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mania-sama · 4 months ago

Text

the difference between hurt and injured

Whiskey Lullaby - Brad Paisley, Alison Krauss

➼ 02 - the angels sang a whiskey lullaby ❧ Information (Summary, Chapters, Tags) ❧ Previous Chapter ❧ Word Count: 10,108 ❧ Cross-posted from Archive of Our Own

“You sleep late and wake up at early hours of the morning. No wonder you’re so crabby all the time,” Kaeya said when he slowly entered the kitchen, his speech pattern still a little slurred. The coffee machine howled loudly as it processed the coffee grounds.

Diluc rolled his eyes but refrained from saying anything. It would only serve to further enable Kaeya and his persistent teasing. He did, however, examine his brother’s appearance. The officer moved in small increments and was paler than usual, so he was probably feeling nauseous. A direct result of the Rohypnol the night before but wasn’t life-threatening in the slightest. Instead of being sick like a dog, Kaeya was likely experiencing common cold symptoms.

The owner tilted his head to where the main bathroom was located, which was connected to Diluc’s bedroom. “If you’re going to throw up, do it in there.”

“Ah, forthright as expected,” teased Kaeya. “I noticed the guest bedroom was locked. Desperate to keep me near you, is that it?”

Regret bubbled in his stomach. Not for their shared past as children, but for the fact that he offered to let Kaeya stay at his apartment. He’d forgotten how annoying the next morning was going to be. He replied with a curt, “No.”

“Oh!” Kaeya said while moving to sit at the kitchen table. It was small, rectangular, and wooden with one chair per side. The officer took a seat on a long side. The night before, Venti and Diluc had sat on opposite sides on the short ends. “I don’t remember a whole lot from last night, but if I do recall correctly,” he laughed, “there was a kid in your bar.”

Diluc scowled. “Kids show up all the time thinking they look old enough,” he replied sharply. Kaeya gave him a knowing look.

“He’s in the guest bedroom, isn’t he?”

The coffee was done brewing. Diluc took a nice, long breath and settled his aggravated mind. Pouring creamer into his bitter drink, he thought of how he wanted to respond. The situation definitely looked weird to any outsiders that didn’t know the full story, and a sudden realization burned Diluc’s neck.

“I’m not–”

Kaeya’s laugh cut him off. “I know you’re not. Unfortunately, that doesn’t make what you're doing less illegal.” The officer’s eyes trailed to the open door. Even though he knew Venti wouldn’t be awake for several more hours, the bartender clicked the door shut. Kaeya resumed talking once the action was complete. “I didn’t think you had it in you. You’ve always avoided children like a disease.”

“Get to the point,” grumbled the owner as he sipped his coffee. Kaeya scoffed.

“Fine, if you insist,” he said, giving a childish pout. Talking to his adopted brother wasn’t too dissimilar to talking to a young child. “How many times has this happened?”

Diluc sighed despondently. While he didn’t want to give Kaeya any more information than he strictly had to, Diluc recognized the position his brother held. “Including today, three. I don’t know where he stays otherwise.”

Kaeya nodded, a tan hand absent-mindedly running over his lips. “He’s a runaway, then?”

“I thought you already knew that,” Diluc accused.

“Just confirming,” said the police officer, shrugging. “Any good, self-respecting cop would’ve already taken him to a shelter or back to his home now.” Kaeya narrowed his eye. “You should be behind bars as well. Harboring a runaway is considered a felony in Mondstadt.”

Despite his logical brain knowing that Kaeya was leaving an empty threat, Diluc’s heart was nervous. Humans were made to empathize no matter what a person had done or what they were like. A primal instinct in people was to find the similarities in every being, and the owner of Angel’s Share was no different. It may have been cruel and may have not been, but he did it anyway.

“He’s an orphan, you know.” The amount of tension Diluc created with just one word was incredible. Kaeya, for the first time in his life, was silent. His usual fast-thinking was likely slowed by the aftereffects of the drug still, but Diluc considered it his personal victory in the conversation.

Slowly, Kaeya drawled, “That doesn’t change much of anything, does it?” Diluc stayed silent. “I was never going to take the kid, and I’m not going to arrest you. The streets are rough; it’d be too immoral even for me to remove his sanctuary.”

Kaeya stood up from his chair in a manner that made it look painful. A smile was on his lips, but it was obvious to the redhead how forced it was. “If I see him out there, I’ll have to return him home,” he said. Diluc understood that very well, and he also knew that Venti would suffer greatly in that scenario. “You’re going to have to do something eventually.”

He really didn’t want advice from his brother. It always managed to sound condescending, even when Diluc knew it was just his personal bias seeping through. Before anything impulsive came out of mouth, Kaeya clapped his hands. “As you well know, I have a sufficient eye injury that needs taking care of, then I’ll get out of your red hair.”

Once in the morning and once at night, an injection was needed to keep the eye from infection. For a very long time, Kaeya hadn’t been able to do it himself, needing help from either Diluc or their father to administer it for him. It had been when they were around fifteen years old that he was finally able to inject himself. At eighteen, the two brothers separated from each other. There was no question, however, that Diluc still kept the medication in his apartment. It was another part of their promise he had yet to break.

Diluc watched him open the door, still feeling the remnants of agitation. Kaeya stopped, hand on the doorframe. The bartender thought he was going to say something, but the officer simply resumed his pace. He left a crack of the door open as he left.

—

The text history between Kaeya and Diluc was rather depressing to look at. Mainly because every message sent between them was left unanswered, as well as being at least a month between each one. It was no surprise that when Diluc sent a text inviting his brother to see their father, Kaeya didn’t respond. He knew it was seen, though, despite the man not having his read receipts on.

Diluc stepped out of his car and onto the paved pathway. He’d informed Venti of his plans to leave for the day the night beforehand, because ever since the drugging incident, the kid had been staying at the bar before it opened. Not staying the night necessarily, just being in the building during the morning unlike before when he would wait for the bar to open in the afternoon. Since this new development, Diluc had taken to doing all of the ‘behind-the-scenes’ work for Angel’s Share to the bar so he could keep an eye on Venti.

Now that he wasn’t going to be there, he had to tell Venti. He couldn’t be seen in the bar alone during the day, not just for the obvious drinking problem, but for the fact that anyone could see him in the window. Luckily, the boy had taken the news well, and it ended up not being a big deal. A part of him still worried that Venti was going to pick the lock of the bar and break in anyway.

The sidewalk continued on to the back of the church, ending abruptly to favor dark green grass. Whoever kept the churchyard was doing a fantastic job at the very least. They kept it looking nice even as the approaching fall weather crumbled leaves and wilted grass. It really didn’t match the gloomy atmosphere of the cemetery that was placed on it.

Muscle memory easily guided Diluc through the graveyard, passing all of the other headstones and bodies that lay underneath the ground. His father didn’t have an extravagant grave, but it was a bit bigger than most of the others. That was what he wanted in his will, so that was what he got. If a day were to come that Diluc’s body did not remember the way to his father’s grave, he would still be able to find it easily due to its size.

Nobody was waiting for Diluc at the headstone. He expected as much; Kaeya enjoyed being fashionably late. Annoyance pricked at his chest, yet the melancholy of the graveyard evened his mood. He leaned down and placed the bundle of calla lilies in front of the stone, evenly matching the line where the grave and ground met. There had been other flowers before but were eventually removed by the church due to their wilting.

He heard footsteps behind him, and he didn’t have to turn to know it was his brother. Kaeya stepped up beside Diluc and gently laid the flowers he brought: roses. He looked much better than he had a week ago.

It had been a concern that Kaeya wasn’t going to show up. Due to their lack of proper communication, he could never be quite certain what his brother was going to do. He could guess, and he could be confident in that guess, but there was no real knowing. Relief loosened a few of his muscles, but tension at the situation kept the rest of them tight.

A decade was a large amount of time in mortal life, yet stubbornness had kept the two from visiting their father’s grave at the same time for that long. His heart beat uncomfortably in his chest, unsure of what to do with his brother next to him. When he was alone, he would say a few words to his father. Usually it was about the wine business, or about how his month had been going. Sometimes, he talked about something as mundane as the weather or as significant as his mental state.

There was someone present to hear him outside of his father now. Diluc didn’t talk about his emotions to people– he’d been that way since he was a child. It only worsened after his father died and his brother confessed his secrets. DIluc’s mouth remained wired shut, and the only sound he could hear was the tweeting of birds in nearby trees.

“If I may ask,” Kaeya said, breaking the silence. His voice was back to its usual smooth timbre, lacking any slurring or croaking. “What’s so special about today?”

There wasn’t anything different. It was a sunny day with a few puffy clouds in the sky, and an early autumn breeze brushed through the cemetery. There was nothing in particular that set the day apart from all others, but that wasn’t what the man was really asking. Kaeya had always been one for cryptic questions.

“A few people changed my routine,” replied Diluc. It was more than that, truly, but he was willing to play by Kaeya’s rules just this once. Diluc had a harder time discerning and creating sentences that meant more or something different than the words used, yet his brother did it with ease. It wasn’t something to be admired, per se, but it was another aspect that set them apart.

Kaeya huffed but didn’t comment any further on it. Diluc was somewhat grateful for it; a cop recognizing the existence of a runaway was never a good thing, even if it was from an officer who wasn’t going to do anything about it unless he absolutely had to. The danger was still there.

The adopted brother changed the topic, though in hindsight it wasn’t much better. “They interrogated him, Karl Bierhals.” The name of the man that drugged his brother set a mix of anger and anxiety in Diluc’s stomach. “I watched the interrogation footage, and he simply admitted to everything he was accused of.” He laughed without any humor. “I wasn’t wrong when I said he was giving all the information I needed– turns out, he was hiding the wrong thing.”

Diluc could read between the lines on this one pretty easily. There was a layer of regret and embarrassment under his relaxed tone. It told the bartender everything he needed to know: Kaeya was blaming himself. That night when Diluc was pouring another Arnold Palmer, his brother stated that there needed to be more flavor in the undercover mission. It was probable that the officer had let down a guard so he could be surprised by something and be challenged. He obviously hadn’t expected to be drugged.

Comforting wasn’t his strong suit, especially when it came to the brother he tried to kill ten years ago. The image of a terrified, blood-stained Kaeya trying his best to fight back against Diluc’s rage-induced chokehold kept Diluc awake at night and haunted him during the day. A broken nose, several bruises on the neck and face, and an irreparable, shattered bond between two brothers was the result.

Now his recurring nightmare was of a dedicated police officer, who was too cautious for his own good, slumped over on a table and delirious from a drug he was forced to take. And yet, here Kaeya was alive in spite of the odds. Somehow Diluc still couldn’t find the words to tell his brother that it wasn’t his fault. He still couldn’t apologize.

Instead, his vocal cords chose to say, “He’d be disappointed in us, wouldn’t he?”

Crepus Ragnvindr was the name etched onto the gravestone in front of them. It was Diluc's biological father’s name and Kaeya’s adoptive father’s name. For a long time after his death, Diluc considered himself to be the only son Crepus ever had. At least something in him changed from all those years ago. He’d been able to invite his brother to see their father’s grave, and Kaeya was able to show up.

“That depends on how you would like me to answer,” Kaeya said with a breathy chuckle.

“The truth, if you can do that,” Diluc retorted sharply. He hadn’t meant to, but resurfacing memories combined with irritation had a tendency to brew tart words.

Kaeya made no indication the response hurt outside of a slight frown. “Old Man is rolling in his coffin right now, that’s what I think.”

He never could answer with a simple yes or no, even when they were children. It was annoying, but Diluc didn’t disagree with what he said nevertheless. They hardly got along even in front of their father’s grave, and the only reason they were even together was due to a third party. To say Crepus would be disappointed if he were still alive would be an understatement.

Diluc didn’t want to fight on top of his dad’s dead body, so he made the first move to leave. He didn’t say or wave good-bye, and neither did Kaeya. The police officer was left to stand alone at his adoptive father’s grave. The bartender, however, went to his car and turned the radio up loud so he couldn’t hear himself think.

—

The bar was empty when Diluc arrived back, which made sense since it was still a few hours before opening. The present he bought after he left the cemetery was safely tucked inside its case and the strap was clasped in Diluc’s right hand. His gaze swept over everything in Angel’s Share before he stepped on the first stair. The owner didn’t get any further, however, for he saw a head suddenly peak over the island counter.

Venti and Diluc made direct eye contact, and the bartender almost dropped the expensive present he bought. The kid had blood running down his nose and a swollen lip to match. His green jacket had dirt crusted on top of it and his braids were falling apart, yet he had the biggest goddamn grin on his face.

“Mister Diluc!” Venti shouted, teal eyes sparkling with unadulterated happiness. “I am so happy to see you!”

All of the wine cabinets appeared locked as they had been when he left in the morning. Nothing else in the bar was touched or disturbed. Venti’s presence had gone by completely unnoticed, but there he was with his face freshly beaten.

Setting the case gently on the ground, Diluc called, “What happened?” He quickly moved to inspect Venti’s face closer, ignoring the way the child flinched when he grabbed his jaw. Diluc tried to be gentle, truly, but anger was piercing his judgment.

“I think I did something you would be proud of!” Diluc’s mind was racing as he fished out a clean rag, wondering how getting beat up was something to be happy for. “I cut it off with a… bad person. He wasn’t very happy, and he punched me a few times, but I’m faster!”

Venti never ceased to amaze Diluc. “So you ran here?” The entrance had been locked when he left that morning. Judging by the freshness of the blood from Venti’s nose and his still-bleeding lip, the kid couldn’t have been at the bar for very long after getting punched. It made Diluc wonder just how fast he could pick a lock.

“Yeah. Are you… upset?” Venti asked, voice dropping about ten pitches. The bartender ran the rag under hot water. Then once it was sufficiently wet, he violently squeezed out the excess water so it wouldn’t drip over the floor.

He shook his head. “No. It’s not easy to break ties with bad people,” he replied honestly. “You did good, kid.” There was an amount of warmth in his heart from knowing that the Angel’s Share was someplace the kid genuinely felt safe. Unfortunately, Diluc wasn’t all for the sappy stuff, so the feeling made him a little uncomfortable.

If Venti had asked if he was upset at the dealer, then that would’ve been an entirely different answer. Anger had been simmering from the surface since before his meeting with Kaeya; he could go for punching a few criminals.

“You’re not even mad about the fight part?” The boy asked, eyes watching Diluc as the man wiped away the blood under his nose.

“You didn’t start it, so no. It would be hypocritical if I were to be mad, anyway.” He knew he was going to regret it the moment he let the words out of his mouth. Venti’s slightly nervous yet happy demeanor turned into a curious and excitable one.

“Did you get into fights all the time when you were a kid? How old even are you? You look forty.”

Forty? No way he looks that old. It must just be a trick of the light, or the fact that Venti was so young. “I’m twenty-eight,” Diluc said incredulously. Venti laughed at him, narrowly avoiding a mouthful of warm, wet, and bloody rag. “But yes. I lived for two years off-the-grid. I fought a lot of drug lords and gang members.”

It had been an interesting time of his life, especially considering he was on the path to becoming a police officer alongside Kaeya. Looking back on it, Diluc thought he had just thrown a very large temper tantrum. That’s what his father would say, at the very least. Crepus had always believed family came first, then it was one’s dreams and aspirations.

“You were a modern-day vigilante! Wait,” Venti paused, staring at him with wide eyes as Diluc rinsed out the rag. “I need you to answer me this with one hundred percent honesty.”

The bartender turned and leaned his lower back against the sink. He raised an eyebrow for the boy to continue, but he was in the process of climbing on top of the island. Diluc’s third worst enemy showed itself: the unpredictability of adolescence.

Once he was safely on top of the island counter with his legs crossed, he leaned forward and asked, “Are you rich?”

“I’m wealthy, yes.” That wasn’t something Diluc could begin to deny. He only lived in an apartment because when his father died, Kaeya had inherited the estate while Diluc got the business.

Venti nodded seriously. “Do you have a butler that you can trust with your business?”

