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whenisitenoughtrees · 4 years

Note

If you’re still doing these, 33 with Moceit? ALL the fluff with perhaps a little dash of angst?

@thatoneloudowl i was gonna do a dash of angst but then i knocked over the angst jar and spilled a couple cups so. there is a little more than a dash. but the ending! is fluffy! don’t worry!!

for 33. Sometimes, I just want to cuddle, okay? Is that so bad?

Title: like a puzzle (we fit)

Word Count: 3,328

Content Warnings: mention of disordered eating, self-isolation as a form of self-harm

(fic masterpost w/ ao3 links)

These days, Patton wanders the mindscape like a ghost. Frankly, Janus is beginning to find it annoying.

Or at least, he would, if the sight didn’t make his heart clench, didn’t make his stomach turn, didn’t make some unidentifiable emotion rise up within him, threatening to spill out before he even lets himself acknowledge it. And he’s not acknowledging it, if only because doing so while Thomas’ mental health is in such a precarious position is a risk he’s not willing to take. But that’s not enough to stop him from watching Patton out of the corner of his eye, not enough to stop him from tracking his movements, from taking in the way he seems—

Well. Bereft seems like a good way to put it. Bereft of his usual spark, his usual joy. And bereft in another way, too, because as the time passes, Janus realizes something else: Patton is isolating himself.

It’s fairly obvious, at least to him, so he’s surprised that none of the others have picked up on it— or perhaps they have, and they’re ignoring it, but that seems like a level of maliciousness that he doesn’t think that the so-called “light” sides are capable of. Because Patton is suffering, and he can’t imagine that they would let him go on in this way if they knew, even if they are angry with him. So, they’re not cruel, just oblivious, and if the situation were any different, Janus might laugh about the fact that he of all sides is the only one to recognize that something is wrong.

But this is no laughing matter.

Patton’s face is pale and drawn, his eyes watery, his smiles wan and fake. He’s grown thinner, too, if Janus isn’t mistaken, and that is yet another cause for concern; Patton is not the best cook in the world, but that has never stopped him from trying. The fact that he’s stopped cooking, perhaps even stopped eating, is worrisome, and the worst thing about all of this is that Janus isn’t entirely sure what to do about it.

He knows self-care intimately, all of its practices, all of its uses. It’s his job, and in theory, getting Patton to take better care of himself should be easy for him. But Patton has always been particular about deserving things, and Janus doesn’t know that he’s reached the level of relationship that would allow him to persuade Patton that he doesn’t deserve to be treating himself this way. He’s not sure that he’s could convince him of it outright, and while he thinks that manipulating him to come to that point of view might be doable, the idea leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

Already, his judgment is being clouded by sentiment. He wishes that he were more upset about it than he is.

But whether he knows what to do or not, something needs to happen, and an opportunity arrives soon enough. He’s lounging in the common room— and the fact that he has the freedom to do that now is still nothing short of spectacular, frankly, not that he would ever admit as much out loud— when Patton comes down the stairs, bleary-eyed, and goes to fetch a glass of water from the kitchen. He watches, curious, as Patton passes him with barely a glance.

It is instinct to follow him. Patton doesn’t seem to notice his presence, so he leans against the doorframe, observing quietly as Patton fumbles a glass from the cabinet, almost dropping it, and sticks it under the tap to fill with water. He considers saying something when Patton gulps down half of it in one go, and again when Patton sighs, bracing himself against the counter. But it feels like an intrusion, somehow, and the words won’t come.

So, he doesn’t say anything, preparing himself to jump in the moment that Patton turns and sees him.

Patton turns and sees him.

“Hello, Pa—”

But Patton flinches violently, and Janus is cut off by the sound of glass shattering on the floor. All thoughts of having a cool, measured conversation fly out the window.

“Shit,” he says, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to— here, just let me—”

He steps forward, choreographing his movement so Patton can avoid him if he wants, but Patton is staring at the ground, his eyes wide as they flit across the glass now scattered on the tile. He doesn’t react as Janus takes his elbow, guiding him away from the glass shards, and he doesn’t react when Janus snaps his fingers, getting rid of the mess entirely.

Janus’ concern grows.

“Patton?” he asks. “Patton, are you with me?”

Slowly, Patton blinks. His gaze comes into focus, and then he smiles, a smile so clearly plastered on, so clearly fake that it sits like a physical weight in Janus’ gut.

“Janus!” he chirps. “Hi! Sorry about that, I’m not sure what came over me. Guess I’ve got a real case of butter fingers today.” He waves his hand, holding a Butterfingers bar between his fingers, and Janus frowns. He knows a deflection when he sees one, though he’s less certain that Patton realizes that he’s doing it in the first place. By now, he wouldn’t be surprised if it’s an ingrained instinct.

Look away, Patton is saying. Wasn’t that a funny joke? Pay attention to the joke, not to me. I’m alright.

“I should be the one apologizing,” he says. “I startled you.”

Patton laughs. “That’s alright,” he says. “Really, I guess I just wasn’t paying enough attention. Was there something that you needed?”

He maintains a blank face with an effort. “Do I need to have a reason to spend time with you?” he asks, and there is the first crack: a moment of bewilderment passing across Patton’s face, as if he can’t possibly believe that someone would want to be around him for the sake of his company. It’s a familiar look, a bitter one, one he would never admit aloud to having seen in his own mirror.

“Of course, I would love to talk to you,” he continues. “But only if you’re amenable.”

Patton squints at him, and this, too, is familiar ground, as Patton tries to figure out whether he’s sincere or not. He waits patiently as Patton’s expression folds into something just a little more genuine, tinged with relief.

“Sure,” he says. “I’d love to talk for a little while.”

Something sour coats Janus’ tongue; a half-truth, then, though which half, he can’t tell. Patton is almost as practiced in lying as he is, though his are so often self-directed. But for now, he will take the admission at face value, and as he walks over to the couch, Patton follows, settling on the cushions next to him, and that is what is important.

“In all honesty, I wanted to know how you were doing,” he says, keeping his voice as gentle and sincere as he possibly can. It doesn’t come naturally to him, but somehow, it is easier when it is Patton. Easier to open up, easier to express his true concerns. Easier to allow himself to care, and he wishes he didn’t have to read into that, but he knows very well what it means, even if he’s shelving it to be considered at a later date. “It’s been some time now since the wedding, but I couldn’t help but notice that you haven’t been spending much time around the others lately.”

The wince is so quick that Janus half-wonders if he imagined it. But no— it was masked quickly, but it was there.

“Well, you know how it is,” Patton says. “Everyone’s so busy lately, me included! You know, with Nico and all.”

Janus feels his chest fill with warmth at the mere mention of the name, though he keeps his infatuation off his face as well as he can. There is not a single side in the mindscape that isn’t taken with Nico, completely and utterly, and Janus is unashamed to count himself among their number. Nico is who Thomas wants at the moment, after all, and Janus is always eager to let Thomas act on his wants.

But bringing him up now is nothing more than another distraction, one that he sees through immediately.

“I don’t know at all,” he agrees, “But, Patton, I can’t help but feel as though this is something else.” He flicks through a couple of options in his mind, wondering what will get through to him the best. After a moment of consideration, he reaches out and places a hand on Patton’s arm. It’s awkward; casual physical contact is not something he’s particularly practiced in. But Patton doesn’t seem to mind it, or at least, he doesn’t move away, though he appears a bit startled. “You’ve moved past busy into outright avoidance.”

Patton’s jaw works. “I’m not avoiding—”

“Patton.”

Patton stops and looks at him for a moment. And then, he slumps in on himself, like a marionette with its strings cut. “Am I that obvious?” he asks, and he sounds so miserable that for a moment, Janus wants nothing more than to wrap him up in his arms and hold him until his pain goes away. An unusual instinct for him, but perhaps it makes sense; Patton has always liked hugs, as far as he knows, so it’s not unreasonable that his first thought would be to offer one.

His drive for self-preservation goes far beyond preserving himself, after all.

“Not really,” he says, “but you know how I’m so terribly unobservant.” He pauses, and then goes on, more quietly. “I won’t force you to talk to me if you would rather not. But we’ve had the conversation about repression before. Multiple times, if I remember correctly.”

Patton laughs, but there’s no warmth in it. Just something sad, self-deprecating.

“No, no, you’re right,” he says. “And I know it’s not good, I just—”

He waits, and Patton draws in a breath.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says, “about my mistakes a lot, lately. And I— I understand that it’s okay that I make them, and that I can’t be perfect, and as long as I try my best to fix things and do better then it’s alright, but it’s just that— Roman’s been so happy lately, you know? Because he finally got something that he wanted. And it just sort of hit me that I’ve been keeping him from having that for so long. He hasn’t been happy in so long, and I’m not even sure that anyone’s been happy in so long, and it’s all my fault because I’ve been saying that it’s wrong to want things for yourself, but it’s not really wrong at all and I know that now, but I just don’t know how to—”

“Patton,” Janus says, squeezing his arm, “please, breathe.”

Patton stops, looking at him, which isn’t exactly what he meant him to do, but he’s breathing, at least.

“Is this why you’ve been avoiding them?” he asks. “Because you’ve been worrying about this?”

Patton glances down, his hands twisting into the hem of his shirt.

“I just don’t want to hurt them again,” he says, voice small, and Janus is surprised at his own flash of anger. Who it’s directed at, he can’t say. The others, perhaps, for letting it get this bad. Himself, for not seeing it sooner.

“I understand that,” he says, “but even if you weren’t letting yourself magnify your missteps, which you are, by the way, you can’t possibly believe that they’d want you to hurt yourself instead.”

Patton jerks. “I’m not—”

“Oh, you’re not?” He breathes out sharply through his nose, trying to regain some of his composure. If this were any other side, he would feel comfortable in berating them from dawn to dusk, but Patton is too fragile for that right now. Even he can recognize as much. “Patton,” he says, softer, but firm, “when was the last time you ate?”

Patton’s brow furrows. “This morning,” he answers, “or— no. Wait. It had to have been— no, that’s not it either.” The corners of his eyes pinch as he tries to work through it, and while Janus has to admit that it is some relief to know that he hasn’t been denying himself food on purpose, the fact that the question is a difficult one at all is still very concerning.

“I—” Patton stops, stutters. “I guess I haven’t been very hungry lately. I didn’t think it had been that long—”

“It’s alright,” Janus interrupts, even though it isn’t, because there is an edge of panic beginning to creep into Patton’s voice, and he would like to avoid that if he can. “Well, we can work on it, at any rate.”

Patton’s hands are trembling. He pauses, considering for a moment, and then reaches out to take them in his. The contact is startling, despite the fact that he initiated it, and judging from the way Patton stills, the sentiment is shared. It is almost enough to make him pull away again, writing the venture off as a bad idea, but he doesn’t want to give Patton the wrong impression, doesn’t want him to assume that he stopped for any reason other than his own hangups about touch.

“That is,” he says, “if you’ll allow me to help. I can’t force you into anything. Ultimately, you’re your own person. Or rather, your own part of a whole person. But that means that the decision is up to you.”

Patton doesn’t reply. He’s staring at where their hands are connected, his face twisted into an expression that Janus can’t even begin to describe, and a horrible suspicion enters his mind.

Self-isolation can be a form of self-harm, too, and Patton has always been so tactile by nature.

“How long has it been since you last touched someone?” he asks, and Patton startles, yanking his hands out of Janus’ grip like he’s been burned. Janus tries not to let it sting.

“That’s not—” he says. “That’s not a big deal. I can— I don’t have to— and I didn’t want to bother anybody, so I—”

“Right, because asking people for a bit of physical contact is such a bother,” he says, his voice veering sharper than he intends.

“Isn’t it?” Patton asks, and Janus rears back at his tone. “Everyone’s dealing with their own things right now, so why should they have to help me on top of that? And besides, I’m clingy, and nobody—”

“Who told you that?”

Generally, he refrains from trying to murder his fellow sides, if only on the principal that they’re all needed for Thomas to function properly, but if it turns out that one of them has caused this, that one of them has called Patton clingy, made him think that seeking out affection when he needs it is somehow wrong, or a burden on others, then he refuses to be help responsible for his actions.

“No one had to tell me that,” Patton says. “But it’s true, isn’t it? I’m too much, and I’ve been trying to be better about that too, but it’s just—”

No.

No, no, no.

“No,” he says. “It’s not true. You’re not too much, not when it comes to things like this, and anyone who has ever told you otherwise is wrong. No—” He raises a hand when Patton goes to cut him off, though he doesn’t actually exercise his silencing ability. Repressing Patton now would be the exact opposite of helpful. “And that includes yourself.” He reaches out and takes Patton’s hands again, holding on tight. He can feel how tense Patton is, how every muscle in his body has stiffened.

“Please,” Janus says. “Tell me what you want.”

Patton’s eyes well up with tears. His lips quiver. The silence stretches on.

And finally:

“I— sometimes, I just want to cuddle, okay? Is that so bad?” It’s a whimper, a plea, and really, Janus is absolutely going to kill each and every last inhabitant of the mindscape for neglecting Patton like this, for allowing him to believe that something so simple as cuddling him would be a chore, would be too much. He’s going to kill them, but later, because here and now, Patton needs him more than he needs any acts of violence, no matter how well-deserved.

“Of course it’s not,” he says, and hopes that the sincerity comes through, hopes that Patton doesn’t assume he’s lying. “Come here.”

And even as he draws Patton closer, he begins to panic. He has never done this before, never been asked to do this; generally, the others have always assumed that he likes his space, and usually, that’s true enough that he’s never bothered to correct the notion. It’s had the added benefit of keeping Remus at arm’s length when he’s difficult to handle, but he would be lying— ha— if he said that he’d never considered the drawbacks before now, never let himself wonder what it would be like to have someone else so close to him.

He’s never cuddled. Never been cuddled, never cuddled someone else. So really, he is possibly the absolute worst side for Patton to be stuck with right now.

But he’s what Patton’s got, so he tugs Patton up against his chest, wrapping his arms around him. Patton makes a noise, something between a gasp and a whine, but it only takes a second for him to melt into the touch, all of his weight landing firmly against Janus’ body as he goes limp as a ragdoll.

It’s an awkward position. He doesn’t know anything about cuddling, but he’s fairly certain that it’s supposed to be more comfortable than this.

He wonders if the fact that he feels like his skin is on fire is typical, or if that’s just him. A consideration for later, maybe, though his heart is beating almost too fast to ignore.

“Here,” he says, “let’s—”

He pulls back, heart panging at Patton’s soft whimper, but he settles himself on the couch, a sprawling position halfway between sitting and lying down. He beckons, then, and Patton wastes no time before lurching forward, draping himself along Janus’ body, and this— this feels right, somehow, their limbs slotting into all the right places, curving against each other, and Janus places his hands on Patton’s back to keep him in place. Not that he needs to; Patton doesn’t seem to want to go anywhere.

Patton tucks his face underneath his chin, resting against the hollow between his neck and collarbone. Janus has to suppress a whimper of his own. He’s never been touched there. Not ever.

He feels himself melting into Patton just as much as Patton is melting into him. It’s new, and strange, and a bit terrifying, but he doesn’t want it to stop.

Patton lets out a sigh, long and low. “‘M sorry I was being dumb,” he murmurs, words barely intelligible.

“It’s not dumb to be scared, or to have self-doubt,” he replies, though it’s a struggle to make himself coherent. His brain feels mushy, his thought processes slow, like wading through knee-deep water. “You’re wrong, of course, but it’s not dumb.” He pauses. “And it’s definitely not dumb to want someone to take care of you.”

“‘M glad you’re here,” Patton mumbles. “I’m glad it’s you. Thank you, Janus.”

Something in his chest bursts, warm and brilliant, and he doesn’t think it’s the contact.

“Of course,” he says, fighting to speak past a mouth that has gone very dry. “Anytime.”

Patton shifts, snuggling closer, and he wonders if Patton realizes just how much he means it. Because he does, perhaps more than he has ever meant anything else.

He’s not ready to say it, yet, though. Not yet ready to make it known, to open himself up to that. So, for the moment, he holds Patton against him, and lets him rest. Safe, warm, and though unspoken, loved.

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#sanders sides #ts sides #moceit #janus sanders #ts janus #patton sanders #ts patton #my fic #long post #cat does prompts #they're soft your honor

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rosyfingereddawnn · 3 years

Text

That’s The Way (Chapter 4)

Pairing: Jimmy Page x Reader

Word count: 5.7k

Warning(s): Jimmy and Y/N falling in love at first sight🥺, nsfw insinuations in the beginning but nothing bad, language

Author’s notes: It’s Jimmy time, mates! I’m so sorry for making you wait so long! Slow burns can suck like that sometimes. I hope you’re enjoying the plot so far, and that it wasn’t what you expected! There’s so much more drama to come, though, so I hope you’re excited for that😂 As usual, please enjoy, happy reading, and send us messages if you have theories, comments, music recommendations for the playlist, or if you want to be added to the tag list :)

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3

------

Y/N’s train ride home from The Yardbirds’ hotel was a constant swirl of what the fucks booming in her mind: what the fuck just happened, what the fuck does this mean, what the fuck am I doing, what the fuck is Jim doing, what the fuck will this become?

Out of all the things on God’s good, green earth he could have wanted, he wanted her to kiss him. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Y/N thought when she initially heard the request. Then, when she questioned it, he escalated it to a blowjob since she thought a kiss was “too tame.” Y/N eventually did kiss Jim, as he wished. She was pretty sure that he still wanted her to kiss him after his little upgrade, and boy, was she right. ‘He called me a princess’, she remembered...what the hell was that supposed to mean?

As contradictory as it was, her mind was racing with so many thoughts, yet, at the same time, none at all. She was in overdrive, unable to think straight. Y/N forced herself to come to her senses as the train neared her stop, since her parents could not see the sheer bewilderment in her eyes and facial expression as she walked into her home. They would ask question after question, interrogating her as if she had committed a crime they had to get to the bottom of. She had to admit, reluctantly, that this was exciting. The star-studded aspect of it, the secrecy… It was a rollercoaster ride, yet Y/N wasn’t sure she wanted to get off anytime soon. In the back of her mind, though, she knew this little dalliance wasn’t going to lead to anything serious.

Jim, however, currently sitting at the foot of his bed in an empty hotel room, was in a complete daze. He couldn’t comprehend that this was reality. The most beautiful girl in the whole world had just sucked him off, and then kissed him! She was completely obedient yet willing, and adorably shy, blushing every two seconds. But the kiss. It was dizzyingly soft, sweet, and passionate on her part. To Jim, this meeting of lips was perfect. Addictive. Devastatingly addictive, like a drug. He wanted more. Her lips were something else to taste and feel. He wondered if she would ever come back to him with intimate intentions. Perhaps even to spend the night, or something even more serious. By the way she so often smiled in a bright and enthusiastic way, Jim thought she just might. He had come to the conclusion, after continuously replaying what had happened just minutes ago in his head, that he was falling hopelessly in love with this girl. His Y/N.

Jim had never felt like this before.

And he didn’t know what to do about it.

~~~~~~~~

A few weeks later...

Y/N’s mum had sent her and her brother Charlie by train into London to go grocery shopping, and perhaps to visit Carnaby Street, Portobello Market, and the Oxfam charity shops to get some new clothes for themselves. Pushing the cart around the supermarket, Y/N and Charlie looked intently at the handwritten list their mum had given them.

“Alright, what do we need next?” Y/N asked, her head tilted to see the small piece of paper.

“Uh, we still have to get oatmeal, eggs, and some fruits and vegetables,” Charlie replied, mirroring Y/N’s position as he gazed down at the list in his hands, which was slowly being painted with black ink. They were making good time, all things considered.

“Let’s go to the produce section then, so we can get everything all in one go,” Y/N decided, starting to push the cart in that direction.

“Yeah, that makes sense.” Charlie’s nod served as confirmation, and the two walked on, gazes captured every-so-often by the gaggle of people passing by.

Once the two siblings reached their desired destination, Y/N began inspecting the clear clamshell containers of assorted berries as Charlie went to fetch a bag of broccoli florets and a variety of potatoes. As Y/N began placing the fruit in the cart, she heard a familiar voice calling her name.

She turned around to see a very domestic-looking Jeff Beck, pushing around a grocery cart, just like she was. It was odd to see him going about his life as though he was just an ordinary working-class man, especially being the revered guitar god he was. Y/N laughed at the sight as he came over towards her.

“Hi Jeff,” Y/N greeted, walking over to give him a hug.

“Hello darling,” he responded, tilting the girl back and forth in the hug, long arms cradling her against his chest. “How are you doing?”

Y/N looked at him with a small grin after pulling away. An exhale passes through pursed lips as she replies. “As well as I can be, I guess. How ‘bout you?”

“Can’t complain,” he smiled, which then turned a little more solemn. He reached out a hand to place on her upper arm in solace. “I’m still really sorry about Sam, love. I wish I could’ve told you, but he swore me to secrecy… and I don’t want to lose my job just yet.”

“Don’t worry about it, I completely understand. It’s not your fault.” Y/N’s chuckle chimed through the air, much like the birdsongs that seemed to fill the space around them, and she paused, “I’ve done quite a bit of soul-searching recently, and I don’t think I truly loved him...the situation was all so new and exciting, that it made me believe I did. But now, I realize I didn’t.”

“I’m glad you found the light at the end of the tunnel, kid. But that’s life, Y/N. You win some and you lose some.”

“Thank you, Jeff. Really. For being so supportive,” Y/N said in gratitude, as Jeff flashed her a toothy smile.

“Ah, don’t mention it...actually, it’s funny I ran into you because I was actually going to call you, but I… may have lost your number.” A sheepish hand ran through the short hair at the nape of his neck, and Y/N giggles at the man’s hesitancy.

“That’s okay. Here, I’ll write it down for you,” Y/N grinned as she took out a spare piece of paper and a pen from her bag, “what did you need to call me for?”

Jeff watched Y/N’s hands as she scribbled down her number. Her handwriting was neat, soft spirals decorating the ends of her letters. Playful, yet full of grace. Just like her, Jeff thought. “There’s a May Ball at Queen’s College in Oxford on the 18th, and I was wondering if you’d like to come. It’s outdoors, and it should be a nice day.”

As Y/N handed Jeff the piece of paper, he continued. “More importantly, a good friend of mine is attending, and I thought you would like to meet him. You two are pretty similar, so I think you’ll hit it off really well.”

“Do you mean that this meeting is supposed to be a sort of… romantic proposition?” Y/N tilted her head in playful confusion.

Jeff smirked. “Not necessarily. He’s friends with the rest of the guys, so it’s only fair that you meet him, since we consider you a part of our inner circle.”

Y/N grinned at his statement, shaking her head, a chuckle tumbling past her lips. “Well, for the record, Jeff, I’m retired from dating for a while,” she admitted, “the whole thing with Paul shook me up a bit, and I need time to trust again, y’know?”

“Yeah, I understand. But my friend is a nice bloke, so I don’t think you’ll have to worry too much, or put up a front. If you’re uncomfortable, of course we can—”

Charlie came running up to Y/N’s cart and placed the bags of broccoli and potatoes inside. He then stood next to Y/N to see this stranger that she was talking to. Jeff noticed the little boy who suddenly appeared next to Y/N, and smiled warmly. Pointing to the boy, and changing his voice to be a bit gentler than usual, he asked, “Who’s this, Y/N?”

“This is my little brother Charlie,” Y/N said, softly putting her hand on her brother’s back, bringing him to the forefront. Charlie widely smiled at Jeff, baring his childish grin that was missing a couple teeth. Charlie couldn't wait until they grew in, because it would “finally make him look like a real man”, as he exclaimed so often at home.

Jeff crouched down to Charlie’s level and stuck out his hand to shake Charlie’s. “Nice to meet ya, mate. I’m Jeff, a friend of your sister’s.”

Charlie’s eyes widened as he recognized who this man was. “Jeff Beck?” Charlie asked hopefully, “as in the guitar god, Jeff Beck?”

Jeff chuckled as he looked up at Y/N. “Is this the shit you’ve been feeding him?” Y/N nodded and laughed.

“There’s an ounce of truth in that statement, isn't there, Beck?”

“Yes, I’m Jeff Beck, but I’m just the lead guitarist for The Yardbirds. The guitar god title goes to Hendrix, or Scotty Moore,” Jeff explained. What a humble change of pace for Jeff, Y/N thought.

Jeff stood back up and walked with Y/N and her brother throughout the store, pushing their carts in sync and grabbing food as they went. He asked her about what she was up to musically, and she talked about how she was polishing up some Debussy and Rachmaninoff pieces, as well as fiddling around with some old Fats Domino and Everly Brothers records. Charlie and Jeff bonded over their love of cars, which made Y/N very happy.

~~~~~~~~

18th June 1966

The day of the May Ball came. Y/N was excited for the show, but she didn’t want a sour encounter with Paul to ruin her good time. Jeff had called her earlier in the week to give her instructions on what to do upon arrival, and how to access the backstage area safely.

The backstage area was a white tent with the sides covered. Inside, there were multiple long tables of different distinguished people, such as Mama Cass and Graham Nash. Alcohol and little finger foods littered the tables, served in such abundance that it seemed no one was going to see tomorrow.

Y/N walked over to where she saw her friends, and upon spotting the girl, they all waved and said their cheerful hellos. Y/N walked over to sit with them, and ended up taking a seat between Chris and Jeff, crossing her legs and folding her hands in a sophisticated manner, always the lady she was taught to be. She chose her seat at the table very carefully, sitting very far away from Paul Samwell-Smith.

As everyone chatted away, she noticed there was a tall, thin young man with short, dark wavy hair who sat down in a seat between Jeff and Keith, delicately holding a flute of champagne. He was looped back into the conversation immediately, as if he had known the band his whole life. When Y/N saw him, her heart stopped.

This new boy was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. He looked like an English James Dean; with the kind of attractiveness that anyone, male or female, completely swooned over with a single glance. This stranger could get anything he wanted at the drop of a hat, with his gorgeous looks and his graceful countenance. He had a sullen, mysterious edge to him, but he also looked gentle and sweet at the same time. He had eyes as green as a forest full of lush deciduous trees, flawlessly framed by dark, bushy eyebrows and accented by long, thick eyelashes. His nose was adorable, petite as it was, and his lips were full and pouty. His smile and laugh made Y/N melt on the inside, his perfectly straight teeth illuminating his porcelain face.

