni even has time to reply, Oliver is rapping his knuckles against the large wooden door. Two quick knocks, followed by one that seems out of rhythm with the other two.

After a few seconds, nothing happens. Roni shifts her weight to her other foot and waits, somewhat impatiently, wanting nothing more than to go home and make out with her boyfriend. Oliver seems to feel her energy, giving her side a few playful yet charged squeezes that make her giggle.

“No!” she squeaks, squirming out of his grasp. “Don’t do that here!”

The door opens as Roni is mid giggle, and she and Oliver are met with a little old man, hunched over and looking at them with a warm and expectant smile. He’s dressed nicer than Harry’s ever seen him dress, and on his head rests a little gray cap that’s probably as old as he is.

“Oliver,” the old man says by way of a greeting. And then he looks at Roni.

The reaction he has to Roni is strange to say the least. It doesn’t make Roni uncomfortable by any means, but something in his demeanor shifts, and he seems to grow a hundred times more serious. His stare is intense; so much so that it makes Roni shift her gaze. His eyes seem to grow strangely misty, and his jaw begins trembling-- as if he’s about to cry.

He looks at Roni like he’s known her all his life, and it’s strange. She almost feels bad that she doesn’t recognize him as well.

She clears her throat, trying to lighten up the now tense silence. ‘Hi!” she says, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear and holding out her hand. “I’m Roni.”

Mr. Styles swallows audibly, his trembling jaw hardly calming as a smile tugs on the corners of his lips. “Roni,” he says. He takes her hand in his and gives it a squeeze, never once removing his eyes from hers. “How wonderful it is to finally meet you.”

Roni looks at Oliver, wondering if he feels the same intense vibes that she’s feeling as well. She laughs awkwardly, unsure of what else to do. “I’ve--uh-- heard a lot about you, Mr. Styles!”

Mr. Styles grins, an old hidden dimple flashing amongst the wrinkles of his cheeks. “All bad, I hope,” he says, and now Oliver laughs.

“Of course,” he says. “I had to let her know what a menace you were!”

Mr. Styles laughs, sounding suddenly young and full of life again. He moves slowly to the side. “Come in, please. Make yourselves comfortable!”

Roni and Oliver share a glance and a quick smile before they enter the room. It isn’t much, but it’s cozy. Roni is surprised when she’s met with a delicious vanilla smell emanating from a candle in the corner of the room. (Not that she’d been expecting the place to stink, of course, but she absolutely had expected it to smell like old people, which it did not.)

“Wow,” Oliver says, as if even he is surprised with the state of the room. “Mr. Styles, you cleaned this place up nice!”

Mr. Styles grins. “But of course,” he says. “You have to when you have a pretty girl coming over!” He looks at Roni. “Does this boy not clean up for you when you’re spending time together?”

Roni giggles. “He does. Although I have to say, the vanilla candle is an excellent touch. I don’t even think Oliver owns a candle!”

Mr. Styles shakes his head, a playful smile on his cheeks. “What a shame. Oliver, you best buy some candles for your lady!”

Oliver and Roni both laugh. “Vanilla is my favorite,” Roni comments.

“Somehow I had a hunch,” Mr. Styles replies with a playful wink.

With every passing minute that turns into an hour, the three grow more and more comfortable together. It isn’t weird, or forced, and Roni marvels at how easy it is to talk to Mr. Styles. He asks her questions about her life, oddly fascinated by every word that comes out of her mouth. The way he watches her with his undivided attention makes her feel important.

He plays music from a little tape recorder that sits in the window of his room. It takes him a moment to figure it out, and Oliver has to help him a bit, but he finally gets there. Roni doesn’t recognize any of the music playing (nor does she realize the way Mr. Styles watches her reaction to a few specific songs very closely), but she enjoys the tunes nonetheless.

He shares memories associated with each song; what specific stories each song calls to his mind. And Roni listens, fascinated with every single one of them, realizing that she could genuinely listen to this old man speak about his youth for days.

A stack of books on the nightstand near his bed draws Roni’s attention at some point, and she rises to her feet to go examine them further. Mr. Styles notes her movements and smiles, almost knowingly, to himself. She thumbs at the one on the top of the pile, a small menu from some pizza place marking his spot towards the back of the book. She cocks her head to the side to get a better view of the books title:

Alternate Realities: by Lawrence Leshawn

She blinks a few times, the concept of an alternate reality very new to her. Without thinking, she picks the book up and scans the back of it. She glances back at the pile, noting the various ones on time travel, meditation, and astral projection. Time travel being the only topic of the other three books that she’d ever considered before, this discovery of books feels like a landmine of information.

