#and on the other side it was shanks staying behind & missing out on laugh tale for buggy's sake | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thevioletjones · 4 years ago

Note

I’d love to see you tackle 5 or 44! Congrats on the Kudos!

Thank you! 5 was included previously, so just 44. 🙂 This one is explicit, FYI.

Prompt 5: “I still remember the way you taste.”

Cell Date

Getting smart about how he acted behind bars was really starting to pay off for Mickey. Not only was he staying out of trouble so that he’d have a chance of making early parole, he was also forging advantageous relationships, mostly with the guards and the old-timers that liked to do good deeds like helping other inmates get an education or decent legal representation.

Little things like that, plus abstaining from shanking for pay or cold-cocking bitches who got mouthy, were making this Mickey’s most pleasant and drama-free stint in prison since his unceremonious induction into juvie ten years previous.

Along with his cooperation and best behavior came some quality perks: first pick of audiobooks from the dude he helped in the library; extra jello, pudding, and french fries from that dude’s kitchen husband; extended yard and gym time when the guard he had people doing favors for on the outside was on duty; and the holy grail, his very own recently acquired smartphone, which he could keep with him in his cell whenever the right people were working, and otherwise stow with a friend when sweep checks were imminent. All he had to do to get safekeeping was provide phone privilege favors. Gave him an extra source of income too, when he sold video call time to inmates on the side.

Tonight, though, he was finally gonna have the damn cell to himself all night long. His bunkmate had just been released, no one else had been assigned to his bed yet, and the overnight guard was a friendly. That meant that at long last, he’d be able to have some kind of sexual escapade with his boyfriend for the first time since he’d gotten locked up nine months ago. As a bonus, they could maybe stay up shooting the shit too. But really, Mickey was horny as hell, and he imagined that Ian was too.

They had a kind of ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy when it came to banging other people while they were apart, but as a rule, they weren’t allowed to do it more than once a month, or with the same guy twice, blowjobs included. That meant a lot of lonely masturbation sessions on both sides of the prison walls.

It was cruel that the only relief they could get from each other was by proxy of their own hands anyway, but at least now they’d be able to watch each other and egg each other on. It wasn’t the most ideal situation ever, but it was way better than having to stick to innocuous topics on the prison landlines that ran out at the ten minute mark.

This was going to be a treat.

He waited ’til 30 minutes past lights out just to be sure the coast was clear, counting down the minutes like a fucking schoolgirl waiting to make an illicit phone call after her parents fell asleep. As soon as the digital display hit 9:30, he was eagerly punching in the memorized number, smirking as he selected the video option.

He actually felt nervous as it rang, irrationally worried that Ian would be indisposed despite their agreed upon time and date. It took almost four whole rings before the display lit up, and a buffering vision of Ian appeared.

Mickey’s smile couldn’t help but mirror the cheerful redhead’s, and it only widened when he heard his deep, familiar voice.

“Hey, Mick.”

“Gallagher,” he replied softly and full of affection.

“I can barely see you,” Ian said with a chuckle. “That's not really fair.”

“Oh, shit, yeah. Forgot. Hang on.”

He’d managed to get his hands on a clip-on reading light through the library contraband network, so it would have to do. He dug it out from the hole in his thin-ass mattress pad and clipped it to the bar of the lower bunk, angling it toward his face and flipping it on. It wasn’t exactly super-bright, but it was good enough.

“Happy now? This is the best I could do on the after-hours lighting.”

“Yeah, I am. You look good.”

“Shut the fuck up. You look way better. Like a free man.”

Ian ran a hand through his hair, and Mickey wished it were his hand. “It is a nifty advantage, but it’d be a lot better if you were next to me.”

“Yeah, no shit. I’m getting the rawer deal here.”

“Who’s fault is that?” Ian challenged with a raised brow.

Mickey licked his lips, humming. “Didn’t realize the purpose of this call was to get on my ass about gettin’ locked up. Thought we already did that fun routine.”

Ian sighed. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I just miss you.”

“I’m doin’ what I can, gingerbread. Might get lucky in the next few months. Been playin’ the game all nice like. No demerits on my scorecard.”