For a moment, Y/N thought she was in love. She was pulled back from her daydream quickly, though, because Jeff realized that now was the perfect opportunity to introduce his two friends.

“Y/N, this is my friend Jimmy, who I was telling you about,” Jeff said, getting Y/N’s attention. Y/N grinned as she refocused on the situation.

Jimmy turned towards Jeff when he heard his name, and that’s when he saw the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, sitting right next to Jeff. Lucky bastard.

His breath hitched in his throat upon sight of this girl. She was perfect; she looked like an actual angel. The way her hair, soft-looking and slightly wispy in the light summer wind, cascaded down her shoulders; her doe-eyes seemed to twinkle in the dimming light of day, pulling him in like the strongest of currents. Her pillowy, supple lips encased a perfect smile, slightly crooked. It was, like the rest of her, completely endearing.

It was then, looking at this beautiful woman, (Y/N… Jeff had said her name, hadn't he?) that Jimmy remembers he was taken. His girlfriend, Jackie DeShannon, was waiting for him at home, but he only had eyes for the girl in front of him, and it would stay that way, it seemed.. He had to get to know her.

Jimmy snapped out of his hypnosis in the nick of time. He softly smiled at Y/N, a smile that made Y/N’s insides lurch, holding out his hand for her to shake as he turned on the charm. “Jimmy Page,” he initiated, his voice being softer and more calming than Y/N expected.

Y/N shyly smiled at him, a dark pink flush gracing her natural complexion, as she reached out to grasp his hand. “Y/N Y/L/N. It’s so nice to finally meet you. Jeff has told me about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” Jimmy chuckled.

“Yeah, I’d say so,” Y/N beamed, a feigned contemplative look on her face.

“How do you know Jeff?” Jimmy asked, turning his body towards her, now fully invested in getting to know Y/N.

“I met him...a year ago I wanna say? Is that right, Jeff? At a Yardbirds gig at the Marquee,” Y/N asked for clarification. The last thing she wanted to do is lie about Jeff to Jimmy, even if it was something as insignificant as this. In addition, she wanted to use Jeff as a temporary crutch in the conversation. Jimmy’s beauty was making her feel shyer than she already was; she felt as if she was curling into herself.

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Jeff intervened, “but she didn’t just meet me, she met the whole band.”

Jeff immediately noticed that the band was leaving the table to get ready to go on stage. Jimmy and Y/N didn’t even notice the table’s departure because they were so wrapped up in each other’s presence and words. Jimmy even moved a seat over to get closer to Y/N, although he said it was an attempt to “hear her better since the room was so loud of drunken buffoons”. Y/N had giggled at that, and it had sounded like music to the man’s ears. Jimmy was completely taken with her, as easy as it was to see.

“Wait, so how do you know Jeff?” Y/N asked curiously.

“I've known him since I was… gosh… thirteen or fourteen? We bonded over the guitar and blues. Indian music, too,” Jimmy grinned, taking a sip of his warming champagne.

“You play the guitar too?” Y/N gasped. Jimmy nodded his head enthusiastically.

“Oh jeez, I should’ve known! No wonder you’re tight with the Yardbirds,” she giggled.

Jimmy’s eyes twinkled at her now-flustered demeanor. “You’re okay, Y/N,” he chuckled, placing a hand gently on her forearm. Y/N felt her entire body break out into chills.

“I’m a session musician, actually,” he began, his hand lingering on the girl’s arm, for what seemed like a millennium to Y/N. “I’d hate to simplistically explain what a session musician is to someone like you if you already know what it is.” It sounded like he was holding back a bout of embarrassed laughter. “You must be quite intelligent, especially in matters of music, if Jeff has stuck by you for all this time.”

Y/N smiled bashfully. He’s so sensitive, she thought dreamily. “Yes, I know what a session musician is,” she giggled, “I’ve been a piano player all my life, so I know a thing or two about what you blokes are talking about when it comes to music.”

Jimmy’s heart began to thump a little faster as his smile widened. “Wow! That’s brilliant. Are you classically trained then?”

“Yes, but I do know quite a bit of blues numbers.”

“Oh, so you really know what you’re talking about! I have to admit, although I am a session musician, I’m not particularly good at reading music. Maybe you could teach me a few things about sight reading and we can jam some time?”

Y/N blushed as her lips pursed together in a grin. “I would love that. We’d have so much fun!” The way that Y/N’s full lips twisted together in a smile looked so damn kissable to Jimmy.

“My girlfriend was actually supposed to teach me music theory, but we never got around to it, unfortunately,” Jimmy continued.

“Ah, okay. Well, if you give me a time, date, and place, we can definitely make it work,” Y/N beamed.

“Wonderful!” An awkward, pregnant pause filled the space, and Y/N cleared her throat, unconsciously sliding closer to Jimmy. There was almost a magnetic pull to him, and Y/N was caught up in it.

“So, what’s it like being a session musician? I’m sure you get asked that all the time,” Y/N laughed.

Jimmy smiled. “It’s quite grueling, brutal at times, but I find it fulfilling. One mistake, and you’re fired, so it’s a lot of pressure.”

“Oh wow! That must be horrible to deal with.”

“Yeah, sometimes the pressure can really settle into you, but for me it dissipates once I’m in the booth. There’s three sessions a day, five days a week, so I don’t have much time for leisure. It’s been getting really dry lately since all I’m playing is rhythm guitar. I love experimentation and stretching out on lead guitar, so constant rhythm is getting quite annoying.”

“I understand where you’re coming from then, from a creative standpoint. How long have you been a session player?”

“Four years, roughly.”

“You must be quite dedicated then!” Y/N exclaimed, “who have you played with?”

“Oh gosh,” Jimmy exhaled deeply, calloused fingers raising to land on his chin. Slight stubble shadows it, and the sharp scent of aftershave wafted towards the girl. Lost in the scent, Y/N nearly missed his reply. “The Rolling Stones, The Kinks, Donovan, The Who, Petula Clark, Jackie DeShannon, Carter Lewis and the Southerners, Neil Christian and the Crusaders, Herman’s Hermits, Marianne Faithfull… just to name a few.”

“Wow! What a resumé!” she gushed, “That’s incredible. You should be so proud, Jimmy.”

“Thank you very much, love, I appreciate it.”

Suddenly, an announcer’s booming voice cut through Jimmy and Y/N’s conversation as he introduced the Yardbirds to the stage. As the five men walked on, Jimmy stood up from his chair.

“Come with me to the wings so we can see and hear them better,” he smiled, holding out his arm for Y/N to take. Y/N agreed, standing up and linking her arm with Jimmy’s as they walked in sync to the side of the stage.

The first few numbers were played perfectly, and it was clear that the audience (and even the road crew) were enchanted by the spectacle. Y/N knew from past shows that the next song would be “Train Kept A-Rollin’,” and she knew that they always knocked that one out of the park. It was always stimulating and explosive.

Jeff and Chris began the opening riff, the low E, G, and A notes thundering out of the monitors melodically. Just as Keith sang “got a train” on his cue, he fell straight backward and hit his head off Jim’s bass drum. Jimmy and Y/N’s jaws dropped in shock as a loud gasp echoed through the air from the audience. The music abruptly stopped as the rest of the band crowded around Keith’s fallen figure to see if he was alright. Murmurings of “fucking hells” were all that were spoken from the road crew as they tried to redeem the concert.

“He was drunk,” Jimmy whispered to Y/N giddily, “he was completely out to lunch and wobbling as he walked onstage.”

“I didn’t even notice,” Y/N replied quietly with a grin, “that definitely explains all the empty bottles and glasses on the table.”

Momentarily, Keith got back up and motioned for the band to restart “Train Kept A-Rollin’” and they finished the song without another mishap. The rest of the set was completed smoothly, and everything sounded sonically incredible. Jimmy and Y/N stood close together the entire time, Jimmy sneaking glances at Y/N from time to time. He lost his breath with the way her eyes were almost aglow in the fading light, and her soft-looking lips parted in childlike wonder as she watched the live music.

The Yardbirds came off the stage, begrudgingly making their way into the backstage tent, where Jimmy and Y/N had situated themselves. No one looked happy, especially Paul. Jeff had his usual stoic look, but he was rushing around for any alcoholic beverage he could find to ease his nerves after what could have been the worst possible scenario.

Everyone took a seat at the table where they were before the show. Jimmy and Y/N sat next to each other as they took in the distressed expressions of the five other men. Jeff was slumped in his chair, next to Jimmy, taking swigs of a beer he’d found. Jim and Chris just stared at the ground, drink in hand. Paul just looked royally pissed off, to the point that it almost scared Y/N. Keith, however, was still totally out of it in his drunken stupor.

“Hey, Jim,” Jeff said quietly to Jimmy, “look, you know, I’m really sorry about the gig. I’m sure you aren’t interested in joining the band now…”

“Oh no,” Jimmy chuckled, “that was amazing! Absolutely brilliant! I loved it.”

Y/N’s interest piqued as she heard their whispers of new information. “Wait! Jimmy’s joining the band? I thought there were only supposed to be five live Yardbirds,” she whispered.

Jeff leaned over Jimmy to whisper back to Y/N. “Oh yeah! I can’t believe I didn’t tell you this already. Paul is probably going to leave the group...and I think it might be sooner than we thought, especially after the whole Keith fiasco...Jimmy is going to take his place on bass, and hopefully he’ll take on dual lead guitar at some point. Then Chris will do bass,” Jeff’s eyes diverted to Paul, who was sitting with his arms crossed and face angry, staring off into space. Jimmy and Y/N followed Jeff’s line of sight mischievously.

“Oooh! Great plan,” Y/N smiled.

A little smirk creeped across Jeff’s face as he quietly counted down, “3...2...1…”

At the very prompt “1,” Paul abruptly stood up from his chair very loudly, capturing everyone’s attention.

“You know what? I’m done,” Paul exclaimed, stepping away from the chair as he pushed it in under the table.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Jim began, standing up from his own chair, “what do you mean ‘you’re done’? What the hell does that mean?”

Paul sneered at Jim. “What do you think I mean? I mean I’m done with this bullshit. I’ve had enough of the horrid travelling, not being noticed, and this drunk-off-his-ass bastard,” he exclaimed angrily, pointing at Keith.

“You need to relax, Sam,” Chris said gently, “look at everything we’ve accomplished over the last three years. You want to give that up? You’re losing your shit over one bad performance.”

“It’s been on my mind for a long time now, Chris. I fucking hate it,” Paul continued, anxiously running his hands through his hair, “and you know what? Y/N hanging around all the time has made it worse. She’s just here to be our fucking groupie. She’s only eating off our clout to be friends with famous people.” The entire table went silent, looking around nervously.

Y/N’s eyes widened at Paul’s awful accusation. “Are you serious?” she shot back coldly, “I knew you were an asshole, but I didn’t know it was this bad.”

“Oh what, you think I don’t recognize that that’s your motive?” Paul said condescendingly.

“If you think that being absolutely obsessed with you all is my sole hobby, my motive, whatever that means... you are sadly mistaken,” Y/N responded, her eyes closing to slits and her lips pressed together in disgust.

“You’re probably sleeping with Jim or Chris now for all I know!” he shouted, arms flailing in the air.

Y/N was fuming now, standing up from her own chair facing Paul. “How dare you make me seem like I’m a whore for the Yardbirds! Even if I was sleeping with Jim or Chris, that would be none of your business because you pursued me when you were fucking married, you dipshit.”

Paul’s maddening countenance grew. “You’re just an insecure little girl who needs famous musicians around her to validate her and make feel better about herself. You’re a fucking nuisance, like a gnat that just won’t fly away even when you swat at it again and again.”

Y/N gasped, the sound drowned out by the screech of metal against tile, as Jimmy stood up from his chair. He was distraught, upset at the antics between the two bitter exes, and stepped in front of Y/N to protect her from the horrible verbal blows served by Paul Samwell-Smith. Jeff beat him by a second, as he started to berate Sam for his little episode.

“You listen up, you wanker,” Jeff started, wagging his index finger in front of Sam’s face, “you’re just being a butthurt little bitch because Y/N found out that you were married. If anyone’s the whore here, it’s you. Y/N is our friend, even Jimmy’s now, and she takes care of us and makes us happy. She’s not just some whimsy, disposable groupie like the way you used her; she’s an intelligent, sweet, pretty girl who has our best interest at heart. And we have hers. You have to be a fucking idiot not to see that.”

Paul was taken aback. “I write, produce, and play bass for this group. All you do is play lead guitar. Trust me, Beck, I’m not the idiot here.”

“Well, your goddamn head isn’t screwed on straight, then,” Jimmy added, “I’ll be taking your place, thank you very much. And you will never mistreat Y/N on my watch. Ever. I’ve known her for about an hour, and she’s already absolutely magnificent.”

Y/N’s throat felt clenched, but some of the tension was relieved when she realized how protective Jimmy was being over her. As mad as she was, butterflies filled her stomach at his warm ways.

“I’m out of here! You all suck anyway. Have a nice trip to hell, all of you,” Paul said as he walked away to the road crew to get his belongings, flipping the people at the table off.

Y/N sat back down in her chair once Paul was out of sight, slouching and holding her cheeks with her hands as she blankly stared at the edge of the table. Jimmy and the four Yardbirds dragged their chairs closer to a saddened Y/N, who was determined to fight off the tears that threatened to roll down her fury-flush cheeks.

Jeff frowned at the state of his friend, starting to softly rub her cardigan-clothed back to console her. “I’m so sorry about Sam, Y/N. His behaviour was absolutely horrendous, and I can assure you, none of the things he said about you were even close to being true.”

Keith, still a bit drunk, stood up and walked over to Y/N, planting a peck on her cheek. “We’re so glad you’re here, dear. Truly. That belligerent little asshole can suck a fat one.”

A close-lipped smile found its way on Y/N’s lips. “Thanks Keith,” she chuckled.

“I’m going to go get you a cup of water, alright love?” Chris said as he stood up to walk over towards the bar.

“Thank you so much Chris,” she called after him. Chris flashed her a kind smile as he walked away.