“... Yes.” In fact, Diluc had entrusted his butler, Elzer, to take care of the wine business and Angel’s Share while the man lived off the grid. Even now, Elzer still attended to affairs concerning the business that Diluc didn’t have time for nor wanted to do. It was more than a little strange that Venti could guess something as specific as that.

“Did you wear a mask while fighting crime?” Venti persisted.

Diluc was going to ask if Venti had seen him in Mondstadt at some point during those two years, but the kid would’ve been four years old. There wasn’t any way he could remember something like that, and besides, he’d only helped one person under the age of ten, and it had been a literal baby.

Hesitantly, the bartender nodded. He watched as Venti opened his mouth to presumably ask another question and quickly held up a hand. “I have something for you. If you ask another question, you aren’t getting it.” It was an empty threat Diluc wasn’t going to act on, but he needed a way to halt the conversation before it got out of hand.

The boy clamped his mouth shut and gave Diluc a toothy grin. He moved to retrieve the case he left at the bottom of the steps in his moment of panic. It wasn’t wrapped as he hadn’t had time to, but Venti should like it anyway. Diluc didn’t know how many presents Venti had gotten in his life, yet he had an inkling of a feeling that the amount could be counted on one hand.

Venti’s eyes widened when Diluc brought it to him as if he hadn’t seen it a couple of minutes ago. His mouth was agape as the bartender opened each of the locks on the hard case, lifting up the top to reveal an acoustic guitar inside. The body, which looked too big for the small boy, was made of some sort of pale wood, and the neck seemed too long for Venti’s arms. Diluc bought it with the intention that Venti would eventually grow into fitting perfectly with the guitar.

“I thought you could use an instrument to play with your songs,” he said, picking it up out of the case and handing it to Venti. The child shakily grasped it.

Nothing was said for a long time while Venti silently held the guitar like it was his lifeline. The kid carefully set the guitar next to him on the island. He hopped down from the counter and with glittering eyes barreled into Diluc’s chest. Venti’s arms wrapped around the middle of Diluc’s back and his young body wracked with sobs.

It’d been years since Diluc last hugged somebody. That was something else changed drastically when his father died; he became closed off and no longer let anybody touch him outside of strict necessity. Now here he was, elbows raised in surprise at the tight embrace a young boy had around his abdomen. Mixed emotions swirled in his mind as he tried to comprehend the situation. Slowly, as if Venti were a scared animal, Diluc lowered his hands onto the child’s shoulder blades and returned the hug.

“Thank you. Thank you,” the boy repeated. It was a pitiful sound, choked and produced in between cries. A guitar itself may not mean much to an individual, but to a child who never had a proper home, it meant everything.

He wasn’t sure how long it’d been when Venti finally detached himself from the man’s body, rubbing away the tears that had eventually stopped running down his face. The bartender was still a bit stunned from the interaction to do anything else but stare. He really hoped that wasn’t going to become a common occurrence between them.

Venti pulled the guitar off of the table and held it again, gently running his fingers over the strings. “Um, I have no idea how to play, though,” he said with flushed cheeks.

Leaning down Diluc pulled another object out of the guitar case. A flat hand-book containing a beginner’s guide to playing the guitar. Venti instantly started going through, eyes skimming over every page at an incredible rate. Diluc wasn’t sure if he’d seen any person more excited than Venti was at that moment.

“Mister Diluc… Do you happen to know anything about birds?” Venti asked, still firmly clutching the guitar in hands. The notebook had been set on the island once he was done looking through it. Yet again, children prove to be unpredictable. It was hard to keep up with.

The bartender nodded in the affirmative. “I had a pet Umbertail Falcon.” It had died four years back, and he hadn’t been able to adopt another since. She had been a graceful yet feisty bird, only bound to her owner by her own free will. The day she died had been one of the worst ones he had since his father passed. The pair of gloves Kaeya had ‘anonymously’ delivered to him the next day were hidden deep inside Diluc’s closet.

Venti grinned, entirely unaware of the still-lingering pain from her death. “I have one too! Sort of. Anyway, I think it's time you know where I’ve been sleeping, because I need your help,” he said. Ever since Diluc got used to the constant stink exuding from Venti, it was easy to forget he was still a runaway with no proper house outside of the occasional sanction found in Diluc’s apartment.

“Aren’t you still on the run from that bad guy?” Diluc asked, but he was already moving towards the door alongside Venti, who made the sorrowful decision to leave his guitar case in the bar.

The kid looked the man up and down before responding, “You look scary enough. As long as you don’t leave, nothing will happen.”

Diluc tactfully chose to not take the comment offensively. Diluc locked the door behind them, and the two started off down the street. The weather hadn’t changed at all from when he was last outside with Kaeya, so it was neither unbearable hot nor nail-biting cold. Perfect walking weather that settled the nerves that crept up on the bartender.

A lot of trust was being placed on his shoulders by the young boy, more than he thought Venti knew. After keeping it hidden for so long, Diluc almost felt like he shouldn’t know. The warning words of his brother rang in his ears and reminded that he had to find out eventually. He was glad it was on the kid’s terms, though, and not anyone else’s.

The owner of Angel’s Share kept a watchful eye out for suspicious or malicious individuals that may be the person that hurt Venti. Diluc could probably find them off with relative ease, given his history of fighting, but he’d rather not be snuck up on. If he saw them first then he could get Venti out of harm’s way faster.

Just when Diluc was starting to question if Venti was lying to him about where he was taking him, they walked into a small field in a corner of Mondstadt’s city limits. Unlike the cemetery, the grass was overgrown and yellow. Snakes enjoyed that kind of environment, so he made sure to watch his step. Venti’s pointed finger pulled Diluc’s attention to the main attraction of the field: a huge oak tree with luscious green leaves, still untouched by the impending autumn.

“There! That’s where I stay!” Venti shouted unnecessarily then broke out into a dead sprint. For apparently running from someone that really wanted to see him get hurt, he sure had a ton of energy. Diluc huffed and ran after him.

It was an impressive sight, the tree Venti lived in. Its branches provided the necessary shade to cool Diluc down after his sprint. Venti leaned against the tree, face red and sweaty but laughing nonetheless. For the first time in a long time, Diluc let out his own laugh. It was foreign to him, the light and bubbly feeling in his chest needed in order to make such a sound.

“I call it Windrise,” said Venti once he caught his breath. “And my pet bird lives here, too. Vanessa!” He called, hands cupped around his mouth to make his voice louder. A hawk’s shriek answered the grinning boy back.

That’s when Venti started to climb the tree, and Diluc was hit with the realization that perhaps Venti wasn’t so wrong when he called the bartender old. Watching the boy scurry up the tree like he was some breed of monkey, Diluc went through all five stages of grief in the span of seven seconds.

Once safely on top of a high branch, Venti called out, “What are you waiting for? She’s up here!”

Diluc felt that if he responded with the truth he would be mocked mercilessly, so he kept his mouth shut. Sucking in a deep breath, he placed both hands on the tree and dug his right boot into the truck. It took a lot longer for him to reach the same place, and once he got pretty close, Venti stuck out a hand to help him the rest of the way. Since the boy was twelve and thin with no muscles, the support he provided wasn’t physically helpful in the slightest. It did give a bit of comfort to know that Venti wasn’t judging him for his slow ascent, though.

“She might get scared by you, so just keep quiet and move slowly. Don’t touch her, either. She might have rabies,” warned Venti. Diluc furrowed his eyebrows.

“Birds can’t get rabies,” he informed.

Venti blinked owlishly. “Oh.”

The boy climbed up a nearby branch, and immediately a bird screeched. “Vanessa, it’s okay! I’m back,” Venti said in a placating tone. Vanessa, the bird’s apparent name, shrieked at him again.

Diluc eventually made his way up to where the boy was, pulling himself up onto the branch opposite so he could have room. Nested in the middle of the high-up tree fork was a large stick-made nest, and sitting inside it was the hawk it was likely made by. Vanessa looked Diluc straight in the eye and screeched.

“Do you know what’s wrong with her? She’s all puffy and hasn’t moved since yesterday!” Venti was obviously severely distressed by this, but the truth of the matter was much simpler. If Diluc hadn’t known any better, he would’ve chuckled at how silly the boy’s worry was.

Letting a small smile settle on his face, he said, “She’s fine. She is about to lay eggs, though.”

“What?” Venti exclaimed, eyes wide with surprise. Vanessa shrieked at the sound. “I thought birds did that in spring?”

“They do. Sometimes they can just be a little late,” he said. That was the simplified answer, especially in consideration that there didn’t seem to be a male hawk anywhere. Venti hadn’t mentioned another bird, either.

Venti turned to look at Vanessa. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! Aw, the babies are gonna look so cute! I can’t wait to hold one!”

Alarmed, Diluc said, “Absolutely do not. Vanessa may like you but she isn’t domesticated,” the hawk shrieked in agreement with his words, “and she will attack you.”

“Boo,” Venti called but didn’t argue. Diluc couldn’t say he necessarily disagreed with the kid’s wants, though. Even now, with enough knowledge of and experience with birds to become a licensed professor of ornithology, he still wanted to reach over and pet the hawk. Vanessa’s type was the red-tailed hawk, arguably the most majestic and dignified type amongst the hawk family. It was difficult to resist such temptations as a grown adult; he couldn’t imagine how hard it was for a twelve-year-old.

The two settled into easy conversation about birds, mostly just Venti making incorrect assumptions or comments and Diluc correcting him. There were many things he’d done with or because of Venti for the first time in a long time, and talking about birds was one of them. Nobody really wanted to hear a bartender speak on subjects outside of alcohol or their job. Diluc had maids and butlers back at the estate that could entertain him on the subject, but he’d avoided that place ever since his brother inherited it.

It was peaceful. The way the wind blew through the leaves and branches made it feel like it was coming upwards instead of across, sticking true to the name Venti gave it. He understood why the boy liked it so much, now. The unclipped expanse of grass mixed with the dotted white and blue sky was beautiful, and he could imagine how the sunsets and sunrises looked.

A calm silence after their long discussion was brought by the easy-going breezes. It felt like a warm, fuzzy blanket made to entice young children to sleep. At some point, Diluc had closed his eyes and nearly drifted off into a nap before Venti suddenly called out in a reminiscent tone.

“Mister Diluc.” The sound of his name prompted him to open his eyes and blink the sleep out of his bleary vision. “When I die, I want you to spread my ashes around this tree.”

Just like that, the previous tranquility was dispersed like puffballs from a dandelion when blown on. Diluc sat up, the sudden strangeness of the comment alerting his still-muggy system. The boy across from remained in his laid-back position, but his eyes were glazed with a distant look. A lazy smile rested on his lips.

“I’ll be dead before you, kid,” he said tentatively. Diluc was twice the kid’s age, so that should’ve been true. A nervous knot clenched his gut and didn’t let go.

Venti ignored him. “Make sure I’m on a breeze, too. I want to fly like Vanessa and be free.”

There wasn’t a way to respond to that other than verbal denial. But Venti had already stopped talking and shut his eyes. Diluc got the feeling that whatever pitiful attempt he could ever make to console the boy would fall on deaf ears. Against the alarm bells screaming in his hand, the bartender laid back down as well and joined Venti in his attempt at sleep. Vanessa had gone entirely quiet as well, obeying the peace between the two humans.

It was hard to sleep when his heart was pounding, but he had nothing else to do besides his return to his apartment. He took the day off to get out of Angel’s Share, though, so going back so early would disregard the whole point. Eventually, dreamless sleep found him on the Windrise branch.

—

It appeared a natural-born musician was lurking underneath Venti and ready to burst forth the moment it was given the chance. The boy was able to make his own basic tunes within two weeks of starting to learn. Given how hadn’t put down the instrument since he got it, the development wasn’t necessarily surprising but was still impressive. The patrons at the bar loved it, too. Most were incredibly encouraging, and if Diluc’s eye wasn’t tricking him, he saw a little cash being slipped to the boy here and there. Anything was better than alcohol, so he let the transactions be.

Venti came into the bar one morning with a wide smile on his face and rhymes on his tongue. Diluc had been washing dishes he and his employees hadn’t bothered to do before closing up the night before. His mental guard was already up since Venti tended to rhyme in private only when he wanted something from Diluc or was up to something mischievous.

“Oh! Master of wine, master of bird. Many a story I have so heard,” he said easily, pulling his guitar case from where it was resting against the stairs. The two had come to the conclusion that it was too risky for Venti to take the guitar with him to Windrise for it might get damaged or stolen, so he left in the care of Diluc until he came back the next day.

The bartender frowned at him. “What do you want?”

“You think so little of me! I am wounded. Do you wish to be excluded?” Despite the over-dramatic hand on his heart, a playful smile remained on his lips. He climbed on top of the island and sat with his legs criss-crossed. The case rested in his lap without any attempt at being opened. Something was definitely wrong.

Waving a free hand in the air, he said, “Spit it out.”

“Do you remember a couple of weeks ago when you told me about your past and all?” Venti asked, dropping the rhymes but keeping his attitude. Unfortunately, Diluc did recall the half-interrogation of his time as a ‘modern-day vigilante,’ as Venti had put it. “Well, I don’t know if you knew this, but you are exactly like Batman.”

Diluc stared unblinkingly, unsure if he heard those words correctly. A giggle came from the boy, indicating that the bartender hadn’t misheard. “I’m not like Batman,” he deadpanned.

“Yeah, you are. Batman became a vigilante and worked outside of the law, just like you did. He is rich, just like you are. He wears a mask, and you did, didn’t you?” Venti listed them off, sticking out a finger for each one. “He also has Alfred, a butler he trusts with his life and his business! And you- you have your own Alfred!”

The boy was overcome with laughter, doubling over his guitar case as tears streamed down his eyes. He had a tendency to cry a little when he laughed for too long or for too hard. It was contagious most of the time, but the subject of the matter wasn’t the least bit funny to Diluc so he remained unaffected.

He was familiar with the DC comic superhero Batman, and Diluc could safely say they were nothing alike. They ran completely different businesses, had completely different personalities, and led completely different lives. The only other similarity they had in common was the whole dead parents thing, but that wasn’t something he was going to bring up.

Crossing his arms, he said, “I’m not… Batman.” The name was hard to push out, as it felt wrong on his tongue.

“Yeah- yeah you- you,” Venti was laughing so hard that he couldn’t get the words he wanted out. He took several deep breaths, attempted to start a new sentence multiple times, and failed miserably. Diluc impatiently for the child to pull himself together.

“Sorry, sorry. I just,” he cut his sentence short, gigged a little, then shifted to pull something out of his pocket. The pants he wore were relatively new ones that the bartender had bought for him just a few days prior. “I’ve been getting some tips at the bar, so I figured-” he giggled again, “-I should use what I have and buy this for you.”

Unraveling his crossed arms, Diluc picked up the object in the boy’s hands. It was a small Batman figurine, one that he had seen a thousand times at the general store. The price was probably ten dollars, maybe more or less than that considering the cheap fabric the cape was made out of yet had a generally good quality to the overall design. He never thought something so simple and inexpensive would be so difficult to buy.

After running his fingers over the action figure, he looked up and said, “Thank you. I’m…” He paused, not sure what to say. “Definitely not Batman, though.” After years of never giving personal gratitude to someone, he found it difficult to express what he felt. Therefore, his mouth decided to say the next best thing to come to mind.

Luckily, Venti wasn’t at all upset. He continued on with, “You know who would say that?”

Oh no. “Don’t say it.”

The child giggled. “Bruce Wayne.”

Diluc pressed his lips firmly together. Closing the figurine in a tight fist, he decided his pride could take a blow, just this once and just for Venti.

“And who is that?”

“Batman.” Venti exploded into maniacal laughter.

—

I have to try . Those were the words the bartender repeated in his mind when he heard Kaeya knocking on the window to Angel’s Share. He was doing this to set an example for Venti, he reminded himself sullenly as he motioned with his head for Kaeya to come inside the bar.

The officer was dressed in uniform with a walkie-talkie hanging on his left shoulder and his badge right under it. His walk was composed and his smile was controlled. That was the way he carried himself while working, and he failed to drop the act when he entered the bar. Or perhaps this meeting was a part of his job and he wasn’t just dropping by in a vain attempt at getting a free drink.