“Bit nerdy, innit?” Mr. Styles’ voice pulls Roni from her thoughts, and she turns to him, still holding the book in her hands. His eyes twinkle. “Is that what the kids are saying these days? ‘Nerdy?’”

Roni giggles. “It is. But this isn’t nerdy.”

“Ohh,” Mr. Styles says, playfully brushing away her words with his hand. “Come now. Yes it is.”

“You’ll never get Roni to agree with that,” Oliver speaks up. “Haven’t I told you before? She’s super into all that!”

Roni feels her cheeks go hot with embarrassment, but Mr. Styles’ only smiles at her. “No kidding!”

“I mean…” Roni trails off shyly, worried she’s about to make a fool of herself. “Yeah. Kinda. It’s silly.”

“It’s not silly,” Mr. Styles replies quickly, a hint of gravity to his words. “Never say that.”

Roni debates telling Mr. Styles everything; about how she’s trying to find her mother, about how she’s already tried (and been unsuccessful) multiple times, and about how he is the first person (other than Oliver) who hasn’t actually thought she was silly for this at all.

But she’s only just met Mr. Styles, and she doesn’t want to bombard him with her own personal life story just yet-- nor is she certain he would really care. So she only shrugs, a soft smile spreading across her cheeks.

“Yeah. I just… think it’s neat. That’s all.”

There’s a look on Mr. Styles’ face that seems to say that he’s interested, but he doesn’t want to push her. He waits patiently for her to continue, but when she doesn’t, he tries pressing just a tiny bit. “Any particular reason?”

Even Oliver is watching her now, waiting for her answer even though he’s already known for a while. He offers her an encouraging smile, and Roni hesitates briefly before speaking “I just want to go back and see my mom again. She passed like five years ago and I just…” She trails off, feeling silly despite the understanding looks on both Oliver and Mr. Styles’ faces.

“I understand.” Mr. Styles speaks up after a few moments of silence. Roni doesn’t notice the all knowing smile on his face, or the way his eyes have grown damp. She doesn’t catch the way he swallows down the lump in his throat. Or how he looks at her the same way she looks out the window: pensive and lost in thought.

“Anyway,” Roni sighs, halfway through a laugh. “I don’t know. Oliver is the only one who believes me and even then, I’m not sure he really does.”

“I do!” Oliver laughs, shrugging almost defensively. “I do. I just don’t know if they’ve like… I dunno, developed some way to time travel yet. I don’t know if technology has come that far, you know? What do you think, Mr. Styles?”

Both Roni and Mr. Styles seem to be deep in their own little worlds, but it’s lost on Oliver as he waits for a response from the older gentleman. Mr. Styles smiles to himself, chuckling gently. “I think it’s entirely possible,” he says, voice quiet. “And I hope miss Roni never gives it up.”

Roni smiles, turning to face the old man. “You really mean that?” she asks, stepping towards him. “Like, you really think it’s possible?”

“I can promise you it is,” he says. “I’m certain of it.”

Roni, realizing she’s still holding the Alternate Realities book, holds it up and gestures at it with her free hand. “What about this stuff? I’ve never really heard of it.”

Mr. Styles grins, obviously glad she’s asked. He shifts in his seat, speaking slowly. “Have either of you ever heard of a parallel universe?”

Roni and Oliver both shake their heads, and Mr. Styles raises his eyebrows. “No? Well. It’s a plane of existence, similar to the very one we’re living in right now now, that co-exists with our own. It is said that there are multiple.”

“Multiple… existences?” Roni questions.

“That’s right,” Mr. Styles continues. “Not much is known about them. Especially considering that it isn’t even known if they exist or not. But if they do, it is said that some are wildly different than your current existence now, while others are exactly the same with only a few minor differences.”

“Gnarly!” Oliver exclaims. “So like, somewhere out there, I exist but I’m a billionaire?”

Mr. Styles chuckles. “It’s possible.”

“Wait wait wait,” Roni says, significantly less convinced than her boyfriend. “So you mean that somewhere out there in the world, there’s another Roni? Who has no idea I exist?”