I guess Mum and Dad were wrong...they really do care about me, Y/N thought happily, they really, truly do.

~~~~~~~~

After the May Ball was over, and the sky was growing darker with the coming evening, Jimmy and Y/N walked around the grounds of the venue together, talking about anything and everything and sharing laughs.

The lighthearted mood took a drastic shift at one of Jimmy’s followup questions.

“So, Y/N, if you don’t mind me asking, what was the whole row between you and Sam about?”

Y/N flashed a sad smile, but it quickly faded as she took a deep exhale. “Well—”

Panicked, Jimmy took this as a cue that she didn’t want to talk about it. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, I get it because of how heated it was. I’m just worried about you, is all,” he interrupted.

“No, it’s okay. Really. I trust you,” she replied with a pursed lip-smile. Jimmy returned the sentiment, internally relieved that Y/N had already seemed to take a liking to him.

“Alright, so about a year or so ago, I went to a Yardbirds gig at the Crawdaddy Club, a few months after I met the band for the first time. Paul asked me out after that show, and nobody told me he was married, so naturally, I accepted.”

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry, love. What a shitty thing to do, especially to someone as wonderful as you,” Jimmy replied with a little flush, giving the girl a little rub on the small of her back.

Heat rippled throughout Y/N’s body at his touch. Regaining her composure, she sighed. “Thank you Jimmy. That means a lot. More than you know, actually.”

After a short silence, Y/N continued. “We went out for about eight months...and in retrospect, it now makes sense why I could never go over to his place. But anyway, I found out about it before the band played on Ready, Steady, Go in February. Keith, Jeff, Jim, and I were all talking at the front of the stage before rehearsals and it slipped.”

“Who ended up telling you?”

“Jim, but it was purely an accident.” Suddenly, all of the events that had happened between her and Jim guiltily flooded her mind. Now with Jimmy beginning to infiltrate her mind and cloud her vision, how was she supposed to genuinely enjoy the secrecy? Ah shit, she thought, here we go again.

“After the show, I confronted him about it,” Y/N continued, “and he was blaming me for our time together, a-and for ‘tempting’ him into asking me out just by being… me?”

“He seems like a right wanker, I can tell you that for sure,” Jimmy muttered, sliding his hand from its resting place on her back, to her shoulder, squeezing it lightly in solidarity. Y/N met his eyes then, tears filling her gaze, and Jimmy frowns. No one as lovely as her should be feeling this way. He smiles at her, and to Y/N, it is filled with comfort and appreciation. Some emotion… something akin to love, perhaps, lit a fire in her chest, and she looks away. The evening ambience does nothing to hide the traitorous blush that painted her cheeks.

“It’s getting quite dark out, love. How did you get here?” Jimmy asked, stealing another glance at a girl as she looked down at her ballet flats once more.

“I took the train, actually,” Y/N replied.

“Oh, so did I! Here, I’ll walk with you over to the station then.”

Y/N grinned at him. “That’s so kind of you, Jimmy. Thank you.”

“No problem, love. What’s your stop?” Jimmy asked as they began to make their way over to the station.

“St. Alban’s. How about you?”

“Epsom. I still live with my parents, I’m afraid,” he chuckled sheepishly.

“Oh, it’s okay!” she laughed with him, “so do I. It’s nice though, to still live with your parents… home-cooked meals and laundry and all. Plus sleeping in your own bed, and using your own bathroom, of course.”

“Those are very good points,” Jimmy agreed with a chuckle.

The two boarded the train once they got to the station, only waiting on the platform for a few minutes. They continued to talk all the way to St. Albans, where Y/N got off to walk home.

“Say you’ll see me again sometime soon, Y/N,” Jimmy half-asked, half-declared as she stood up to get off the train.

Y/N grinned at him. “I definitely will, Jimmy. It was so nice meeting you tonight...I loved getting to know you.”

“The feeling is mutual, love. Please stay safe and take care of yourself, okay?” he reached out his hand to grab Y/N’s, shaking it a little and smiling at her. Y/N nearly swooned at the gesture.

“I’ll try my best. You do the same as well. Have a good night!”

“Thank you, you too!” Jimmy waved as Y/N walked out the train’s doors. Her scent, a delicious mixture of vanilla with a hint of laundry detergent, lingered in the air as she passed by, weakening him both physically and his rational judgment.

He had a lot of thinking to do on the ride home.

————

Taglist: @blood-on-blood @reincarnated70sbaby

#that's the way #jimmy page #the yardbirds #led zeppelin #jimmy page fanfic #jimmy page fanfiction #led zeppelin fanfic #classic rock fanfic

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physicalturian · 3 years

Text

[16+] Define "Hate" - Miya Atsumu x Fem!Reader

[She/Her pronouns used for the reader, no physical description; Everyone +18]

Words : 9956

Archive of our own

Tags : Enemies to friends (to lovers) / A random dude tries to make out but fails / Drinking / Partying / Fluff / Wholesome / Tenderness / Slight non-con

If you think I should add some tags, tell me!

Summary : Your friend Bokuto invites you to a party, where due to circumstances you're forced to hang out with a man that hates you : Miya Atsumu. The evening does not go as planned, and slowly, you're coming to the realization that your entire relationship may have started on a misunderstanding.

A/N: The unwanted advances are from a random person, so is the non-consensual touching. It does not go further, the person is stopped. The story is cute, but you've been warned if you're sensitive to such topics! Have fun!

- - -

I knew the moment I heard Bokuto say “I’ll meet you there then!” that I shouldn’t have accepted his offer to go out. While I was aware it was a rare opportunity considering his lack of free time, I had a feeling in the pit of my stomach it was going to turn out bad.

Before I could ask him what he meant by meet there, he had hung up, telling me he was excited. Pulling the phone away from my ear, I stared at the screen and tried to call him back right away, I had to ask him where we were meeting since in his excitement, he had not shared the location.

He never picked up. Even after 4 calls.

With a heavy sigh, I got up from my desk and grimaced at my last option to get hang of the man, “I really don’t want to call him… I should get Hinata’s phone number, that’d be more enjoyable than him.” Shaking my head, I told myself that we were both adults, and we could have a proper conversation. Clearing my throat, I pressed the name in my contacts and waited, drumming my fingers on the back of the phone.

After a moment, I heard some hubbub in the background before hearing the fake-joyous voice on the other end, “Well, isn’t it the little faker, are you calling me to come clean and finally be real with me-“ “Hello to you too, is Koutarou nearby?” I cut him off, not wanting to hear his little speech.

Every time we would meet, he would talk shit about the way I’d act. I was very social during those gatherings; I was calmer in normal situation, and I’ll admit putting on a tougher face when around more people I did not know. But what bugged Atsumu Miya was that I was never getting mad. His sole purpose seemed to try to tick me off.

Perhaps he was himself mad that I kept throwing him comebacks and that he’d struggle to come up with something just as good. Or perhaps he only heard about me from Bokuto and wanted to see the less stoic side Bokuto probably talked to him about.

The blond Miya twin huffed, it was followed by a more muffled sound. “I could ask, I could answer, really. But I’m not fond of the attitude, so I might just hang up-“ “You do that,” I had started tauntingly, thinking he wouldn’t do it. Before I could say more, he hung up.

It was my turn to huff as I called him back, he picked up just as fast, “Back so soon? How can I help you? And don’t waste time on formalities, I don’t need the fake niceties. This ain’t an interview,” His grin could be heard through the phone, it made me roll my eyes as I sighed.

“I really don’t know why Kou gave me your number instead of literally any other guy from your team. Just tell me if Koutarou is here, that’s all I am calling about.” Just when I said that, I heard my friend’s voice ask who was on the phone. I was very close to threaten Atsumu, thinking he was going to be shitty and not tell Bokuto it was me. Instead, he told him the truth and handed him his phone.

“Hey!! What’s up?” “Kou, you said we’d meet up there, where is ‘there’ exactly?” He burst out laughing for a long while before telling me he meant the pub near the campus, he added that the closest they were to the campus, the more they could get wasted. Or as he put it ‘the waster-er we can be’. “Right, but I’m a bit further from the pub. I don’t live that far, but not that close either-“

Hushing me, he said, “I know, I know, that’s why Tsum-Tsum is going to come pick you up! He said he wasn’t going to drink tonight, he’ll be our designated driver, I already gave him your address.”

I blinked a few times, not responding. Was he fucking with me? “Bok, Bok, can’t you just pick me up yourself?” “Nah, I have to go get my bro, he said he’ll need to be saved from a boring party he was forced to go to,” He explained. He then cut the conversation short by telling me we’d see each other tonight, then another voice spoke.

“Sheesh, who would have thought, right? Hope that does not make you mad. Better be ready at 5, don’t forget the condescending attitude, we wouldn’t want the others to know who you really are, right?” “You are obsessed with me, it’s getting ridiculous. I’m not fake, Miya. It says a lot if all you want is for me to get mad at you, perhaps you lived in a too lenient household? In dire need of being reprimanded?” The man scoffed and repeated to be ready by 5, then hung up.

I had a few hours left to get prepared and did it in no time. Enough to wear something casual enough, but still standing out a bit to look good. With the time I had left, I rummaged through my place to find an empty reusable bottle and filled it with something to spice up my drinks and have more fun. Going to bars was fun, but it did not come cheap, plus if I was going to be somewhere where Atsumu Miya was, I was not going to be sober.

I was putting my bottle inside my bag, when I heard my phone ring in my back pocket and quickly grabbed it only to be attacked, “When I say be ready at 5, it means be in front of the building door by 5, not take your time going down the stairs.” “Did you skip breakfast or something? Such a sour mood Miya, even for you it’s surprising. I’ll be there in two minutes.” Doing as he did to me, I hung up before he could say anything and left my place, making sure to turn everything off and lock the doors.

I had left a note to my roommate, telling them I was going out and not to be surprised if I wasn’t home.

Knowing that staying in Atsumu’s presence was going to take a toll on me, I took a few measured breaths as I went down the stairs. Most of the people I knew appreciated how calm I was, but the man child seemed annoyed by it more than anyone. He was dead set on making me mad. If anyone asked me, I’d say he got mad one time I did not laugh at his stupid jokes and put himself up to the challenge to get a reaction out of me. And since his humor was not on point, the easiest way, in his books, could be getting me mad.

I never really understood why he was like that with me, since he never explained his nasty attitude, but I was bearing through it.

Giving him a nod, I knocked on the window and told him to open. Rolling his eyes, he did and put his phone back on the stand on the dashboard where the aux was connected. He put on some music and started driving, not saying much. It felt like he was forcing himself to not speak, which made me sigh in annoyance. He was being too petty, and for what?

Keeping things civilized, I said, “Thank you for picking me up,” I held back from saying I was surprised his car was clean. There was a sports bag on the bag seat, but it was still clean, and it did not smell bad. “I owed Bokuto, that’s all” “Still, thank you. You could have told him no since you hate me,” I said jokingly, hoping for a reaction. It did not take long to get one, in a whiny voice he looked at me with a scowl, “I don’t hate you, you’re just-“ “Look at the road, then bitch and moan,”

“Like that, you’re like that, God,” He huffed, focusing back on the road. In a calm voice, I said, “Well, I’d rather we did not get in an accident just because you have anger issues, you know?” I taunted, making him grip the wheel tighter.

“I don’t have anger issues; I just know you’re not as calm as you appear to be. No one is, I’ve seen, at best, two emotions on that arrogant face of yours and I’m sure they were all fake,” He stated, definitely believing what he was saying. Quirking a brow in response, I hummed inquisitively, playing with the seatbelt. “Is that so? My theory is that you’re mad I don’t laugh at your jokes,” I shrugged.

With a quick glance, he raised a finger in emphasis as he said, “First, I’m hilarious,” he raised another finger, “Second, I’ll get you to show some emotion at some point, but tonight I’m having fun and not caring if I have a fucking rock with me,”

I’ll admit it hurt a bit to hear him say that. But I didn’t show it. If the man was going to act as such then so be it, “Sure, sure, call me Wall-E because I’m an emotionless robot, right?”

“Wall-E was in love with Eve, he had emotions,” I heard him mumble. A smile drew itself on my face when I heard that, I don’t know if I wanted to tell him it sounded cute the way he said it. Now I took it as a challenge to keep all of my feelings away from him, since he seemed too keen on unraveling the mystery that I seemed to be in his eyes. “Right. That he was, sure.”

“Have you not seen the movie? Do you even cry during sad movies- no, do you ever cry, at all? Or is it just bitterness and pure attitude?” “Doesn’t it get tiring to be mad at nothing?” I ignored his questions, finding them absolutely ridiculous. All I wanted was to jump out of his car and walk the rest of the way to the bar.

“I’m not mad!” He said, annoyed. “Well, you don’t have a very positive attitude Miya, Bokuto keeps telling me how you’re so funny and cool but all I see is a little bitch who’s upset over meeting someone who isn’t as loud as he is,”

With a scoff, he replied, his tone getting rougher, “And he keeps telling me you’re so great to be around, and the best kind of company and yet I’d feel better hanging out with a goldfish.”

“Since we’re on the same page, I suggest we stop talking. That’d be better for both of us.” My tone was strained, I never had such a tensed relationship with anyone. My chest felt heavy knowing the reason I wasn’t getting along with him was his utter dislike of who I was, but I ignored it. I was not going to let it get to me, I was going to get drunk and have fun.

I reached out for the phone to increase the volume, my hand almost bumping with Atsumu. We seemed to have had the same idea. He looked at me with a raised brow, “Choose whatever song,” he said. I turned my face to look at the window instead and shrugged, “I don’t care, we’re almost there,”

Another sigh followed when Atsumu changed to something a bit more upbeat. I wanted to sing along, and as I glanced his way, he also did. His mouth was matching the lyrics, but no other sound followed. It was kind of cute.

“Do you want something?” He asked, probably feeling my stare. “No. Just lost in thoughts.”

The rest of the drive was spent without another word. I only thanked him when we arrived, the loud music could already be heard from outside. The reason for it being the windows being wide open along with the door. It felt familiar, the tension from the car dissipated easily. I was finally going to be able to avoid the Miya twin and have fun.

Except I still had him close by when we walked up to the entrance of the building. “Stop walking with me, people will think we came here together,” He said in a panicked tone.

“Which we did, but you’re right. I wouldn’t want to be seen with you,” I sped up my pace and walked further in front of him, turning around and saluting him. “See you,” I said with a mischievous grin upon seeing his surprised expression. He scrambled to his senses and added “Never, see you never!”

I rolled my eyes at how childish he sounded and made my way inside, feeling much more welcome by the loud music and beer smells than I felt in the car of a man that despised me. I was startled when I heard my name being called but let out a shaky laugh when I saw Bokuto at a table, waving at him I joined him.

“Hey Kou!” I looked at the black-haired man next to him and nodded, “Kuroo,” Bokuto scooted closer to his friend to make me some space, so I sat down. In front of us was his teammates, Hinata and Sakusa, which I greeted along the way. Before I could join the conversation, Bokuto handed me his beer, “We can’t really start without this, right?” I rolled my eyes, knowing full well what he wanted from me. I chugged the drink, slamming the cup down. “Bro, it wasn’t just beer, the fuck did you put in that?” “Fun, I put fun in it.”

“Yeah well, I’m not chugging another one of those, I’ll wait a bit before taking something else,” I huffed a laugh, looking around a bit. I met a random dude’s gaze who seemed to be fixed on mine. When I made a confused face, a smirk drew itself on his face. It felt very off-putting, his gaze was not leaving mine, I only looked away when Bokuto placed a hand on my shoulder. “Tonight is the night we get wasted,” The last word being said in a much louder tone than the rest, almost screaming it.

Nudging him, I quirked a brow, “That changes from the usual because?” “Because everyone is here!” He turned to look at Hinata and Sakusa, a huge grin on his face, “What’s your poison?”

I let out a laugh, about to tell him no one said that but Kuroo beat me to it, “Bro, no one says that. That was cringe,” he looked at the two other men and smirked as he placed both his hands on the table, ready to get up to get the drinks. “What’s your Kryptonite?”

Sakusa sighed, I looked at the two best friends and told them that no one said that either but at least we knew what they meant. Hinata said he didn’t usually drink, while Sakusa said he was not planning on getting wasted. Bokuto proceeded to whine and try to convince the dark-haired man. While he did that, I got up and went to the bar to get a few beers. Once I had ordered, I waited for the barman to serve the drinks.

In my waiting, I was pushed a bit around considering the amount of people around. I gripped the bar tight to stay put and felt someone touch my ass, I turned around with a scowl, ready to beat whoever did that. All I could see was a person leaving, they seemed tall, but I couldn’t really tell much more about them just from their back. “Fucking asshole,” I mumbled as I turned back to get my drinks, thanking the barman.

I had to hold back a loud sigh when I saw Atsumu seating next to Hinata when I joined back my friends at the table. I had planned on having fun and having him there only made me uneasy.

Putting the drinks on the table, I sat down and grabbed my bottle, looking him dead in the eyes. I observed a moment, assessing, checking how annoying he was tonight. “Five.” I said as I gulped down some of my drink.

Confused he put his glass down, “What ‘five’?”

Finishing drinking from my bottle, I closed it and smirked, “I’ll need 5 shots until I can handle your whiny ass tonight,”

He gasped and pointed at Bokuto, “Bok! Your robot friend is being a bitch again, how can you stay with her!” He complained, earning a loud laugh from Bokuto. Kuroo answered instead, “She’s funny, and pretty reasonable, I would have said 7.” Atsumu grumbled in response and hurried us to start the drinking game.

I did not really understand what the game was about, it seemed to have been invented by Kuroo and Bokuto, but clearly, they were having a blast. I didn’t quite follow the rules but would drink when they’d tell me to. Hinata was already a lot louder than 3 drinks ago, his cheeks flushed pink and his hand gripping Atsumu’s biceps when he’d talk.

As loud as both Kuroo and Bokuto already were, it had gotten louder. And a lot less clear, their words being more slurred. It was still joyful as the smile on their face was beaming when they’d tell one another joke. It was so wholesome; I couldn’t help but join their stupid giggling.

Sakusa had left after a few hours, Atsumu had drove him back before coming back and joining us once more.

I don’t really know what I talked about with Bokuto during Atsumu’s absence, but I remember leaning in and resting my cheek on his shoulder. “Atsumu hates me…” I mumbled. I heard Kuroo whisper something but didn’t quite catch it, instead Bokuto placed a hand on the back of my head. “I don’t know bro, he definitely feels something, but I don’t know- you know like, he just, when I….But like…” I nodded.

“What I’m saying is like, I don’t know man, I thought you’d both get along!! You’re both so cool, but yeah no… So, like- he looks like he’s been challenged or something man,” He grumbled, nudging Kuroo and bringing his head against his chest along with mine. “It makes me sad,” he whined the last part. “I just want my friends to get along, I don’t want you to be fighting,” Feeling his chest move weirdly, I realized he was crying.

Kuroo huffed a laugh and tried to cheer him up, I wrapped an arm around his shoulder. I found it slightly funny, both Kuroo and I were smiling at how Bokuto turned out but still did our best to cheer him up.

Checking if he was coming back, I instead met the gaze of the dude from earlier. He was watching me intently from his spot at the bar. He raised a glass my way before taking a sip.

The feeling in the pit of my stomach grew, it was unease, uncomfortable… Unsafe. But I ignored him and looked back at Bokuto. “Alright, alright, I’ll try to talk to him,” I slurred a few of my words too, more out of exhaustion than anything. When I had too many drinks, I was not angry or sad, but tired. Still when I saw Atsumu Miya walk in, I chugged down my shot and stood up. “Wish me luck,”

I quickly made my way towards him, “Miya,” he turned away from me and ignored me.

I could have called his name again, but that would have made me look clingy. I followed him instead, trying to grab his arm, but he was walking fast. Maybe he didn’t hear me, right? Maybe he did not even think I called him, because why would I… right?

I huffed at my own thought, why was I trying to justify this man just not wanting to deal with me?

In my loss of focus, I bumped into someone and apologized quickly. They grabbed my biceps to keep me in place, a forced-nice tone in their voice. “Hey there, be careful next time,”

I held back my disgust when he brushed his thumbs over my arm. “Thank you, have a nice night.” Shit, I should have been more fake. Now he’ll feel offended. Too many words too. I should I have just said thank you. Fuck.

His eyes focused on mine a moment, damn it, he was going to use that card… “Hey have we met already?” I shook my head, trying to get out of his grasp. “Oh right! You’re the one who kept looking at me, haha.” I gave him a fake smile, still not saying anything. He let go of one of my arms and tried to guide me somewhere, but I stood in the spot. I didn’t want to move, there were already very few people here, I did not want to go somewhere even less crowded.

“Hey, I really have to go, my friend-“ “The one who was ignoring you? Haha, I think you should let him go, if he’s like that.” A fake laugh was what I gave him with a nod, I did not want to make him feel attacked. “Come on, I see the way you were looking at me. You can’t act shy now,” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, I felt my heart beat faster in fear. I wasn’t in any condition to do any real damage, maybe I was overthinking it, but I considered screaming, not that anyone would come in.

I gulped and straightened my back, “I believe you were looking at me like a hawk more than anything, I was just glancing.” I was glad I didn’t stutter, but the moment his smile disappeared, I tried to pull my arm from him. “I’m pretty sure you were looking like I was, maybe thinking of what we could do together…” His eyes traveled over my body. I tried to push him off, he grunted. “Hey, why are you like that? I’m just being nice here,”

“I’m sure you are, just let me go, I’m not interested,” He held only tighter, pushing me to the wall and gripping my jaw to have me look him dead in the eyes, “I’ll show you what you’re missing, do you mind if I-“ His hand was starting to drift to my collarbone, “I’m sure you don’t, I saw the way you acted with those men-“ He nipped my neck, and I elbowed his side.

This was enough, I glanced down and saw an opportunity to knee him in the balls before punching his stomach and biting his arm to let me go. He tried to grab me, but I ran off, tripping as I did so. I could hear him swear under his breath and call me a bitch, a maniac, a psycho. I huffed and went back to my table. I tried to brush off what happened, but the stress made my hands shake.

I was breathing heavily. Eyes tearing up. Deep breath, in …. Out… I told myself as I brushed my clothes off and tried to smile before reaching the table, calming myself down. I just wanted to get Bokuto and stick by his side, his presence was reassuring and that’s what I need. I just wanted to get my friend, maybe a hug… just anything. If the man came back, he’d probably back off, but I couldn’t be alone.

When I got to the table and only saw Atsumu, I let out a nervous laugh. “Miya, where’s Kou?” I looked behind me, making sure the man wasn’t there. “He disappeared with Kuroo and little Shoyo,” He said off-handedly, glancing at me as he spoke. I clenched my jaw, knowing if I spoke, I would break down. Deep breaths, in… and out… in…. and out…“When’s he- coming back,” A knot in my throat gave away that I wasn’t as composed as I seemed. But I did not want to be mocked by Atsumu and prayed he didn’t catch on.

“I don’t think he is-“ He cut himself off and looked at me with a frown, “Hey are you okay?” I waved him off, feeling my lips wobble a bit. I cleared my throat and frowned, “I need to find him, I’ll go find him-“

Turning around, I ignored him when he called my name and walked off as fast I could. This place did not feel as welcoming as it once did. Any bump against my shoulder made me feel more and more on edge, I didn’t feel safe, I didn’t feel good, I wanted to dig a whole and hide in it. Or build a house only made of walls, no windows, no door so that no one could see me or reach out for me. I wanted to cry, of frustration and dread.

When I finally reached the door and stepped outside, a loud shaky sound left my lips. “Fuck, fuck,” I looked around quickly, making sure there wasn’t anyone around before walking behind a tree big enough to hide my form. When I was hidden, I slid down the rugged tree, and let out controlled breath, trying to calm down. I kept swearing under my breath, not finding anything else to say.

I went to grab my phone and realized I left it in my bag, which meant I had to go back inside. The mere thought sent chills running down my body. I took a few more deep breaths and stood up, tucking my hands in my pockets to hide the fact that I was shaking. When I was about to make my way to the pub once more, I bumped into someone. My heart skyrocketed in my chest, I gasped and stepped back, “Hey, be careful,” The sentence in itself made me feel sick, then I realized it wasn’t the man from before.

I couldn’t see much from how dark it was, but recognized Atsumu Miya’s voice. “Miya,” I let out a breath of relief. Something hit my feet, I looked down, my eyes squinted I understood it was my bag, “Thank you,” I was a lot more relieved than my tone portrayed, but I did not want him to know what was going on.

“What’s up with you?”

I looked up at him, my hands still in my pocket. “What’s up with me? Nothing. What’s up with you?” Please leave me alone, please leave me alone. If you stay here any longer, I’ll break down. I thought, my nose and eyes were starting to sting. I could feel tears coming in.

“You seemed shaken inside, why did you need Bok? He left; you won’t find him.” I never realized he had an accent, unfortunately my mind was not focusing on that. It was focused on the fact that Bokuto wasn’t nearby. My breathing wasn’t getting any calmer.

I did not answer.

Atsumu seemed to be looking for something, then he pulled out his phone and turned on his flashlight and aimed it at me. I squinted my eyes at the sudden brightness and looked away, trying to cover my face. “Hey, don’t- are you okay? You look like you’ve been crying,” He reached out for me and took hold of my hand to uncover my face, pulling his phone away and leading me away from the tree to get the moonlight to help him see and not blind me.

“I don’t know why you needed Bokuto, but I can help you if you need,”

I didn’t move. Glancing at our hands, I squeezed his hand, my actions did not match my words as I said, “Stop being nice, I know you hate me- so just… fuck, look away,” Mid-way through my words, I started crying. I quickly tried to wipe them away, my motions were stopped when Atsumu’s hands pried mine from my face. He then pulled me closer and held me tight.

“I’m not looking, I can’t see much right now it’s pretty dark,” I understood what he meant by that and held his sweater tight then started letting all out. I couldn’t formulate any sentences; all I did was let out all the stress and tension that had gathered inside my body from that one short encounter. When I tried to wipe my tears to not wet his clothes, I heard Atsumu chuckle, “Something fun about playing volleyball is that I genuinely couldn’t give more shit about my clothes being wet, usually it’s sweat though but, I’m not picky.”

I let out a breathy laugh and made it obvious enough that I was purposely wiping my tears on his sweater. “Now that’s a bit too much, I’m not your tissue, am I?” He said jokingly, I shrugged, mumbling against his chest, “Don’t let your dreams be dreams…” It elated a loud laugh from the man, he quickly cleared his throat and calmed down, “Not funny, nope.”

We stayed like this a moment until I calmed down.

I could still hear the muffled sound of the party still going on inside the building, but I felt a lot better now, although embarrassed.

I didn’t want to go back inside, and my friends had left. “I should go home…” I said in a low voice, shocking myself with how little energy there was in it.

“I’ll drop you off,” he said while letting go of me. I hadn’t let go right away and heard him made a confused sound as he was about to wrap his arms around me, I let go and stepped back, my cheeks warming up. “Just like that? No questions?” I was confused and felt like an idiot for breaking down in front of the only person who I thought would laugh at me for doing so. Instead, he was humane.

He was about to talk once more, but I was faster, “I’d imagine you nosy, and curious,” I stated, looking anywhere but at him.

“Yeah? That proves you don’t know me, not that you ever tried.”

“Neither did you, Miya. You think I’m a bitch just because I’m not as loud as your friends, or as easily readable as Hinata. And yet, you get along with Sakusa, can you feel the irony?”

He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. I sighed and sat on the ground, looking at the sky. “To be honest it’s tiring, it stresses me out to be around you,”

“What?” He sounded utterly confused. I continued, “You know, Bokuto’s an emotional drunk,” I paused, Atsumu agreed. “He cried when you left. I told him you hated me, and he broke down in tears because all he wants is for us to get along,” So do I, I want us to get along. The way Bokuto talked about him made him sound funny, but every time he was around me, he turned sour and just kept being a bitch.

“Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about it and when I followed you and called out your name you just completely ignored me, so there’s that.” I shrugged before wrapping my arms around my knees. I felt Atsumu sit beside me and do the same as me, “I don’t remember that, when was that?” I grimaced, “Yeah, figured. But like, don’t make it sound like you would have listened if you had heard me. You can be real with me and just,” I waved his way, motioning to his entire being, “Drop the fake-niceties. You’re being too civil right now, it looks weird on you,”

I said that, but what I meant is that it weirded me out, more than it looked weird on him. Not having him frowned at all my words, not having him huff all the time, or look mad… it felt strange, and I was not against it. “I’m not a bastard-“ I did not control the snort that escaped my body. Atsumu scoffed, “See! This is why you’re unsufferable!”