“Barkeep Diluc, what a surprise,” Kaeya said coolly. Diluc scowled. “I don’t suppose you can pour me one at this time, can you?”

“Angel’s Share is closed at this time. If you want a drink, go somewhere else,” the owner replied. People who drink alcohol in the morning are the people Diluc objectively disliked the most.

Kaeya hummed, taking a seat at the island. “The door was unlocked, though. Anyone can walk in if they are so pleased,” he said with a look that indicated he already knew the reason why. Venti hadn’t shown up yet, though usually by this time of day he’d already been at the bar for two hours or so.

“Say what you came here for,” Diluc demanded, crossing his arms. It was an unofficial police interrogation– he could already tell. In the presence of his adoptive brother, Kaeya didn’t go undercover, he just used fluffy words until he got under the bartender’s nerves. There were more than a few reasons why Diluc hadn’t tried to amend their relationship, and Kaeya’s sly and annoying attitude was half of them.

Kaeya huffed and placed an elbow on the table. “Impatient and won’t serve me any drinks. I don’t know how your bar remains so popular.” Diluc’s jaw clenched so tightly that his gums were starting to hurt. I have to try. “There was a murder of a middle-aged woman on Lawrance Street early this morning and the criminal is on the run. You happen to know someone who lives on all the streets of Mondstadt, don’t you?”

Diluc breathed deeply and repeated the mantra again. The police officer never says what he truly means, which meant that the question was open for interpretation. His mind chose to interpret it negatively, but replying angrily would only give the man more information than needed. He had to keep a cool head if he was going to get through this.

“A twelve-year-old like him couldn’t kill a woman,” he answered, keeping his voice level.

The officer’s eye narrowed. “No, but he could’ve seen someone.” It was with those words that Diluc realized what Kaeya was really asking for. He placed his hands on the inner counter to stabilize his balance, knuckles turning white from how hard he pressed.

“He’s not here. I haven’t seen him at all yet.”

“Then we can wait,” Kaeya countered. “A murderer is running the streets of Mondstadt, Diluc. The police make sure people are safe; it’d be a shame if I wasn’t looking out for the young ones as well.”

The implications were understood without being said. Kaeya wasn’t only waiting to interrogate Venti, he wanted to make sure he wasn’t hurt as well. That was the first thing he’d said all morning that they could both agree on.

Standing in silence wasn’t trying, Diluc thought as the two watched the door like hawks. He’d made a promise to himself and to Venti, and he intended on keeping it. Despite the frivolous words and insistent goading, Kaeya was doing a favor for Diluc. He could’ve arrested the man a long time ago for harboring a runaway– Diluc wasn’t the only one trying.

He began, “I need your opinion on something.” Kaeya turned back around his chair immediately, curiosity evident in his body language. “Should I hire a bouncer for more crowded nights?”

In reality, there was no better person to ask other than Kaeya. He had gone undercover in multiple bars and clubs alike; he’d interacted with a dozen and more bouncers and knew what they did for those establishments. The officer also knew Angel’s Share like the back of his hand and was aware of the tight community the bar had. However, he also had first-hand experience what an impact the increase of patrons could bring.

Kaeya took his time to answer, undoubtedly running over all the benefits and drawbacks a bouncer could have. Eventually, he came up with his answer. “Not right now,” he said. “If a fight breaks out, then consider it further. I wouldn’t break what you have built in the present.”

Diluc would’ve appreciated the honest and direct answer, the first one he’d gotten from his brother in years, had it not been for the Angel’s Share door weakly opening. A young boy stumbled in, his hair torn out of his braids and clothes completely disheveled with tears and stains. He slipped into the bar, the entrance shutting heavily behind, and took only two steps forward.

There was blood everywhere. Two knife-shaped wounds, one on his shoulder and another just below his collarbone, oozed an ugly crimson liquid onto his once green jacket. Venti promptly fell forward, landing harshly on his knees and hands before collapsing all the way down. Gut-wrenching sobs were the only sound the owner could hear.

At one moment, Diluc was standing behind the counter in shock. In the next moment his clothes were getting soaked by blood that wasn’t his own and shouting, “Call an ambulance!”

Venti, in between broken cries, managed to say, “You can’t! They’ll take me away!”

If they brought Venti to the hospital, that was exactly what would happen. They would take care of him and then report him to the authorities, and they would take Venti back to the system. Diluc looked up at Kaeya, who was standing over them with his phone to his ear and a horrified expression. On the other hand, he held the walkie-talkie to his lips and said, “Critical victim at Angel’s Share. No backup required. Jean, I need a really big favor.”

A response buzzed from the device that Kaeya didn’t answer. Instead, he started to speak to whoever was on the other line of the phone call. Diluc didn’t hear any of it, his ears only picking up the pained and blood-curdling cries of the stabbed child. Somehow, Venti’s begs for them to not take him to the hospital were worse.

Venti was moved so his back was lying against Diluc’s front, legs sprawled out at uncomfortable angles and body shaking in tune with his sobs. The man was applying pressure to the wounds, but the blood was seeping past his fingers at an uncontrollable rate. With his phone pressed between his shoulder and ear, Kaeya brought a wet rag and applied it to the collarbone wound. Diluc moved his hand out of the way and focused on the boy’s shoulder.

The scene was so familiar yet so different at the same time. Crepus was already dead by the time Kaeya showed up, and his brother had been useless to ease their father’s passing. Later that day, Kaeya revealed the truth about himself and his purpose in the Ragnvindr family.

Diluc watched his adopted brother through glazed eyes as he frantically spoke over the phone and kept pressure to the chosen wound, entirely unbecoming for a police officer renowned in his constant confident and conniving demeanor. Kaeya was helping. He was here. He was getting an ambulance to their location and trying his best to keep Venti alive. The only secret that remained was the one Kaeya had kept for Diluc for over a month.

Elements were similar, but the story was not the same, and it would not end the same. Venti was still crying and still alive when the paramedics showed up. Jean had come, too, and was saying something that Diluc couldn’t discern through the ringing in his ears. A blanket was wrapped over his shoulders at some point. Shock. That word pierced through his impermanent deaf world, but he didn’t know who said it. Multiple people, probably.

He was aware of the blood that drenched his bartender uniform and clung to his skin. Someone put him in a car, and the driver was someone he hadn’t said sorry to yet. He couldn’t see anything past his crimson-stained gloves.

—

“They’re investigating your apartment,” Kaeya said while getting into the driver’s seat.

Diluc frowned and sat in the passenger seat next to his brother. “Isn’t that illegal?”

“They have a warrant,” the officer answered with a wave of his hand. “It’s just to make sure it’s clean and livable for Venti. That will be the easy part; it’s the bar that’s the main concern.”

Venti survived, somehow. He had lost a lot of blood, but the knife hadn’t hit any vital organs, even though it was clear the murderer had been aiming for the heart. They managed to find the criminal that had murdered the woman and attempted to kill Venti. In most cases, there is a reason behind homicide. A motive, a reason, or whatever one wanted to call it. In other cases, there isn’t any, and the murderer is very simply put: psychotic.

The boy had no affiliation with the insane woman; he just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. According to him, the only reason he got away was because the woman had claimed to hear footsteps in the alleyway he was dragged into and loosened her grip on Venti. Upon investigation, there hadn’t been anybody else near the alley at the time.

The medical bill was covered entirely under the Ragnvindr name. In turn, Jean pulled every string she could to keep Diluc from being charged with harboring a runaway. It worked, but the rest of the situation went as disappointingly as reality often was. Venti would be entered back into the system after Diluc– hopefully– fostered him for the time it took to find him a new placement home.

Diluc couldn’t return to his apartment for the reason Kaeya had mentioned when they got in the car. The bar was being properly cleaned by professionals as well, which meant that Diluc got the absolutely wonderful opportunity to stay in a hotel for a few nights. He would’ve slept in the hospital, but they didn’t allow people to stay overnight.

The car ride was silent after that. He didn’t know what he was going to do if they deemed Diluc’s apartment unfit. Venti only had one person he trusted, and Diluc wasn’t sure how he was going to fair if they didn’t have a few more days together. He had an inkling of a feeling that Venti was just going to run away again, and there would be no one to shelter him on the rainy nights, to let him play guitar for a crowd full of people, or give him something to drink outside of wine.

Kaeya walked him up to the room he was staying in, which was a much nicer room than strictly necessary for one person. The officer was his escort since Diluc wasn’t technically allowed to drive with his mental condition. They didn’t say good-bye to each other when Diluc unlocked the door to the hotel room. Kaeya, for everything in the world, looked like he wanted to say something.

Yet he didn’t. Diluc sat on the couch of his apartment-style hotel room for the next few days. It was lonely and quiet. It reminded him of his actual apartment before Venti had shoved his way into his life. There wasn’t anything personal in the master bedroom. It lacked a large, ornate vase that didn’t match anything else in the room. There wasn’t a batman figurine propped up on his nightstand.

—

A splitting headache greeted Diluc the moment he woke up. The time on his phone read to be seven o’ clock in the morning, an hour past when he usually woke up. Diluc blamed it on the stress– he’d been waking up a little later every day since Venti had been placed in his apartment. Everything had to be perfect, from letting the boy feel safe and comfortable to making sure he hadn’t escaped the apartment while Diluc was bartending.

There was also a decision he’d been mulling over for quite some time. He had only two legal options available to him; adopt or let Venti go. Unfortunately, Venti had been uncharacteristically silent for the past week he’d been staying at the apartment, the only noise he ever made being the sound of his guitar. It had to do with the physical and mental trauma of the event and their eventual forced parting, but it also meant he wasn’t able to get the boy’s opinion on the matter.

Kids didn’t like Diluc, and Diluc certainly didn’t like kids. Venti somehow stepped out of this majority, passed all of the barriers Diluc had set up, and changed his life for forever. He didn’t want to let go of Venti so easily.

The fact of the matter was that he wasn’t well-equipped to raise another human being. Diluc had a multitude of his own problems, and the fact that he lived on top of a bar was not helping the matter. The kid had stopped drinking at some point, had started to get rid of nasty habits and heal from past wounds. Teenage years and adolescent angst could ruin that progress in a snap, and Diluc wasn’t sure if he could handle it. He wasn’t ready to be a father.

Unfortunately, his routine morning shower hadn’t relieved him of his headache. Coffee didn’t do it, either. He contemplated making and eating breakfast before taking any painkillers, but the piercing pain was becoming too much to bear. It was unlikely a meal would settle the problem, so his feet found the medicine cabinet easily.

It was concerning that when he walked in, there were a few ibuprofen tablets scattered on the floor. He hadn’t taken anything last night, but it was possible Venti had. He was allowed two tablets if the pain became too much, and with one of the injuries being at his shoulder, he tended to make a mess when taking them.

Pulling the ibuprofen bottle from the cabinet, Diluc quickly realized the mess hadn’t been just a mistake. When he last checked the bottle, it had been halfway full. Even with an injured boy in the house, it was unlikely they were going to get through the entire bottle before Venti had to go back to the system. Now there were only a few white tablets left in the container.

Diluc knocked on Venti’s door, even though his muscles were taut and urged him to just break it down. If he was wrong and Venti hadn’t taken the pills, then he would end up just scaring the boy. He resorted to calling through the door after knocking a few times. “Venti? Are you awake?” He knocked again, this time with more force. “I need you to answer this door! Are you okay?”

After several seconds of not getting a response, Diluc twisted the door handle even though he knew Venti always kept it locked. To his utter surprise, the door opened easily for him.

He walked in, voice raised to a near shout, “Venti, are you–”

Nobody was there. The bed was unmade and vacant, and his signature guitar was missing from his room. The guest bathroom was empty as well, and panic began welling inside of Diluc’s stomach. His headache only got worse as he called for Venti in the loudest voice he could but received no response to any of them.

The door to his apartment was unlocked as well. He double checked that lock every night to make sure it was locked, and double turned into triple when Venti started staying with him. There was no way he left it unlocked, so that only meant Venti had left the apartment.

His heart raced and body sweated as he descended the stairway into Angel’s Share. Diluc was praying, praying to the gods he hadn’t talked to in ten years. He prayed that Venti hadn’t gone far, that he could still catch up. It was too soon– he hadn’t made his decision yet, and he still hadn’t asked Venti his thoughts. He just needed more time.

The gods answered Diluc’s prayers, for Venti was still in the bar when the owner all but fell into it. He was sitting on a chair at the bar island, arms folded and head resting on top of them. His head was turned in the opposite direction of the stairway, so Diluc could only see the back of his mess of black hair. It was braided, but Venti had undone his braids every night before going to sleep. Diluc had taken to re-braiding them every morning.

His heart was in his throat, and he knew. He knew Venti hadn’t taken a single breath since Diluc had found him. Yet he still walked up to the counter, he still pressed a firm hand to the boy’s shoulder and called, “Venti, it’s time to wake up.”

Venti’s body moved too easily. Diluc put a hand to the cheek Venti had turned up, and it was cold to the touch. The fingers that were visible were yellow, standing out in comparison to the rest of his pale skin. Tremors shaking his entire being, Diluc pulled Venti’s body into chest. He was all-too aware of the limpness, the way his arms dragged across the island at Diluc's pull. The boy’s eyes were closed and lips formed into a peaceful smile.

Tears tasted salty in Diluc’s mouth. Angel’s Share was so quiet; it lacked the livelihood brought on so suddenly by a runaway boy. Even during closed hours, the sounds of his guitar and poetic songs drifted through the stall air. That guitar was sitting on the ground next to Venti’s hanging feet.

There was a reason Diluc hadn’t prayed to the gods in so long, he remembered. They may grant you what you want but will add their own cruel and wicked twist. This wasn’t what he meant by close. He could hear the gods laughing at him from their divine thrones while he caressed the corpse of a boy he treated like his son.

—

The harsh blowing of the wind rubbed against tall, uncut grass and created an occasional melodic sound. Windrise’s leaves remained untouched by the cold touch of autumn. The tree stood still, strong and beautiful, against the intense breezes. The sun wasn’t covered by the few clouds that lazed across the sky, yet its rays weren’t strong enough to ease the cold whips of the wind.

I want to be buried here, if I ever die.

A hawk screeched overhead, and Diluc knew it was time. He released the ashes in his hands in the direction of Windrise as a particularly strong gust barreled through the grassy plain. Venti flew on the breeze, finally free from his twelve long years of pain.

All of the remains were carried from his fingers. The boy he cared for was officially gone. Diluc’s eyes were glazed, and it took all he had not to break down in tears.

The guitar was locked in its case in Diluc’s closet, but the Batman figurine remained in sight. It rested against an ornate vase that didn’t match anything else in the room.

Kaeya pressed his hand against Diluc’s shoulder. When he didn’t react, Kaeya stepped forward and placed his other hand against Diluc’s other shoulder blade. Gently, he guided Diluc into his arms.

It was warm. An apology formed on Diluc’s lips, meant for his brother and perhaps someone else, and the wind carried it out of his vocal cords. Diluc grasped onto the back of his brother’s shirt. Kaeya didn’t say anything back, but Diluc felt liquid dripping onto the back of his shoulder, conveniently where Kaeya’s head was resting.

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irondadidontfeelsogood · 11 months ago

Text

67 Percent Sure

cw: vomit

—————

Mj turns around in her seat again and bites at the inside of her cheek, frowning a little. It didn’t take Betty this long to get opera glasses, so where is Peter? The curiosity that’s stirred inside her since Washington arises again.

She turns back around when she hears her name. Brad is smirking at her like he knows something she doesn’t. She’s not sure about a lot of things, but she’s definitely sure he knows severely less than she does.

“Hey Michelle, I was thinking maybe we could ditch this whole bullshit and leave once the lights go down. You with me?”

She hums. That would give her an excuse to go look for Peter, but she’s really not wanting Brad to try and tag along for that.

“Eh, actually the opera sounds pretty cool to me,” she lies. “Feel free to ditch if you want though.”

Hopefully he’ll leave. That’ll make it even easier for her to slip out unnoticed. He’s been freakishly clingy this whole trip. The relief she feels when he decides to go is so nice.

She turns to see Ned shuffling into the aisle next to Betty and gets his attention. He turns to look at her just as the lights dim.

“What’s up?”