“We don’t know.” Mr. Styles shrugs. “Maybe. Or maybe she knows all about you.”

Roni shakes her head, trying to wrap her mind around all this new information. “That’s nuts.”

“Not really,” Oliver offers. “Kinda makes sense if you think about it.”

“So wait” Roni says, setting the book on the dresser and walking to stand by Mr. Styles. “I told you why I’m into this. Why are you into this?”

The old man goes quiet, smiling a tight lipped smile and hesitating as if really giving thought to his answer. “I like to think that in another reality, somewhere in time, I’m with my honey.”

Roni softens. “Oh, I see. Did she--” She’s about to ask if Mr. Styles’ girl passed away as well, but she thinks better of it, unsure as to whether or not that’s an appropriate question.

Mr. Styles chuckles quietly, knowing exactly where Roni was going with her question. “I lost her,” he explains, because it isn’t technically a lie. “Many, many years ago.”

“Oh.” Roni frowns. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” At this point, it’s impossible for him to hide the way his voice cracks. Roni looks at him, then averts her eyes, as if she feels guilty for hearing it. Oliver sighs, stepping forward.

“Mr. Styles--”

“You remind me of her,” Mr. Styles says, ignoring Oliver. The look on his face makes it seem like he’s got more on his mind.

“Yeah?” Roni steps towards Mr. Styles, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

He sighs, reaching up to place his hand on top of hers. “Yeah,” he says. “More than you’d even believe.”

“Wish I could’ve met her.”

Mr. Styles grins up at her, swallowing thickly and patting her hand. “Yeah. She was my honey.”

He takes a deep breath, looking away from Roni and glancing out the window. There’s a charged silence. Oliver squirms uncomfortably, but Roni stays right where she is, waiting patiently for Mr. Styles to continue.

“I think she’s doing just fine,” Mr. Styles says. He smiles up at Roni. “Wherever she is.”

“Maybe she’s with my mom,” Roni offers.

Mr. Styles closes his mouth, blinks back a few of his tears, and nods his head. “Perhaps she is. Wouldn’t that be something.”

“I didn’t mean to like… make you sad or anything, Mr. Styles--”

“You didn’t, darling.” The old man shakes his head. “Don’t be silly.”

Somehow, Roni doesn’t believe him.

The subject is swiftly changed and the rest of their visit goes by relatively smoothly. Mr. Styles is back to his cheery self before Roni can even think twice about the interaction they’ve just shared, and soon the three are laughing and chatting away like best friends again.

All too quickly does their visit come to an end. They say their goodbyes, although it’s obvious that Mr. Styles doesn’t want their time together to be over. He looks almost emotional to be saying goodbye to Roni, something that neither of the two teenagers seem to understand.

After he gives her a warm embrace, careful not to hold her too long or, heaven forbid, make her feel uncomfortable, Mr. Styles pulls away, holding Roni at arm’s length.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

Confused, Roni cocks her head to the side. “For?”

“You’ve made me feel young again. I cannot even begin to express how badly I needed this.”

Roni smiles. “Oh. You’re welcome then!” She giggles. “It was so nice meeting you, Mr. Styles.”

“The pleasure was all mine, honey.” His hands tremble as he lets go of her. He turns to Oliver. “You bring her back to visit sometime soon, alright?”

Oliver chuckles. “I will. But don’t go liking her more than you like me, now. I’ve been here way longer.”

Mr. Styles laughs. “Sure,” he says, “but she is prettier.”

Oliver slings his arm over Roni’s shoulder. “Well I can’t argue with that, can I?”

When they finally do go their separate ways, Roni and Oliver playfully chase each other out to Oliver’s car-- blissfully unaware of the way that Mr. Styles watches them from his bedroom window with tears streaming down his wrinkled cheeks. They don’t know that Mr. Styles doesn’t leave his bedroom for the entire rest of the day-- to the point that the caretakers at the home begin to worry about him.

They don’t know that Mr. Styles has just reunited with his honey, after nearly sixty-five years of looking for her, and that she has obviously no idea herself.

Oliver continues his weekly visits to Mr. Styles room for a few more weeks, noting that he is completely unlike himself, until mid April when Mr. Styles passes away.

Oliver attends his funeral. Roni, visiting a cousin out of town, does not.

Both Roni and Oliver eventually forget about the old man completely, moving on with their lives and living together in blissful ignorance of just how odd time can be.