“Uh? Excuse me? Who’s the one who keeps assuming shit about the other? Because it’s not me, I’m living my best life and you’re just, constantly mad at me. And you’re assuming wrong shit too? All in all, your vision of me is wrong, and you hate that same vision you built of me,” I fully turned to look at him, my speech getting faster, my tone a bit higher, my frustration growing. “Don’t you understand it’s completely stupid? Don’t you realize you look like an idiot? I’m sure you’d be great company, if you weren’t exactly what you say you’re not: a bastard.”

I pushed his legs, “So to make things clear, because that’s what confuses you and maybe you’re not smart enough to read me: I feel scared, I feel embarrassed and I feel frustrated, all of this at this very moment. I’m not a fucking gold fish, and I’m sure gold fish have emotions too, okay?”

I finally let out a breath I felt like I was holding and met Atsumu’s wide eyes, he was looking at me speechless. He opened his mouth once, closed, twice, closed. Then he hummed. “Whatever, at least act neutral around me, bear through that hate because Bokuto’s sad.” I huffed, about to get up. Before I could, Atsumu pulled me down and looked at me with a worried expression.

“Do I make you that unsafe? I didn’t-“ “It’s not you, it’s…“ I shook my head, deciding against telling me. “All you make me feel is bad about myself,”

The blond frowned, any smile on his face disappearing. “I… didn’t know,”

“Of course, you didn’t! How could you? Your assumption is: the emotionless bitch,” I huffed. My heart was beating faster, for some reason. Letting it all out was one thing, but bearing the consequences of telling him, I was afraid he’d get mad anyway. I knew that talking some sense into him would be hard, but I felt like I went too hard with how he looked.

“Why are you scared then, if not because of me? Are you sure it’s not because of me? I can go-“

I wanted to roll my eyes, but instead I grabbed his sleeve to stop him from leaving, “No, no it’s not you. Your presence is… different than usual, so it’s kind of soothing if anything.” I told him, thinking of how to word it. I couldn’t really tell him that if I ended up alone once again, I’d feel a lot less safe.

His usual cocky tone was back, he did not mention what I told him about his actions but instead said, “It feels like you’re avoiding answering my question though,”

Taking a deep breath, I sighed and looked at him in the eyes, “There was this dude the entire evening, he kept looking at me. I ignored it, because … I’m not interested or anything, but when I tried to go after you, he blocked my path. Then he started making advances, and tried to make out or something, I kicked him in the balls and … all that jazz, then made a run for it.” I explained, adding that that’s why I wanted to find Bokuto. I didn’t want to be alone.

Atsumu’s tone seemed determined as he asked where the guy was, he tried to get up, but I pulled him down with force once more. “Why would you go after him?”

“Oh, you think I’m letting this man go ‘bout his life like that? Fucking asshole,” He started mumbling more insults, his blood boiling. He tried to get up once more, not listening to me. His accent seemed a lot stronger now he had lost his cool, I wanted to laugh but the panic of being alone was stronger.

“Atsumu!! I don’t care if you want to beat his ass-“

“Then let me go!”

I tried to make him understand what I wanted; I gave him an intense look, but he was confused. “I-“ I stopped talking and looked away before letting him go. “Whatever, you’re free to do as you please, go,” I shooed him away. Grabbing my bag to get my phone. Atsumu asked me what I was doing, “I’m calling Bokuto,”

“Why? I told you, he’s somewhere, but-“ I heard the ringtone coming from Atsumu, and gave him a confused look. “He left his phone, so…”

“Great. Fantastic, yeah, well. Have fun proving you’re the alpha or something,” I shrugged. I was acting almost as childish as him right now, but I didn’t want to straight up admit what I wanted.

Atsumu didn’t move. He stayed right where he was, after a few moments he sat back down. “You confuse me, I don’t get what you’re doing,” He stated, looking at me, lost. He ran a hand through his hair and looked at me without blinking.

I only saw his look from glancing his way, but I wasn’t facing him. I spelled it out for him, articulating each word, feeling my throat tighten as I said them, “I don’t want to be alone. Because if he finds me before you find him, I don’t know…” I ended up mumbling the last part.

All that left Atsumu’s lips was an ‘Ah’ before he scooted closer. “Alright, well, as your knight in shining armor I can’t let you down, you know.”

“You’re not a knight, you just have the privilege of being very muscly and intimidating.” I said as I rested my chin on my knees when I brought them to my chest.

The blond was humming, thinking, not replying right away. He did not say much about what happened, and I was thankful for that. I already felt like an idiot for breaking down in front of him out of everyone, so if he had brought it up, I would have died on the spot. But with him next to me, it felt almost relaxing. A lot different than the mood in the car. Almost as if things had slightly cleared up, but I must have been imagining things.

“So, I’m a bastard, muscly, intimidating, very bad at reading people,” As he started listing tings, I was nodding along, saying ‘yes’ until he said the last one, “And hot” “Yes- Wait, I didn’t say that. The other stuff I said, yeah, but not the last one,”

Pointing at me, he grinned, “Haha, you said I was hot, you said it, I heard it, it’s out there now,”

Rolling my eyes, I slowly faced him and observed him a moment, trying to assess what was his deal, “What’s with the change of attitude? Aren’t you supposed to hate me?” I did not mind him being playful, but once again… it was strange, and if he was doing that just because I felt bad, I didn’t need it. Feeling a bit cold, I started rubbing my hands on my arms, still focused on Atsumu.

The man sighed and rested his chin on his fist. Like me he had brought his knees to his chest, but what differed was that he was pouting right now, I was not. “See, I never said I hated you,”

“Perhaps not, but your actions told me otherwise,” Never have I ever felt welcomed in his presence, he made it very obvious he did not like me.

“Hey, your actions are also very much not-lovey, okay?” He said in a defensive tone, I met that tone with a quirked brow. “Is that so? What did I ever do to you Miya?” From what I remembered I acted the same around him that I did around the others. Perhaps a bit colder since I was not friend with the man, but I never disrespected him.

“You make it very obvious you don’t want to be around me!” “How so?”

“You don’t smile, you don’t laugh- the constant glaring, the whispers with Bok- and now I know it’s ‘cause you don’t like me and not ‘cause you’re being emotionless, you made it clear.” He blurted out. It seemed he had that list at the ready, and he needed to let it all out. But I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“So… you act like a little bitch because, according to you, I don’t like you? Because everyone should like you, right?”

“Yes!! People always love me, I’m handsome, funny, a great guy really, but you hate me, it doesn’t make sense, what did I ever do to you?”

Sucking my teeth in, I smacked my lips, “Well, it seems it’s a bit of a misunderstanding.”

“Yeah? What’d’ya mean?” He asked. I smiled to myself, hiding behind my hand as I pondered on how to word it. The first time I saw him, he looked very handsome, that’s why I stared at him. Clearly first impression made the lasting impression… “First, I’ll admit you’re funny. I just don’t laugh as loud as Kou, if we can call that a laugh. I’d say a bark would be more fitting. But I do find you funny, you just need to pay more attention.” I shrugged.

He frowned, “That doesn’t explain the rest!”

“When did I glare at you?” “The day we met! When I told Bok, he said I wouldn’t understand,”

I rolled my eyes, why had he said that to him? For the love of God, he made a bigger deal out of this than it was meant to be. “Yeah? Well, believe it or not, I was checking you out.” I stated, not looking at him.

“You what?” He moved suddenly and was now crouching weirdly next to me, pulling at my leg, literally, to get my attention, “What? You what? You’re kidding right?”

Facing him, I gave him a deadpanned expression, “Do I look like I’m kidding? And while I’m at it, the whispers could have been one of those three things,” I emphasized by raising a finger at each count, “Number one: ‘he’s cute’, number two: ‘Bro where is the food?’ and last but not least, it does vary” I paused, feeling a bit more hurt when saying this one, “Did I say something mean? Why is he looking at me like that? Why does he hate me?”

Before he could say anything, I placed both my hands on the ground and was about to stand up, “Anyway, great talking to you, that’s enough opening up for one night-“ “Hey, no, no, you don’t get to go! We’re making progress,” He gripped my hand and pulled me back before I could fully stand up. I clicked my tongue against my teeth, annoyed, but did not say anything. It was humiliating enough to have told him that, but now I knew it flattered him. His ego was only boosted from this.

“No, because this changes everything!” Dear fuck, no.

Feeling my back ache, I laid on the ground and asked, absentmindedly “Does it, now? How so? You were still a bastard to me, no amount of charm can save that, Miya.” I regretted saying the last part, thinking he would feel even bolder after hearing me tell him he had charm.

There was a silence. A long one.

After a few minutes, Atsumu laid down next to me. “I’m sorry, I thought you hated me for no reason. I clearly misread… Everything… It also ticked me off that you were so stoic all the time… I was trying to get you angry for a good reason, not just because you randomly hated me, you know? Does that make sense?”

To be fair, I didn’t see the logic behind that. I was a bit confused too, but he seemed genuine in his apology. “It makes some sort of sense, albeit being a bit of an immature reaction… Clearly, we started on the wrong foot,” I told him in all honesty.

Both of us were silent for a moment. He was right, it indeed changed everything. This entire time we had known one another, we had acted like assholes for nothing. I wanted to ask him what he wanted to do now that this was cleared up, but I also felt like he wouldn’t care. But he surprised me.

“Do you wanna start over?” I heard Atsumu ask in a somewhat shy voice. I stared at the sky with wide eyes. Had he asked that? I didn’t mind that.

Not really knowing how to do it, I quickly sitting up and looked at his still laying form. “Come on,” I hurried for him to sit up, he did, a bit lost. Reaching out for a handshake, I waited for him to take it, when he did, I told him my full name, “Nice to meet you, I’m Bokuto’s best friend and I really have to pee,”

Atsumu snorted a laugh and shook my hand, “I’m Miya Atsumu, the best volleyball player you’ll ever meet, and I’ll escort you to the bathroom,” chuckling at that, I accepted his offer. He got up and helped me to my feet before telling me to go first. Shaking my head, I told him to go first, “That way you’re my shield and I get to take a look at those cakes,” I said jokingly. Shit, no, no, not that friendly yet, I thought.

He had pulled out his phone at this very moment, his screen lighting his face. I could see the way his cheeks turned pink when I said that. “In a friendly way! Tell me not to do it, I won’t, I was joking,” I said quickly when started walking. Looking over his shoulder, he shook his ass, “Nah look, I don’t go to the gym 4 times a week for nothing,” We both laughed as we made our way inside.

Before we entered the bar, Atsumu stopped dead in his track, making me bump in his back. I swore under my breath and stepped back, looking at him curiously. “Grab my shirt, I’m not losing you in the crowd,” He said seriously. It was sort of cute how he was suggesting this seriously, but I couldn’t help but grin, “Is this like a third-grade school trip? I think I’ll easily find that little mop of yours, among those people, that is if I lose you-“ “And I’ll find yours, which means the bastard will too, okay?”

I was taken aback by his bluntness, but he was right. His reminder made me feel my stomach churn, in the little time I had spent with Atsumu, I had made sure to try to forget about the incident. But I couldn’t just do that, not when the party was still going on. “Okay… sure, but can I instead hold your arm or something, it feels very childish to hold onto your shirt Miya,”

His expression changed from seriousness to bashfulness when he looked away and reach out for my hand, “If you wanted to hold my hand so bad you could have just asked,” He started, adding over his shoulder, “And it’s Atsumu, Miya’s for people who hate me,” He grinned happily. I sped up to be at his pace, “You seem to be too much at ease to switch from hate to flirting, Atsumu,”

His name rolled strangely off my tongue, but I was willing to make the effort. After all, I had a new friend, the least I can do is respect his preferences. His answer was to walk faster, his hand still gripping mine tight. I don’t know why, but I didn’t mind, his stupidly rough hand and his complete change of attitude made him somewhat enjoyable to be around.

As we zig-zagged in the crowd, I felt someone touch my shoulder but didn’t look at it. Only gripping Atsumu’s hand tighter. Instead of reacting out of panic, I thought: it’s alright, it must be an accidental bump, nothing much, people having fun. Then it happened again, it was with more force this time, I had to look around. When I did, I saw the man from earlier, I pulled Atsumu’s arm urgently, earning an annoyed ‘what’ when he turned around.

“Tha’ your frien’? The one tha’ was ignoring you? Mmmm? Where were you goin’ with ‘im?” My heart was in my throat, I felt sick. Insistent people were annoying enough as it was, but add alcohol to the mixt? Awful. They seemed to be even less aware of their action, and a lot more sensitive to whatever was being told to them. I hated it. “Ye bit me,” he went to grab my arm, but I pulled it back before he could, “You’re playin’ hard to get, I like that ‘bout a girl, feisty and all-“ Before I could tell him off, Atsumu stepped forward and punched him.

“That’s for being fucking disgusting,” Was what he said, then punched him again, “That’s for being a creep,” He raised his fist again, I quickly grabbed his hand and lowered it, twisting his arm in a weird angle which force him to stop. “Hey hey hey, it hurts, let go-“ “Can you please stop? Let’s just go,” The man behind Atsumu was being checked by people around, it annoyed the blond, I could see it, but he did not say anything. “Right, bathroom first.” He said as he pushed me towards the bathroom.

I tried to stop him from pushing me, but he kept on doing that until we were in the corridor. “I’ll watch over here, no one’s gonna bother you,” I gave him the semblant of a smile and entered the bathroom. When I did, only a few seconds after did I hear Atsumu’s voice yell that the man he had punched was a bastard who tried to take advantage of someone. I tuned out from his little speech, feeling embarrassed but also, strangely, warm? He was being over the top, but I think he was trying to do something good.

The muffled sound of what was going on outside of this room felt peaceful. I could finally hear my thoughts, hear how fast my heart was beating. Looking up from the sink, I finally saw how bad I looked. I was shaken, my hair more messy than usual, my eyes were glassy. When I glanced at my collarbone, I saw the redness from when the man nipped at my skin. “Gross,” I mumbled as I grabbed some toilet paper, wetted it and added some soap before scrubbing the spot.

Am I overreacting? No, he’s fucking disgusting. He didn’t do much though, but he could have. It’s been so long since some shit like this happened, I can’t make a big deal out of it, it’s stupid- A knock interrupted my thoughts, “Hey you good in there? The water’s been running for a while now, can I come in? I’m coming in-“ I dropped the paper towel in the trash and turned around to look at Atsumu with a bored expression.

“What if I was doing super private? You’re lucky there isn’t anyone else in the stalls, you’d be kicked out,” I said with a short laugh as I grabbed my bag, Atsumu stopped me and looked at me with a frown. “Why are you red?” He asked sternly.

“Maybe it’s an allergy,” I trailed off.

He shook his head, “But it’s not though, you didn’t do that to yourself, right?” “Dear- no no, I didn’t- maybe, kind of but no,” It wasn’t a good enough answer for him. The expression on his face was one I had never seen yet, perhaps had I never paid enough attention, or perhaps had he never shown it to me, but whichever it was, I felt guilty for making him look like this.

“Just the weird dude tried to kiss me or something, I don’t know, a bite, a nip, call it what you want. I didn’t want to see it, so I scrubbed it… It feels gross, I know it’s nothing and you might say I’m overreacting but I feel violated and-“ My breath caught in my throat, I swallowed my saliva and took a few deep breaths to talk down, “And it’s over, so yeah, let’s leave-“

“I wouldn’t say you’re overreacting; I think someone was a real jerk and like, invaded your personal space, and you’re definitely in the right to feel like that, you know? I feel like you don’t need me to feel sorry for you… so uh, you’re strong, and he’s got a big black eye, and he’s pretty lucky I didn’t rip his tongue off,” Atsumu said quickly, his eyes trying to catch mine, but I was playing with my hands, listening to each word leaving his lips.

If someone asked me, I would have said I didn’t need to hear those things. But it would have been a lie. I never would have thought hearing someone else tell me I was feeling something valid would make me feel so relieved. With shaky breaths, I looked up, eyes tearing up and shoved his shoulder playfully, “I was kidding when I said you had to prove you were the alpha or something,” I sniffed and wiped the tears that were threatening to fall, “You’ll be lucky if no one jumps you when we leave, you’re impulsive,”

“He deserved it! And he was ugly, now he’ll have to go home knowing someone so much hotter than him beat him up, and that he lost,” I laughed breathlessly at his words, rubbing the spot on my collarbone absentmindedly. “Well, I think he could have used a bit more kicks in the balls,” I said jokingly.

Nudging my shoulder, Atsumu said, “It can be arranged, you know,”

“Nah, we’re good, let’s just… Leave,” I said that, but I didn’t move. Nor did Atsumu. Someone walked behind us, and we waited until they were done cleaning their hands, and the door slammed behind them, to finally say something. “D’ya got lipstick?” Atsumu asked in hushed whisper, poking my bag.

Quirking a brow in confusion, I rummaged through my bag but didn’t find any. Instead, I found a pink highlighter, I was going to shove it back when Atsumu grabbed it, “That’ll do!” He uncapped it and started coloring his lips, I considered stopping him, but it was very fascinating and a bit funny.

“When’s your birthday? I might buy you one if you think that’s your color,” I said, huffing a laugh. Atsumu motioned for me to wait, a finger raised. I did just that.

When he was done, he handed me the highlighter back. “Stop me if you feel uncomfortable,” He said a bit too suspiciously.

I gave him a nervous smile, then he started leaning in, I leaned back avoiding his face then noticed he wasn’t trying to kiss me. Instead, he went lower and pressed his lips on the redder part of my skin, on my collarbone. I felt my heartbeat speed up but didn’t say anything. He quickly pulled back, wiping his lips on the back of his hand. “There! Now it’s not weird, it’s pretty, and it’s not him, it’s me, I think it’s a great upgrade.”

My cheeks were heating up as I gazed down at the kiss mark on my skin. We could barely see it, but I knew it was there. I could still feel the pressure of his lips against my skin. Tearing my gaze from it, I went to take some paper towel and wetted it, then grabbed Atsumu’s chin and proceeded to wipe his lips properly. “I don’t want you to lick your lip and just- eat the ink like a child- hey stop moving, you did that to yourself.” “You could at least say something!”

When I was done, I threw the paper towel but did not trust my voice to make any sort of coherent sound. Atsumu’s voice however had no problem to spur complete idiocies, “Nooo, don’t go all mute on me, you’re so sexy-“ “Did you really just say that?”

“And I stand by it,” He opened the door and told me to lead the way. The conversation was paused while we made our way outside, the loud music and people made it almost impossible to hear one another. What I could hear was the loud whines of the man at the bar while the bartender was tending to his ‘wounds’ which consisted of one black eye and that’s it. Rolling my eyes, I picked up the pace and exhaled loudly when I reached the outside, fresh air hitting my face instead of gross drunken air.

With Atsumu still behind, I pulled out my phone to look at what he had left on my skin. I pull out the flash to see properly. Idiot… why is it nice… no, no, it’s nothing, it’s just that, nice. Nothing more. Good method to hide the gross ass mark, good for me. Yeah.

“Ah! Soooo you like it so much you’re taking a pic of it? Bring me lipstick next time, I’ll leave an even better mark, maybe two-“ “I’m not taking a picture, I was checking-“ “It out, you were checking it out, because it’s hot, right?”

Maybe. “I think I preferred bastard Miya to loud Atsumu,” I taunted him, hoping he wouldn’t take it wrong. I was caught off guard when he looped his arm around my shoulders, “Nah ye don’t, come on, I’ll get you home,” “Thank God you didn’t say you’d bring me to your place, I would have gagged,” I joked, earning a scoff from the player. He bumped my hips with his, “You know what? It’s actually a great suggestion! I think the night’s just started, maybe we could watch a movie or something?”

My instinct was to refuse his offer. But then again, I would have to stay awake until I got news from Bokuto’s wellbeing, may it be from Kuroo’s phone or a new number if Hinata was still alive. “Don’t you try weird shit, I’m not falling asleep at your place, and it better not be freezing- and also it better not smell-“ “Alright, alright, I get it! My place’s pretty clean ye know? I barely spend time there, how can I dirty it?”

“Right. No weird shenanigans, okay?” Waving me off, Atsumu agreed, telling me it was going to be alright. He unlocked the car and we slipped in, finally surrounded by a comfortable silence.

I let my head hit the back of the seat and exhaled loudly, “How about we go get some food first?”

“Sounds like a plan! You pay for it since I’m paying for the gas of this beautiful baby,” He said as he gently slapped the car door. Giving him an incredulous smile, I said, “Yeah… No, I’m paying for my shit, you pay for yours,”

He threw his hands in an over exaggerated manner, “Fine! But I choose the movie then!”

“I genuinely couldn’t care less of what we’re watching, you do what you want-“ “Wall-E it is,” He started as he started the car, “I think it’s a poetic start to this relationship,”

“Fine by me, I’ve never seen it anyway,” I shrugged as I buckled my seatbelt. I regretted saying this when he looked at me in pure shock and started telling me how it made sense that I made such a bad metaphor.

God was this ride going to be long. But at least, I was no more bathed in tension and feeling the urge to jump off the car. I was feeling pretty content right now, and perhaps Bokuto was right. Perhaps Miya Atsumu was funny and just a little bit cool.

Just maybe.

#haikyu #haikyu x reader #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #fem reader #miya atsumu x fem!reader #fanfiction #AO3 #AO3 physicalturian #writer #writings #ao3 writer #physicalturian #haikyuu #haikyuu miya atsumu #haikyuu x me

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vs-redemption · 4 years

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Worthwhile (Endeavor x Male!Reader)

Requested by: @dyceaverruncus

I was a little nervous to write this at first, but I ended up having a lot of fun with it. I hope it turned out the way you hoped! It was my first time writing for Endeavor and my first time writing for a male reader.

Living with a man like Enji Todoroki was a far cry from what you’d call domestic bliss. He was stubborn as a mule and had an irritable demeanor that most people just could not tolerate. The dark misdeeds of his past were enough baggage to drive anyone away and his bristly personality should’ve been the final nail in the coffin that contained his love life. There was one redeemable trait that stood out though, and that was Enji’s desire to change and be a better man. As far as shining heroes went, he was definitely a work in progress. He had a long way to go before he was on par with All Might, but the changes he was making in his everyday life had not gone unnoticed. Being a lower level employee at his agency had allowed you to see him trying to have more interaction with his fans and be more personable in interviews. Apparently you’d watched him a little too closely because you had ended up falling in love with the huge idiot.

At first, you dismissed your feelings as nothing more than a crush. There was no way the number one hero would even notice a guy like you let alone take you on a date, even with all of his personality flaws. He was strong and muscular while you were admittedly a bit squishier around the middle. You felt pretty sure you weren’t the type of guy he would go for. Your chances seemed to diminish even further after getting into a few heated arguments about the due dates for some of his reports. Most of your coworkers would apologize and take the blame when he missed a deadline, but you took too much pride in your work for that. For better or worse, you never hesitated to print off an email or make a phone call to prove you hadn’t made a mistake. You would’ve thought your actions would put you on his shit list, but it turned out they had the opposite effect. Enji started coming to you personally with requests and eventually started asking you to join him for lunch to go over his reports.

The lunch meetings progressively turned into lunch dates without either of you really noticing. Enji’s questions became less about the work you did at his agency and more about you and your personal life. At times, he’d regress to his old self and you’d have to call him out for being overbearing or controlling, but this never seemed to stop him from wanting to spend more time with you. His pride prevented him from doing anything that made him vulnerable though, so you were the one that had to bite the bullet and finally ask if you were boyfriends or not. Getting him to admit that you were was like pulling teeth, but it was well worth the struggle once he wrapped you in his huge arms for the first time. It turned out you should’ve never worried about your weight being an issue either because the man could not keep his hands off you whenever you were alone, and you’d nearly melted the first time he’d mumbled out how much he loved how soft you were.

As your relationship with Enji continued, he slowly began to open up to you. And once he really felt comfortable, he surprised even himself when he asked you to move in with him. It was a rocky transition to say the least, but you both managed to fall into a comfortable routine after a while. You’d first gone into the relationship with reservations about yourself, so it came as a shock to find out Enji had a few insecurities of his own.

“Look at this!” he bellowed while slapping a newspaper article down in front of you one morning. There was a picture of him on the first page that had been taken after he’d apprehended a villain the day before.

“You’re on the front page,” you point out with a shrug. “Shouldn’t you be happy?”

“I told them not to use that picture!” He turns away and stomps over to the refrigerator to grab the breakfast shake you’d prepared for him.

“Why?” you pull the paper closer to get a better look. “What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s just…” He growls in frustration and you worried he might lose his temper and set something on fire. It wouldn’t be the first time. “It’s just not flattering at all!”

“What?” You felt a little amused as you watched him get flustered. “What do you mean?”

“It must’ve been the angle of the camera,” Enji snatches the paper off the table and tosses it in the trash. “My thighs practically take up the whole picture.” You turn to look at him with raised eyebrows.

“Sorry to break this to you,” you tell him teasingly, “but your legs are massive. It has nothing to do with the angle of the camera.”

That had been the completely wrong thing to say because it sent Enji into a fiery rage ending with him storming out of the house to go to work without so much as a goodbye kiss. You never thought he’d be that self-conscious about the size of his thighs but you stored the information away for later since you were not above using it to your advantage. It definitely came in handy later that day when Enji returned home with an attitude just as sour as when he’d left.

“This place is a mess!” he shouts after just walking in the door, “What have you been doing all day?”

“I’m sorry,” you say even though the look on your face wasn’t very apologetic. “The house looked like this when you left this morning. I guess you didn’t notice.”

“You could’ve tidied up or something!” He crosses his arms over his broad chest. “This is unacceptable behavior.”

“Excuse me?” you stand up to confront him head on. You snatch the dirty t-shirt off the back of the couch. “You’re the one who leaves their laundry all over the place. Today was my day off and I didn’t want to spend it cleaning up after you.”

“How dare you talk back to me like that!” Enji puffs up his chest to try and look more intimidating.

“I’m your boyfriend, not your child,” You remind him flatly. “I’ll talk to you however I please. And if you don’t start treating me with a little more respect, there are going to be consequences.” Enji seems to hesitate for a moment after that.

“What kind of consequences?” he asks cautiously.

“How about I post all over the internet about your reaction to the newspaper this morning?” You suggest with a shrug, “or tell everyone that the number one hero is incredible enough to take down any villain in the country but can’t seem to throw a single pair of his dirty underwear into a hamper?”

Enji’s face was priceless. He definitely didn’t want to back down, but he also knew you weren’t bluffing about posting his embarrassing secrets for the world to see.

“You wouldn’t,” he says with false confidence.

“You feeling like testing that theory?” you walk up to him with a mischievous smirk. Enji furrows his eyebrows before letting out a sigh and shaking his head.

“Fine,” he mumbles under his breath, “I’m sorry.”

You told him he could prove it by throwing a load of clothes in the wash. He didn’t really appreciate that, but knew he’d lost the fight this time and couldn’t really complain. He also understood that his temper caused him to act inappropriately sometimes, so he was thankful that you had both the strength and patience to keep him from going back to the person he used to be. He always remembered to reward you for holding your ground during an argument too by offering to clean up the dishes after dinner and giving you extra cuddles at night so that neither of you would fall asleep angry at each other. The life you both lived couldn’t exactly be described as domestic bliss, of course, but there was a balance between the two of you that made every moment worthwhile.

#Enji Todoroki x reader #endeavor x male reader #Endeavor x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #Enji Todoroki #Endeavor #My hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #my writing #writing requests #Cindy's Writing

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akabluekat · 3 years

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Delicate - Rain Outtake

I’m posting this for @anna-phora for her birthday. Anna is an excellent human being and a wonderful OC writer (go read her stuff, it’s adorable) and someone I’m glad to have as my internet friend. Happy birthday, Anna!

I’d mentioned in an ask that there was a deleted scene in Delicate where Fred and Maggie got caught in a rainstorm while trying to pickup the flowers for the wedding. Anna was like “You should post this for science” and I was like “I will post it for your birthday and have it be a surprise!” So, here it is. Some of the dialogue in this ended up getting incorporated into the Wedding and Champagne chapters, but other bits were going to end up on the cutting room floor. I added a bit of an ending for the sake of not having it cut off in the middle of a sentence, which it did originally. Hopefully it doesn’t disappoint.

(If you want to read the fic that this is from, check out Delicate on Fanfiction.net, AO3, Wattpad, or HarryPotterFanfiction.com).

“Maggie!”