“Have you seen Peter?”

Ned hesitates a little before he answers. “Oh, yeah, I forgot. He, uh, told me to tell you he’s going back to the hotel because he feels sick.”

“Huh. Okay.” Funny. He looked just fine a few minutes ago. Well, maybe he was a little awkward, but that’s not too out of the ordinary for him.

Still, the curiosity burns brighter than ever. She’s done with him running away and disappearing every five seconds. If she leaves now, she might finally catch him in the whole spider act.

There’s nothing stopping her. She stands and starts making her way down the aisle, slipping away easily now that Brad has taken her advice and left. Mr. Harrington doesn’t so much as lower his opera glasses.

She heads out into the crowded street outside the opera house and starts trying to spot Peter. When she has no luck, she heads back to the hotel to see if maybe he did actually stop there. It’s a long, impatient ride up the elevator, and it only increases her will to just ask him directly on the spot if she finds him.

Still, standing in front of his door is making her palms sweat. She shakes them out a little, breathing out sharply in determination. Finally, she bites the bullet and knocks on the door.

Her heart is racing when he actually opens up and his face fills with an unreadable expression. It looks like he’s about to say something, but she has to beat him to it before he tries to slither his way out of this one, too.

“I’m gonna be real honest here, Peter, and I need you to be, too. Don’t try to lie to me, because I already know. So just say you’re Spider-Man.”

Peter’s mouth opens and closes a couple times, and she sees that he’s really pale. He blinks at her with what seems to be straight-up confusion. He’s looks like he’s in his pajamas, which she wasn’t exactly expecting, but she can’t back down now.

“Mj, what are you—“

“Don’t play around with me, I’m not entirely stupid, okay? I just need to hear it from you.”

“What makes you—I don’t. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not Spider-Man,” he rushes out, but Mj doesn’t miss the way his voice goes quiet with the last part.

“Explain to me, then. Explain all the times you’ve disappeared.”

“I’m—I told Ned to tell you I don’t feel good, that’s why I left the opera.”

“I’m not just talking about tonight,” she clarifies. Peter’s throat clenches, and he looks stunned to say the least. “Peter, Washington? Homecoming? Not to mention the fact that you’ve quit nearly every club you were ever a part of.”

Peter shuts his eyes tight, leaning his weight against the doorframe. A wash of discomfort colors his face, and then he steps back a little.

“Just…come inside for a minute, okay? I need to sit down.”

She wasn’t really expecting that, either, but it’s a good sign, she supposes. Especially when she was half-convinced he would shut the door in her face. Now her heart is hammering in her chest as she follows him into the room, shutting the door behind her. It feels oddly private to be in his room even though it looks just like hers.

He sags down against the couch in the corner, and she slowly joins him there. A blanket of silence falls over them, and Mj watches as Peter lets his head fall into his hands. They stay there for a moment and then run through his hair. He breathes out shakily. She’s suddenly not ready to hear everything, but she’s too frozen to stop him when he starts to speak.

“Look…it’s hard to explain, but the thing with me and Liz was…,” he starts, voice unsteady. He wraps his arms around his stomach. “I didn’t like having to do that to her at all, but I figured out her dad is, like…really mixed up with the wrong crowd, and when he talked to me in the car it really freaked me out. I went home.”

Mj feels the disappointment sinking in her chest. What he’s saying makes sense, but she knows in her heart that there’s something else he’s not telling her. The bruises and cuts on his face the next day tell her a different story. Unless Liz’s dad beat him up. She really doesn’t want to think about that.

“And Washington, I went…”

He trails off, swallowing audibly. His eyes fall shut again, and Mj prepares for another lie. It’s really frustrating, and to be honest, it hurts. She thought she was making friends that she could trust and that trusted her for the first time, but now it feels all wrong. She was wrong.

She’s about to just tell him never mind, and that she’s heading back to the opera, but suddenly Peter is shoving himself off the couch. He stumbles past her and nearly trips over himself as he flees. Mj feels totally caught off guard as he disappears into the bathroom.

He leaves the door open, but she can hear him knock something over, and then there’s a thud. She’s up in an instant. What if she pushed him so hard he passed out?

She quickly follows him and freezes at the door. He’s knocked over all the mini soap bottles into the sink, and she finds him on his knees in front of the toilet. Not even another second goes by before he gags, and she hears vomit splash into the water.

“Shit,” she curses, moving closer so she can sit on the edge of the tub beside him. He throws up again, and it’s pretty violent. Mj is sure now that she’s never felt like more of an asshole. He coughs a few times and almost chokes on the next wave that comes up. “Oh God, are you alright?”

He shakes his head, because of course he’s not fucking okay, he’s puking his guts out. Mj feels her cheeks heat up with embarrassment. It feels awkward and intimate, but she starts rubbing his back so he hopefully doesn’t nearly choke again.

“Sorry, I know. That was a stupid question. Do you want some water?”

He shakes his head again, and she realizes his whole body is trembling a little. He probably has a fever and she was just sitting there grilling him like a criminal. She thinks hauntingly that she’ll probably never get over it.

He lets out a sick burp and heaves out the biggest stream yet. She’s starting to get seriously concerned. Maybe she should go back and get Mr. Harrington, although she doubts he’d be able to do much to help either. Peter retches out a couple small streams in a row. Maybe she should just call May.

“I’m really sorry,” Peter finally says once he has a moment to catch his breath.

“You don’t owe me an apology.” It’s the exact opposite, really.

“S’just…,” he starts, swallowing back a half-gag. He dry heaves and spits. “M’gross.”

“Doesn’t bother me. I just wasn’t expecting you to actually be sick when Ned told me…I don’t know, I just had that whole idea, and I thought I’d find you, like…yeah. I’m really sorry you’re feeling like this.”

Peter takes some toilet paper and wipes his mouth, throwing it into the toilet and closing the lid. He flushes and lays his head down on the toilet with a sigh. He hiccups quietly.

“It’s okay…I feel a lot better now. I really needed to throw up. Think I’m done.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah…do you think I could maybe have that water now?” His voice is weak, and Mj is suddenly so much more upset with herself. All Peter has ever been is sweet, and here she is acting like he owes her something.

“Of course. Um, just give me a second.”

“M’kay,” he replies, letting his eyes fall shut where he rests. “Thank you.”

She stands up and goes back into the room to find the stash of lable-less water bottles and empty coffee cups. She grabs a couple waters and heads back to the bathroom, sitting back on the tub and opening one for him.

“Here,” she says, and he opens his eyes. He thanks her again. “Don’t thank me, Peter. I’m doing the bare minimum as a friend now that I’ve grilled you about a lie in the middle of you trying not to get sick.”

Peter takes a few sips and swallows an extra time for good measure. He shakes his head slowly, and she knows he’s about to try to make her feel better. She thinks that might really just make her feel worse.

“Mj…I’m telling you this because you deserve to know, and I feel really guilty right now.” She frowns, confused, but he looks like he’s going to continue. “Mj…I am Spider-Man.”

The room goes dead silent. Mj doesn’t so much as breathe. It’s not like she could, anyway. Several seconds pass before she can even manage words.

“Are you being serious right now? Because if you’re joking this really isn’t funny,” she breathes out. He looks at her and nods slowly, smiling in a wincing sort of way. “I mean—I was only like 67 percent sure, I—“

“M’not lying. Not anymore, I promise.”

She can’t even begin to process the way she feels in that moment. Everything she’s been thinking and obsessing over for months is true. She’s not crazy, but she sure feels like it.

“Prove it,” she blurts, then wishes she could take it back. Then again, it would be nice to know for sure now that she’s probably losing her mind entirely. What if she’s just asleep at the opera house?

Peter breathes out a shallow laugh, resting his forehead on the toilet seat again. He sets the water bottle down on the floor and sighs.

“I would, but I sort of feel like human garbage right now, and I think swinging across the city would definitely make me hurl again.”

“Right, sorry, I didn’t really mean it to come out like that.”

“S’okay,” he says softly, hiccuping again. “What if I just show you the suit?”

Suddenly, Mj flashes hot. Something about seeing the suit up close makes her feel like she’s meeting a celebrity. I mean, she is, but it’s also Peter. Her Peter.

“Oh,” she says. “I don’t want to force you or anything.”

“You’re not. I’ve sort of been dying not telling you, but…I also know that the people who know are in more danger. I never wanted that for you, so I have to be completely clear that this could be a huge mistake. I really care about you.”

Her face grows hot, and words seem lost again. She nods. Here she is, finally getting the satisfaction that she’s wanted, if you can call it that. She didn’t exactly imagine finding out in a hotel bathroom after watching Peter throw up his lunch, but she figures it is what it is.

“C’mon, I’ll show you,” he says as she’s trying to collect her thoughts.

She helps him off the floor and back into the bedroom, where he slides his suitcase closer to the bed where they’re sitting. Her heart is nearly in her throat. This is all so strange.

“Ready?” he asks, voice a little raw. Mj nods slowly.

He flicks open the closures and hesitates a bit before he lifts it up, revealing the red and blue suit she watched scale the Washington monument. She freezes completely, in awe of the reality she’s now faced with. He bends over with a groan and holds it up, starting to quietly explain some of the features.

 Mj’s mind is humming, and it’s like she’s hearing him from several rooms over. She just keeps blinking at the thing, flashing back to all the times she saw it on the news. All the fire and destruction. He was there, and here it is. Here he is.

She tears her eyes away from the suit after a moment or two, staring at Peter as he continues to explain things she couldn’t begin to understand. Suddenly it all makes sense, and she is so, so screwed. This boy with a heart of gold is responsible for helping and saving so many people, and she can’t take her eyes off of him for even a second. She never wants to.

Suddenly, he’s staring back, but something is wrong. He doesn’t look excited, he doesn’t look happy, he doesn’t look like he’s feeling the same thing at all.

“Mj…were you…,” he starts, gaze falling to his lap where he laid the suit. “Were you only watching me…because you thought I was Spider-Man?”

She wasn’t expecting that in the slightest. The answer is complicated, but ultimately no. At the same time, she’s already made herself look like a massive stalker. The last thing she needs is to scare him away by getting emotional all of a sudden. Especially when the love that she feels for him will be interpreted as love for Spider-Man and not Peter, which couldn’t be farther from the truth. Suddenly, the suit seems to hold no value.

“Yeah…why?” She settles on lying, hoping that she can bring the other stuff up right when the time comes. But then, heartbreakingly, he looks disappointed. She wishes there were an easier way to do this.

“Oh.”

She changes her mind, never wanting to see that kind of sadness in him ever again. Maybe she can redirect this.

“Why did you think I was?”

“No, never mind, it’s…it’s stupid,” he breathes out, suddenly looking ill all over again.

“Try me.”

Instead, Peter starts to stand up, swaying. The suit falls to the floor. Mj is up in a second, ready to keep him from hitting the ground if he passes out. He looks nearly grey.

“I don’t feel good,” he murmurs. As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he throws up a gush of water between his fingers. It splatters down onto his shirt, his suitcase, and the floor.

“Oh—okay, alright,” Mj panics, looking around for something to save them from more damage. She spots a small ice bucket on the top of the dresser and rushes to get it, but from the sound of it, Peter’s just been sick again.

She moves as fast as she can and returns to him, positioning it under his mouth. His hands are covered in watery stomach acid and bile, so she holds it for him when the next wave comes up, keeping a steady hand between his shoulders. His breathing starts to pick up.

“You’re okay, Peter, I’ve got you,” she says, wishing there were some way she could just make it all stop. He doesn’t deserve this.

This round is considerably shorter, but he looks twice as spent when it seems like it’s over. His eyes are brimming with tears, and her heart feels like it’s dropped clean through the floor.

“Feel like you’re done?” she asks, rubbing once over his back. She doesn’t care that it might embarrass her later to be so attentive, but Peter is clearly really sick, and her insecurities can’t get in the way of making sure he’s taken care of.

He nods slowly, swallowing with effort. She lowers the bucket. He stands there sort of in shock and looking half-conscious, so Mj takes it upon herself to guide him to the bathroom.

While he washes his hands and rinses out his mouth, she dumps contents of the bucket into the toilet and flushes. When that’s done, she finds him braced against the sink with his eyes closed.

“I’m gonna grab you a fresh shirt, okay? You wanna hop in the shower?”

He shakes his head, and she can hardly blame him. It looks like it’s killing him just to stay upright.

“Okay, come here.”

He follows her into the bedroom and she pulls out the first t-shirt she sees in his suitcase. She turns away while he gets changed, but her face burns crimson all the same. He softly lets her know she can turn back around now.

She finds him eyeing the splattered carpet with what she can only describe as sorrow and disappointment. She can’t have that.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s totally fine,” she insists. He doesn’t look convinced in the slightest, so she moves toward him regardless of whether she’s going to regret this or not.

She wraps her arms around him, and he wilts, slowly bringing his arms up around her back. It’s the first time they’ve hugged like this, serious and gentle. Mj hopes it makes up for at least some of her stupidity tonight.

“It was an accident, Peter. I know you feel really shitty, but things are gonna get better, okay? I can take care of that, you don’t have to worry.”

Finally, she pulls back to get a better look at him. He’s worse off than she’s ever seen—even the times when he came to school probably freshly thrown around in the street.

“Why are you being so sweet to me?” he asks suddenly, voice paper thin.

“Because you deserve it. And I really do care about you,” she says. This is her chance to try and clarify this whole mess. “I mean it, with or without Spider-Man. You’re closer to me than anyone has ever been.”

Peter’s face all but crumbles, and that’s not what she intended at all. She doesn’t know what to do. The apology is on her lips when Peter cuts her off.

“Mj, I…I had this whole plan with the Eiffel Tower and…now that I’ll probably be too sick to go, I think I should just do it now.”

She’s listening so carefully that she’s not sure time is passing for them anymore. Nothing exists outside this room as Peter walks past her to the desk in the corner, opening the drawer and pulling out a small bag. She recognizes it from a couple days ago and gets unexpectedly nervous.

He sits on the foot of the bed and quietly urges her to come over. He looks really sick. She almost feels like she should go get the bucket from the bathroom, but suddenly whatever this is seems more important, and she finds herself crossing the room to join him.

He reaches in and fishes something out, which she quickly realizes is a chain. He pulls at it, and hanging at the center is what looks like a couple of dark glass petals.

“Oh no, no, shit,” Peter curses suddenly, sighing and sounding like he actually might cry now. “It’s broken.”

Suddenly Mj can tell what it used to be, and something so big swells inside of her that she’s on fire all over. Peter starts rambling about his plan and how the elementals ruined everything, but she cuts him off.

“Hey, Peter, stop it, it’s okay. It’s perfect.”

“It’s supposed to be—“

“Black dahlia. Like the murder, right?”

Peter freezes. “Yeah, like the murder,” he breathes out, a laugh barely audible, then the sadness overtakes him again. “I really wanted this to go differently.”

“I love it, Peter. Giving it to me whole on the top of the Eiffel Tower wouldn’t make it mean any more to me than it does right now,” she says, watching him look at her with something unreadable filling his eyes. She opens the small latch and places it around her neck. “I love it. Thank you.”

Before he can try to regret what happened anymore, she wraps her arms around him again, holding there for a moment before she pulls back and places a gentle kiss at the corner of his mouth.

“Mj, m’gonna get you sick,” he murmurs, turning away.

“I don’t care,” is her reply, and she reaches up to align his face with hers. She kisses him fully now, her heart threatening to escape wherever it can.

When she pulls back, she hopes she hasn’t gone too far, but then he’s looking at her, and suddenly no decision she’s ever made has made more sense. She trails the hand that made its way to the back of his neck slowly down to the bed, and she rests her forehead against the heat of his.

“Thank you for trusting me,” she whispers, her hand finding his and placing her pinky on top of his. “I wasn’t just watching you because I thought you were Spider-Man.”

He pulls back a little, his eyebrows half-raised in a softly pained expression. He looks at her in mute suspension.

“Mj…I don’t want you to get dragged into this…,” he says, so quietly she can hardly hear him from inches away.

“Whatever happens, we can figure it out together. I’m not scared.”

He reaches a hand up to scrub at his face in frustration. Wilting, he covers his eyes and drops his chin to his chest.