It isn’t until ten years later, in April of 2000, that Roni seems to recall the little old man, realizing with immense sadness how significant he really was.

With a heart shattering sob, she hopes that he’s with his honey, somewhere in time, just like he said.

------

December 31st, 1999, 11:54pm

It is ridiculously bright when Roni tries to open her eyes.

She opens her eyes too quickly at first, immediately regretting it and squeezing them shut again. The act of closing them once more, however, pushes a hot tear that’s been waiting for release from the corner of one eye

And suddenly, it all comes flooding back to her.

Harry, 1925, Violet LaRue, the ocean, her mother…

She is so overwhelmed all at once with emotions that she grows sort of nauseous, and she sits up immediately to try and stop the spinning of the room around her.

The room --her and Oliver’s shared bedroom-- looks completely untouched, as if she’d never left. There is hip-hop music booming downstairs, lots of chattering, and a smell in the air that can only be described as drunk people. The silence in the room, however, contrasts the chaos that’s occurring downstairs, and it makes her head pound.

Roni looks around slowly, noticing the skimpy, revealing party dress she’s wearing that clings to her every curve. It looks untouched as well, albeit a bit disheveled, and she reaches a cautious hand down to smooth it over her lap.

She hears Oliver’s booming laugh downstairs, and the sound feels like a stab to the heart. He must be completely wasted. The clock on the wall reads 11:54pm, and she knows she has to get back down to the party before the clock strikes midnight.

Never in her entire life has Roni felt anything like the feeling she’s currently experiencing.

Surely she couldn’t have dreamt it all. It was real-- Harry was real, and seeing her mother was real. Besides, the fact that she’s even crying right now tells her that she had to have been experiencing something physical.

Which reminds her…

Roni rises to her feet and makes her way over to the mirror hanging on the back of the door. She pulls the neckline of her dress down, and feels her own breath catch in her throat when she finds what she’s looking for.

There, in the exact spot on her chest that she’d been anticipating it to be, is a bruise left by Harry. The last remaining physical reminder of his existence.

With a shaky hand, she gently brushes her thumb over the purpling skin. It stings, just a bit, but it’s real. It’s there. And it’s too much for Roni to handle.

Grateful for the cover of the commotion downstairs, Roni can’t help herself but to let out a pathetic sob as everything comes flooding over her. How could she have been with Harry not even five minutes ago? And her mother? How was her mother just there and now suddenly she’s gone again?

How can she be expected to go on in a world where neither of them exist, and she’s the only one with knowledge of what she’s just experienced?

She collapses to her knees, eyes closing and another choking sob echoing from her throat. She reaches up to wipe her damp eyelashes, mindful of the fact that sooner or later she’s going to have to go downstairs and face everybody again— which she can’t do with a face full of runny makeup.

But right now she doesn’t care. Right now, she’s overwhelmed, and upset, and deeply, deeply missing the love of her life.

It’s been ages since she’s cried this hard, and it feels somewhat therapeutic, although it doesn’t fix the terrible ache in her heart. Her throat hurts and her chest heaves. She reaches up to cover her own mouth to quiet her wails as her heart feels like it’s physically breaking.

She misses him. She misses him so much.

On top of that, having her mother so close to her after so long without her--only to have to leave her once more-- is more painful than she had ever anticipated it would be.

Roni remains like this for another minute or so, until she’s drawn by her thoughts when she hears her own name faintly downstairs. Someone asks where she is, and Oliver slurs out that she’s been gone for a while. When someone suggests that he go find her and he jubilantly agrees, Roni panics.

“Shit.” She reaches up and wipes at her snotty nose; stumbling awkwardly to her feet and making her way to the mirror once again. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Roni scrambles to fix her hair and wipe away the splotchy mascara stains under her eye. She prays that Oliver is too drunk to even notice that she’s crying, and she swallows down the intense heartache still in her throat. When she’s at least somewhat satisfied with her appearance, she hears footsteps coming down the hallway— her cue to leave. With a deep breath, she opens the bedroom door just in time to eee Oliver approaching.

Oliver, with his sweet, drunken smile, immediately opens his arms. “Ronnaaaaaay!” He says, by way of greeting her. “There you are!” He doesn’t wait for her to respond, instead he just wraps her up in his arms and gives her a big, suffocating squeeze. He pulls away to press an obnoxious kiss to her forehead, and it breaks Roni’s heart even more.