I glanced down the hallway and saw Aunt Lynn striding briskly toward me, looking a little harried, but no worse for wear.

“I’ve just realized—hello Fred, don’t you look smart—” She was talking quickly, a sure sign that she was stressed. “I’ve just realized Alicia never got the rings over to Lee, did she?”

“Already delivered,” I said, gesturing to Fred, who produced them from his pocket.

“I’ve even promised to be very responsible with them,” said Fred, giving me a quick wink that did no favors for my racing pulse.

Aunt Lynn’s shoulders sagged in relief and she gave a laugh that felt a little strained. “Brilliant. Well, that’s one thing off the list.” She sighed, shaking her head. “This was supposed to be easier than having a big wedding at home, wasn’t it?”

“That’s the theory,” I said. “I hesitate to ask, but—”

“How are the other disasters getting on?” asked Aunt Lynn with a bit of a smile. She took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger in a way that reminded me very much of my mother. “Well. The good news is that the flowers are ready.” She dropped her hand, her mouth twisting into a rather sour expression. “The bad news is that they put us down for in-store pick up.” She flung her hands up at the ceiling in a plea to some higher power. “Why they would think any sensible human being would want anything but delivery for wedding flowers is utterly beyond me.”

I frowned. “Yeah, that does some odd.”

“Of all the things to go wrong, that might be the silliest.” She sighed again. “And of course, they can’t spare a delivery person until after the ceremony and they’ve advised not Apparating to avoid damaging the flowers, so that’s going to take twenty minutes and Pete still can’t find his wallet and the concierge advised speaking to the local Auror office straightaway—”

I put my arm around her shoulders and leaned into her. “Why don’t I go fetch the flowers so you and Uncle Pete can sort out the problem with the wallet?”

Aunt Lynn let out a long breath and hugged me back. “That would be so incredibly helpful, my love.” She looked at Fred. “Probably you’re going to need two sets of hands—I imagine you’ll have at least two boxes and they can be rather unwieldy.”

“Incidentally, I have a set of hands and no pressing plans,” said Fred. “I also bring a wealth of experience in the area of carrying things from one place to another. In fact, I may be overqualified for this task.”

It was a relief to hear Aunt Lynn laugh. “We’ll talk about other opportunities for advancement once you come back with the flowers,” she said, patting Fred on the shoulder. “Let’s go speak with the concierge and see if he can get you directions.”

It turned out that the florist was a little over four blocks away, so Fred and I set out on foot in all our finery, drawing curious gazes and amused looks from passersby. My pulse hummed in my throat, the same way it always did when I was alone with Fred.

“I meant to ask—are you feeling better?” he said as we made our way up the street.

My cheeks burned as the scene from last night played over again in my mind—that moment where everything felt intimate and still, then the boom of that first firework flinging me back to that day in May and dredging up memories that I wished I could forget.

The subsequent sex dream.

I cleared my throat. “Oh, I’m fine,” I said breezily, though it only felt half true at best. “I probably should have anticipated that, honestly. It’s just one of those things…” I trailed off and shrugged, feeling oddly embarrassed and vulnerable, like I’d offered up more than I really wanted to say.

“You know,” he said, a hint of a smile in his voice that made goosebumps creep up the column of my spine, “you’re not nearly as good at lying as you think you are.”

My stomach tied itself into a knot as all the heat rushed to my face. Somehow, he must know about the sex dream. “What makes you think I’m lying?” I said, trying to keep the tone of my voice even.

“I don’t think you feel fine about it,” he said gently. “At a minimum, I suspect you feel embarrassed and you’d probably have apologized for it had I not previously threatened to throw you into the ocean.”

I almost laughed from relief: he didn’t know about my sex dream. Of course he didn’t. There was no way he could. I was being irrational. The pressure in my chest eased just a little.

“You’re awfully sure of yourself,” I said.

“Well, I’m awfully familiar with that feeling.”

It was like someone had struck a tuning fork that made my skeleton ring and tremble inside of me. There was something wonderful and oddly disorienting about these moments with Fred. I had grown so accustomed to managing on my own that there was some part of me believed that I was alone in how I felt and alone in all the ways that I was broken.

“You have a rather uncanny knack for saying exactly the right thing, did you know that?” I said after a moment. I risked a glance at him and gave him an extremely serious look. “It’s extremely irritating, to be honest.”

He grinned and I had to look away to keep my legs from turning to jelly. “How can it be the right thing to say but also be irritating? Bit contradictory, don’t you think?”

“You also have a rather irritating habit of asking me questions that I can’t answer.”

“Just trying to keep you on your toes. I think this is the place.”

He grabbed my elbow and gently steered me toward the doorway of a tiny flower shop that I had almost missed.

I tried very hard not to think of his hand on the bare skin of my arm.

The florist was extremely apologetic about the mix-up and had Fred not tactfully informed him that we had a ceremony to be at, I suspect we still might be there listening to him apologize. All told, there were three rather unwieldly cardboard boxes to contend with. Fred took two and I took one and we set off again before the florist could start another litany of apologies.

The sky had been looking overcast for our entire journey to the florist, but it only really started to look like rain was imminent when we stepped back outside.

“This doesn’t look promising,” said Fred with a frown.

“Yeah, we should probably hurry.”

Fred felt the first raindrop about a half a block away from the florist and made me stop under the first available awning. Our timing was impeccable—the moment we stepped under the awning, the sky opened up and the rain came pouring down in sheets.

“Well, shit,” I said.

He grinned at me and leaned in so I could hear him over the roar of the rain. “How’s your Impervius Charm?”

I shrugged. “I mean, it’s not the strongest spell in my repertoire, but it’ll do.”

“Not to brag, but I’m quite good at it. If you can hold the boxes for a moment, I’ll get us sorted.”

“Sure.”

He carefully shifted his two boxes into my arms and took out his wand. It took a few minutes to cast the spell on me, on each individual box, and finally on himself. We stuck our hands out from under the awning to test the spell, raindrops pinging off our hands.

“We might want to wait a moment,” he said, taking the boxes back from me. “Even with the charm, it’s coming down hard enough that I think it’ll be hard to see.”

Almost as if he had summoned it, the downpour increased dramatically, thunder rumbling in the distance.

“Now look what you’ve done,” I scolded. His laughter mingled with the sound of the driving rain sent another shiver up my spine and even though nothing would come of this little interlude, it was all rather desperately romantic.

We were both quiet for a moment as we waited for the rain to let up. I fidgeted, trying to not let my nerves get the better of me.

“I always liked the idea of rain on my wedding day,” he said after a moment.

I raised an eyebrow. “Bit unconventional of you.”

He grinned. “I dunno. It rained on my parents’ wedding day. There’s a photo of them dancing in the rain together and I’ve always liked it.”

“Why’s that?”

“Mum’s not exactly…” He chuckled and shook his head. “She’s not exactly the carefree, whimsical sort, my mum. Lovely woman, absolutely no appetite for nonsense.” His expression softened a bit. “But in that photo, her veil’s floating in a puddle and she’s laughing while Dad’s spinning her around and they both look like they wouldn’t want it any other way.” He paused, giving me a rather careful, intent sort of look that very nearly made my heart stop.

“That sounds lovely,” I said.

“Yeah.” He was holding my gaze and there was a flicker of something in his eyes, a resolve that I didn’t quite know how to read. He took the boxes from my hands and set them down carefully on the ground.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“What I should have done days ago.”

And before I could say another word, he pulled me to him and kissed me while the rain poured down all around us.

#fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley x oc #deleted scenes #fic: delicate #oc: maggie carlyle

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whump-tr0pes · 4 years

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HB4-40/Whumtober day 25

This is a series. Start here, continued from here.

This is a sequel to Honor Bound, Honor Bound 2, Honor Bound 3, and Vera.

AO3

Masterlist

Content warning: migraine, emesis, death mention, mention of parent killing a child, implied noncon drugging

The room was moving slowly around Gavin, but he was lying still. He blinked his eyes open and winced as even the soft light from the crack in the curtains stabbed into his eyes, feeling like a knife directly into his brain. He squinted and groaned softly as his eyes slowly focused on his own hands, bound in front of him and lying on a pillow, and Isaac, lying next to him on his back, his pinky just touching Gavin’s.

Gavin stirred, and froze as the pain behind his left eye pounded harder. His stomach churned. He twisted his hands against the rope and winced as it bit into his skin.

He squinted – why was his left eye so blurry? – and looked at Isaac where he lay. Gavin didn’t want to wake him; he seemed peaceful, relaxed, his mouth open slightly, the muscles of his face soft and loose. Another wave of nausea rolled over him and he squeezed his eyes shut. He gently placed his hand on Isaac’s shoulder.

Isaac jerked awake with a gasp, his eyes darting over the room, his right hand curling into a fist. Gavin collapsed against the pillow with a moan. Isaac found Gavin and froze, then relaxed, all at once.

“Hey,” Isaac said, with a soft smile. His gaze flicked to the rope still around Gavin’s wrists. “Oh, shit,” he murmured, and hesitantly reached out. “Can I—”

“Please,” Gavin breathed. “Don’t… don’t feel good.”

Isaac’s brow furrowed as he fumbled at the knot. “Oh. What… what’s going on?”

“Head hurts,” Gavin gasped, as even the act of talking seemed to make the throbbing behind his eye even worse. “Nauseated. Don’t wanna move.”

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry. Is it…? Did something…?” Isaac’s hands stopped on the rope. “Are you… sure I didn’t hurt you last night, Gavin?”

“Yeah, sure,” Gavin breathed. “Please, just… f-fuck, hurts…”

“I’ll get Finn,” Isaac said, and Gavin sighed with relief as the knot came away. “Maybe they—”

“Just a headache,” Gavin said tightly. He carefully rubbed his wrists where the rope had cut into them, just a little, while he slept. “It’s… it’s just…” Just the movement of his hands was enough to tip the room around him. He heaved forward, leaned off the side of the bed, and vomited into the small trashcan there. Sweat broke out over his skin.

“I’m getting Finn,” Isaac said in a rush, practically leaping off the bed. He opened the door and disappeared down the hallway. Gavin groaned as he slumped with his head hanging off the side of the bed. As the blood rushed to his head, the pounding grew even worse, although Gavin didn’t know how that was possible. He dry heaved once, then retreated back until his head lay against the cool of the mattress. The cool felt good.

“…n’t know what’s wrong,” came Isaac’s voice as he approached their room. “I just woke up and he was—”

“Don’t turn on the light,” Finn said, their voice coming from the doorway.

Thank god for you, Finn. Please, please don’t turn on the light.

“Oh. I… why, is that…?”

“Just… give me a sec.”

Gavin could hear the soft sounds of padded feet on the floor, but quieter than normal, as if… as if Finn was trying to be quiet. Even so, the sound crawled under his skin and made him feel sick with it. The air moved around him as Finn knelt beside the bed.

“Careful, I…” Gavin’s mouth was numb. “I… I puked.”

“It’s fine,” Finn said, their voice barely louder than a whisper. “Ellis has had morning sickness all week. It’s just puke. You woke up like this?”

“Y-yeah,” Gavin mumbled.

“No recent head injuries?”

“Not… recently…” Gavin laughed, once, then moaned as the pain in his head ratcheted up another notch. “Oh, god.”

Finn huffed out a laugh of their own. “Okay, fair enough. Ever had this happen before?”

“No,” Gavin groaned. “Oh, fuck, what’s…?” He pressed his hands against his head, desperate to push away the pain. “What is this?”

“It’s a migraine,” Finn said gently. Gavin flinched as he felt Finn’s cool fingers against his head, carding gently through his damp hair. He groaned and pushed weakly into the touch.

“F-feels good,” Gavin whimpered. “I’m… s-sorry, I… I don’t know what’s… happening…”

“Honestly, I’m surprised we aren’t all having them,” Finn murmured, a smile in their voice. “They’re a really common symptom of stress. And—”

“You’re the ones who were stressed,” Gavin said, weakly. “You’re the ones who were being tortured.”

Finn blew out a slow breath through their lips. Finally, they turned to Isaac and said, “Please explain to your boyfriend what a dumbass he is. I’m going to get some ice. One of the theories about migraines is that they’re caused by a blood vessel in the brain dilating and putting pressure on the surrounding tissue. Ice on the back of the neck can constrict the—”

“Not a dumbass,” Gavin whispered, trying to ignore how his cheeks flushed. Isaac’s boyfriend? If he didn’t feel so fucking… sick…

“Yeah, sure, Gavin,” Finn said gently, and the air moved again as they stood. Their voice faded until it sounded like they were standing outside the door. “I’ll be right back, Isaac. I’ll bring a clean trashcan and clean that one. I could try to get my hands on some rizatriptan, too. A classmate of mine used to take it for her migraines. It works pretty well, from what I hear. If this is gonna be a regular thing—”

“You mean this is gonna happen again?” Isaac whispered. “Finn… he… he doesn’t fucking… Finn, just… just tell me what to do. Okay? Just… tell me what to do. He… he takes care of me, all the goddamned time. Finn, please…”

“Isaac… breathe. It’s a migraine. It sucks, but it isn’t life threatening, and there are medications that treat it. I can ask Edrissa if she knows any herbal remedies. She might—”

“You… you won’t tell her who it’s for, right? I mean…”

Finn laughed, softly. “I won’t let her poison him, Isaac. No, I’ll say it’s for Ellis. She’s been going absolutely bananaballs over that baby. She’d be happy to help.”

A pause. “…okay. I just… Finn, he… he doesn’t deserve this. After everything he did… I mean, yeah, no shit he was stressed, he walked the fucking wire for three weeks in that fucking nightmare mansion, for us. And… this is how he’s repaid?”

“I know. Believe me, I know. We’re all dealing with… various versions of this. Ellis says their morning sickness is way worse than the first two times. I’m pretty sure Tori’s got an ulcer, and Vera’s back pain has been… I mean, yesterday she could barely get out of bed. And… well. You’ve seen Sam. Although they’re getting better every day.”

“Yeah, but… Finn, could… could this be… I don’t know, a result of the head injury I gave him? I mean, that was almost a year ago now, but… could something that long ago be causing it?”

Gavin’s chest ached at the guilt in Isaac’s voice. He wanted to call out to him and tell him no, this wasn’t from the head injury, he was sure of it… but he felt if he raised his voice, his brain would catch fire and come melting out his ears like hot cheese. The thought made him gag.

“I… don’t think so. I mean… yeah, technically, it could be from that, but it’s way, way more likely that it’s from the stress. I mean… don’t tell Ellis I said this, but… I’ll never doubt his place in the family again, because of how much he sacrificed for us. His mother would have skinned him alive if she ever got even a hint that he wasn’t hers, and that he still cared about us. And he did all that anyway. It would have been… much, much easier for him to just go with it, and let her kill us one by one. I mean, she might have still killed him, but she might not. And he would be… I mean, fuck, Isaac, he was… tortured. And the torture he put himself through, lying for us… what he made himself do to you…”

“I know,” Isaac said brokenly. “There’s… no way I could ever thank him enough for what he did for us. For… for me.”

“You have a lifetime to try, Isaac.”

For a moment, the pain faded, pushed right out of Gavin’s head by his shock. He’d hoped they’d let him stay, but there was some small part of him that believed they were only letting him stay until rumors of their survival had faded, and he could be released again with minimal risk. He’d hoped they’d want him, as part of their family. He’d hoped Isaac would let him stay by his side.

The pain rushed back in and Gavin whimpered softly. Finn and Isaac were silent for a moment. The smell of his vomit was making him sick. He pressed his face against the mattress.

“You… you think he’d want me for that long? A lifetime?”

Finn sighed. “You’re both dumbasses. Yes, Isaac, I do. You’re… you’re literally the first person to ever show him what love looks like. You think he took you just for shits and giggles? I mean, for that reason, too, but… I think he wanted to see what it was that made you so special that you’d give yourself up for Sam.”

“I’m not special. Anyone else would have—”

“You are to him, Isaac. And to the rest of us, too, but absolutely to him. Now… let me go get some ice, okay? I can grab the trash can in a sec.”

“No, I… I can do that,” Isaac said, his voice low and gentle. “It’s fine.”

“…okay. Well, I’ll be back. Grab the trashcan from the bathroom.”

“Yeah.”

The voices faded. Gavin floated in the pain, every heartbeat grabbing him and pulling him back down into his body. The room moved slowly around him, the sour smell of his own sick rankling in his nose. There was a rustling, and when Gavin peeled his eyes open, there was a fresh trashcan on the floor beneath him. He sighed and pulled the covers up over his head.

After a long moment, several minutes or several hours, he couldn’t tell, he felt the mattress dip as someone sat next to him. The blanket was drawn back from over his head, and a cool compress settled on the back of his neck. He groaned softly as the cool pushed away the nausea for a moment.

“Thanks, Finn,” he whispered. Then, fingers trailed gently through his hair, and he whined softly. He’d know that touch anywhere. “Isaac,” he murmured.

“Yeah,” Isaac said softly, his hand moving slowly across Gavin’s forehead. “I asked Finn to let me bring you the ice.”

“Mmm,” Gavin moaned, and his eyes slid shut again. “Thank you.” His left eye ran tears into the sheets.

“I’m sorry you don’t feel well,” Isaac whispered. “I… didn’t know what you needed.”

“Neither did I,” Gavin mumbled. “Ice is good, though. And… and you. You’re… good.”

Isaac huffed out a laugh. “Ah. I just brought the ice—”

“But… it feels good. Thank… you.”

Isaac was silent for a moment. “Yeah, Gavin,” he said after a while.

Every heartbeat pounded in Gavin’s head. For a while, the ice helped. Gavin stirred and opened one eye, cringing when the light from the hallway stabbed into his head. “Do you… do you need to do anything else today?” he said weakly.

“I don’t have anything to do but be here with you,” Isaac whispered. “Unless you want me to go.”

“No,” Gavin sighed. “Stay… please?”

Every breath, every second, seemed to move through Gavin in slow motion. He thought back to the headaches he’d had after Isaac put him in the hospital. Those never lasted for very long, because whenever he started complaining of a headache, his mother would give him something that made him sleepy and dizzy, and he’d crawl back to bed and doze until it was over. For the first time since reaching the north, fear sunk into Gavin’s chest that if any of the team got sick – and Finn couldn’t help them – they were hundreds of miles away from the state-of-the-art hospitals that kept him alive when he’d been close to death. He curled into himself and tugged gently on his own hair, desperate for relief.

The compress on the back of his neck began to warm. Gavin whimpered, tears of frustration running from his eyes. He felt trapped in his own head, assaulted on every side by the faint light from the hallway and curtains, and by the sounds of the others somewhere else in the house.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, was a vague memory of another cool hand on his head, a soft kiss in his hair, a low voice, soothing him as he lay in bed. Pain spiked in his head and he shoved the memory away. He didn’t need to think of her, not now.

Isaac’s hand slid down the back of his head and down his neck, under the compress. “Let me get a new one,” he said softly. The mattress bounced slightly as he stood. Gavin lay still as he walked out of the room, although all he wanted to do was to cling to Isaac, beg him to stay. The headache was getting worse.

A moment later, an eternity later, the mattress dipped again.

“Hey,” Isaac’s voice whispered, and Gavin could have sobbed with relief. “I have some tea… try some?”

Gavin moaned and obediently lifted his head. A cup pressed to his lips and he took a sip. It tasted herbal, sweet, with a hint of spice as well. There was a faint sound as Isaac put the cup on the nightstand.

“Wh-what is it?”

“Something Edrissa made,” Isaac murmured. “Tea with peppermint, lavender, ginger, rosemary, and honey. She said those herbs are good for migraine.” He pressed a fresh cold compress to Gavin’s neck.

Gavin moaned weakly. “She… tell her thank you,” he whispered.

“Hm. Maybe someday,” Isaac said. His voice sounded sad. “For right now… that tea is for Ellis, as far as she knows.”

“I hate lying to her,” Gavin whispered. “If she ever finds out, she’ll… she’ll hate me.”

The unspoken words hung in the air between them: she already hates you.

“Don’t worry about that right now,” Isaac murmured. “You can tell her once you’re better, if you really want. Right now, let’s just… focus on getting you over this. Finn already called into Burmingham to see if they carry riza— I don’t remember what it’s called. Sounds like they can order it and have it in within a week.”

“Hope I don’t get another migraine before then,” Gavin rasped, and pushed weakly into Isaac’s hands as he stroked his hair.

“Yeah,” Isaac said weakly. “Me… me too.” Isaac’s throat clicked as he swallowed. “Can I… do anything else? For you? I mean… do you need anything else?”

“I just need you,” Gavin whispered, not caring how that sounded. “Can you… can you just… I don’t know. I just want you with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Isaac said gently. His hand moved down to gently massage the back of Gavin’s neck. “Is that… okay?”

“Yeah,” Gavin sighed, and shuddered as another wave of nausea rolled over him. “That’s… that’s good.”

Continued here

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sinceileftyoublog · 3 years

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Small Isles Interview: Filmless Music

Photo by Dustin Aksland

BY JORDAN MAINZER

It’s rare that you find a record with a genesis as specific as The Valley, The Mountains, The Sea, the debut album from Small Isles. The new project of guitarist Jim Fairchild (Grandaddy, former Modest Mouse) and songwriter/composer Jacob Snider has its basis in film scoring. The catch? The films don’t exist. The Valley, The Mountains, The Sea is presented as an imaginary score to an imagined sequel to Ang Lee’s 1997 familial drama The Ice Storm, itself based on Rick Moody’s 1994 novel. And the band’s upcoming, unfinished EP, with strings arranged by Snider and recorded by collaborator Sienna Peck, is, according to the band, a distillation of the concept of the band, one that consciously combines film scoring motifs with traditional songwriting. In a way, you could say that Small Isles is music about film scoring as much as scores itself.

Fairchild and Snider hold the belief that film scores should hold their own as a piece of music independent of visuals, and on The Valley, The Mountains, The Sea, they announce themselves convincingly. Opening track “The Concept”--essentially the prototype for the band--combines vaguely harmonic deep bass sounds with pristine, echoing string plucks, and wordless vocals, building up like an Explosions in the Sky tune. Other tracks, too, juxtapose the ambient with recognizable structures. “Fort Wayne” shimmers atop a drum machine, while the vocal samples of “Maybe We Will” cut in and out among the beats and arpeggios. Each track also has a pristine sense of place, as much of the album was written while Fairchild was on tour with Modest Mouse, tracks like “Fort Wayne” and the washy, atonal “Lake Superior” started in those locations.

I spoke with Fairchild (calling from his home in Ojai, California” and Snider (calling from near Philadelphia) last week, a few days prior to the release of the album via AKP Recordings. (The album comes out on vinyl next month). Read our conversation below, edited for length and clarity, about the band’s artistic process, The Ice Storm, adapting the songs live, and what Small Isles has in common with Olivia Rodrigo’s Sour.

Since I Left You: You’ve called this record an imaginary score to an imaginary film. Did you think of the sequencing of the record in a narrative arc?

Jim Fairchild: Kind of, but honestly, there’s a sequence that originally existed, and I don’t remember what it was, and it would have been more aligned with what I pictured from the movie, but it didn’t work as well as a comprehensive piece of music. The last song on here, “The Plot to Take Clover”, that was earlier before. “Life at One”, the first single, really kicked off me and Jacob’s partnership. It was designed that way; it’s not the way the record plays out. I wrote all of the principle themes, the underpinnings of all the compositions, as an imagined score to some sort of a sequel to The Ice Storm. I don’t know exactly how it would play out with Rick Moody. The first one was really successful. I have this idea for a similar type of movie that takes place in contemporary California and all these cues I can use as a mood board. Like, let’s sit down and figure out what this palate is. Let’s write a movie around it. That’s what I was thinking.

SILY: You wrote a lot of this while on tour. Had you conceived of the idea before then and wrote while on tour because of your downtime, or was the downtime the launching point for the idea?

JF: I was totally inspired by the idea. I started some of the themes that popped up, but once the actual Ice Storm Ang Lee idea came to mind, it was really generative. It’s how a lot of this stuff works with me. It kind of floats around for a while, reaching out this way or that. Once the real kernel appears, it’s like, “That’s it!” It all happens pretty quickly. That was definitely the case with this. It was the real fine-tuning that’s the most time consuming. That’s what Jacob and I have experienced. The EP that we’re releasing later this year, basically how it’s worked so far is I send him a sequence of chords and basic rhythm, which happens pretty quickly. Then--and we’ve only done it on Zoom with the new EP, though it was the same with “Life at One”--there was this theme. Jacob came in, we were gonna write some other stuff. He came in with a mic and sang some stacked harmonies. Then it’s carving out all the other elements around that to make it.

These are unconventional compositions. They’re meant to accompany visual ideas. With that in mind, cues and scoring music doesn’t always work in recorded music, traditionally speaking. There’s all these lengths, sometimes time signatures shift, a melody might exist in an unconventional way to fit what’s happening visually. I really wanted to embrace that. With “Life at One”, Jacob did all this stuff, and there’s this really interesting sound I don’t know how to describe. He asked, “What are those over there?” [My partner Natasha Wheat] had made these ceramic bells for me, and that’s the most fun part about working with Jacob. A lot of the people who are trained as Jacob is--and I say this with great admiration for his abilities--are stuck in certain modalities. This is a perfect example. He looked at the bells and said, “Let’s do that.” He grabbed a drumstick and played the edge of these bells and processed them. That was a big feature in the composition of “Life at One”. This all happens very thematically and reflexively, but to then carve it up and get it to have purpose, meaning, ebb, and flow and make it work visually--that’s where the dirty shit happens. [laughs] I also look forward to when Jacob and I can be in person more. We’ve made a lot happen over the past 7 months, but it’s hard when you’re not in the same room. Plus, I’d like to show off. If he’s sitting right next to me, play some fast guitar...[laughs]

SILY: The title of the record refers to various aspects of topography, and there are song titles that refer to specific places, like “Fort Wayne” and “Lake Superior”. Do these aspects exist within the narrative of the film?

JF: “Lake Superior” and “Fort Wayne” were just started in those places, literally. I picture the Ang Lee movie--the new Ang Lee movie that is inevitably gonna take form because he’s gonna hear me and Jacob’s music and think, “You’re right, we gotta do this,”--in this zone a little bit east of Berkeley. It’s the West Coast equivalent of the Connecticut zone where The Ice Storm exists. It’s this affluent, green place. But the reason I chose to keep the others as titles is like, Fort Wayne, that’s pretty grand and has Batman implications. And Lake Superior, what a fucking great name for a lake, you know? I like the power of those, and if I were sitting down and writing a movie, those titles could be at least generative of a conversation.

SILY: What about the other song titles? What inspired them?

JF: “The Concept” is literally the concept for our band. The concept has expanded since then, but out of the ordinary--no sounds are out of the ordinary in modern production--but in the film scoring landscape, out of the ordinary, ambient, or textural sounds. But then big, beautiful melodies. Jacob’s voice. All that stuff. Synthesizing our two strengths. Jacob’s also a songwriter and makes amazing songs, but my background’s in bands, and so I treat our relationship as if it’s a band. Taking our two strengths. Jacob’s more conventionally trained, schooled, and knowledgeable than I am. He has a richer depth of knowledge in theory and orchestration. I can arrange that way, but he knows what’s going on. Mine is more reflexive--I don’t want to say auto-didactic because that’s kind of an arrogant term--but learning through mistakes. I think Jacob’s made fewer mistakes than I have.

SILY: What were all the instruments used on the record?

JF: There’s a lot of found stuff. 12-string guitar. I was writing it using this Rosewood Fender Stratocaster that Fender made for me. The 12-string is prominent on “Life At One”. There’s a piano Jacob played. There’s a lot of me coming up with drum beats. A lot of the initial stuff was in the box. I’d roll in my portable studio backstage, I’d have a guitar, Universal Audio space, whatever drums and synths I had.

SILY: What is your background in film scoring?

JF: I don’t have a specific background. From a very early age, I’ve been into film scores. I’d buy them starting when I was 15 or 16. CDs. Pretty obvious releases, but things like Danny Elfman’s Batman score, The Good, The Bad and The Ugly. Sort of getting into Jerry Goldsmith. Elfman, Morricone. I like some of the Bernard Hermann stuff. I started studying it from the way I study everything: figuring out chord sequences, the way the melodies work, to the degree I was able. In the early 2010s, I was making a lot of music that was getting licensed for TV. Once Modest Mouse really started touring [2015 album] Strangers to Ourselves, I let a lot of those pursuits wither a little bit. But I’d always longed for a collaboration. A lot of that stuff was done in a solitary way, so I felt very fortunate when Jacob and I met. He was into that idiom but has a range of skills I don’t have. We also really work well together. All the reflexive stuff that happens, the melodies, it’s easy for us to go back and forth and see what we’re into and where to keep going. Neither of us get upset when the other person isn’t feeling whatever the direction is.