“You don’t understand. Everywhere I go…people get hurt. Ben, Tony, May. Everything I touch gets ruined,” he says, voice heavy. “It’s like I can feel death breathing down my neck all the time, Mj…all the time.”

Mj immediately takes her hand to the back of his neck, fingertips just barely brushing through his hair where she rests it. “Peter, that is not true. Life hasn’t been fair to you, but you hold absolutely no blame for that. You shouldn’t have to carry that around.”

He slowly lays back against the mattress, and she can see where tears begin to trail down his temples. She lies beside him.

“You know what actually happens when you’re around?” She asks, turning on her side to face him. “People feel safe. You buy them food. You save them from burning buildings. You give them back what the bad people in the world take from them.”

He closes his eyes tightly, and more tears escape. He wipes them away, breathing out shakily. In the dim light shining from the bedside lamp, she sees just how worn he looks. Suddenly, she realizes he’s been letting thoughts like those consume him for a long time.

He’s sick, he’s tired, and there’s no doubt he’s still injured from fighting the elementals just a day earlier. The ugly feeling in her chest spreads deep, and she reaches over to rest her hand on his heart. She can almost feel how run down he is.

“I really like you, okay? But I don’t want you to have to worry about me. You already have more than enough on your plate. I’ll be a friend if you need me to be, and if you ever feel comfortable with more than that, I’ll still be right here,” she promises, knowing now that there’s nothing she won’t do to help him, even if that means waiting. Even if that means they’re never more.

Peter turns his head and slowly opens his eyes. She wipes away a tear that pools at the bridge of his nose.

“I really like you,” he finally says. “I…I need to think about things for a little, but…I don’t think I can go on and act like everything that’s happened tonight doesn’t mean as much to me as it does.”

“Me either,” she replies honestly. “I really just want you to be happy. Whatever that means for you.”

He’s silent for a second, eyes flickering between hers. “This makes me happy. Even though I feel like someone ran me over, I’m happy. It’s always been you.”

“Then that’s enough.”

Mj can’t imagine feeling any more content than she does in that exact moment. No one else exists outside this hotel room. There’s enough life in the two of them to sustain the rest of the universe. She leans closer and softly brushes her lips against his shoulder.

“You need to get some rest, Peter. Come here,” she urges, sitting up and scooting back to the headboard.

He manages to get himself up and under the duvet, resting his head on one of the pillows. Exhaustion covers his face. Mj stands up.

“I’m gonna grab your water and put it on the nightstand. Do you feel like you might get sick again?”

He hums, shutting his eyes. “I don’t know…maybe.”

“Okay. I’ll bring the bucket and set it on the floor next to you just in case.”

“Thank you.”

She does just that, urging him to take at least a couple sips before he actually falls asleep. He doesn’t put up too much of a fight, but that’s probably due to being absolutely drained.

His breaths even out quickly after that, so Mj tries to be as quiet as she can while she does her best to clean up everything from earlier. It’s mostly just water, so it’s not too bad. Oddly enough, because it’s Peter, it doesn’t bother her one bit.

When she’s done, she gently climbs back onto the bed next to him and takes a minute to try and comprehend everything that’s gone down in the past hour or so. She reaches up to grasp at the remnants of the black dahlia, feeling a wave of warmth draw over her whole body. She wouldn’t change a thing.

————-

A/N: Thank you guys for reblogging my posts and reading! It means a lot :)

#iron dad #marvel sickfic #peter parker #sickfic #cw vomit #peter parker sickfic #iron dad sickfic #iron man #tony stark #sick #hurt/comfort

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ackackh · 3 months ago

Text

First Line Analysis

Rules: post the first lines of up to 10 of your last fics/chapters posted on AO3 or your WIPs and try to draw some conclusions.

Thank you to @majorbuckyegan for tagging me! This was fun and challenging!

1. DOGSTAR.

There’s a hole maybe the size of a quarter ripped in the screen door. Andy watches as two little fingers wiggle through it, the small hand they’re attached to curling up close behind them.

2. Want to See Nirvana/Don’t Want to Die Yet

I am not, Nate thinks to himself as he helps Brad fumble with the passenger-side door, I am not going back in time.

3. God Is a Bluegill

The next-day sun is beginning to pour dark blue light into the jailhouse through the little, barred window of Ray’s cell. The Sheriff sleeps with his feet crossed on top of his desk, his chin tucked into his chest; Ray watched him fight it for the better part of the night. His cellmate sleeps on his back with his gambler pulled on top of his face, his fingers laced perfectly over his chest. And the man in the neighboring cell hasn’t so much as moved since Ray was locked inside his own, earlier in the evening. Ray thinks he might be dead.

(I’m cheating here, a little. There is a small flashback before this scene in GIAB but I consider this to be the first line, really. Otherwise it’s just a baby Ray waking up with his mother.)

4. [untitled Doc Bryan Baby fic]

[Secret Character, Sorry] had this thing about naming babies after family, said it was bad luck. Said, who do you know that hasn’t ever fucked over anybody? Who in our family hasn’t been fucked someway?

5. [untitled BradRay Post OIF fic]

There are a few decent places to cry alone in the cigarette factory, but Ray hasn’t bothered to go find any. Instead he’s crying like a kid against the cinderblocks outside.

6. Some Things You Will Remember, Some Things Stay Sweet Forever

Winter’s comin’ in hard. Only October and the season’s first long drift of snow has blown over their village swiftly these past three days.

7. That Heavy Love

There is a moment, however small, when Brad returns to their attic room, in which the light of the oil lamps and the cotton of the bedclothes paint Nate like a dream-laden lover. Isn’t he beautiful?

8. Last of the Goldenrod

There’s a grave for the last morning glory that ever bloomed in Kilkenny. Before the last of them wilted, Maryanne clipped one clean and pressed it dry between the pages of a Bible, so that it left behind a purple stain, splotched somewhere in the middle of Psalms. Joe enlisted George’s help to break up a patch of their concrete backyard, to claw away the frozen dirt beneath until they had a hole deep enough to bury it inside of a shoebox.

9. Feel in My Bones Just What the Future Has in Store

Sun’s set just a few minutes ago but the end-of-summer sky is still holding onto some of its light. If they finish up now, Mike can get Judy and Tanya inside before full dark and before Cara gets too mad about pushing back their bedtime.

10. When a Man Is Also a Knife

The Arena can seat 5,526 spectators—maybe 200 more if one includes the standing room directly surrounding the ring—and as George bobs and weaves his way though the milling crowd of Philadelphia’s finest, most already drunk or well on their way, he finds that every single one of the 5,726 attendees is doggedly determined to shove themselves between him and his boss.

Tagging @z-ppy @disastrouscanasta @buckyclevens @lamialamia @gorgeousundertow @jenkil and anyone else who wants to join!

Analysis under the cut. Because it’s a lot of rambling on my part.

Okay, looking at all of these, any analysis seems really hard to do. Especially since I could choose whatever fics I wanted, I realized I was using the ones I liked the most, so there’s already some bias in here. But one thing I can say, I know whenever I’m writing something which I know will be the first line I am always thinking about a ‘hook.’ Will this first sentence be enough to get my reader to keep reading? With fanfiction, this is a bit easier. I don’t have to convince anybody to like my characters or like the dynamics or relationships, I just have to get them to like me. Which is sort of daunting, but I’d still argue easier than with original fiction.

I do notice that with fics like 3. 8. And 10. I am trying to be evocative of a very specific time/place, because these are all AUs. And I know the reader, especially with shorter AUs, needs much more information much more immediately than with other fics, in which I have time to feed info throughout. So those seem more concerned with environment, rather than character. Also seems to be the case with others lol. Even if the line is primarily about how a character is feeling, the first line still gives some information about the rest of the scene. (8. Kilkenny is a place, a town; 9. It’s evening, it’s summer; 2. Nate is in a car (lol))

Which makes sense when I think about it. I still have the hangup (I think other writers know this feeling) of wanting my readers to see my stories exactly as I see them. To be immersed, sure, but also to have the right angle, the right lighting. I need to remind myself that books (or fics) aren’t movies. It isn’t a visual medium. So, there’s something I could certainly work on.

Without hurting my brain with too much more thinking, I’ll leave off by saying that in general, I like these! And that’s a treat for myself. I want things I write to be colorful, I want them to be physical, and some of these really do the trick for me. (Key word: me. I already have the images of these scenes set in my head before I ever write them down. So it’s very possible for others not to see it that way).

But yeah, this was fun! And I’m always a slut for sharing lol ❤️

#tag game #fic #writing #idk man I tried lol

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princessmo · 2 years ago

Note

why, buzzdriessen, of course, for the otp questions. All of them

THANK YOUUU SO MUCH SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG

um i'm gonna end up putting most of this under a readmore bc i typed up 5 pages worth of response in google docs

What is each member’s love language?

ngl i’m not a huge love languages guy but van d’s is verbal expressions of love with a dash of physical touch (“i love you i love you i love you” while being all clingy) and buzzcut’s is just. being soft with van driessen while being hostile or at best apathetic toward everyone else. his love language is love

What would they describe as their perfect date?

bradley’s is doing one-armed pushups for an hour while dave sits on his back reading a magazine and fawning over how strong he is. david’s is them going camping, doing edibles and stargazing

Who made the first move?

buzzcut! van driessen waited sooooo long...he didn’t want to ruin their work relationship and he’s the most patient guy in the world so he just suffered in silence until buzzcut finally asked him out. i like thinking that they both had feelings for each other but were oblivious to the other’s feelings and the students had a bet as to when something would Finally happen

Who is more sentimental?

daviddddd. but bradley’s more sentimental than he lets on

Which member calls the other in to kill the spiders?

generally dave will take the spiders outside if he’s alone, he’s not really bothered by them, but if they’re in the same room together brad will take them out. the exception is shit with too many legs like centipedes, dave will fucking shriek until brad kills them

Who falls asleep first?

most of the time, van d. buzzcut’s always like “dave, if you fall asleep on the couch i’m NOT carrying you to bed this time”...and then he does anyway cuz he’s a big softie >:)

Who wakes up first?

most of the time, buzzcut. military habits die hard. occasionally van d will wake up earlier and make breakfast in bed for them :)

Who is more relaxed/carefree?

i mean...van driessen, obvs. buzzcut is ready to kill anyone who looks at either of them the wrong way

What’s one way their personalities complement one another? (Is it opposites attract or are they pretty similar?)

well. not to state the obvious but they’re incredibly opposites attract

Who is always cold?

omg i hc that david’s always warm, he’s like a little radiator, and bradley’s always cold

Which member is always trying to bring home stray animals and which member always has to say no?

van d is ALWAYS bringing home stray critters and nursing them back to health. buzzcut thinks it’s cute to an extent; at some point he’s like “puddin’ i love you but if you keep this up you WILL get rabies”

Who worries more?

they both do in their own ways, but i think bradley worries just a little bit more since dave’s been through SO much on the show. dave’s more vocal about it, though, he’s like “do you have your coat? scarf? gloves? wallet? keys? is your phone charged?”. brad’s more like “i don’t think [XYZ] is a good idea” and if he’s really worried he insists on tagging along with dave

What are some non-sexual activities they do together?

they spend a LOT of time cuddling on the couch watching pbs. they also like camping, david for all the cool nature stuff and bradley cuz he gets to go fishing. he’s a fishing guy. they also like. idk what the adult phrase is but parallel play. david reads while bradley whittles, imo he’d be into woodcarving. they just enjoy the silence and each other’s company

Who would be able to talk their way out of a speeding ticket?

buzzcut wouldn’t even have to talk; he’d just make eye contact with the cop and they’d let him go. van driessen doesn’t really speed but he’s so genuinely apologetic about jeopardizing other drivers they also just let him go

Who is the better cook?

bradley. david is competent but bradley is better and he likes it more, so he does the majority of the cooking

What are some things they don’t agree on?

BEAVIS AND BUTTHEAD. buzzcut kind of admires van driessen’s patience for them but he also dislikes his lenience and thinks it enables them; and after they start dating he reeeeally hates how they walk all over the one person who gives a shit about them and how dave just lets himself be treated that way. david, of course, thinks he’s being way too hard on them, they’re neglected 15 year olds who shower once a month and live on nachos

Which member is more physically affectionate?

they’re both pretty physically affectionate, bradley’s always got an arm wrapped around david and david’s always holding onto him. when they lie on the couch together dave’s usually leaning on brad’s chest or resting his head in brad’s lap

Which member is more verbally affectionate?

lmao i gave it away earlier but van d. constant “i love you”s; but buzzcut has so, so many sappy pet names for van driessen...puddin’ is my favorite cause it’s so cheesy and honestly kinda ooc but others include prettyboy, little pansy (both originally used derogatorily but now they’re terms of endearment), babygirl, little dove...i have more but i’m getting embarrassed just saying these ones

How does each member feel about PDA?

van driessen likes light PDA, holding hands, a little kiss on the cheek, etc. buzzcut pretends to dislike PDA and he rarely initiates it but will definitely escalate it. if van d gives him a kiss buzzcut is ready to full-on make out in the middle of chili’s or wherever the hell they are

Who’s the safer driver?

dave...but he also dislikes driving. brad has the worst road rage ever but dave’s willing to put up with it if it means he can stare out the window

What’s each member's flirting style?

after their initial mutual-oblivious-pining they’re both pretty direct. dave drops a lot of compliments while brad keeps trying to do favors for him

Which member borrows (steals) the other one's clothing?

van driessen borrows buzzcut’s clothes; i don’t think buzzcut could fit in any of van d’s. one time after van d spends the night at buzzcut’s, brad walks into the kitchen to find dave making breakfast while wearing one of his gym shirts and he stops for a moment because it’s the cutest damn sight he’s ever seen

Who is the cuddle initiator?

they’re 50/50, buzzcut loooves doing that “yawn-turned-arm-around-shoulder” thing and van driessen loves cuddling up with him

Are they an introverted couple or an extroverted one—AKA would they prefer to go out to a party or event together or would they rather stay in?

they’re both pretty introverted, they attend some things out of obligation but they’ll stand in the corner and quietly bitch the whole time

Who is the big/little spoon?

vast majority of the time buzzcut is big spoon and van driessen is little spoon but they occasionally switch

Who is more likely to make an impulsive decision and who is the voice of reason?

they both make different kinds of impulsive decisions. buzzcut has to stop van d from playing in the rain cause he’s gonna catch pneumonia and van d has to stop buzzcut from fighting people all the time

Who’s more likely to laugh at their own jokes?

dave. brad laughs at how cute he thinks this is

Who takes longer showers?

also dave. like i said, buzzcut’s military habits die hard. dave convinces him to shower together after giving some bullshit speech about conserving water and the environment and all that. brad immediately sees through it and is like “you know...you can just ask”

Who is “more loved” by the in-laws?

all of their parents suck so they’re not really involved but in my liddle backstories i made for them, bradley has 2 older sisters who LOVE david, they’re so excited to have a new baby brother who does all the “girly” stuff bradley wouldn’t let them do with him as kids (they’re in their 50s now but that doesn’t stop them). they braid his hair and do his nails and stuff and brad’s like “dave you don’t have to put up with this if you don’t want it” and dave’s like “no bradley i like it :)”

if tom (david’s deceased older brother) was still alive i think he and brad would get along; imo they’re both into more “masculine” hobbies than dave is so they’d often talk about those. ofc tom dying in the gulf war and brad being fucked from his time in the military definitely (and rightfully/correctly) contributes to van driessen’s sheer loathing of the military

Who is more likely to get jealous?

yknow last time i thought abt this i said buzzcut but i’m changing my mind. i loooove jealous girlfriend van d. if any of the moms try flirting with brad during curriculum night dave starts getting all clingy

What was the most surprising thing they learned about one another once they started dating?

brad is surprised to learn that dave swears quite a bit and also eats meat (but only from one of his hippie friend’s farms). dave is surprised at how damn good brad is at cooking and that he smokes

Who stays up way too late and who tries to drag them to bed?

they’re both guilty of staying up way too late. like i said earlier, bradley ends up carrying david to bed if he stays up too late. if brad’s up too late, david insists on staying up with him, but he’ll start softly humming and trying to cuddle with him until brad gives in

Who’s messier?

dave, but he never sets out to make a mess, it just happens and then he finds himself surrounded by clutter

Which member is more likely to accidentally spend $300 at Target?

i think they’re both pretty mindful of their spending, but probably van driessen

Who wanted/would want kids first?

neither really wants kids since they spend so much time around them at work. they have a kitty that dave finds as a stray and brings home

Who gives piggy back rides to the other?

they don’t really do piggyback rides but sometimes buzzcut carries van d around bridal-style

Who fell in love first?

between the two of them, david, but everyone else noticed they liked each other and wanted them to get together first. definitely a major point of gossip in the teacher’s lounge when neither of them were in there

#THANK YOU AGAIN I LOOOOVE THINKING ABT THEM #beavis and butthead #buzzdriessen #david van driessen #bradley buzzcut

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pastrnaks-sainz · 2 years ago

Text

I posted 985 times in 2022

320 posts created (32%)

665 posts reblogged (68%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@waggle100

@intoafandom

@chuckschippedchomper

@incredulouspasta

@krugstrash

I tagged 376 of my posts in 2022

#bruins lb - 203 posts

#boston bruins - 44 posts

#david pastrnak - 14 posts

#patrice bergeron - 10 posts

#jeremy swayman - 6 posts

#hampus lindholm - 5 posts

#brad marchand - 5 posts

#the boys won - 5 posts

#one shot - 4 posts

#nhl fluff - 4 posts

Longest Tag: 101 characters

#acting like he isn’t bouta turn around and crossscheck him in the head next time they play each other

My Top Posts in 2022:

this shirt makes me feel things

36 notes - Posted April 23, 2022

Black Tie

Pairing: Connor McDavid x reader

Type: Fluff

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: Every once in a while there was a black tie event hosted by the team that Connor had to attend. As a member of the Oilers organization you also had to attend. You and Connor both hated fake sipping champagne and talking to people you hardly knew. For the past two years that similarity drew you to each other. This year, though, had Connor feeling flirty.