On any other occasion, she would find this unbearably adorable. But now, the scent of the alcohol mixed with his cologne is making her even more nauseous than she already was.

After a few more wet pecks to her forehead, he squishes her cheeks in his hand and kisses his way down her face, pausing only once he reaches her mouth and realizes it’s wet and salty. He pulls away, not removing his hands from her cheeks, and furrows his eyebrows as he scans her face. “You been crying?”

Roni knows that if she opens her mouth, she’ll lose control again. So she only smiles, turning away and giggling softly as she nods.

Oliver doesn’t seem to find this as humorous as Roni does, and he tilts his head so that he’s once again in her line of vision. “Heyyy, hey,” he coos. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

She sniffs, trying her hardest to keep her light smile on her face. “It’s nothing,” she says, throat raspy and voice hardly above a whisper. “I promise.”

“It’s not nothing,” he says, wiping at Roni’s damp face and gently guiding her back into their bedroom. He’s thoughtful like that-- he doesn’t want Roni to feel it necessary to squash her emotions should anyone walk by. He knows she wouldn’t want anyone else to see her crying like this. He doesn’t close the door fully, leaving only a crack, before turning to Roni.

She doesn’t say anything, but the way he’s being so ridiculously sweet to her is making her want to cry harder. This isn’t fair; not fair to her and definitely not to him. She crosses her arms over her torso, feeling ridiculously vulnerable under his gaze.

He gives her a sympathetic smile, and there’s a look in his eyes that comes across almost as if he knows what’s going on. She lets out a little half laugh/half sob, and she feels closer to him than she expected to in this moment. She speaks.

“Are you gonna say something?”

Oliver cuts her off, speaking only a half second after her. “You tried that time travel junk again, didn’t you?”

His words feel like a slap to the face, but they aren’t exactly wrong. She stays frozen, mouth agape, and then wilts.

“Yeah,” she whispers, because what else is there for her to say?

“Ohhh, babe.” Oliver steps towards her, wrapping her in his arms. I told you it wasn’t gonna work.”

Roni knows she should have expected that kind of response from him, but still. Ouch.

For a split second, she almost loses it. She almost tells him everything; about how it did work, about how she’s actually been gone for a little over a week now-- not just a few minutes--, and about how hard it was to find her way back. She wants to mention seeing her mom, and she wants to rub it in his face. “You were wrong! You were wrong about it all! I saw my mom! She hugged me!”

It’s when she considers telling him about Harry, however, that some sense is knocked back into her.

Just the mere, brief thought of Harry makes her want to break down again, and subconsciously the mark on her chest that Harry had left begins to sting. She chews the inside of her cheek so hard it hurts.

“I’m sorry, honey.” Oliver’s use of the pet name that Roni had grown so used to hearing from Harry’s mouth makes her nauseated. She tries to break free from Oliver’s grasp, but he holds her tighter. “I know how much you wanted it to work.”

“Stop,” she whispers.

He doesn’t hear her.

“I know you’ve tried for years, but haven’t you been through enough heartbreak?” Oliver sighs. “I really think it’s time you give it up, Ron. I don’t know why you won’t just listen to me about this stuff.”

“Stop it.” Roni finally does break out of Oliver’s embrace, and in his drunken state he blinks dumbly back at her.

“Did I say something?”

“Fuck’s sake,” she says, wiping the tears on her cheeks. “You’re right, okay? I’m an idiot. I’m done trying. I quit. Is that what you want to hear? Can we fucking stop?”

Oliver frowns, hesitantly taking a step towards Roni. “Babe, I didn’t mean--”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Roni says, harsher than intended. “Okay? Drop it. Please. I’m begging. I just want to go to bed.”

“But it’s almost midnight.” Oliver is pouting now, and although it should make Roni soften a bit, it only makes her angry.

Oliver takes a more definitive step in Roni’s direction. “I don’t want to start the new year fighting with you, babe. Can we just go back down to our party? We can talk about this tomorrow.” He shrugs. “Or not! We don’t have to ever talk about it again if you don’t want to. I just want to bring in the new year kissing you, surrounded by our friends. So can we just… please?”

Roni scans his face, feeling more and more on the verge of breakdown with every passing second. She closes her eyes, wishing she were anywhere but here, and covers her face with her hands. “God,” she groans, before taking a big breath and opening her eyes again. “Fine. Sure. Let’s go.”