“I appreciate that. You know I’ll be waiting.”

“Mm.”

“So… what’s new?”

Mickey laughed. “You want me to recount the thrilling tales of the jailbird jerk-offs? How would that be interesting or entertaining?”

“I’m pretty sure you witness more random acts of weirdness than I do everyday. You want me to talk about my job and coworkers, or my niece and nephew? I’m sure you’re dying to know on all counts.”

“Yeah, you got me figured out, Gallagher. That’s exactly why I wanted this dimly lit video call with your pale ass.”

Ian snickered. “Is this the part where we jump straight to the sex?”

Mickey shrugged and scratched his balls. “I mean, if we were in person without that fuckin’ glass between us, we woulda already been bangin’ by now.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“So?”

“What?”

“Show me your dick.”

Ian snorted, and it was nice to see him laugh unrestrainedly. They usually didn’t do too much laughing during his visits.

“It’s not hard yet.”

“Well, what the fuck you waitin’ for? Shoulda started before I called.”

“God, Mick, you really know how to romance a guy on his first date in nearly a year.”

“If this is a date, you got a really low bar, man.”

“Haven’t I always?”

“‘Ey! Fuck you.”

Ian laughed again and it made Mickey smile wide. He was gonna get addicted to these phone interludes, he could tell.

“Which reminds me… I expect you to take me out a few times when you get sprung, Milkovich. Restaurants, clubs, movies, the works.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Exactly how many acts of penance are on your little atonement list?”

“As many as I want. You got a problem with that?”

“You know I didn’t get locked up on purpose, right? Cuz I think you maybe don’t know that.”

“I think that I want you to stop putting yourself in situations where one of the possible outcomes is getting locked up. Cuz then we’re forced to resort to one sad long-distance video wank every nine months, which kinda fuckin’ blows, and not in the good way.”

“First of all, as long as I don’t get this shit confiscated by one of the asshole guards, we can keep doin’ this pretty regularly. Secondly, we haven’t even gotten to the wank part yet, so don’t call it sad. Also, is sex all that matters to you?”

“Says the guy who just told me to shut up and get my dick out.”

“Like you said, it’s been a long time.”

“And I’ve already told you that I miss you and want you beside me. I thought you wanted your dick stroked, not your ego.”

“Good one,” said Mickey, reaching down to fondle himself. “So how we gonna do this?”

“The only way we can, I guess.”

“Fine. Do I get to ask you to start touching yourself now?”

Ian giggled. “Yeah, yeah, let’s get it over with.”

“What kind of attitude is that? Get the hell on board or this ain’t gonna work.”

“Calm down and get your cock hard, convict boy.”

Mickey didn’t need to be told twice. He slipped his hand under the waistband of his boxers, rubbing and squeezing gently.

“You gonna give me somethin’ to look at or what?”

“Gimme a minute, fool. It’s not gonna be very pretty in its current state.”

They both went non-verbal for a while as their arms started working, the only sounds being stray gasps, rustling noises, and slick skin against skin.

“‘Kay,” urged Mickey, “lemme see it.”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

“Fine, just flip the camera.”

Mickey pressed around and activated the rear camera with flash, licking his lips when the screen filled with Ian’s lower half, hand jerking his big dick in that perfect rhythm he remembered so well. It forced out a moan before he could catch himself.

“Mick,” Ian whispered, and he suddenly missed the feel of his boyfriend’s breath blowing hot against his skin as they fucked. And that just reminded him of the way he’d nip and lick at Mickey’s neck, or pinch his nipples at just the right time.

“Ian,” he groaned, his strokes getting faster and more deliberate now that he was fully hard. “Miss you.”

And that was definitely the lamest shit to say when you were supposed to be talking dirty for the purposes of video sex, but it’s what came out of his mouth on account of all the memories surfacing, coupled with the regret of not being able to put his hands on Ian or have Ian’s hands put on him.

Mickey had never wanted to suck a dick so badly in his entire life, simply because he was being denied the opportunity. He’d almost forgotten how delicious Ian’s cock really was. It could wreck him all night long, or Mickey could worship it a little on his hands and knees when the urge overcame him. He wanted it in him one way or the other. Keeping him away from it was cruel and unusual punishment.