As I get older, I realize the value of stimulating multiple senses. I look forward to Jacob and I doing more of this stuff in collaboration with people. The Riley Thompson video for “Life At One” was him responding to a finished track, but in an ideal world, filmmakers would come to us and, in the way Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross work with David Fincher, where he says, “This is the concept for the new film,” and Jacob and I come back and say, “This is the sonic and melodic landscape we’re thinking of, and here are some character cues. Let’s take it from there.” I love being in conversation with people collaboratively and am attracted to the idea of it across media.

SILY: Do you think the idea that the music might not be responding to a finished film would make the score stand on its own more as a piece of music?

JF: The scores that I like totally stand on their own as music. When Morricone passed away, I read that John Zorn had a quote when they were hanging out in the late 80′s or early 90′s, Zorn said, “Don’t do it unless you’re thinking about what the soundtrack record is gonna be like.” The music needs to be cool enough to just be music.

SILY: Tell me about the album art.

JF: Natasha and I sold our place in Los Angeles last year and moved to Ojai. We thought it was a temporary transition, and now it’s somewhat permanent, because we bought a place here. We’ve been in this guesthouse next door since November. I like taking pictures at night with whatever ambient light [there is], so I took that picture from our place. I wanted there to be contrast with this technicolor paint and silver border on the upper and lower parts of the image. Homes are very interesting to me, and there’s a lot of that in The Ice Storm. There’s that shelf people look at from the outside and think, “It could be dilapidated, it could be beautiful.” People think of it as a thing. But there’s this whole other world that only exists inside of there. It’s always fascinating to me when walking by the place. Stories in the shell. I like the idea of a structure having implications. I don’t have an agenda for what those implications might be, but I like the idea that there could be implications there.

SILY: Jacob, when Jim came to you with this idea, how aware were you of The Ice Storm?

Jacob Snider: I had seen it. I don’t know if in our first meeting, it came up that specifically and clearly that this is where the music was going. In fact, it started more as a casual meeting of creative types. When I came over to Jim’s studio, he just showed me the latest thing he was working on without any huge idea behind it expressed to me in that moment. Jim might have been thinking it in that moment, but that day was more, “Alright, I’m working on something, what do you hear and is there something you think you could contribute to it?” It was really organic. Like Jim mentioned before, the best thing you can do when making something is show it to somebody else, because they’re gonna hear it in a different way or they might suggest something if you’re open to it. People can make amazing solitary music, but it will always be just their thing. You bring in someone else, there’s a different energy, a different perspective.

As it stands, I do love that film. It’s really haunting. Jim and I talked before that it’s not a movie you can watch every week. It’s heavy, and the themes are deep: family, loss, grief, betrayal. It’s a great one. I think it’s a movie that’s cinematic but also has a lot of depth. I think that’s what we’re going for with Small Isles. It has shades of film music but also shades of rock and roll and romantic string writing from the orchestral traditions. I think we’re trying to combine a few things at once, and we’re really curious how it starts to strike people and how some filmmakers respond to it.

SILY: Are you both generally Ang Lee fans?

JF: I haven’t devoured all of his work. There’s plenty I like. But I’m so in love with [The Ice Storm]. I was in love with the book before the movie came out. He treated it so beautifully. As high in the sky as it is for two nascent film composers to say, “I want to work with Ang Lee,” it’s very important to know where you want to go. It may take a long time to get there, but [it’s important] to have a place where you’re headed. That was definitely the case in the early Grandaddy days, and having watched [Modest Mouse lead singer] Isaac [Brock] for as long as I did, I think it was the case there, too. It may not be as specific knowing that I’m traveling in this direction, but that direction can totally change. There can be diversions that knock you off your course positively or negatively, but thinking about how beautifully he treated that material, that’s where I want to go.

SILY: How are you adapting Small Isles to a live performance?

JF: We’re gonna play at least some of this, maybe all of this live. I’m really looking forward to it. Jacob’s only on half this record, and the 5-song EP we’re releasing later this year, he’s on all of. That’s a straight-up 50/50 collaboration. I’m looking forward to the stuff Jacob didn’t contribute to on the record, hearing what he does with strings. We’re still figuring out how we’re gonna approach it. Jacob will be on keys and vocals, and I might sing a little bit. I’ll be on guitar. Our friend Sienna who Jacob went to school with, who’s doing the strings, we’re talking about having her lead a double string quartet. I would like to have a drummer doing some electronic drums and maybe a kit as well. I definitely don’t imagine we’ll totally nail it on night 1. There’s a lot of stuff we have to work out. There aren’t many antecedents in this zone, but something like Explosions in the Sky mixed with Johann Johannsson. I saw [the latter] in 2010 in San Francisco; there was a little bit of strings, various electronics, and he was on piano. That was a very striking performance. So the explosiveness of a big arena rock show with lots of subtleties and nuance that can come from strings and orchestral.

SILY: What else is next for Small Isles?

JF: We wanna finish this EP. I also really love the way a lot of rap and hip-hop people have gotten it right over the years. Using current listening habits and technology to get out as much music as possible. I definitely have the seeds for at least another EP behind this. Once we get this EP done--there’s just a little bit of tinkering to be done over the next month before going into the mixing stage--I want to make as much music as possible and release it. With the spirits of the world willing, I want to get off the ground live and collaborate with filmmakers, dancers, artists, people in the visual medium. I just love making music with Jacob and this type of music. I’d like to have a few releases a year. EP length [or] album length. I have a number of concepts written down. The seeds that Jacob and I have been playing with to make the EP. I was thinking about The Last Black Man in San Francisco when making this EP, and I’d love to collaborate with those filmmakers. Even just being in person, to tell Jacob, “What do you think of this sequence?” and have him respond without dealing with latency issues and dodgy DSL.

SILY: Anything you’ve been listening to, watching, or reading lately that’s caught your attention?

Jacob Snider: I’ve been listening to a lot of pop. I’ve been listening to the Olivia Rodrigo record [Sour]. I think there’s great writing on there, great production. Watching, I’ll just piggyback on The Last Black Man in San Francisco. It took me a while to finally see it, but I had a filmmaker friend tell me I had to, and I loved it. Also the other film Emile Mosseri did the score for, Kajillionaire, the Miranda July film. Reading-wise, I’m about to jump back into Louise Erdrich’s The Round House.

JF: I’ve been digging the Olivia record, too.

JS: There’s some cool strings on there too from the guy who does a lot of the strings for Portugal. The Man, [Paul Cartwright]. They created a string orchestra sound with just one guy layering violin and viola, which is really cool, and that’s what we’re doing with our collaborator Sienna Peck. There’s totally room for that now, the way the world has been so remote. We can’t put 16 players in a room right now due to public health restrictions, so let’s get one person. It’s really hard to do--you can be a great violinist and not be able to layer yourself in a way that makes it sound like a string orchestra. You have to change your position in the room, the way you’re playing slightly, pretend to be three different people sharing a stand. That’s what you’ll hear on the next record.

JF: I just got into How to Change Your Mind, the Michael Pollan book about psychedelics, which I really loved. I just started a book called The Magic Years, which is about child development. I have a three-and-a-half-year-old son, and I’m very fascinated by what’s going on in his brain and what makes him make the decisions he makes. Just how to be a better dad. I am always a religious reader of The New Yorker, every week it comes out. Natasha and I watched The Kids, a documentary [about the making of Larry Clark’s Kids]. When that movie came out, Grandaddy were skateboarders, so it was important to us. But even as a young kid, I felt that it was really exploitative, and the documentary verifies it. It’s heartbreaking. Larry Clark is a really derelict dude. Truly lecherous. But [The Kids] is a beautiful movie. We’ve been watching Los Espookys. I’m really excited about Vince Staples’ upcoming record. My friend Nik Freitas put out a new song. My musical diet’s gotten really regressive in a way because my son is very into the Super Furry Animals record Radiator. It’s all he wants to listen to in the car.

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wolfcha1k · 4 years

Text

An analysis on Guy, Eep and Grug NOBODY asked for in Croods - A New Age but tough shit

help

So its theory time :U Since this trailer seems to finally go into Guy’s perspective over things happening in the story. It seems like though Guy has been accepted into the Croods family, its not peaches and cream as one would think. Guy is used to having personal space, basically being able to have peace and quiet. Now after a lifetime of solitude [srsly, how long has he been alone??], this is a big adjustment for him. I don’t doubt he doesn’t care and love the Croods like family because they are his family now, he gave up a lot for them and Eep. There’s something of a culture difference between the family and him, with the Croods being used to being jam packed together and Guy who is more used to personal space.

Look how excited he gets over having his own space once they get to the Betterman Farm!

This also translates into his relationship with Eep. If you notice in a lot of the teasers so far, they’re never alone together. Grug is usually looming in the background or the family is there, they’re even using Chunky of all things to try getting away from them.

[also judging by the weave work here on the wood she’s probably in one of the spare rooms at the farm and the fact the clip launched with ‘World’s First Crush’, it might be safe to say even Eep starts to enjoy having privacy since this means you know, more Guy time but I’ll get more into Eep and what I think their ‘conflict’ will be later!]

but ofc Grug is still there getting in their way, and if you’re a teenage boy in love with a girl, it bites hard that you can’t just enjoy one on one time alone with her. They keep getting interrupted whether it be by animals, the family, Grug or nature itself; that would cause tension for anyone’s relationship. Guy even needs to explain to Eep what privacy is and knowing how she lived, ofc this is a real weird and exciting concept for someone so used to having other people breathing down her neck.

This translates into his relationship with Grug because I personally feel this has nothing to do with Eep herself and Guy doesn’t hold that against her. Grug is mentioned in interviews that he’s “not ready to accept Eep is all grown up and has her relationship with Guy” and that “she’s ready to leave the pack”, as Grug calls it.

They survived the end of the world, but dynamics change, and I love continuing with where do Eep (Emma Stone’s character) and Guy (Ryan Reynolds) leave off (with their romantic relationship) and how does Grug (Nicolas Cage) accept the change that his daughter is now grown up? So we definitely further those themes of a father not wanting his daughter to leave “the pack” – as they call it – but she’s ready, and her relationship with Guy starts off where it ended in the first film.

Guy even causes what seems will be quite a fight when he tells Grug to chill out after Grug mentions “the pack is stronger together”.

Grug probably wouldn’t be having this kind of fear if there was nothing to fear. It might be safe to say Guy and Eep are planning to leave the nest to be on their own. They’re both young adults and in love, its a natural step in a relationship to want to fly the coop. This snippet here really gives me those “engagement/promise ring” vibes with how Guy is holding the rock drawing and Eep is reacting.

Just what did he say before this? They’re also huddling away and discussing privacy, perhaps it was the lead up into “Hey Eep, let’s move out”, or whatever the caveman version of it is.

and Grug is watching them very worriedly.

There is something up going on with them now, and though Grug has accepted Guy and Eep, this isn’t a step he’s ready for as a father [and honestly probably after surviving The End/repaired his relationship with Eep, didn’t think would be coming this soon]

This segment in the interview really heavily implies these sort of things too:

The world is always changing, and families also change. As a father, Grug’s maybe not ready for the next step of his daughter leaving home. And with Eep and Guy I thought, “This is a great opportunity to now hand it off to them.” In the first movie it’s like puppy love between Eep and Guy. They meet each other, and they’re in love. But they’re the only two teenagers in the world, so of course they love each other. This story answers the question of why they actually belong to each other. Through the course of this story, we challenge what their relationship means, and why they should spend their future together.

You don’t talk about challenging what a relationship means and what their future will be without planning something surrounding that. They are planning and its freaking Grug out.

I also think in Grug’s own way he doesn’t want to see Guy go either, since it must say a lot about how different the dynamic of Guy and Grug’s relationship as a son and father figue have shifted if Guy feels he can tell Grug to calm down and also flirt/court Eep with protective daddy vision on him all hours of the day. When the Betterman’s show up, I am convinced Grug is going to get defensive over Guy bc he’s now as good as his son.

There’s also these little moments which seem pretty small but:

[as sour as Guy looks here, it probably means a lot for Grug to actually let Guy be in their sleep pile]

[also look how pure and excited Guy is to share about the shower with Eep and Grug]

I feel Grug does care for Guy but being how Grug is has unintentionally made Guy feel like an outsider in the Croods clan.

Now, back to the Bettermans and Guy. The lifestyle they live is clean, modernized and has routine, things Guy is probably craving with an inventive mind such as his. He’s just in heaven rn. These people are more like him than the Croods are, and I don’t mean that in a bad way. The Croods are still important to him but it probably feels invigorating to meet likeminded people.

You can already tell in the trailers Guy is going to form a bond with them. Part of me doubts they’re actually related to Guy like as parents and a sister but I won’t rule out the possibility, considering how invested Phil seems to be with Guy in a lot of the teasers and trailers. Perhaps they’re extended family or old family friends who knew Guy’s, we won’t know yet.

This bond I feel will be the prime focus of the film and conflict as well. [and no, not in the love triangle way concerning Dawn, there’s already an interview disproving that!]

“It seems from the trailer that Kelly Marie Tran’s Dawn and Emma Stone’s Eep hit it off immediately…” There’s definitely a lane that is driven a lot in romantic comedy type things where the new girl is the cause of jealousy. With Eep and Guy, when this other girl comes into the picture it would have been easy to go, “Oh, she could be the romantic rival.” We made the purposeful decision to not go down that lane.

However I do think his friendship with Dawn will be something as a compare/contrast with how Eep treats her. Both are doing what they feel is better and right for the sheltered girl, with Eep wanting to take Dawn outside the wall and Guy getting upset when he finds out Eep took her out.

He’s obviously going to catch them and lecture Eep about this. Now, how does Eep feel about Guy’s shift?

At first, I really think she supports him on connecting with the Bettermans and all the stuff he wants to do. Guy is quirky, he’s inventive, and likes to push the mold in what he can change to make life easier on himself and the people he loves. This place is his Utopia and considering the exchange she has with Grug over “a little change isn’t the end of the world”, she probably is willing to give the farm a chance because she knows Guy has been feeling lost and probably the butt of the joke lately [least where Grug is involved]

We also know Eep loves to try new things, she just in general loves new. Its what attracted her to Guy and even after it all, still loves Guy.

However, this is what I believe is going to be the start of the conflict between Eep and Guy too. Guy starts to change too much and Guy being Guy probably doesn’t realize it. She starts seeing the farm as another cave, another place to hide and seeing Guy thriving here probably makes her feel worried about what this means for them as a couple. That wall like Eep said is Dawn’s cave, and Guy probably doesn’t think of it that way after a lifetime of danger and being on the run from The End. Also the private bedroom probably helps

Anyway, what was I saying?

also something I noticed was when they first arraive in the elevator you got Guy looking at Eep to see her reaction to this place. He’s obviously hoping she’s finding the Bettermans has amazing as he is.

and just look how happy he looks seeing Eep isn’t going to freak out at Dawn I guess??? lol

Just “these two worlds are melding nicely”

However something I think is going to happen as the premises of the movie is both families settling their différences aside/celebrating them, is that somewhere along the line as Eep and Guy get closer to Dawn, there’s going to be a shift. The Bettermans perhaps act uppity with the Croods since they are cavemen and deemed less intelligent, so you got Guy stuck in the middle with his two found families trying to co-exist [also Eep too, bc her friendship with Dawn is obviously a major plot thread of the film]

Eep takes Dawn out for a joyride and the two bring in danger that followed them there.

“What’s on the other side of the wall?”

also totally predicting some kind of reveal that makes Guy have a temporary fall out with Phil, I don’t know why but its just a vibe I’m getting. Phil looks scared and Guy looks pretty pissed off while asking about the wall. That or he says something about the Croods themselves he feels is too far, I mean, Guy looks rather uncomfortable here as Phil says “We’re an evolved people” pretty smugly.

“Phil those are my future in-laws, stop”

He’s also seated on their side of the table, keep note of that with the Croods on the other. There’s going to be a sense torn between both worlds going on for Guy in this film, at least I think so. And its going to challenge him and how he cares for Eep and the Croods.

Leading into Eep and the Croods.

The big bad shows up, wrecks some shit and abducts everyone, at least it seems like it here.

“The only way to survive is if the pack stays together”, this whole adventure reminds Guy of his place in the Croods family and gives Eep and Grug a better understanding of what Guy is feeling/going through.

People loved The Croods, and they’d been trying to make another one… but it’s a high bar. I can say this because I didn’t work on [the first film], it’s a beautiful movie. It’s funny, and it’s about family. I was like, “I want to see the continuation of where we left off with these characters.” Especially with the father/daughter aspect of the first one, and going, “Now that Grug has accepted Guy into his pack, and has this great relationship with his daughter, where do they go from there?”

Something tells me Guy and Eep have their big blow up somewhere around Rafikzilla shows up, and after getting separated, Guy has a heart to heart with Grug about Eep and just their strained relationship in general. They patch things up, and together with Phil go forth to kick some monkey ass. And they reunite and things are okay again. Blah, blah, blah. Wow this got weak near the end, um but this interview sums it up pretty good for me tho.

“Was it always the idea to introduce a second family?” Yeah, that was there in my first pitch. You have the Croods come across another family, the Bettermans, who are a more evolved family, and these two families couldn’t be more different. The Croods lead with their heart, and the Bettermans lead with their brain. Of course, there’s conflict, they face challenges, but they learn to appreciate each other’s differences – not just to live with each other’s differences but to almost celebrate them. There’s a lot going on. There’s a lot of characters in this one. There’s a lot of wonderful, powerful themes. But it’s a ridiculous comedy too.

Basically, Guy is having a midlife crisis at the age of 19 and gets his shit together, Eep gets a better understanding of her boyfriend, and Grug finally backs tf off so we can get Croods 3 where Eep and Guy have a kid :U also I’ve been calling A New Age the “Shrek 2″ of the Croods in terms of how the story seems to be shaping up with Guy, Eep and the two families, I’m hoping I’m right because that would be some delicious development to see.

#the croods #croods #thecroods #the croods a new age #thecroods2 #croods2 #the croods 2 a new age #look at mr sourpuss over there

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hideawayintheimaginationworld · 3 years

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Um... is it okay if I ask for a short story on how Matt and Spring Jr met Lefty? :\/\/

Matt couldn’t tell what was and wasn’t real anymore. According to the doctor who took care of him at the hospital, he had some sort of severe mental breakdown, that led to the stupid idea that a parasite was living inside him and he had to get it out by cutting himself open.

He did wonder how the hell he got to the hospital, as he remembered that gross little thing looking at him, then everything went dark—

No. No. The doctor said it wasn’t real.

He did also recommend therapy.

Like anything was wrong with him.

The more and more he did think about it, the more and more it seemed to be a nightmare. A bizarre nightmare, one induced by a form of stress, maybe anger psychosis, that was what the hospital psychologist said.

The only reminder was the scar.

The scar was itchy again, Matt had to resist the urge to scratch it like a mad animal, as it was both still sensitive and healing.

He hated looking at it, it reminded him of the thing. It wasn't neat either, in some spots it was darker and more jagged. He wore anything to cover it, baggy shirts usually fixed not having to look at it too long, he tried not to touch it at all.

Another negative? His job put him on leave.

Without pay.

The nerve.

Matt completely erased Springtrap, not wanting to work on the game anymore, he hoped there was another game he could work on at some point but most people hadn’t hired him onboard.

It was just a bad dream, he reminded himself, he popped two pills of a pain reliever in his mouth, not caring that he already had two before, and went outside for the first time in two weeks.

The only thing he wanted was alcohol.

It was the only thing that let him sleep now.

He had to drink himself into a comatose state to get any sleep that wasn’t disturbed.

Meaning he often woke up feeling gross.

He hadn’t seen Jason in a few days, considering how he did help, getting some groceries then left in the beginning, saying he needed to take it easy.

Like he could.

Life wasn’t easy.

He was picking out exactly what he needed and went to the checkout to pay.

“Daddy!!”

That couldn’t be.

No. No. He reasoned, it has to be some other disgusting brat calling for their father.

He was just on edge for no good reason.

He left the store, walking back to his apartment, he kept drifting into flashbacks of everything, it seemed too painful and real to be a dream.

But it couldn’t have been real.

“Excuse me?”

He would just figure out what the hell to do next.

“Excuse me!!”

Matt realised he was being addressed, he turned and saw a red-haired man with very pale skin, something that was strange was the golden eyes he had, they were almost the colour of a setting sun, entrancing in a way. Standing next to him was a teenaged boy, with messy blonde hair and green eyes, the boy stared at him looking kind of annoyed almost. They had been in the same supermarket Matt was just in, as they had shopping bags, the guy even had a backpack strapped to his back.

“Did you drop your wallet?” The man asked him.

“No I didn’t,” Matt curtly answered, hating this guy was stopping from getting home.

“Are you sure you didn’t drop it? I found a black wallet and I think it's yours,” the man was showing him a wallet that looked like his.

Matt reached to his pocket.

Fuck.

It was his wallet.

“Turns out it is, I'll take that,” Matt took it from the man, immediately opening it to check for any lost money.

“Fucking rude.”

Matt was completely taken off guard by the comment.

“What??”

“You're fucking rude,” The man repeated, “Didn't even thank me, I could have stolen your wallet you ungrateful prick.”

“Let it go, walk away...” The teenager grabbed his arm, trying to pull him away. Matt guessed that teen was his son, but they didn’t seem to share any characteristics, aside from both of them being lanky.

“I feel sorry for the people in your life, I've only known you for two minutes and I already hate you, imagine being your mother or some shit, she'd be ashamed of you, asshole,” The guy turned and walked away, the teenager followed him.

Matt huffed, how dare he.

“Daddy!!”

Again? Seriously??

“What is it?”

“Daddy! Daddy!!”

He had the awful realisation that wasn’t his imagination.

He saw the guy and teenager running back to him, Matt suddenly felt like he needed to run, so he did.

Unfortunately, the guy caught up to him quickly, grabbing his shirt collar and stopping him dead in his tracks.

“Shit! Look, I'm sorry if you feel like I was rude.”

“Hey Alec, look it was fauxpology, sound familiar?” The guy asked.

“Yep.”

“Alright, let's see what the rabbit says... I might have found you.”

Found??

“Let me go!!”

“Daddy!”

“You need to come with me.”

“No I don’t,” Matt struggled to pull away.

“Oh yes, you do...” The guy spun him to face him and pressed his hand against his temple.

“Sleep.”

Matt suddenly felt heavy in his legs, drowsy like he was pulling from reality.

Then everything went dark.

“Jesus you didn’t have to put the guy to sleep...”

“I felt like I had no choice...”

“So what are you going to do?”

“The same thing as anyone, I will offer help.”

Matt finally could open his eyes, he was looking at a white ceiling, he wondered if he was in the hospital again and the thought disgusted him.

He looked to the side and saw a blurry black shape, he blinked and it cleared.

“But he talked to you rudely honestly.”

“Well if my theory is correct... he's been through a really awful experience...”

“Lefty, picking up the broken souls everywhere.”

“Hello, Matthew, back with the living are you?”

Matt froze, the black shape turned around and he saw a very familiar golden eye staring at him.

“We need to talk about your son.”

“I don’t have a kid.”

“Explain this,” Matt realised it was like a bear, but a robot, an animatronic, like Springtrap, but he wasn’t so decayed, like he was modern and more aimed at kids, the animatronic turned around and turned back with a familiar sight.

“Hello, Daddy!”

Matt screamed, wanting to get away. Lefty had the little bunny.

The bunny that crawled out of his body, the dirty green fur and the big silver eyes, was looking at him.

“Explain why I found little Spring wandering around the street ten days ago with no adult supervision, covered in dirt, blood and some other strange fluid I couldn’t figure out... But I figured it out!!” The animatronic nodded.

Matt looked horrified, the way it moved was so lifelike like it was a person in the suit.

“The fluid was mucus... disgusting... but I've figured it out, you somehow... got a parasite... and you share DNA in some way.”

“Nah, he was pregnant.”

Matt heard a chorus of laughter.

“That's why you wear protection.”

“Don't have sex, because you will get pregnant and die.”

“Don’t make fun of him kids,” Lefty placed down the little rabbit.

“Lefty don’t bullshit, the dude was pregnant.”

Matt grumbled, but they had appeared to stop laughing for the most part.

“That's impossible, he's a male, but this is Fazbear Entertainment... that pretty much explains everything and anything... the same brand range that offers getting your body hijacked, losing your body parts, death robots on demand, doll alarm clocks and a mention for the dolls that like crawling in your mouth.”

“You're laughing at me,” Matt sneered.

“Oh, um, no, I believe you, I've dealt with these things before!” The robot answered, “Spring Jr is the less hostile... but you... no one would probably believe you, you most likely believed this was a dream... Spring recognised you somehow...”

“You brought it in public??” Matt asked, he'd be ashamed to have that thing around, and this animatronic seem to adopt him, “Who are you anyway??”

“He was in my backpack, as was another robot called Helpy, they were helping me shop... now my name is Lefty, Matthew.”

“How... how do you know my name?”

“Your wallet. Drivers License,” Lefty answered.

“Where am I?”

“This is my house.”

“Bullshit.”

“No it is, the kids will tell you.”

Matt looked around, he was laying on a sofa, he then saw different kids, he could see the teenager with blonde hair, but he also saw a teenager with brown hair with a strange dog sitting next to him, another teen with dark skin and a thick black hair, and two teenaged girls, one with black straight hair and the other more chubby... and missing an arm by the looks of it.

“They look like their mother’s probably...”

Everyone soured immediately.

“You're filthy,” Lefty said, “Did adoption ever come into your stupid head?” He gave him a knock on his head, “Is anyone awake in there??”

Before he had any time to recover, Lefty grabbed his shirt collar and held him up easily, looking at him with disgust, “Don’t you dare imply I do that, ever,” He dropped him down.

“Now... I'm offering you this... a form of therapy... technically Spring Jr is your kid. This is my offer, we can talk, you tell me how this happened, but you must take a part in fixing this, you didn’t just.... magically get pregnant—”

The kids were laughing again, this time they were almost howling, Matt growled, and he was ready to scream at the horrible teenagers, having a bad enough day, when Lefty looked at him with a demented face, his eyes were black and a sharp white pupil was glaring into his soul, making him shrink back and feel weak.

“You leave my kids alone, or I will make sure you never talk again.”

Lefty turned to them, “Kids, stop laughing for a minute... I understand it's amusing to you like a bad fan-fiction or whatever you call them... but Matt cut himself open to pull that thing out... it's trauma... while I wouldn’t normally...”

He turned back to Matt, “Conditions: You live here, you get help, understand?”

#Ask #Five Nights at Freddy’s #Fazbear Frights #FNAF In The Flesh #FNAF Matt #Lefty #Spring Jr #Writing Drabble #ailingamnemonicxsoundscreecher

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foxtophat · 3 years

Link

hello hello hello

i got thrown off my groove for a month there doing irl shit but i finally sat down and posted this piece of mercy fic that i’ve been sitting on for like a month. it’s all about john and kim hanging out and bonding so that’s fun!!!

i have a couple of ideas for stories but i’m not QUITE SURE how many of them are going to actually get posted. i might do like a yearly synopsis and put it in the series, writing out what happens between stories and stuff so when i reference shit it isn’t out of the blue, BUT ALSO i am lazy and it’s a miracle mercyverse has gotten this much from me, so lets not try to rock the boat huh???

anyway this is a story about john and kim falling into a cave. it’s like a bottle episode except the bottle is like a large intestine. i hope you like it!!! if you do, consider reblogging this post, or sharing the link, or kudosing or commenting or liking or subscribing or SMASHING THAT BELL

as usual, the story is under the cut for those of you who want to stay on tumblr for some godforsaken reason