Request: Request #29 with Connor McDavid? 👉🏼👈🏼 (from anon)

Fluff Prompt #29: “Who gave you permission to go out in public looking like that?”

~~~~

It was nearing the point in the evening when your social battery was dangerously close to zero. Like, blinking red about to be stranded in the middle of the ocean with no life preserver, dangerously close to zero. And if you knew Connor McDavid as well as you thought you did, his would be in the danger zone too.

“That time of the night, Y/N?” Zach chirped as you walked past him. You shot him a look and playfully flipped him off as you continued on your way to what would become your safe corner for the night. You sat down and tried your best to look like you didn’t want to jump out the window.

“I see the clock has struck midnight for the both of us,” the voice of your fellow introvert Connor McDavid had you genuinely smiling for the first time all night.

“Thank god,” you sighed as he sat down at the table across from you, placing his drink down in front of him. “It looks like you lasted longer than me this year.”

“I actually think we both tapped out at the same time,” Connor said, looking around for any sponsors he might have to hide from. “There are times I rethink my career choice and this is one of them.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, making eye contact with him. Like always, your stomach fluttered. “This industry isn’t the best if you’re not an extrovert.”

“I genuinely have no idea how Leon does it,” Connor said, looking over to see Leon Draisaitl in the middle of the room somehow managing three different conversations and one of them was in German. “Man is a god.”

“He has to be,” you agreed, shaking your head in awe. “There is literally no other explanation.”

Connor laughed and took a sip of his drink. He swallowed before turning his gaze onto you. Your cheeks heated up to the point you would have sworn your face was literally glowing.

“So what was the conversation that did you in?” with his question the party around you seemed to melt away.

“New camera equipment, believe it or not,” you answered.

“Really?” Connor was surprised. “I thought you loved getting new gear?”

“I do, believe me I do,” you worked for the Edmonton Oilers’ media department. Getting new gear before a season was like Christmas. “But there was just something about it tonight that I could not sit through.”

“Business conversations are the worst,” Connor agreed. “I couldn’t even explain what the one I just abandoned was about. I think it was skate laces? I don’t even know.”

“Who knew these black tie events could be so goddamn boring,” you said, eliciting a laugh from Connor.

“Agreed.”

Connor thought for a second before speaking again. He wasn’t sure if it was the amount of drinks he’d had at the party or if it was something else, but he had a little extra courage that had his threshold for stupidity so far up it was in danger of becoming part of the ballroom ceiling.

“Hey, wanna leave?”

“I’m sorry?” you looked at him in shock. You had been to countless of events like these and ended up in this scenario countless of times before but not once had Connor proposed the idea of ditching. “I know you won’t get fired but I still have my job to worry about.”

“Oh don’t worry about it,” Connor said as he stood up. Oh. He was serious. “If someone gives you a hard time just point them in my direction. I’ll say you were feeling sick and since I was with you you just asked me to take you home.”

“Alright, I guess that’s believable enough,” you answered and took his hand, allowing him to help you up from your seat.

See the full post

79 notes - Posted April 9, 2022

500th

Pairing: David Pastrnak x reader

Type: Smut

Warnings: Oral (f+m receiving), fingering, swearing, protected sex, hair pulling kink, cockwarming 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: You knew David was close to 500 career points, but you didn't expect him to reach that milestone in his first game back after being out for three weeks. The good mood he was in when he got home somehow became an even better mood when he saw you in nothing but a pair of heels and his jersey.

Smut Prompt #8: “A beautiful sight, you wearing nothing but my jersey waiting for me” Smut Prompt #15: “Pull my hair”

A/N: I guess this is a part two to 200th. Also i am on my knees for pasta, literally would do anything for him

~~~~

David hummed to himself as he unlocked the apartment door and let himself in. He was in a good mood. His first game back after being injured against Detroit could not have gone better. He didn't expect to score the first goal of the game, but when you’re David Pastrnak anything can happen apparently.

That anything can include coming home to seeing your girlfriend laying in the middle of your bed wearing nothing but a very sexy pair of heels and your jersey. David dropped his bag on the floor, his jaw hanging open. He shamelessly raked his eyes up and down your body.

“What’s all this?” he asked once he found his voice.

“You had a big game,” you responded in the best sultry voice you could muster. “I thought you deserved a little reward.”

“A reward?” David hummed, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. He took a couple steps forward and knelt on the bed beside you. His finger tips lightly skimmed over your ankle. “A beautiful sight, you wearing nothing but my jersey waiting for me.”

“I thought you might like it,” you responded, pushing yourself to sit up and meet his lips. David kissed you fervently. You moaned against him, hand coming to cup the back of his head and hold him in place.

You used the leverage you had gained against him to flip him onto his back.

“What’s all this?” he asked, tucking his arm behind his head and watching you get to work unbuttoning his pants.

“You know how a milestone gets rewarded by now,” you smirked, pulling his pants and boxers down. His dick, hard and red, slapped against his stomach. David’s muscles tightened as the cool air of the room touched his tip.

You licked your lips, practically able to see his dick throbbing with want. The man was insatiable, and you were fully prepared to have a long night.

“Y/N, don’t just fucking look at it do something,” David’s voice was strangled.

“As you wish.”

He moaned, loud and long as you licked a thick stripe up the underside of his dick along the vein. He gathered your hair in a ponytail and gripped it tight. You brought your mouth down on him, taking as much as you could. His moans were music to your ears as you bobbed your head up and down. You hollowed your cheeks every once in a while, making him moan a little louder each time.

You knew David’s body so well that you could bring him to the edge and back three times before he started to get frustrated. And it wasn’t through his voice that you knew he was getting frustrated. It was when his hips would not stay still. He kept squirming, trying to find the right position in order to get some sort of relief. But every time he did you changed what you were doing.

It wasn’t until he gripped your hair a little bit tighter that you finally took pity on him. You gripped the base of his dick and gave him short but firm squeezes and alternated between gently sucking his tip and giving him little kitten licks. David’s stomach tightened as he came. His eyes screwed shut and he let out a strangled moan.

“Congratulations, baby,” your voice was hoarse as you crawled back up his body to whisper in his ear.

“You are going to be the fucking death of me,” David all but growled. He kissed you passionately, his lips claiming you as his own. You whimpered and let him push you onto your back. His hands traced your sides before reaching the hem of the jersey. He lifted it over your hips

“David,” you whimpered, snaking your hand into his hair as he lifted your legs onto his shoulders. You felt his breath on your dripping pussy before you felt his tongue. You jumped at the contact before allowing yourself to relax into his ministrations.

He knew your body as well as you knew his. It made sex that much more pleasurable. You squirmed as he switched between licking and sucking your clit and blowing cool air on it. He threw his arm over your hips to keep you still. You moaned louder than you had since he started and tugged on your hair.

David emitted a sound you’d never heard come from him before. He pulled away from your clit and looked up at you with dark, hooded eyes.

“Pull my hair,” he commanded. You shuddered at the sound of his voice but gave the roots of his hair another yank nonetheless. His eyes rolled back and his muscles tightened. “Fuck.”

See the full post

81 notes - Posted April 24, 2022

Friend From College

Pairing: Jeremy Swayman x reader

Type: Fluff

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: Jeremy was quickly adopted by his new Bruins teammates. And that comes with being harassed by Brad Marchand and eventually Nick Foligno until you invite your closest friend down to Boston during Christmas break to meet your new teammates.

Request: Can you do 4 and 43 from fluff with swayman thank you in advance (from anon)

Fluff Prompt #4: “Is that my sweatshirt?” Fluff Prompt #43: “Will you two just kiss already?”

~~~~

Jeremy took a deep breath before walking into the locker room. For the past weeks, ever since Nick Foligno had walked in on him on FaceTime with you, he had been harassed about when he was “going to introduce us to your girlfriend, Swayman?” He was going to need all the luck he could get being around the team whenever there was even half a moment of silence.

“Good practice, Sway,” Patrice greeted him with a nod. Jeremy’s shoulders relaxed. Bergy was one of the only ones to not give him a hard time. Although he didn’t exactly take steps to stop the heckling whenever it started.

“Thanks,” Jeremy returned the greeting, taking a sip of his Dunkin coffee.

“Oh, hey, I have an extra ticket to the game tomorrow if you want it, Stephanie said she’d reserve the seat beside her,” Bergy said before leaving.

“Oh, sure,” Jeremy smiled. “Thanks, Cap.”

“No problem,” Patrice gave Sway a subtle wink before walking out to the equipment room.

Jeremy groaned. He knew exactly who Patrice wanted him to give that ticket to. But you were still in Maine with your family, you wouldn’t want to make that drive all the way down to Boston just for a hockey game. But then again, it was worth at least giving you a call, right?

“If I don’t call her they’re never going to let me forget it,” he sighed and picked up his phone, knowing that if one of the friends he’d made in Boston showed up tomorrow night with that ticket he would never live it down. He was pretty sure their next steps were going to be going through his phone, finding your number, calling you themselves, and telling you they thought Jeremy liked you. And he could never live with himself if that happened.

“Y/N! Your phone is ringing!” your little cousin yelled from the basement. You downed the rest of the drink in your glass before jogging down the stairs.

“Hello?” you answered, not even bothering to glance at the caller ID.

“Y/N!” Jeremy’s cheery voice was on the other end of the line. You smiled to yourself as you stepped into the toy closet to get away from the noise your younger family members were making.

“Thank god you called me,” you sighed. “I’m hiding from the kids. You gotta get me outta here, Jeremy.”

Jeremy’s chest warmed.

“Well lucky for you Bergy just offered me a ticket for the game tomorrow night if you want to come down,” he said, applauding himself for the smooth offer. He knew, though, that if any one of the guys walked in he would instantly crumble.

“Oh my god, please,” you were relieved. “I’m gonna drive down right now. Jeremy you have no idea how happy I am to get out of this reunion.”

“Anything for you, Y/N,” he said. “Let me know when you’re thirty minutes out. You can just come straight to my apartment, I’ll send you the address.”

“You’re a legend, Sway,” you said before hanging up and walking back up stairs.

“Who was that sweetie?” your mom asked as you reached for your keys.

“Jeremy,” you responded. “He invited me to the game tomorrow night. I’m gonna drive down this afternoon. I should be at his place by like eight. I’ll be back here on Monday.”

“Have fun!” she told you as you walked out the door, knowing you were going to take any escape you could to get away from the extended family in town for the weekend no matter what she said.

Jeremy was thankful that his mom forced him to buy one extra set of sheets than he thought he needed when he got home after practice. He was also thankful for his real estate agent for persuading him to get an apartment with a guest room. He set up the guest room before settling down on the couch.

See the full post

84 notes - Posted March 16, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Bloodied and Bruised

Pairing: Matthew Tkachuk x reader

Type: Fluff

Warnings: Injury

Summary: Matthew wasn’t usually accident prone, but this morning’s practice had him beat up in more than one way. He’d taken a puck to the knee, causing him to limp for the rest of the day. And he’d gotten an accidental high stick to the face, causing a small but nasty cut just above his eyebrow. You knew it was bothering him more than usual after he begged you to stay with him.

Request: Hi can you write a Matthew Tkachuk imagine with the prompts 37 and 63 from your list where he had a rough practice and gets injured and you help bandage him up. You want to be there for him even though he usually keeps to himself but this time he needs comfort from his girlfriend with some cuddling please. Thank you! (from anon)

Fluff Prompt #37: “Quit being such a baby and let me put a new Band-Aid on your face” Fluff Prompt #63: “Can you- do you want to- please stay with me, I don’t want to be alone”

~~~~

The front door creaked, announcing Matt’s arrival home from practice. You grinned and hastily wiped your hands on the towel you had over your shoulder before tossing it down to the island. When you saw Matt standing at the end of the hallway, shoulders slumped and head down, you knew something was wrong.

“Matty, baby,” you hummed, brows furrowing in concern as you walked up to him. “What happened?”

“Got a little banged up,” he mumbled. You cupped your hand around his jaw and moved his head so you could get a close look at the cut above his eyebrow. A small white Band-Aid was overing it, but a few drops of blood had already seeped through it.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you wrapped your arms around his waist, expecting him to push you away like he always did when he was injured. But instead he melted into you, letting his head droop to your shoulder and his hands resting lightly on your hips. You knew the injury was bothering him.

“You’re really warm,” he said, his voice muffled by your hoodie.

“Come on, baby,” you took his hand and pulled him down the hallway to your bedroom. He followed like a puppy dog. You sat him down on the edge of the bed and went to retrieve the first-aid kit from where you’d stashed it under the sink.

“What are you doing?” he asked as he watched you open it and pull out a package of Band-Aids.

“Changing that Band-Aid,” you answered, flicking your eyes up to his cut. “There’s blood coming through it, if you keep it on it’ll get infected.”

Matt pouted up at you.

“Quit being such a baby and let me put a new Band-Aid on your face,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. Matt smirked and kept his eyes on you as you carefully peeled off the white Band-Aid and replaced it with one of the new ones.

“All better?” he asked.

“All better,” you nodded and placed a gentle kiss over the Band-Aid.

You turned around, ready to head back to the kitchen to finish making the mac n’ cheese you had started, when Matt’s hand latched around your wrist. You turned around, eyebrow raised in question.

“Can you- do you want to- please stay with me, I don’t want to be alone,” he muttered, hanging his head. Your heart panged. There must have been something more to his injuries acquired at practice that a cut over his eye.

“Did something else happen?” you asked, sitting down on the bed beside him.

“It’s nothing,” he tried shrugging it off. “I just took a puck to the knee, that’s all. It’s not a big deal.”

You watched as he pulled up the leg of the shorts he was wearing. An ugly purple bruise was starting to get darker.

“I’m gonna go get you an ice pack,” you said, leaving before he got the chance to protest. When you got back you found his curled up in bed, cuddling a pillow.

A smile shadowed your lips as you placed the ice pack on the bruise that was slowly forming on his left knee. The second Matt felt you near him he tossed aside the pillow and wrapped his arms around you instead.

Matty was usually like a porcupine when he was injured, never wanting people around him. You had no idea what caused this change in him but you liked it and you didn’t want it to go back to the way it was. He almost never let you play with his curls but now he was humming in contentment as you raked your fingers through his hair and twisted the curls around your fingers.