Oliver smiles softly, holding out his hand timidly for her to take. “Sure you’re not mad?”

It isn’t Oliver’s fault. Of course it isn’t. So how can Roni be angry with him?

She sighs, trying to bitterly laugh off a tear that’s threatening to roll down her cheek and ignoring his hand. “Yeah,” she says quietly. “I’m sure.”

“Not sure I believe you,” Oliver chuckles, “But okay.” He steps in, closing the gap between him and Roni and puckering his lips. He speaks in a babyish voice that, in any other circumstances, would absolutely melt Roni. “Gimme kiss?”

It makes Roni even more upset than she already is, but who is she to deny Oliver? He is none the wiser as to what’s going on, and she can’t exactly drop this bomb on him right now. Not when he’s drunk. Not when there’s a party going on downstairs.

Not when they’ve been together for so many years with absolutely no problems before this.

Before Roni even has time to process what’s happening, Oliver is taking her wrist in his hand and pulling her impossibly closer to him. He kisses her, softly at first, and then a bit more passionate once their lips are fastened together.

It’s Oliver who is making all the effort then; tongue maneuvering it’s way into Roni’s mouth as seductively as he can manage. Roni would have no objections to this in any other situation. In fact, she would welcome this. The normal Roni would suggest she and Oliver skip out on the midnight countdown altogether, in fact, and elect to stay up here bringing in the new year whilst fucking like rabbits.

But not now. Of course not now. In fact, probably not ever again. How could she ever go back to Oliver now? After Harry? After everything she’d felt for Harry?

How could she have done this to Oliver?

She gently pushes Oliver off of her, hoping he doesn’t note the tears in her eyes. “Please,” she says quietly. “I can’t.”

“Can’t what?” Oliver giggles, “Kiss your boyfriend? You scared our friends will catch on? Start thinking we might have crushes on each other? Assume you think I’m hot?”

Roni knows Oliver is playing around, but she genuinely is not in the mood for that right now, and she’s afraid that if he says much else she’ll snap. She groans, leaning in and pressing the most bland, unemotional kiss to his lips. “Lets go,” she says. “Please. We’re going to miss the countdown.”

She begins making her way out of the room with Oliver close behind her. “I expect a much better kiss than that when the ball drops!” Oliver says. “Much, much better!”

Roni’s heart is pounding in her ears so loudly she can hardly hear herself think. Her face grows hot while the inside of her body feels cold. She’s having a panic attack, no doubt about it, and for once she’s glad that everyone is going to be too drunk to acknowledge it.

“Ron?” Oliver asks as he and Roni begin descending the stairs. “Hey, Ron? Baby… will you stop a minute?”

“I don’t want to miss the ball drop,” Roni says, refusing to turn around and trying her hardest to sound like her breathing is under control.

Oliver stops her, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Sweetheart,” he says tenderly. “You’re being weird.”

“I’m not being weird,” Roni insists, more urgently than intended. She sighs (the shakiness of her breath incredibly obvious to both of them) and softens as best she can.

“I’m not being weird,” she repeats. “Just tired.”

“You know if something is going on you can tell me, right?” Oliver sounds more sober than he has in hours, and the way he looks at Roni makes her insides shake with guilt.

She opens her mouth to speak, but has to forcibly stop herself when she almost says Harry’s name. She scans his face, so genuinely concerned and yet ridiculously kind, and she swallows down the vomit rising in her throat. “Yeah,” she says “I know.”

Oliver smiles. “Okay then.” He gives her shoulder a squeeze and follows her lead back into the living room.

Roni feels like she’s in a dream as she moves; like her body is here physically but her mind is elsewhere. In the strangest way possible, her brain feels small and disconnected entirely. She can see everyone cheering when she and Oliver walk in. She can feel her friend put a red solo cup filled with alcohol into her hand. She can hear her name being called, but she doesn’t register it. She doesn’t register anything that’s going on at the moment, actually.

Her attention is briefly caught when she hears people start counting down, signaling that the ball is about to drop. Their exuberant voices sound far away, however, as if she’s hearing them from the next room over. Her face feels cold and her hands feel sweaty, and she thinks maybe if everyone would scoot over a bit she’d be able to breathe better.

“18….17…. 16….”