Kim had thought that she was doing Nick and John a favor when she first offered to go cache-hunting with them. After all, Grace and Carmina had their hands full working on the yard's shooting range, and there hadn't been anything better to do than dig a couple of holes out in the woods. She'd figured, why not? An extra set of hands could speed things up, and she could keep them focused on digging instead of bickering.

Of course, now that she's out here with them, she regrets ever having offered. As it turns out, their method of cache-hunting involves incessantly goading one another into a fight, trading places between aggressive pessimism and irritatingly fake optimism whenever it might serve to piss the other off more. She's given up on trying to stop it; after all, it's not too much worse than what they say while mending fences and hauling scrap. It's just that the distance between them means that they're arguing at a headache-inducing level.

At the very least, Kim had hoped for some kind of method they could fall back on, but at three hours in, they've all but given up. She supposes the first two caches had been pretty easy to find, being in areas where the terrain hasn't changed much — but this neck of the woods has definitely seen some shifting. Between the rock slides and massive knots of collapsed trees, the steep hillside looks more like a beaver dam than the picturesque hiking trail it probably used to be.

"I'm starting to think that Jacob was full of shit," Nick says, as if he hasn't been reiterating the sentiment for the last thirty minutes. "There's no way we're gonna find anything out here."

Nick might be right, but Kim isn't about to gang up on John right now. She's been mostly staying out of it as the two of them argue about Jacob's map coordinates; why get involved now?

She ignores them and instead picks her way up the hillside towards one of the many uprooted trees nearby. Just like the last dozen trees she's checked, this one doesn't hold a barrel in its roots, nor do any of them have any damn sign indicating where they should be looking. Whatever marker Jacob might've left, paranoid bastard that he was, it's definitely been destroyed by the apocalypse.

"I told you that this wasn't going to be easy," John says. "There's half a mile of trail to search, and there's only three of us. This isn't some pasture outside town —"

"When I asked you if we should bring Grace and Carmina along, you said they would just get in the way! Now here you are, telling me we need more people!"

"If they were here, who do you think Grace would blame if Carmina got a goddamn splinter or scraped her knee? How do you still not get that she is actively looking for a reason to shoot me?"

"At this point, I'm looking for a reason, so I don't know what you're expecting!"

Kim has to admit, they're both making pretty good points. She just wishes they wouldn't make it sound like the start of a fistfight.

John's sigh is especially theatrical, and Kim hears the leaves crunch underfoot as he begins to stalk up the hill after her. He's probably going to try passing her, just to get space from Nick, but he really shouldn't bother. They should at least stop for something to eat and some water, and then they can figure out whether or not expanding the search zone is a good idea. They should probably reconsider their current "poke around and hope" method, too.

Setting her sights on a stout, dead tree with its roots partially torn up, Kim decides to make that the last straw. If she's got any luck at all, the cache will be tangled up in the tree's roots, and she'll be able to gloat about finding it for the rest of forever.

"Don't get too excited," John says, catching up to her as he runs away from Nick.

"Too late for that," Kim teases. "My hopes are at an all-time high. I'm about to be crushed by the disappointment."

"Fantastic," John grunts, rolling his eyes.

He lets her take the first approach on the tree, which juts awkwardly out of the ground at an acute angle. Its scraggly branches are covered in dry needles, and the partially exposed root system seems to have rotted from rain. There are no other trees for a good couple of yards in any direction, so this tree must've gotten the brunt of the worst nuclear weather.

"We should take a break," Nick shouts from halfway down the hill. "I need a goddamn drink!"

"I told him this would be a waste of time," John grumbles. "We could have taken any other location, even the one at the goddamn compound, and had better luck than out here."

"Well, we're here now," Kim replies. "Come on, maybe the cache is tangled up in the roots or something."

John reluctantly follows Kim as she tests the spongier, damp soil around the rotting tree's base. It's clear he's already given up, but that only makes Kim more determined to find something worth the trip out here — at the very least, so that she can rub it in John's pessimistic face. He can't be a sour bastard forever.

No barrel in the root system, of course. All Kim finds is molding wood and the flash of exposed rock. It's just muddy enough that Kim's going to have to scrub her boots when they get back. From here, she can see the slope of the hillside, and the trees that slump with their tops pointed in her direction. It's like they're telling her, go back!

"Please talk Nick into giving this up," John insists, lingering right behind her and scowling at the roots that have betrayed both of them.

"I mean, we've only been out here for two hours. There's plenty of time to find something." Kim crouches down to check the rocky substrate for anything interesting. "Look on the bright side, at least we don't have to dig."

"I think you two are blinded by that bright side of yours." John sighs, leaning against the tree and glaring down in Nick's direction. "You know that the interstate is only a half-day hike from here, right? This is the exact sort of place Jacob would've stashed passports, money — bug-out kits to abandon the county, that kind of thing. It's not like he buried more coffee and rice out here."

"So is that your new theory? Jacob was planning escape routes for you guys?"

John frowns. "It's one of them."

Kim stands and comes around to join him by the trunk. She debates on invoking Jacob's memory any more than she already has; he seems to have a habit of upsetting John even from the grave. She gives the tree trunk a little kick as she considers pressing him, knocking some mud from her boot tread.

Her curiosity takes a backseat as the world lurches uncomfortably beneath them. She catches herself against the trunk and looks towards Nick, who's picking his way up towards them. Only now does she notice that the trees in this direction also lean inwards, towards the lone tree they're currently beside.

John catches on at the same time, hissing under his breath before hollering a warning. "It's a goddamn sinkhole, Nick, watch out!"

The inconvenience turns into real fear as Kim considers the terrain. With all the caves littering the mountains around here, there's no telling how deep the void beneath their feet might be — five feet, twenty? Or, God help them, more?

Kim struggles not to panic as Nick makes no effort to hide his own. "Come on, you guys," Nick calls from between two jutting evergreens, "Just cut across before the whole damn thing gives out!"

There's not a second to spare, but even as Kim starts to move she knows it's too late. She gets one last look at Nick's horrified expression before she, John, and the dead tree crash down into the empty space below.

Kim lands hard on her side, her arm taking the brunt of the blow and blossoming in radiant, white-hot pain. The world around her, suddenly dark and unfamiliar, tunnels alarmingly out of her vision, her blood rushing into her ears until she can only vaguely hear her own pained crying. Trying to move only causes daggers of pain to shoot right up her arm and into her brain, but she only finds that out as she rolls off of her definitely broken arm. At least, Kim's pretty sure it's broken. She's terrified of looking over and seeing her bone poking out, or something even worse — she knows that she won't be able to stand it, that she'll pass out, and she can't do that down here in this goddamn cavern!

Vague, warped voices vibrate through her as John appears abruptly by her side. The left side of his face is covered in a smear of blood from a deep wound scored over his brow. His mouth moves like he's trying to speak to her. God, her fucking arm!

"Take a deep breath," John commands once again, and this time Kim hears him and abides. The pain doesn't subside, but at least the panic that comes with it is softened as she struggles to calm down. As she does, the background noises begin to come into focus; the crumbling rubble settling, the sharp, birdless silence of the air, and most importantly, Nick hysterically shouting her name from above.

John puts a hand on the shoulder not currently delivering mountains of pain. "Another one," he says, and Kim obeys. It's while she's trying to catch her breath that John steps away, cupping his hands to his mouth and shouting up, "Kim's broken her arm!"

"God damn it, what happened — never mind, just —! Stay put! I'll go get help!" Nick's voice cracks as he realizes aloud, "Shit, there's nobody to get help from!"

Kim sucks in a deep breath. There's no way that John is going to be able to handle Nick's mounting panic by himself, and so she steels herself and tries to steady her voice. "It's gonna be okay!" she shouts. "I'm fine!"

"Bullshit you're fine, that looks like a two-story drop from here!"

John swears under his breath. "I don't have time for this."

"He's going to try and jump down if we don't talk him out of it," Kim hisses, closing her eyes as a wave of painful pins and needles washes up her arm. She keeps accidentally moving it, and the feeling of the bone scraping is enough to make her want to vomit.

John clearly decides she's right, changing tactics as Kim desperately tries not to start sobbing again. "It isn't bad, Nick!" he shouts, "But I need rope if I'm going to splint it! Get the cord from the glove box!"

Nick is quiet for a moment. "Y-Yeah," he calls down shakily, "I... I guess you got plenty to work with — hold on!"

Kim lets out a breath she hadn't meant to hold, then bites back the scream that threatens to rip from her throat. "Please tell me you can do this," she moans as John crouches down beside her broken arm. "I can't look — is there bone?"

"There's no bone," John replies. His voice is tight and unhappy, but at least he isn't lacking in confidence when he tells her, "I know what I'm doing. Try to stay conscious, and don't move. The last thing I need is to be stuck alone with Nick."

"Excuse him for worrying," she groans, staring up at the sky through the fifteen-foot-wide hole above her. She counts down the seconds until Nick gets back, if only to focus on something other than the pain.

John leaves her to it, making his way over to the tree that's joined them here in the cavern. There isn't much else down here besides them and the vegetation that came down with them; the sinkhole must have joined with a cavern somewhere along the way. The rock here probably hasn't seen daylight before — when she glances around, she spots a dark crack in the wall that implies there might be more, unlit caves to explore beyond.

Boy, she really does not want to go into that creepy tunnel, and she especially doesn't want to do it with a broken arm. Thankfully, Nick returns before that worry turns to panic.

"Everything okay? Actually, never mind — look, I got the rope, and the first-aid kit!"

Anything Nick decides to throw down is going to stay down here, and so Kim quickly stops him. "You keep that, Nick! If you get hurt up there, you'll need it!"

"We need it more," John points out, returning to her with a few branches that he clearly intends to use as a splint. He's not wrong about the medkit; the cut over his eye is a nasty one, and Kim could use all of those expired painkillers about now. Not to mention, there might be more injuries they've missed.

Still. "I'm not leaving Nick without supplies," she says.

John doesn't reply, but his scowl speaks volumes.

After a minute or so, Nick is ready to throw the cord down. They coordinate the hand-off just fine without her, which is great, because Kim needs to reserve all of her strength for what's to come.

Nick's bundled a few of the medical supplies into his worn-out flannel, along with the crank flashlight and one of the ultra-dry military rations, all tied off with the paracord. Kim is both touched at the thought and horrified at the idea that they might be here long enough to get hungry.

"This is good, Nick," John calls. "We're in a cave — there's got to be another way out nearby!"

"I'll go look for a way in!"

"No," Kim shouts, her voice cracking, "You might get hurt, Nick!"

"Well, what the hell am I supposed to do, Kim! I'm not gonna leave you down there!"

Kim has never in her life imagined that she would say her next words, but that doesn't mean she doesn't mean it. "I'm going to be okay! John's down here with me, I'll be fine!"

John doesn't seem to have expected her to say that, either, boggling at her with open confusion. But... well, come on! If John can trust her enough to gun down Peggies trying to kidnap him, then she can at least trust him to help her limp out of one of Hope County's many caves. Sure, it's not an ideal situation by any means, but Kim's just happy not to be stuck looking for a way out by herself.

"Are you sure you can even walk?" Nick calls uneasily.

"I can handle it, Nick," John replies for her. "We'll look for a way out — if we don't find anything in an hour, we'll come back here and try something else!"

"What the hell do you want me to do!"

John pauses long enough to look at Kim, but since he seems to have more ideas than she does, she defers to his judgment. "Circle west around the hill and look for any entrances to call from! There's going to be a cave opening somewhere nearby!"

"I don't like any of this, Kim!"

John pinches the bridge of his nose, leaving Kim to answer, "It's the only plan we've got!"

The silence from above stretches out. "We don't have time for this," John mutters, abandoning his attempts to reassure Nick. "There's no telling where a way out might be, and I'm not wasting more time because Nick can't trust me."

"It's not about trust," Kim snipes in return. "He's trying not to panic."

John only grunts in return, settling on his knees next to her as he prepares to do the hard part for her. That leaves it up to Kim to encourage Nick to get a move on; she really doesn't want him sticking around for the painful part. "Nick, be careful, I don't want you to fall in another sinkhole! We'll be okay!"

Nick is frustratingly silent for another moment, but eventually, he relents. "Okay, fine! Remember to mark your path! And don't trust any ropes or ladders you see! And stay outta any water you find, you don't know how deep it is!"

"Jesus Christ," John mutters.

"Oh, shut up," Kim tells him, lifting her strained voice to call back. "Alright, Nick! We'll be careful! We'll see you soon!"

Kim makes John wait another minute after Nick leaves before she lets him at her arm. Despite his sour expression, John manages to be nothing more than stern, and surprisingly gentle. "Careful," he tells her, as if she needs a warning as he adjusts her broken arm. She's unable to decide if the burning sensation or the stabbing sensation is worse, but they're both vying for the spot as John examines the fracture. God, she hopes he knows what he's doing. She hopes it heals clean. She doesn't know what she'll do if she loses the thing.

John jostles her a little too abruptly, and a gasp of pain tears her from her downward spiral of worst possible outcomes. If John notices, he doesn't comment.

"It's not so bad," he says, although Kim's still not sure if she trusts his judgment on the matter. "It seems like a single fracture. I'll splint it, and... Well, there's somebody in town with medical experience, isn't there?"

"I don't know," Kim gasps, head reeling, "Maybe?"

John sighs. "Well, at least you'll survive."

"You better hope so," Kim jokes, or tries to anyway.

John rolls his eyes, but thankfully he's not in a vindictive mood as he prepares to set her arm. "You'll want to scream," he tells her. "Try breathing through your nose instead."

He sure isn't wrong. Kim can't think straight for a minute after he's finished, her face wet as the pain forces her to tears, but John is utterly detached and methodical as he binds her arm to one of the branches. It's reassuring at first, but Kim can't help but wonder just how many people suffered broken bones and serious trauma at his hands, only to see the same dispassionate bedside manner afterward? God, assuming they even survived what he put them through.

"Catch your breath," John tells her once he's done, standing and turning back to further investigate the tree. "The cave systems go on for miles down here, but there are dozens of openings in the hills. As long as we stick to the larger tunnels, we should be able to find one of them."

Kim watches him pick through the tree, sizing out larger branches and dismissing them one by one.

"I'm surprised you're not more freaked out," she says as he picks out a four-foot branch. "You know, being underground and everything."

John furiously breaks the branch from the trunk, then roughly cleans it of dead sprigs and foliage. "Thank you for reminding me."

"Sorry, I just meant —"

"I know what you meant," he says. "It's fine. I'm not... Like I said, these tunnels are hardly inescapable." He strikes the branch against the ground and seems satisfied by the sound. "I spent a lot of time studying the cave systems out here. We considered using them for passage between the gates, but that plan never went anywhere. It left me with enough useless knowledge that I'm not prone to panic down here."

"Useless until now," Kim points out. "Now help me up and let's get the hell out of here."

John helps her to her feet with her good arm, careful not to jostle the splint as she tests her balance. The world heaves for an uncomfortable second or two before righting itself, although it's mostly shock and adrenaline keeping her moving. She's not sure how long that's going to last, but she sure hopes it's long enough to reunite with Nick.

"I should probably lead," John says, looking unhappy about her tentatively upright position.

"Yeah, I don't think I'm in the position to trail-blaze."

"You're barely in the position to walk," he replies. Casting one last look around the sunlit cavern, John turns towards the dark crack in the wall that leads further into the system. "Try not to pass out."

"No promises," she says, staggering her way to their only exit.

She can feel the cool, musty air from here, oddly relieving against her sweaty face. She wishes she hadn't watched The Descent so many times before the apocalypse, because that is really coloring her perception of this situation. Of course, they're more likely to run into a wolverine or bear den than they are to be hunted by a pack of cave-dwelling mutants, but that doesn't stop her from considering it.

John starts forward. Kim, anxious and trembling in pain, tries to joke. "Just avoid stepping on any weird symbols carved into the ground, okay?"

"Christ," John groans, the same way he does every time somebody tries to rope him in with a pop-culture reference. He winds the flashlight up and the beam of light cuts a sharp swath across the dark tunnel "Will you two please let that Hollywood bullshit die already?"

"Oh, relax," she replies. "Tropes are older than L.A. and you know it. They aren't going to disappear just because civilization got nuked."

"One can dream," John snipes dryly in return.

Of course, even with the attitude, John keeps close to Kim, sticking to her uninjured side. Kim imagines her slow pace must be irritating the crap out of him, but he impressively manages not to sigh or stomp like a passive-aggressive toddler. He's been getting a lot better about letting his exasperation get to him, although she bets it's got a lot to do with exhaustion and survival instinct right now.

The silence stretches for a time between them. Kim imagines John is lost in his thoughts, but she's been hyper-aware of every distant sound of rubble shifting or oddly-shaped rock formations that are easy to mistake for humanoid shapes in the dark. The tunnel is only about eight feet across and somewhat taller than that, but that's plenty of room for Kim's imagination to play tricks on her.

"I always thought your anti-Hollywood thing was some kind of shtick," she admits. "Maybe you got scorned on a screenplay or something, I dunno. But you really believe that all of the entertainment industry deserved to get firebombed out of existence?"

"It deserved a reckoning," John replies.

"You mean something like nuclear annihilation?"

John's frown deepens. "Maybe," he says stiffly.

Normally, Kim would try to dig into that more, but she's not in a position to make much sense of it right now. Honestly, the conversation is irrelevant — she just needs something to keep her from fantasizing about monsters in the dark. Or, you know, passing out. Whichever would be worse.

"So I guess you don't have a desert island five, then."

John huffs loudly at that. "I wouldn't be able to remember it."

That just tells Kim that he does have one. She bets American Psycho or Fight Club was on it. Maybe Fear and Loathing?

"Okay, well... say you had to pick a movie to watch as soon as we got home. What would it be?"

Even without looking, Kim knows he's rolling his eyes. "Seriously? Is this really the time?"

"Humor me."

He groans in annoyance, but Kim doesn't miss the short stretch of silence that follows as he thinks it over.

"I don't know," he finally grumbles.

"Come on, you've got to have something."

"I only ever saw a handful of movies growing up, and I lost interest in the medium in college."

"God, you must have been a pretentious bastard."

Despite himself, John chuckles at the jab. "Oh, you have no idea," he replies.

The conversation dies, just like John had probably hoped it would. Kim tries to find something else to distract her, but there's really not much to look at. They've only found one offshoot that John had been able to fit in, but it had ended only a few yards in. They've been exploring for maybe fifteen minutes, though; there's still time for a miracle. Until then, she's got moss to look at, and the distant trickle of water from somewhere far away. With the way the land's shifted, there may be a new river forming somewhere up on the surface. In a few decades, it could swallow these caverns entirely.

"How does your arm feel?" John asks, his voice bouncing off the walls and breaking the silence.

"Not... great," she admits, still trying not to focus on the numb agony of her arm. "I wouldn't mind lying down and sleeping for a few weeks right about now, but I think I can keep it together until we find a way out."

She hopes, anyway.

"Good." John takes a moment to crank the flashlight before it can go out, then picks up the conversation as though Kim weren't even there. "There's nobody in town that I know of that has serious medical experience. With the gates destroyed, there's no telling where the experts we'd vetted for the Project wound up. Dead, probably. Or worse, still involved with Joseph. Hell, even a vet would be better than nothing."

He's definitely more anxious than he wants to let on. Kim doesn't believe for a second that being in this endless, dark tunnel is any better than being trapped in a bunker, save for maybe the space. At least in a bunker, you know which way is out, and you know what's going to kill you.

Now Kim is the one who starts to ramble. "I mean, there's got to be an eagle scout out there somewhere. And there were a couple of doctors still working when I had Carmina — one of them might've survived, right? Somebody out there will know enough to check your handiwork. For the record, though, I think you did a pretty good job for a guy stuck in a pit."

John shakes his head. "I've set plenty of broken limbs." There's a weird sort of challenge in his voice as he says, "Of course, I was the one who broke most of them."

"And I think you feel pretty shitty about it, so I don't know why you sound so smug."

"I'm just reminding you of who you're trying to compliment."

Kim rolls her eyes, her exasperation carrying over in her voice. "I know exactly who you are, John. Quit trying to rile me up like you do with Nick, it isn't going to work."

He huffs. "Sure," he says, then promptly shuts up. Of course he does. No wonder he only ever wants to talk to Nick — it's like he doesn't know how to hold a conversation without trying to start a fight.

Well, Kim needs something to distract her, so she'll carry on with it herself. "I've sprained my ankle a couple of times, but the only time I've ever broken a bone was in soccer camp when I was... thirteen, I think? It was my big toe, and the humiliation was way worse than the pain."

"I can't imagine," John drawls, distinctly unenthusiastic.

Kim opens her mouth to ask the obvious question, then catches herself. Asking about John's past is essentially opening Pandora's box; every time Kim has gone digging, she comes away with something new she wishes she could forget about. The breadcrumbs of information he's given her over the past year or so have honestly kept her up some nights. She probably doesn't want to know anything about the number of broken bones John's had. She definitely doesn't want to know how.

John looks over at her, daring her to ask. It's only when Kim manages to contain her curiosity that he parts with a few terse details. "The first time was when I was eleven. It was a powerful learning experience. One I... try not to revisit."

"Sure," she says. It sounds reasonable enough, anyway.

The flashlight's beam cuts across the wall further ahead, revealing the first major fork that they've come across. They're forced to take an impromptu break as John tries to determine their best way forward. John scowls at the darkness in either direction, but it doesn't seem to help make a decision. Meanwhile, Kim takes the opportunity to rest against the cold stone, swallowing down the nausea that's starting to build. It's a miracle that she's made it this far without fainting, but she doesn't think John's in the mood to hear that.

Frowning, John turns the flashlight back the way they came, sweeping the light down the forking path. "Strange," he mutters.

"What?"

"It's nothing," he says, sweeping the light down the way they came. "Except... see this?"

He steps closer to highlight a uniformly rectangular notch in the wall, just about hip-level. Moving the light reveals more, equally spaced notches, continuing along the wall of the newest fork in their road.

"There were guide ropes installed at one point or another. It doesn't seem to be an active mine, though — it must've been for dumb tourists, just in case of lawsuits."

"I hate to tell you, John, but right now, we're the dumb tourists."

"Unfortunately so. I guess that means we should take the left."

It's smaller, and it looks just as untouched as the rest of the cave has so far, but John's made a compelling point about the seemingly man-made notches.

"You're the expert," Kim says, "I'll take your word for it."

"Alright," he says, not as enthusiastic as Kim would have hoped for. He eyes her somewhat critically, then asks, "How are you doing?"

It's probably the pain making her delirious, but she's surprised at John's concern for her wellbeing. She really shouldn't be. Of course he cares; even if he weren't actively trying to be less awful, he's too smart to leave Kim down here and risk Nick finding out. But still. She's pain-addled enough to be touched by the sentiment.

That doesn't mean she's in the mood to sugarcoat the truth. "I'm surprised I'm still standing," she says. "Let's just hope we find Nick before I pass out."

"I'm sure he'd enjoy seeing me carrying your limp body out of the abandoned mine."

Kim laughs, regretting it as it sends an ache jolting through her body. "Oh, I bet. Just don't be surprised if I tap out at some point."

"You're stronger than that," John remarks. "Follow me."

Now, following John Seed through a dark cave tunnel with a broken arm seems like it would be a bad time. If this were ten, eleven years ago, Kim's sure she would be hunting for a weapon or looking for her own escape route. That is, of course, assuming he hadn't left her to die down here. No doubt that her survival would've banked on how much he would have needed her.

She's glad that's not the case now. John is a reliable navigator, slow-going and cautious as he leads the way, testing suspect rock formations and ducking into narrow crags that don't go anywhere. Honestly, he's probably being more cautious than they need to be. It's already been a half-hour or so, and they're going to need to turn back before much longer.

John has other concerns to bother him, though. "I wonder what happened to the anchors," he says at one point. "You'd think we would have found one by now."

"Maybe they took the rope down before the Collapse," Kim points out. "Lots of tourist traps weren't exactly up to code. Earl probably got here way before we did, back when he was trying to crack down on these kinds of things."

John frowns thoughtfully. "Maybe."

"It's not like people are down here renovating for the next season."

"We don't know that," he points out grimly. "Survivors might've hidden from the radiation down here. Or maybe some angels got lost after Faith was killed."

"Come on, John," she groans.

"Nick's always wondering where the mutants are. Maybe we'll be the ones to find them."

Kim side-eyes John just in time to catch the remnants of a smirk on his face, and she can't help but elbow him with her good arm. She tries to admonish him, telling him, "Knock it off," but she can't help laughing as she does.

"You're probably right about the code violations," John chuckles at last, lifting the light to check the ceiling ahead as it dips low enough for them to need to duck. "Not a lot of these cave systems were what I'd call safe. It's one of the reasons we decided against using them as tunnels. The work involved was too expensive, and the chance of cave-ins was too high. And, as we've found out, they weren't guaranteed to stay underground."

"So, what was going to happen instead? Were you guys going to rely on radios, or what?"

"It doesn't matter what we decided," John points out, more weary of the conversation than irritated. "The gates were barely finished before the Deputy destroyed them, and we never got to find out what might've happened."

They follow the notches through two more forks, and Kim starts to worry that they're only going deeper into the old attraction. Well, at least they're taking the easy way. With a smooth floor and a ceiling that rarely drops lower than eight feet, Kim gets the impression that they're in a manufactured mine, and not an organic one. For all they know, some crazy prepper dug this tunnel out to make a quick buck for his bunker-building hobby. Of course, if that's the case, it's a miracle that nothing's caved in yet.

They pass underneath a lower segment of the ceiling, and the tunnel abruptly opens up into a massive cavern. Defunct light rigs are scattered amongst the stalagmites, with several hanging stalactites covered in chipped fluorescent paint. The rest of the rock outcroppings are covered in lichen, which disappointingly fails to glow in the dark. As John sweeps the flashlight across the large, empty space, Kim gets a good idea of the cheap edu-tainment that was offered on short hikes through the mines. Somewhere in here, there's probably a storage closet full of Halloween decor waiting to liven up the otherwise boring cavern.

"Well, this wasn't worth the twenty dollars it cost to get in," John grouses.

"Don't forget the thirty-dollar iron-on tee-shirts they print off at home," Kim reminds him with a laugh. It's enough to make her lightheaded, and she doesn't quite regain her balance, even after she braces herself against the wall.

"We can only rest a minute," he warns her, sweeping the light in the direction they need to go. Any more huffing and puffing on his part is diminished as the light glints off the rounded edge of something metallic. When John refocuses the light on the object, neither of them really know what to say.

Lying amongst the rocks, battered and dirty, is one of the dark green bliss containers they've been looking for. Kim looks up, but the ceiling is rooted in darkness, and she can't see any sign of another cave-in or sinkhole. The idea that Jacob might've come this far himself crosses her mind, but if that were the case, why is it sitting out in the open like that?

"John, wait," Kim calls as John steps off the path. Suddenly, all her jokes about booby traps seem tasteless, especially with John charging into the unknown like he is.