276 notes - Posted February 5, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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yuhi-san · 4 months ago

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Onto volume 3!

The looks vash and ww share at the end last volume and now. Ww’s first though is that vash knows what s up and also is a bastard. Which yeah, but also I think vash look says clearly “I know I can trust you with this”. despite the ordeal with rai-dei that clearly still affects them – especially Wolfwood – vash seems certain on where Wolfwood stands in that fight. I mena, after his immediate reaction to leonofs play…

I love seeing Wolfwood fight. No words to eloquently describe it but damn

I think it’s very interesting how many people (including ww) that fight vash see the pain, the anger, the emptiness and all in his eyes. And they are not WRONG but at the same time no one seems to realize that despite this all, vash still is full of genuine love and hope as well. with vash that is not mutually exclusive.

The tiny interlude of meryl, milly, Jessica and the tomas is sending me

They never say it but c’mon, its clear vash has AT LEAST a general idea what wolfwoods deal is or at the very least that has ulterior motives and is not just tagging with vash for the fun of it. At the same time, literally none of the gung ho guns has even a silver of trust in ww loyalty. Which, fair enough. I don’t think ww has much of a set loyalty at that point beyond trying not to die and keeping the orphanage as save as he can.

Okay, look, vash is getting through a lot, all the time. And I know there is worse to come, yet what leonof does to vash with the puppets looking like the people from home attacking him and just…. Everything about that is a special case of fucking evil man.

Listen I like manga brad but his hairstyle….

Vash trying to save Emilio despite it all. Uff

Milly and meryl to wolfwoods rescue. What a break in the tension haha. Sorry ninelives, you weren’t prepared for them

There is something objectively really funny about meryl and milly in this. like, they just so happened to find Jessica, get back to the hidden city vash calls home, accidentally save Wolfwood and then just.. decide, jup we gotta help nurse that one. like they have so little context for the whole mess, for this hidden city, anything really. Hell, they barely have context for Wolfwood! They literally just met him briefly on the bus ride after he nearly dried up in the desert… then they saw him two years later with vash during the whole assassin insurance agent thing but it’s not like they said anything to him then. Even funnier from the point of view of the people there. “you know that guy?” – “sorta. He’s a priest we met once when he was stranded in the desert like two years ago. Come to think of it, last we saw him he was with vash”

not to mention how do they know vash? well they are working for an insurance company investigating all the property damage vash causes

Home took quite the hit and oh man vash feels so guilty about it all but luida makes it clear he is family and if anything, he and Wolfwood saved them. And judging by the other peoples reaction or lack of disagreement, they see it like that too. Like vash feels he needs to do it all alone and there are many people out there that hurt him but there are also the people that love him so, so much

Oh Wolfwood. Whatever he’s dreaming, it has him sniffle… but as soon as he wakes up he’s like, wtf and ouch, then the next thing he does is argue with vash. in like the span of two pages

so, vash thanking Wolfwood who immediately points out that he killed. To which Vash acknowledges that is true but also that Wolfwood spilling blood did save a lot of people. That is what I meant in my last post about ‘vash being too caught up in his own way of living’ and his personal moral code. What happened at home doesn’t make vash change his own actions or believes but I think he realized in that moment that he wasn’t fair to Wolfwood before. It was a bit of a reality check id say. He accused Wolfwood of being a coward and giving up easily, but it’s not at all about taking the easy way out for Wolfwood. Its him doing what he can and NEEEDS to in order to keep himself and other save. vash may not agree with it but he’s starting to understand Wolfwood better. I think vash is so used to do things on his own and not having companions for any extended periods of time that it can be easy to forget that what applies for you will not applies for others or be feasible. Or the only right thing to do.

Vash showing the girls the deep sleep chambers. I think there is something really sweet to it. Like he’s so happy to show them something that is also special to him.

See, we know knives sent Wolfwood to be vash’s guid or whatever you wanna call it. So it’s kind of easy to forget (and I haven’t quite realized the degree of it before reading trimax) how little Wolfwood actually knows. I mean, he did impersonate chapel so… right until he met vash ans knives in jeneora rock, Wolfwood clearly had no idea what these two were capable off. And he has realized vash isn’t your regular human but I think only after seeing the picture with Jessica does he realize truly just how far away from human vash is. Like, some of the gung ho guns, even ww, push whats normal human too but vash is another level.

The conversation with ww and luida. It gives us some insight on vash. but its also kinda funny because it basically boils down to:

WW: what the fuck is he and what the hell is his deal?

Luida: well, hes not really human but he’s not trying to set himself apart much. Been around for a really long time, most of which is actually really horrible for him. But he’s just out there, trying to help where he can, being kind, just an overall nice guy don’tcha think?

I’m not actually sure how much luida really knows about vash. she sure knows about knives and I think july and stuff too aand obviously how he doesn’t really age and all. But I’m not sure she knows about the fall or vash as an independent plant specifically. But I don’t think it even matters in that scene. Because what she says is yes, vash is not a normal human but she puts all the focus on what kind of PERSON he is above everything else.

Which I think is especially perfect with Wolfwood, who at that point is still very much struggling to understand vash beyond the rumors, the destruction and his unnatural… everything. Mostly because vash as a person isn’t making much sense to ww currently (its ok ww vash is a complicated guy)

#trigun maximum #trimax #reading trimax lets goo #trigun #vash the stampede #nicholas d. wolfwood #not gonna tag everyone i mention just in passing but oh well #the thing with milly and meryl and the tomas was really #really fun though

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dodger-chan · 2 years ago

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Trying to come up with something for the wip themes game @greenlikethesea tagged me into, and utterly failing. In part because if I could accurately pick out themes I'd have done way better in English class. But also because I don't think what I'm currently working with are particularly strong thematically (and maybe that's why I'm having trouble finishing them). So there is no chart but there is a bit of a ramble (cut for length).

I have added words to three documents in the last 24 hours.

40s au:

The closest thing this has to an underlying theme is how much fun it is to try and imitate Chandler's style. Eddie is a surprisingly good fit for Marlowe's particular brand of cynicism, and Steve works fairly well as the easygoing and charming parts of Terry Lennox, as well as his desire for the approval of others. If I do keep going with this, and hew closer towards the plot of The Long Goodbye, the main themes will be loss and grief; not mourning a death, but the friendship you thought you had and the person you thought your friend was. But at this point in what I'm writing it's, well

“Was that your bed?” he asked. I nodded. He frowned at me. Pouted, rather. It was still pretty. “But you weren’t in it.” “I was not,” I agreed. “I don’t like to bother guests when they’re sleeping.” “I’m awake now,” Harrington pointed out. “Does that mean you’re going to bother me?” “I don’t think you’d be all that bothered.”

Which is terribly fun but doesn't exactly encourage me to write a story about love not being enough to overcome your principles, even when you wish it was.

Steve loves rocky

I really need to post some of that one, because the beginning does stand on its own as well as being an introduction to the rest of the story. The theme of this one is that Steve Harrington identifies with and is jealous of Brad Majors. Why aren't his unexpected horrors horny aliens? Why can't the worst thing he's experienced be a few bites of accidental cannibalism? (Why won't a hot guy get into bed with him through deception, stay there through coercion, and fuck his brains out without Steve ever having to admit either out loud or to himself what he wants?)

I'm not entirely sure I'm even writing that one in the right pov, let alone what the actual themes are.

Alibi

Nearly 3000 words of Steve gives Eddie a fake alibi for Chrissy's murder by pretending they hadn't broken up a few weeks prior. This one touches on a lot of the themes on that list including fear, guilt and forgiveness, and weakness, but doesn't have any one theme that runs through the whole story. Which might be how it's 3000 words without an ending. Though I'm not sure it really should have a wholly satisfying ending, it does need to do something more than just stop.

#tag game #sort of

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jlf23tumble · 2 years ago

Note

Hi! Please feel free to ignore this or answer in the tags — I’m definitely not a gold star Larrie and I agree (though I always feel very much unable to express that opinion) that they’ve definitely broken up, taken a break, had an open relationship or hooked up with other people at some/any point really. But what was it about the Brits that had you thinking that the gold star Larrie faction had come to some realizations? Do you think they’re still together / still something not heterosexual? Do you think they’re bi/pan rather than gay? I know we can’t KNOW but (1) I do wonder and (2) it’s refreshing to hear from other people that don’t think they’ve been happily and strictly monogamously married since 16/18. 👀

I don't think those bigger louder more obnoxious blogs are flexing THAT hard, but it's refreshing to see some of them looking at Harry kissing Lewis on the mouth (among others), Harry allllll over the Tooch, and Harry bringing ~controversial sidepiece Brad to a specific rando industry event and FINALLY saying, hey, maybe this Harry Styles HAS fucked more than one person in his entire life! Baby steps!

#now if only they could listen to four albums' worth of lyrics (two each!) and hear more about it #but that's a bridge too far #they litcherally cannot fathom--yet!--the idea that they might have had a breakup or two #been in an open relationship #the frantic 'i've been with the same person for xx years and it's perfectly normal to kiss people and be all over them!!!!!!'#the investigations into poly relationships--it's refreshing #i bet they're prepping for future albums and u know what?#god bless

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bcofl0ve · 11 months ago

Note

In regards to IG and his lack of promotion with all things I question his goal in being successful. You stated plenty of successful actors don’t have IG, but those actors are at a level where they are household names and will never struggle getting a role. Austin is not at that level. Maybe fame freaked him out and he decided he just doesn’t really want this anymore.

that’s not true though. household names like brad pitt yes, but there are plenty of actors not that at level that don’t have instagram. when i was trying to find everyone in the narrow road to the deep north cast to follow recently there are a handful that don’t have instagram at all, odessa young is very talented but i don’t think she’s at “will never struggle to get a role” career territory yet. and that’s just one example. ruby cruz is another one.

olivia gets tagged in quite a few fan cast collages of random actors, a lot of who i haven’t heard of, and 9/10 times not everyone in these collages has a taggable instagram. they just don’t make the ‘actors without instagrams!’ listicles bc they aren’t brad pitt 🤷🏼‍♀️

i really don’t see the point in catastrophizing when we don’t have an actual tangible reason to think he “doesn’t want this anymore”. every reason people have ever thrown at me as proof i need to accept his doom can be refuted. until there’s something i absolutely can’t refute (which i would be honest about, i value you guys too much to lie to you) i’m not worried and don’t think anyone else should be either.

#gossip time with mollie

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determinedwriter · 1 year ago

Text

Whumptober 2023: Day 24: Goodbye Note/Neglect

Note: remember to read the tags as always but especially here. This is very much a vent fic for stuff that happened to me and my inner feelings about it so some of that might be too intense for some readers. Please proceed with caution.

I’m numb.

It happened slowly. Being happy in life, then slowly, slowly, slowly becoming…just plain sad. I don’t know how to describe it. A deep seeded depression that sunk into my bones.

I have support. I have love. I have people around me that care. And yet, I just can’t shake the angst. And the fear.

And now, the numbness.

I haven’t had a movie night with Dad or anyone else for a while now. I think it’s starting to become noticeable. But that’s not what I want.

I don’t want to be trouble for anyone.

At first, I wasn’t sure what changed. But then it became glaringly obvious. That night.

At one of Liz Allan’s parties, Brad Fucking Davis came onto me. Pressured with no Peter in sight and buzzed by the alcohol in my system at the time, I lied there as he had sex with me.

My head pounded against the headboard and I just lied there waiting for an end. I was limp. I was silent. I was afraid.

But I did nothing to stop it.

Maybe I had it coming. I didn’t tell him to stop. I just remember it hurting. And before I knew it, I felt like I was outside of my own body, watching it happen to someone else. Some other girl who looked like me. Who cried like me. But not me.

It couldn’t have been me in that bed.

And it couldn’t have been Brad on top of me, starting all over again when I thought it was about to end.

I haven’t told Peter. How could I? He’s the one I actually like. The one I wanted to wait for. He’d never see me the same way again.

What if I’m pregnant?

Nausea crashes over me as I lie in my bed pretending to sleep in. It’s the weekend, so nobody suspects a thing. It’s only been a couple of weeks since it happened. I don’t think I could find out about a pregnancy that soon.

I feel too sick to eat, but make an appearance in the kitchen of the compound this morning anyways, feeling like I may do something dangerous if left alone.

“Ro, I’m talking to you.” I hear my dad say.

“What?” I look up at him.

He’s at the kitchen island munching on some toast. “I asked you what you wanted on your toast. We’ve got that jam that Wanda made.

“I’m not hungry.” I reply. “Thanks though.”

I nod towards Wanda. “I’ll try it another time. Promise.”

She grins. “Of course, Ro.”

Dad looks like he might know something is up, but is distracted by some project that Bruce mentions. Good. I don’t need him worrying about it. Not that he seems to notice me lately.

Nat walks back to her room after eating, presumably to brush her teeth or something. I follow, knocking on the door.

“Hey kid.” She says. “You’re following me like a lost puppy. What’s up?”

I gulp. “Sorry.”

She brushes it off. “Oh, don’t worry. Are you okay? You seem off.”

“Can I ask you something if you promise not to tell my dad?” I ask.

She raises an eyebrow. “Depends.”

“Please.” I say. “I just need…womanly advice.”

She nods. “Alright, what is it?”

I bite my lip, entering her room. She closes the door behind her so we have privacy. “Do you…do you know how soon someone can find out if they’re…pregnant?”

Natasha looks surprised. “Well, I can’t say I was expecting that. And I’m…I can’t help you there. I…I’m barren. But I can help you find out.”

I instantly feel guilty. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up pregnancy. I…”

“It’s okay, Ro. Really.” She replies.

“Please don’t tell my dad.” I beg. “It’s a long story.”

Nat nods. “You’ve got it, kid. But if you are and you go through with the whole thing, he’s gonna have to find out.”

I blush in embarrassment. “Yeah, I know.”

“How long has it been since you think you might have conceived?” She questions.

“A couple weeks…I know I should’ve done something sooner but I just…it’s hard to explain. I-I didn’t want…” I trail off.

She studies my expression. “I get it. You’re going through a lot right now.”

“But you don’t understand.” My voice wavers with emotions. “I didn’t want to do it.”

Natasha instantly seems to understand what I mean. “Someone forced themselves on you?”

I nod. “I think…I mean…sort of?”

She hugs me while I recount the events of that night, near tears when I finish. “So…that’s why I’m here now.”

“Well first of all, you did nothing wrong. It sounds like this guy manipulated you and took advantage of the situation you were in at the time. And if it were up to me, I’d beat his ass.” Natasha tells me.

“And second of all.” She continues. “You’d be surprised how much this sort of thing happens. You’re not alone. There’s a whole lot of people you could talk to about it.”

I nod. “Thanks, Nat.”

“As for the pregnancy thing, I’m pretty sure I could sneak a blood sample into the lab. Says online that you’ll be able to find out with a blood test. And I’m sure the lab is more than capable of figuring that out. You know how the tech is in there. Both your dad and Bruce’s brains together? It’s pretty crazy, huh?” She explains her thoughts.

“Yeah.” I reply. “How’re you going to get it through them though? If it’s positive and my dad knows it’s my sample…”

She shakes her head. “Leave it to me, little Stark.”

It doesn’t take long for her to convince Bruce to do a blood draw for “routine testing”. She also convinces him not to clue Dad in on it.

Bruce is totally smitten with Nat. That explains a lot of his willingness to go behind my dad’s back. And thankfully, it doesn’t have to go further than that.

The test comes back negative for pregnancy and Bruce is none the wiser. He’s just happy to do a favor for Natasha.

So that’s one big thing out of the way. Nat encourages me to talk to a counselor about it, even telling me my dad would understand the predicament I’m in. But I can’t tell him.

Thanking Nat for all of her help, I can’t help but feel alone after that. Even with her telling me she’s here for me, I’m lonely again. Isolating myself.

And feeling like a vulnerable fool.

At school, people begin to give me looks. And Brad makes more sexual advances that I try my best to ignore.

Peter has begun to see it all too. But he thinks it’s all rumors. Embarrassingly enough, most of what Brad is saying is true. Even if he does embellish it for the masses.