Someone accidentally bumps into Roni, knocking into the cup in her hand and sloshing a bit of its contents onto her dress. No one reacts; in fact, no one else even notices. Oliver gives her hand a quick squeeze, pulling her close to him and wrapping his arm around her waist.

“...12… 11….”

Roni’s ears burn. She knows where she is, but she cannot, for the life of her, focus on a single thing. Her heart is hurting. This doesn’t feel right. She shouldn’t be here.

Slowly, the room around her begins spinning. Roni wobbles a bit on her feet and Oliver catches her, probably chalking her wooziness up to her being as drunk as he is. She almost wishes she was, because maybe that would make everything hurt less.

“...8… 7…6”

Roni’s throat feels like it’s closing in on itself, and her mind seems to be running far behind her actual body. She tries to blink herself into some clarity, glancing around the room. She’s looking--hoping-- for someone who she knows damn well isn’t there. Someone who couldn’t even try to be there. The only person she cares to see at this point.

“...3...2...1…”

The entire room erupts in cheers, which definitely doesn’t help the throbbing in Roni’s brain, and the song Auld Lang Syne blasts from the tv. There is nothing but chaos surrounding Roni, and she almost gags at the feeling of the lump in her throat. She opens her mouth to say something, but is promptly cut off when Oliver pulls her in by her hips, fastening his lips to hers in a kiss that feels a far too enthusiastic for Roni’s taste.

The way he’s holding her by her hips would be enough to make her swoon on any other occasion. But now it makes her feel suffocated, and she doesn’t even close her eyes as she gives Oliver a half-assed kiss back.

No one else in the room seems to be aware of what’s going on. They’re all too drunk, too busy making out with their respective partners/fuck buddies/love interests for the evening, to seem to care or even notice at all that Roni’s eyes are wide open. The guilt, the pain, the longing for Harry-- all of it wraps itself around Roni’s heart and squeezes like a python.

Oliver pulls away, a dopey smile on his face. “Happy New Year, baby!”

He looks so thrilled; so beyond naive to not only the fact that she’s hurt him in what she’s certain will be an unforgivable way, but also the fact that she is more concerned with missing Harry than feeling much else at all right now.

“Roni?”

A voice from off to the side catches her attention, and she turns in slow motion to see her and Oliver’s mutual friend, Zach, squinting at her. “Ron, you don’t look so good.”

“Wait, yeah,” comes Zach’s girlfriend, Skye. “Girl, are you okay?”

Roni hears their questions. She hears them, but she doesn’t process them. Zach and Skye aren’t the only people who seem to be concerned, as more and more people around them quickly catch on.

“Sweetheart?” comes Oliver’s voice, and Roni turns, almost drunkenly.

“Is she drunk?”

“Did she take something?”

“She looks green!”

“Baby?” It’s Oliver’s voice that breaks through the deafening noise the most, although Roni still can’t even really process what he’s saying. “Roni? Hun, can you hear me?”

“Everyone step back!”

“Let her breathe!”

“Can someone get her some water?”

“Ron?”

Her breathing is so shallow now that she can actually hear herself gasping for air. She feels like she’s choking. She hates this. She hates these people. She doesn’t want to be here.

Where she wants to be is with Harry. Alone with him, in his tiny apartment that isn’t even half the size of the room. The year 2000 nothing but a vague memory, something she knows is so far in the future that she’ll never have to worry about it. She should have stayed.

Goddammit, she should have stayed.

As she looks around the room at these people who she should love-- who she should be thrilled to be surrounded by-- she realizes that she’s never felt more alone. Not a single one of them would understand what’s going on. How is she supposed to continue on into the new year-- the new millennium-- feeling so isolated in her own feelings?

“I can’t breathe.”

She can feel herself saying the words, yet her own voice sounds so fuzzy and far away.

“She can’t breathe!” someone repeats. “Everyone back up!”

“Can we get her some water?”

“Ron?”

It’s too much. It’s all too fucking much.

Roni’s knees wobble a bit before she feels them buckle. The last thing she sees before hitting the ground is Oliver worriedly scrambling to catch her.

And then everything is dark.

#Harry Styles #Harry #One Direction #Harry Styles fanfiction #Harry fanfiction #One direction fanfiction #fanfiction #Harry Styles AU #Harry AU #One Direction AU #AU #Harry Styles angst #Harry angst #One Direction angst #angst

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