Of course, this isn't Indiana Jones, and there's no pit of spikes or tripwire to trigger. John doesn't wind up with a face-full of poison darts as he picks up the dented canister; the only thing he's forced to sacrifice is a good grip on the flashlight, which shines at an awkward angle and only illuminates a useless part of the floor. His slow pace and the bad lighting leave Kim to imagine what he's found inside — remnants of supplies, or a dead animal? Indications that something chewed through the rubber sealant, maybe?

John drops the barrel between them, the clanging metal causing Kim to jump. John doesn't notice as he reorients the light, leaning over to illuminate the barrel's contents. The interior is flaked with rust, and whatever sealant had been used is all but completely worn away. The only thing left inside is an empty, smashed bottle of liquor and a few wrapped, moldy packages of cigarettes.

"I don't know if I'm disappointed or not," Kim says.

"I know I am," John replies, grimly reaching into the empty barrel to check for a false bottom. The screech of metal rises up into the cavern, bouncing off the far ceiling and turning into an ugly birdsong. Kim leans back against the wall; if she keeps looking down, she's going to end up toppling over like a broken Weeble-Wobble. John glances her way after a moment, before lifting a clump of wet paper out from the depths of the barrel.

"Of course he buried documents here," John mutters. Kim can't quite pin down whether he's upset or resigned to the bad luck at this point.

"Anything salvageable?" she asks.

"Doubtful. I'll... bring these along, I guess." He checks again, digging out what he can. Other than the loose papers, there's a water-logged manila envelope and an equally soaked box of ammunition. John tucks the box away in his front pocket, holding the papers uncomfortably in his hand. "We'll worry about what these are once we're out of here."

Despite the pain in her arm giving her full-body tremors and John's dismal mood, Kim is nearly upbeat as they exit the cavern. They're still in civilization, after all, even if it's a defunct tourist trap, and the knowledge that they're clearly on their way out is the main thing keeping her moving. If they're lucky, they aren't too far from the truck — if they're really lucky, Nick will have found the entrance before them.

They eventually find a few anchors that are still moored to the walls, a knotted bit of rope still attached, and Kim breathes a sigh of relief. The sigh quickly turns to a groan of pain as she rattles her arm, but at least it isn't enough to knock her off her feet.

John hesitates in front of her, slowing just enough so that he can offer his arm to her. "We can't stop now," he tells her.

"I know," she pants, wiping sweat from her forehead that she hadn't realized was gathering. "Okay. We're nearly there."

She gives up on pretending entirely, leaning heavily against John as they continue forward. Lying down and resting for, oh, a hundred years or so sounds great right now, but first, she needs to make sure Nick hasn't had a heart attack waiting for them. He's probably convinced himself that they've gotten killed somehow, and John isn't going to be able to talk him down on his own.

They approach what will hopefully be the last fork in the tunnel, only to find that both directions have anchors. The newest offshoot seems to curve pretty severely downwards, though; it's clear even as they stop that they should stick to the path they've been on.

"I don't like this," John says, looking first behind them and then ahead, down the new path.

"Fine," Kim groans, "You can choose the next tourist trap we get stuck in."

"I'm serious, Kim." John turns the flashlight down the new path. The air coming from that direction is thick and stagnate — Kim's imagination unhelpfully supplies a few images of killer clowns and deformed mutants to lurk down in the dark that way. God, why did she have to like horror movies so much? Why couldn't she have enjoyed normal, safe entertainment that wouldn't have filled her imagination with monsters and a deep-rooted fear of the unexplored dark?

It certainly doesn't help as John says, "I keep getting the feeling that we're being watched."

"Okay, that's it," Kim snaps, desperately trying to bury the surge of fear the suggestion fills her with. "I'm done being creeped out."

"I'm not trying to scare you —"

"Well, you're naturally gifted, okay? Look, let's just — we know that's the way out," she says, nodding towards the safer route. "Let's just go that way. The sooner we get out of here, the better."

"Agreed," John grunts.

John adopts a brisk walk that Kim has some trouble keeping up with, but she's not interested in slowing down for anything. She feels vindicated by their choice of exit as they pass a faded safety sign lying on the ground, as well as the decidedly fresher air coming in from what Kim expects to be the exit. There are a few moments where John has to resist breaking out into a jog; Kim can't exactly blame him, but his jitters are amping up her own anxiety, and now she's trying desperately to listen for chasing footsteps behind them. It's hard to hear much of anything over the blood pounding in her ears.

It's a massive relief when John finally slows down. "It must have been an animal," he says at last, casting one last look behind them. "God, I fucking hate being underground."

"Well, let's hope we aren't leading the mutants to the surface world," Kim jokes. It probably would land better if she didn't sound completely wiped.

John frowns at her, but the dark makes it hard to pin down his expression. "We're almost there," he says, which sounds alarming like a reassurance.

Her spirits lift as they pass an overturned rail barricade, but the wind is immediately taken out of her sails as they find the path blocked by a chained and padlocked gate. The thick gauge chain-link fence has been welded to brackets on the wall; the bottom has been bent outwards, likely from some angry animal forcing its way through. Unfortunately, it's too small for either of them to get through.

"For fuck's sake," John hisses between gritted teeth.

They're not going anywhere, and Kim's nausea forces her to find something more solid than John for support. She manages to stagger to the nearest wall before falling against it, but it's enough to make her regret moving at all.

At least she manages a weak thumbs up when John anxiously asks, "Are you alright?"

"Just — giving you room to work," she gurgles, staggering a few feet back down the path before throwing up.

John swears under his breath as Kim tries to coax her headache back to something more manageable. She can hear him tearing at the gate behind her; if she weren't feeling so miserable, she'd probably be flipping out on it, too. As it is, she takes her sweet time to turn around and start back for the fence, watching as John tries to widen the gap left behind by some tenacious wolverine. It's going to wreck her arm to try and weasel through the hole, but Kim is willing to try anything at this point.

"How far are we from the truck?" Kim rasps. "Maybe Nick can hear us?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" John snaps, well past the end of his rope. Kim has to admit, she's surprised he made it this far. "God damn it, I don't know where we are any better than you!"

"Okay, point taken," Kim says — after all, she's in no position to argue with him. As it is, it's taking most of her focus to keep from sinking to the ground. As soon as she's sitting, she's going to pass out, and she's not in any position to be doing that yet.

Thankfully, Nick's voice reaches them before she can give up. A tidal wave of relief floods Kim at the sound of him calling her name; she staggers forward, gripping the chain-link with her good arm.

"Nick!" she shouts. The sound of her own voice bouncing off the walls only amplifies her pounding headache, but it doesn't stop her from shouting his name a few more times in desperation.

John grabs her good shoulder. "Careful," he says, "Take it easy."

"You take it easy," Kim snaps as Nick's voice bounces off the far-away cave entrance. Trying to glare at John is a mistake, as vertigo nearly sends her to the floor. The only thing that keeps her upright is John's grip on her arm, easing her back until she finds the wall for support.

"Let me handle it," he says.

Kim has no choice but to follow his orders, reeling against the wall as he picks up the impromptu game of Marco Polo. She's not sure how much time passes between her slow, long blinks, but all that matters is the moment that she sees Nick appear with the lantern held high. It's enough to bring her to tears — well, that and the dizzying pain — and from Nick's tearful shout, it's having the same effect on him.

"Oh, thank Christ," he gasps as he reaches the gate, rattling it with his free hand as if he could just pry it back. "Kim, you're alive! Are you okay?" He turns the full force of his relief on John, concern furrowing his brow. "Jesus, John, are you okay? We needa get that cut looked at."

"It's fine," John says. "You didn't see any keys anywhere, did you?"

"Let me go check the ticket booth," Nick replies. "Don't worry, you guys — I'm not about to let a goddamn padlock stop me."

Nick jogs back down the tunnel and Kim finally sags, sliding to the ground with a tired groan.

"Okay, John," she sighs, "Mission accomplished. Wake me up when we get home."

"Kim, hold on," John replies, but frankly there's no stopping her now. This was as far as she'd hoped to get on her own two feet, and honestly, she's surprised that she made it that far.

She does rouse briefly as Nick begins wailing on the padlock with a steel pipe, but that's something the boys can handle without her. Here and there, she registers hands on her, and dappled light flashes over her face as they finally escape the caves. The fresh air brings her back long enough to help Nick get her settled in the truck, but she's already dozing off by the time John and Nick start arguing again. The rest of the trip, for better or worse, is completely lost on her.

————

When Kim finally comes to, she's immediately met by the familiar sight of her room at home. She can't tell what time it is, only that it's late enough for the lamp to be lit. Judging by the voices downstairs, everyone is still awake — and going by the sling and bandages, they've had some company since she was last conscious. She allows herself to imagine the whole thing was all a horrible nightmare, just for a second, but the throbbing in her arm is already reminding her of the unfortunate truth. At least she can check "escape mutants in a tunnel" off of her bucket list.

She doesn't have long to focus on the slowly returning pain; it's not even a minute later that she hears boots on the stairs, and Nick pokes his head in not long after.

"Hey," is about all she can muster up before she has to clear her throat, but it's enough.

"Christ, Kim!" he exclaims, throwing open the door as he rushes to her side. The worry breaks on his face as he crouches beside her, careful not to jostle her broken arm. "Are you okay? How do you feel?"

"Uh... not awesome," she admits, shifting in an attempt to sit up. Nick hurries to help her, and she can't help but smile at him as he piles the pillows behind her. "Better now, though."

"That's what I'm here for," Nick laughs, "That and making everybody else uncomfortable. They kept tellin' me not to worry, but you know how hard that is."

"They?"

"Well, John mostly, until Jerome and Grace showed up. Then I had to keep it together for Carmina, so that helped. Uh. How much do you remember about gettin' back here?"

"Not much," Kim says. Now that she's more conscious, she's able to discern the late evening light for what it is; it's been hours since she was last aware of where she was. "I... remember getting into the truck, I think? And then... Nothing. Why? What did I miss?"

Nick shakes his head, smiling fondly at her. "Nothing much, honest. Most of the ride back was me and John arguing about what to do. He radioed Jerome for help while I got you up here and settled in, then I called up Grace so she could keep Carmina busy until Jerome showed up with some help. I guess Winona, y'know, down at the Eagle? She was getting her nursing degree, or license, or whatever, so Jerome brought her over here to help out. She said it looked like a clean enough break, and John did a good job setting it, so we just had to make sure you wouldn't be accidentally moving in your sleep." He chuckles. "You know, real exciting stuff."

"Oh, boy," Kim groans, "I bet I scared the crap out of Carmina. Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's fine. Worried about you, obviously, but Grace gave her a pep talk and we kept her busy downstairs. Figured you oughta be awake before she came to see you."

"Good call." Kim briefly debates whether or not getting out of bed is worth it, but she quickly decides against it. Even if she weren't wiped out, Nick looks like he'd fall apart with worry if she tried to exert herself. "You might have to go get her, because I don't think I could move if I wanted to."

"Don't even think about it," Nick says, pointing at her as he gets back to his feet. "You're on bed rest until tomorrow at least. I'll be right back."

Kim dozes for the few minutes that stretch between Nick leaving and Carmina coming up the stairs. It's impossible to fall back asleep, but the rest is good enough on its own. She makes sure to perk up when she hears Carmina coming up the stairs, smiling wide as her daughter enters the doorway.

"Hey, honey," she says, her voice rougher than she'd expected it to be.

"Mom!" Carmina exclaims, careful to avoid jostling Kim as she climbs into the bed on her good side. "I was so worried!"

Kim folds her arm around Carmina's shoulders and gives her a squeeze. "I know, sweetheart. I didn't mean to spook you."

"What happened? Dad said you and John fell into a cave!"

"That's pretty much it," Kim laughs. "We fell through a sinkhole into an old cave system. It used to be a place people could visit, though, so it wasn't hard to find our way out."

Carmina frowns, picking at a loose thread in the comforter. "But it was probably really dark. And your arm was broken, and John busted his head open, and..."

"First of all, his head wasn't busted open," Kim says, reaching up to ruffle Carmina's hair. "He probably needed a few stitches, sure, but he knew what he was doing, and we both made it out okay. And your dad got the flashlight to us, so we had plenty of light to see by."

Obviously, Kim never wants to go back to that awful place, but she needs her daughter to learn not to panic now, in case she ever has to go into those tunnels herself. There's no summer camp to enroll her in that will teach her how to be mindful of caves, so Kim's going to have to do it herself... She just wishes she'd gotten to it before she'd had her own scary experience.

Carmina huffs, frowning briefly at the door. "You were lucky John was there," she says.

Kim bites back on her knee-jerk reaction to scoff at the idea. "You're right," she admits, a little more reluctant to do so than she really should be.

"Nobody else thinks so," Carmina grumbles. "Grace got mad dad left you two down there and then Jerome got mad at John for getting you hurt and Winona was really mad that she had to give John stitches. I wanted to say something but dad wouldn't let me."

"That's because they have good reasons not to trust him," Kim points out, although that excuse is starting to wear a little thin, even with her. "They just need time."

Carmina groans. "I guess. I'm... just really glad you're okay."

Kim squeezes Carmina's shoulder. "Me too."

Carmina sighs. "So... what was it like?" she asks, unable to resist her curiosity any longer.

That's okay by Kim — she could use the distraction. "Well... it was dark, and chilly. It was really quiet — the only thing we could hear was water dripping on the walls and our footsteps. The tunnel wasn't very interesting... but there was a big cavern in the middle where we found the cache, covered in stalactites and stalagmites. You could see where they used to have lights rigged up, and they'd painted some of the rocks to glow in the dark."

"You didn't see any animals?" Carmina frowns. "I always thought animals would hide in the caves."

Kim absolutely will not be telling her daughter about John's creepy sense of danger, thanks. "You know, we didn't. There isn't a lot of food for rabbits or cougars in there, though. I think they usually prefer little caves, not big ones."

There are plenty more questions for Carmina to ask that Kim only barely knows the answers to. Thankfully, geography and natural history are easy to teach hands-on; while she's not about to go back to the cave they just escaped, there are a couple of old attractions she remembers visiting that might do the trick. Places with good gift shops and little museums and educational plaques everywhere to help Kim explain how basic geology works.

"If you want, we can do some cave exploring of our own one day," Kim offers. "I'll need some time to get better, first. And I'll have to find the right place. But when we have some free time..."

"That sounds fun," Carmina says. "Just don't fall into another one first?"

"I'll do my best. We'll, uh, teach you what to look for so you don't make the same mistake."

They talk for a little while longer about the cave systems that litter Hope County, but it's not exactly Kim's favorite topic right now. It's a relief when Carmina declares that she needs water; even more so when she offers to bring some up to Kim. She considers asking Carmina to relay her thanks to John, but it can honestly wait until morning. Hopefully by then, she'll have adjusted to the makeshift cast, although she suspects she'll have plenty of time to get used to it. How long does it take a broken bone to heal, she wonders? Probably a few months, at least. She's really going to have to take it easy, and hope that nothing catastrophic happens while she's down one working arm.

#far cry 5 #fc5 #fcnd #new dawn #john seed #nick rye #kim rye #far cry fanfic #my fic #mercyverse

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jjba-hell · 4 years

Text

Remember the Time...

Ah, a reader-insert? On my blog? It’s more likely than you think...

Definitely a difficult piece for me so it ended up a post-mission, hurt/comfort kinda thing.

A bit more mild with the trigger warnings: alcohol abuse, blood, kinda gory, at home medical procedure, some suggestive conversation, prostitution (mention but not expanded on- yeah I know I should probably get some better mafia entry but I think things might lighten up a bit more in the upcoming pieces) ANGST

We taggin’ @a-nonnie-mousse cuz I know they LOVE this mans (tho I don’t blame ya) Also to @lasquadraweek2020 and @giogio-gucci-gangstar cuz I need to interact more with my mutuals.

Reader is GN! 2,2K words, good luck

You pushed past the entrance to the squad base with a groan. You were actually just after the medical kit Risotto kept in his office so you figured it would be empty but instead Illuso sat like a lazy cat in front the TV with his feet up.

“Well now don’t you look shit.”

You kicked the door shut behind you. “Of all people why did it have to be your turn to keep watch at the base?”

You passed by behind the couch he was sitting as steady as you could but the bullet wound in your side was insisting on some medical attention.

You got into Risotto’s office and ducked into the metal cabinet in the corner for the medical kit. Sitting down on the couch brought another searing sting to your side but you pushed through and peeled your bloody shirt off of your body.

“Care to share how the mission went?” Illuso’s voice rang from where he was leaning against the door frame.

You didn’t bother answering as you pulled on some gloves and doused them in disinfectant.

“Wait, what are you-?”

You went in with your finger after the bullet in your side, trying your best to ignore the pain, clenching your jaw shut at an attempt to hide what you were feeling. Showing any inclination to your pain would just prove the bastard in front of you right- that you were the weak link between them. You had clawed your way up the food chain in Passione only to end up here, Risotto telling you that this was the equivalent of ending up in exile- where they did the dirtiest work for the least amount of money. It annoyed you to no end but you couldn’t think about that way. You needed to push forward, as of now your goal was to compete against Prosciutto for second-in-command of the squad.

“Fuck, could you give me some warning before you start fingering your wound?”

Those words fell from his mouth two seconds before you got a grip on the bullet and with a scowl you looked up at him and brought the bullet out of your side with a sly smirk. “I know my way around fingering holes, LuLu. I could teach you sometime.”

You curled your hand around the bullet before tossing it aside.

Illuso gave a disapproving grimace as he watched the blood splatter from the bullet in a line over the concrete floor between you. “Relax- if it were serious I’d be bleeding out on the floor right now. Why don’t you do me a favor and go get me some booze?”

You had said that as a way of taunting him but Illuso simply straightened from the door frame and moved to Risotto’s desk. He pulled out a bottle of vodka and tossed it between his hands. “I’m not particularly good at fishing foreign objects from flesh but I can staple you shut.” That same smug smirk came back to plague you and for once you could actually laugh at that.

The last mission you Illuso had been on was after a particular plastic surgeon that knew a bit too much about the organization and the drug OD’s on the streets. The two of you were assigned to shut him up real nice.

Illuso had taken it literally with the stitching stapler before you finished him off and disposed of the body. It was sadistic, maybe, but the guy was mouthing off at Illuso in the lobby for a bad jaw job he never had- how do you walk away from that kind of disrespect without some form of punishment?

You finished clearing off the dried blood off of your side before getting up to sit tall on the arm rest of the couch.

Illuso took the stapler and rather knowledgeably disinfected the equipment before gripping your shoulder and looking at you head on. He wasn’t easy to read- it almost looked like what he was asking was more of an afterthought. “Let me know when it feels wrong.”

You were about to make a sarcastic remark but instead decided to brace for impact.

It burnt like hell but it was allot easier than getting stitched up for the little cuts like when Melone did it. It was quick.

Literally three painful staples in your side and he was done- feeling perfectly fine. Or at least so you had thought before the support from Illuso’s hand on your shoulder pulled away and you suddenly felt lightheaded.

You suppose he had taken a hint to your immobilized form on the couch and got more disinfectant and gauze. You let him wrap you up, keeping yourself upright to properly patch you up before he tapped against your injured side as if to signal him being done.

“There.” Was all he said with a stoic expression as he cleaned up the medical supplies.

You took the opportunity to hop off your seat and reach for the bottle to just try and dull the pain.

“Not so hard to take the help offered is it?” Illuso started, that same sarcastic lilt to his voice.

“Oh?” You took a swig straight from the bottle. “That was you offering help?”

You handed the bottle to him to which he reciprocated with a swig himself.

“I’m not hearing a thank you.”

You shrugged, deciding to fuck with him a bit. You stepped up and leaned in- giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for stapling me up, baby.”

Illuso dramatically rolled his eyes at that. “You have been spending way too much time with Formaggio.”

You took the bottle from him and walked out of the room. “I’m too drunk and too tired to drive home so I call the base bed.”

By that you meant the double bed in one of the rooms where the lookout for the night would spend the night.

You moved into the said bedroom and started looking for something else to replace your top- landing on an old band T-shirt.

“Nice choice.” You nearly leapt out of your skin at Illuso’s voice over your shoulder.

“Do you even make a noise when you walk?” You shouted behind you at Illuso’s kneecaps.

“Most of the one-night stands we bring over end up in that shirt in the morning.” He continued as of you didn’t just yell at him. He calmly turned around and walked away. You dropped the dinky shirt and ended up going for the plain purple one- hoping that you wouldn’t hear more history about the shirt you were wearing than absolutely necessary.

You came into the kitchen and found Illuso had left a bowl of pasta on the counter for you and it wasn’t some unexplained mystery how or why.

Now La Squadra, contrary to their profession, was actually a tight-knit group- some of the closest teams you’ve met. So when you came in, it was hard to try and meld into a group you dared say had no room for you but you’d be lying if you said they didn’t do anything to try and integrate you.

Prosciutto would lend you cigarettes or ask you if he should buy you a pack at his next stop, Ghiacchio always offered to give you a ride if you needed to get somewhere, Melone would offer checkups after injuries- granted that came with his lecherous side comments. Formaggio would even ask you for play bets when his game was on but Illuso had seemed indifferent to his teammate’s kindness until now.

You placed the pasta in the microwave with a heavy heart at your mistreatment of the whole team up until this point. You weren’t exactly doing anything to return their kindness.

So you brought the pasta bowl with you to sit beside Illuso as he stretched his feet onto the coffee table.

“Thanks for the pasta.” Was all you said as you sat cross-legged beside him.

“Don’t get used to it- that was my dinner scraps.”

Deflecting the thank you, should have known directly wasn’t the way to go.

So you didn’t bother saying anything else in favor of eating. Finished with dinner, you stretched out the same as him. “The bed’s yours.” Was all you said.

Illuso chuckled. “You’re easy to read, you know that?”

You didn’t react. It was a known fact that you flubbed like a fish when you didn’t know what to say or think.

“Listen, I’m a nice guy. Most of us do expect reciprocation but that doesn’t mean anything serious right now. I’d rather ask how you’re not used to this kind of treatment.”

You turned to him. “What do you mean and why?”

“You’re telling me you’re not used to the whole ‘newbie’ treatment?”

You scoffed, “Newbie meant getting life three times harder than necessary, not easier- you guys really are making a weird like that... Besides, why do you care?”

Illuso turned to you this time, that smirk on his face. “I deal with information. Recon and shit.” His face slowly soured into a scowl. “But since I landed on this team the rest of Passione had been closed off from me.”

You reached over to the forgotten vodka bottle on the table, sitting back and flicking the cap off. “Let’s talk then.”

You took two swigs per question, starting with: “Well then how did you end up here?”

Illuso laughed with his bottom lip against the vodka bottle. “I fucked a capo’s daughter.”

You laughed with your head back. “Figure’d you’d get here by being sleazy. But how’d you get caught?”

“Uh uh uh uh!” He took his two swigs then handed the bottle back to you. “You gotta answer a question for me first.”

You took it reluctantly, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Now you tell me how you got here.”

You didn’t exactly have an answer for that, but recently you had developed a theory. “I think I rose the ranks too quick- I was aiming at getting into Unita Speciale but that squad needs to be personally approved by the boss.”

You took to swigs and gave the bottle back- the quick succession of drinking started to make your mouth a bit more loose.

“So how’d your dumbass get caught?” You asked Illuso as he took his two swigs.

“Bitch drugged me when she found out I was fucking her friend. Got my ass handed to me halfway through the mirror- literally.”

The image of Illuso’s butt naked ass hanging out of a mirror in an attempt to get away made you snicker. “That’s too bad.”

This time you took the bottle yourself and waited for the question.

He cleared his throat and looked at you head on. “Do you ever wish you never got into this shit?”

You frowned at him, already feeling shaken by the personal question- should have known he’d want to delve deep while you were too drunk to keep your mouth shut. Didn’t stop you you from bringing the bottle to your lips. “Yeah. Who doesn’t?” You were extra generous with the swigs you were taking before Illuso tipped the bottle back down and took it from you.

“Save some for me you selfish fuck.”

He took his own swig but not nearly as much as you.

You didn’t say anything for a moment as you wondered if you were going to act out on your drunkenness or would you just excuse yourself before things got too personal. Of course your curiosity got the best of you, so with slurred words you asked- “How’d you get into Passione, anyway?”

Illuso gave the bottle a last gulp and without missing a beat answered. “I killed the bastard that was sleeping with my partner. Didn’t know however, that their murdered side piece was part of a gang. So when you have a on your tail and you’re too much of a coward to face them yourself, you run to Passion for protection. And you end up like me.”

You gave a satisfied hum and got up. You fucked up and you knew it- now he was going to ask you how you ended up in Passione.

“Where are you going?”

“The vodka is done and so am I.” You lied.

"Like fuck you are.” Illuso stumbled after you but once he was up he was much more steady on his feet than you were, trailing behind you as you wobbled through the hallway to the bedroom. He grabbed hold of your shoulders and turned you around- making you grab onto the wall for support.

The two of you, properly saturated with booze, leaned against the wall with your shoulders as you gazed into each other’s eyes. “How did you end up in Passione?”

You were pretty drunk- but not drunk enough to forget the pain that came with that question. The booze only helped to make you more emotional and more likely to spill the beans but you tried to turn around back to your destination once again but he grabbed hold of your hand again to stop you in your tracks.

“Pretty please. I spilled my guts now you get to spill yours.”

You balled your fists and tried to say as stable as possible as you turned to look him in the eye. “MY boyfriend had debts to pay to this shithole gang and he sold me as collateral.”

Illuso seemed to process your words and then almost victoriously said. “So THAT’s why you’re so fucking stuck up! The bastard stabbed you in the back, didn’t he?”

The words hit you and in response you pushed him away- it was lucky he was too tall for you to push over in your already weakened state but he did stumble back a few steps. “Fucking prick! Is that all you wanted to know? Why I don’t trust anyone? Why I keep to myself? I didn’t want to have my brains fucked out for the rest of my life so I clawed my way up through the ranks! Only to end up here! Which wouldn’t be so bad ‘cause I thought-“

You clenched your first again and turned around. You’d babbled enough at him.

“Y/n.” Illuso took a few steps closer again, propping himself up against the wall. “You thought what?”

You swallowed down the lump in your throat- might as well finish what you started. “I thought you guys weren’t so bad. You didn’t treat me like an idiot so I figured you must have had some kind of respect for me.”

There was a beat of silence as you two stared each other down- a scowl on each of your faces. Then, rather awkwardly, Illuso’s hand landed on your shoulder again and perhaps it was just because both of you were too far gone to have inhibitions but you moved into his chest, pressing your chin into the nook of his neck- his hand moving up your back to hold you in a strangely comforting hug, Illuso slightly bending down to allow you to let the pain subside into him.

He rubbed over your back softly then spoke against your temple. “I know.”

There was some understanding between the two of you. You quietly separated and he guided you to the bedroom where you ungracefully face planted down in typical drunk fashion onto the bed. Through the pillow on your face you shouted-

“Don’t go.”

You thanked whatever was ruling the universe that he didn’t ask you anything. He tiredly moved away from the door, moving you to make room for himself beside you. He kicked off his shoes and splat down stomach first onto the bed.

He didn’t lull you with lies about being able to trust them. He didn’t reassure you that it was going to get better. But you suppose knowing he understood was all the comfort you needed. As the night passed you over, you woke up with a headache only to see Illuso’s hand cupping yours in the space between you.

So you laid your head back down and slept it off- feeling at ease.

#JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #Jojo no Kimyou na Bouken #jojo part 5 #jojo golden wind #la squadra #lasquadraweek2020 #Illuso #illuso x reader

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