God, I hate him. I hate school and gossip and bullies. I thought I was above it all, but it turns out I’m just as fragile as everyone else.

Peter tries to go to teachers and such to get Brad into trouble but it does nothing. Not even the school wide bullying seems to catch Dad’s attention.

I guess that’s not really on his radar.

Peter even tells me he’ll tell him, but I convince him against it with lots of prodding. This has to go away eventually, right?

Things gradually get worse in terms of my mental health too. Nat checks in with me from time to time, but she doesn’t know I’m cutting myself.

I’ve hidden that from absolutely everyone.

Well, except the suicide hotline I called.

Right after getting off the phone with one, my door opens a crack and there’s a knock. “W-Who is it?” I ask.

“Steve.” Steve replies.

“Hey, Cap.” I reply. Does my dad need me or are you trying to get me to train with you again?”

He grins. “No, nothing like that. I’ve just noticed…you’re different lately. Your dad’s been busy so I’ve been trying to, well, fill in a little.”

It strikes me just how sweet this is. I catch him looking at my eyebrow scar that he caused just a couple years back with his shield. Back when the Avengers were broken up for a good year. Things have changed so much since then. For the team, it’s gotten a hell of a lot better.

For me and my sanity? Not so much.

Not that I was ever really mentally sound.

“So anyway, what’s going on with you?” He questions.

I shrug. “Nothing.”

Steve chuckles. “Now I know that’s not true.”

“Nothing I want to talk about.” I clarify.

“I…overheard who you were speaking to. Are you really okay, Aurora? Because I know you’d be lying if you told me you are.” He reveals.

Damn it. “Please don’t tell my dad. He won’t understand. Please.”

He seems very hesitant. “You need help.”

“Which is why I called the number.” I point out. “I got some advice. Steve, I’ll be fine. Please let me deal with it.”

Steve wraps an arm around me. “As long as you’re sure. You’re not going to harm yourself?”

I shake my head. “I won’t.”

After a few more kind words, he leaves.

I didn’t feel good about it, but I just lied to his face. I lied to Captain America’s face. That’s not something you see every day. It’s definitely not a phrase people just say. It almost makes me laugh.

But I’m beyond laughing at this point. Beyond being any form of happy.

I’m on autopilot for the next few days, doing the same routine of school, trying to bond with Dad and failing as he’s always busy with a project, talking to Peter for a bit on the phone after, and then I cut my inner thighs, hiding the scars, and sleep.

Rinse and repeat.

After school today, I convince myself this is it. This is the day my self harm turns permanent and irreparable. This is the day I die.

It’s just me and Dad in the lab today. I think that kind of works out in my favor. I need one last conversation with him.

“Are you gonna let me help today?” I ask, not expecting anything different from the usual dismissal. I know he doesn’t mean to shut me down, but that’s all he does lately.

“Actually, yeah. Come here.” He waves me over.

He talks my ear off about some chemical thing he’s working on with Bruce as of late and I help with fetching different materials to assist him. Not exactly why I pictured when I said I wanted to help, but I’ll take it.

After he’s satisfied with this work, he starts to work on something else. It’s always something. “Dad?”

“Hmm?” He mumbles back, eyes focused on a microscope.

“Can we like, actually talk for a sec?” I ask.

“I’ve got something really good here, Ro. You know I can’t abandon it now.” He replies.

“Right.” I say. “But…you have a minute, don’t you?”

Dad actually looks at me this time. “Sixty seconds starting now.”

I know he’s joking, but it makes me a little anxious. “I just wanted to say I…I really…appreciate everything you’ve done since taking me in.

“Uhh, sure thing, kid. Where’s this coming from?” He questions.

Finally the insightful Dad I’ve been waiting for. But at this point, I’m too tired of life to open up completely. “I just wanted to tell you. You know I’m a sap.”

He grins. “Wonder where you get that from. Certainly wasn’t me.”

I wring my hands, nodding. “You’re far stronger than I am.”

Dad looks a tad confused at this comment. “I mean, sure but…you’re not weak. You’re my kid. You’re a Stark.”

I’m a Stark, but I’m a worthless one. I’ll never be the person my dad is. I’ll never be that impressive.

“I just hope you don’t inherit my crippling anxiety and insufferable arrogance. Seems like we’re in the clear on that, though.” He half jokes.

If only he knew how mentally fucked I am.

“I’m gonna go talk to Peter for a bit, but…I…” I hesitate.

“Continue.” He replies. “Your sixty seconds are up, but I’m giving you a few more. Tick tick tick.”

I try to chuckle but it doesn’t quite come out right. “Yeah, umm…I love you, Dad.”

“I love me too.” He quips. “Go talk to spider kid.”

Dad quickly throws himself back into work after that, leaving me no room to insist on further conversation. But I got more out of him than I usually do.

I FaceTime with Peter in my room, laying on my messy bed. “Hey, Spidey.”

“Hey, firecracker.” He replies. “What’s up? You called later than you usually do. Erm, not to be possessive or anything I just…”

“It’s fine. I just talked to my dad for a little bit. He’s busy all the freaking time.” I sigh. “I’m really glad I’ve got you.”

“I’m glad I’ve got you too, Ro. Ned’s about to get here to do a Lego set with me tonight but I still wanted to talk for a little until then.” He soon explains.

My heart sinks, but I don’t let it show. “Can I tell you something?”

“Anything.” Peter replies.

“You’re the best friend a girl could ask for. And any girl would be really lucky to call you hers. I would’ve…I mean I…I just hope you know that. I really care about you.” I tell my very best friend.

I wish I could hug him. I wish I hugged Dad, but it would be weird if I tried to go and do it now. Peter looks surprised. “S-Same to you, Ro. You’re…you’re really special to me too.”

“That means more than you’ll ever know.” I say softly.

I hear Ned enter his room, Peter soon distracted by that. We get off the phone after that. The last thing I hear before we hang up is his laughter.

He’s got Ned and MJ. He’ll be fine. And Dad has Pepper and his work. I won’t leave a huge hole in their lives.

I record something on Dad’s helmet, sneaking to his room to find one that has the hologram filming feature. He’s so tech savvy. And that’s an understatement.

After making the video, I commence with my plan. I admittedly haven’t put a ton of thought into how I’ll do this, but there’s enough stuff in the compound that could be used for this purpose.

At the end of the day, it seems easier and less daunting to go out with drugs and alcohol. I’m sure Dad did a lot of this back when he was young and dumb.

Taking pills I don’t know the effects of, I down a whole bottle’s worth of different ones until I can’t stomach any more, washing it down with some strong alcohol.

Collapsing to my floor an agonizingly long time later, I find that dying isn’t easy. It isn’t pretty. I even try to cause blood loss to speed things up, but I end up suffering more because of my incompetence.

Regardless of how I got here, I’m glad it’s done.

I finally get to be with Mom.

That’s a nice thought.

See you soon.

(Part two tomorrow)

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peterparkersnose · 2 years ago

Text

Brad Brad

word count: 1.9k

warnings: teasing, intimidation, situationship coming to a close, ANGST, mentions of death and dealing with death, rooster is in denial of looove, fluff at the end

a/n bradley bradshaw imagine complete lmao i hope yall like it :)

(Readers callsign is Honey)

summary Rooster gets upset when a harmless joke crosses a line

masterlist

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read time: 6 mins 43 seconds

Sounds erupted from the hallway filling the common space. You looked up from your book to find some of the guys coming in from their workouts. Sweaty, stinky, and some shirtless.

Ready to avoid the most unavoidable future of putrid hugs from them, you were gathering your things and getting ready to leave. You pushed your arm against the back door in the back, only to find it had been locked. Sighing, you place your stuff behind the bar and hope it’s enough of a barrier.

And then they came in. Hangman, Coyote, Fanboy, Phoenix, and Rooster. Rooster had his head hung with his towel around his neck with a displeased face. Everyone else was hollering at Hangman, hyping him up.

“What did I miss?” you ask, hands sprawled out on the bar. Rooster shot you a dirty look as he sat on the couch, his hand on his temples.

“Hangman beat Rooster in a plank competition,” Phoenix smirked. “Did he now?” you ask, eyebrow raised looking at Rooster. “Shut it Honey. Don’t make it worse than it already is.” Rooster yelled at you with a somewhat sarcastic tone.

“Hey! I was just curious!” you defend yourself, hands in the air. “The bet was if Rooster won, he would have access to Hangman’s private bathroom for a week.” Phoenix explained.

“Hangman has a private bathroom?” you asked Phoenix quietly with a confused look. Phoenix had now joined you as she sat at the bar. She shrugged.

“But since he lost I get to call him ‘Brad Brad’ all week.” Hangman chimed in. You raised your eyebrows at Rooster. “Brad Brad?” “My nickname from pilot school- don’t be getting any ideas Honey.” Rooster hissed at you, arms crossed.

“Okay then-” you sighed, turning to the rest of the gang with a smirk on your face. You left a comfortable silence for a few moments and then broke it with a perfectly timed:

“Brad Brad.”

The squeaking of the leather chair was enough to make you turn around with a slight feeling of fear. There was a sense of urgency in his steps. It wasn’t the smartest idea to mess with Rooster after he had been working out. His adrenaline was just pumping, he’s at his peak right now.

And you were messing with the guy you had the most chemistry with on the team. The multiple almosts after drinking at the Hard Deck. The countless amount of times he would check on you after you got hurt in practice (or vice versa). He was the one you married when you, Bob, and Phoenix were playing Kiss Marry Kill on a team trip. The times he would drive you home in the Bronco. And the one time you slept over at his house because it was closer to base and you had a late night at the Hard Deck and an early morning meeting the next day. Totally platonic though, right? You were the one he had asked if he should keep the mustache or not. You two had such a relationship-ey non relationship type friendship that you didn’t see any harm in some making fun. You didn’t think it was really crossing any lines. Just some harmless flirting teasing.

Your stomach dropped as his eyebrows narrowed as he came dangerously close to you. He towered over you, making your heart beat faster. You gulped, watching his lip twitch slightly and his mustache quiver.

“Watch yourself.” he said sternly, placing his hand on your shoulder. “Or you’ll pay for it later.” he whispered in your ear. Goosebumps formed down your arm.

You weren’t sure if he was joking until he stormed out of the silent room and slammed the door. Laughter erupted from everyone else in the group, but not from you. You grabbed your things from behind the bar and followed him out the door. You could hear the ‘oooos’ coming from the rest of the team, but you didn’t care.

He was already a bit ahead of you. He was taller too, so his long strides kept his pace while you rushed after him to catch up.

“Rooster!” you yelled, smacking the back of his arm. He took an earbud out of his ear and looked at you with the same displeased face. “Hey, I’m sorry.” you apologized, giving in. You hated the reaction you got and guilt was quickly building in your core.

“Are you now?” he asked, sucking his teeth and not making eye contact.

“Roos, come on.” you pleaded. He then popped his earbud back in and started walking again.

“Your really mad at me over this?” you asked, following him out of the base’s gates. No response.

“Come on, it’s just a stupid nickname and-” you said, running out of breathe following him down the parking ramp’s staircases. Of course he took the staircase.

You were surprised he was letting you follow him. He searched his pocket for his keys and you heard the Bronco unlock from across the parking lot.

Gaining all your energy together, you ran ahead of him and placed yourself against the drivers door of the Bronco.

“Y/N…” he sighed, not making eye contact. “Please let me apologize.” you begged. “I did. You said your sorry, can I please go home?” he asked, tilting his head away from you this time.

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

You placed your hand on Bradley’s forearm. You felt him slightly tense at the touch. He took a deep breathe and looked you in the eye. Against his better judgement, he told you to get in the passenger side.

He had been your ride to work that day anyways.

The familiar scent of his axe car scent and leather filled your senses. A familiar rock song began to play, but he quickly hit the off button to the radio.

(Great, silence) you thought to yourself.

He drove a bit more aggressive than usual which set you on edge. You clutched your book bag tightly in your arms, keeping your knees straight. Rooster gave the garage attendant a big fake smile and drove off. Surprisingly, it was overcast in California that day and it began sprinkling.

“The name was from flight school-” he began, breaking the silence. “The boys came up with it on there own. They didn’t know it’s what my mother used to call me when I was younger.”

His stare was far away from the two of you in the car. One hand rested steadily on the steering wheel, the other fidgeting with a string coming off his mesh shorts.

“Oh,” you said, immediately understanding why he was so upset.

The death of his mother was still fresh for him. It had been a few months, but his mother was all he had.

“And when you said it, it just-”

Bradley swallowed and turned onto the next street. You turned to see that his eyes were glossy.

“It just reminded me of home.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to trigger you in any way.” you apologized, taking his hand that was fidgeting with the string into yours. Your small hand fit so perfectly oddly with his large one.

“I’m not upset.” he assured you. “What about the ‘you’ll pay for it later’ comment in there?” you asked him.

He took a deep breathe. “Y/N, I don’t-”

“Bradley.” you said sternly, using his real name. Something you rarely did. You could always tell he was hiding something.

The air in the car was so thick you could almost cut it with a knife. He took a deep breathe again to prepare for the words that were about to come out of his mouth. The words that could ruin one of his favorite friendships forever.

“You’ll pay for it later because if you keep acting like this I’m going to fall in love with you.” he spit out.

Years of pent up tension within him, the almosts eating him alive. The ‘not sure if you wanted him but you acted like it’ thoughts got the best of him. He was done and sick of their torment.

He slowly closed his eyes for a moment, you could tell he regretted what he said almost immediately.

“Would that be the worst thing in the world?” you asked him, squeezing his hand.

A brief moment of relief exploded in Rooster’s chest.

He signaled into his driveway and swiftly parked the vehicle, pulling his hand away forcefully. He quickly made his way over to your door and opened it for you.

Rooster extended his hand. You cautiously took it and before you knew it you were wrapped in his arms against his warm body. His nose rested perfectly atop your head as you felt him softly shake. You thought the drips were from the sky, but noticed the consistency of them on your shoulder versus on the ground.

Bradley Bradshaw was crying with you in his arms.

“Hey, let’s go inside.” you whispered softly to him, rubbing his chest. He quickly wiped his eyes before you could look up and reached for his house keys.

His house was spotless, like always. You could see the indent of where he always sat on his couch. Just him. Just alone. The space was obviously designed by the model company and he left it the way it was. Untouched by any female presence. Alone.

You slipped off your shoes and placed your bag next to them. Rooster sat on his couch in his spot. He looked (and felt) numb. His hands held his head as his elbows rested on his knees. Slowly, you approached him.

You placed a hand on his back as he finally let a single sob out. “It’s going to be okay.” you tried to assure the man. You were unsure of what to do. He was always there for you. Breakups, when your fish died, when you scored low on a pilots test, when your grandma died. He was always the one picking up the pieces. Now it was your turn.

“What do you need?” you ask him, crouching down to meet him eye level. His eyes were red. It took you aback a moment, you had never seen him like this before.

“You.” he managed to croak out.

You huddled up next to him on his sectional. The rain had began to pick up. You could see the ocean from his back porch begin to stir. A storm was coming.

“I-I can’t hurt you.” he blurted out. “Your not hurting me Rooster.” you assured him. “No- I…”

He took a deep breathe. You took his hand in yours and began tangling your fingers together.

“My whole life I watched my mother mourn my father. She is the strongest woman I know, but I could see how it affected her every single day of her life. I could never do that to another woman. I cannot be the cause of someone’s pain. You see how that’s a problem?”

You nodded your head. “But I just- I care for you. So much. It’s okay if you don’t care for me back but it’s just-”

“Of course I care for you back.” you said, stopping his rambling. “Rooster, behind your back everyone calls you my work husband.” you said, smiling and looking up at him. “They’ve been calling you my work wife for years.” he managed to laugh out a bit.

“I understand it can be hard, but you need to let go. You need to allow yourself to love. Whoever you choose to love needs to recognize that you have your career, your passion figured out. If she can’t respect that and respect the possible consequences of loving you then she doesn’t deserve you.”

You felt a weight lift off of Rooster’s shoulders as he held you tighter.

“Well, I think the woman I love just summed it up pretty well.”

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