“Wanna fuck you, Mick.” Ian was still using this soft, breathy voice that was making him crazy. “Wanna see your ass.”

Mickey’s hand faltered for a moment as he snickered. “How the fuck am I supposed to get you that camera angle right now, genius?”

“You really didn’t think this through enough first,” chided Ian.

“Suck my dick, Gallagher.”

“Mmm, I’d love to get my mouth on you right now. I still remember the way you taste.”

“Oh, shit.”

Mickey’s jerks got tighter with that fantasy egging him on, and silkier with the ease of the pre-cum oozing from his slit.

“You got something to stick up your ass?”

Mickey whined. “Fuckin’ wish. Don’t exactly got a dildo permit, and that’s the kinda contraband no one tries to smuggle or sell.”

“A finger or two will do, right?” asked Ian, pausing for a moment to squirt some lube into his hand.

“‘Ey! What the fuck? No fair! You want me to try and prop this thing somewhere so you can watch me finger myself without lube, and you’re gonna casually use some to jack off with right in front of me? Read the room, fuckhead.”

Ian chuckled. “Sorry, Mick. What happened to the mayo packets?”

Mickey grimaced, regretting ever having told Ian about sometimes using that condiment as lube when he wanted to spice up a solo sesh. “Shut the fuck up and just help me get a damn orgasm.”

“What else am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know! What am I, the video sex expert?”

“You’re not a sexpert?”

“Now is not the time for your lame jokes, okay?”

“Yeah, okay, but I’ve never done this before either, jackass. I already made my request and you’re ignoring it. You do that for me, I’ll do something for you.”

“Fine, but if I do this for you, I won’t be able to see shit while it’s happenin’, so you have to fuckin’ wait to blow your load, or I’ll never do this with you again.”

“So is that your request? To see me blow my load?”

“Bitch, do I need to explain how porn works to you? You know how at the end of the video, you get to see everybody come? Jizz flyin’ everywhere?”

“Oh, believe me, next time we’re actually together in bed, I will cover you in jizz from head to toe.”

“That’s a lofty goal. Could take a while.”

“I’m willing to put in the hours. Now… get to it.”

Mickey sighed and let his cock fall out of his grip, glancing around to try and figure out how he could set the camera up in a decent place to where it would actually get what Ian wanted in frame.

“You’re gonna have to tell me if I need to adjust it, but I don’t have a lot of options, so just tell me when it’s good enough. Don’t need to get all Scorcese with the precision.”

It took a couple of minutes to figure out something that worked, his erection flagging to half-mast as he concentrated on the task Ian had given him. He was pretty sure that Ian should be the one going out of his way to give Mickey a nice show, but he figured if he let Ian have one first, he could make requests for their next long-distance fuck date.

Once Ian said it was good, Mickey kneeled and sat on his haunches, body remaining upright. He could only imagine what his asshole looked like through that badly lit phone camera, but whatever. At least he didn’t have to look at it. Ian could go crazy for it if he wanted to, and apparently he was if the renewed moaning was any indication.

“Get it wet,” Ian directed.

Mickey licked his palm and gave his cock a few tugs to get it back into the game, then spit in his hand and did what he could to work it around his hole. He was crouched with the damn top bunk rubbing against his bent head, with no view other than stiff white sheets and his own thighs and dick.

Yes, Ian was going to owe him a nice fucking show for this crap.

“Well?” the cocky little prick demanded. “Play with it.”

“Hold your damn horses, I ain’t a cam boy,” retorted Mickey.

With a deep sigh, he emptied his mind of the discomfort of his position and the embarrassment of his actions, and just went for it, wetting his finger with his mouth, then shoving it in as far as he could get it on initial entry. It wasn’t very far, but he wiggled and shimmied it as he slid it in and out, until eventually it was in as far as it could go from the angle he was in. He could faintly hear Ian going to town on himself, and he once again longed to be the one doing it to him. Pressing his ass back onto Ian’s cock instead of his own measly finger. Getting Ian’s big hand around his own dick while he did it.

As it were, he had to use his left hand to get some action on his dick, and as soon as he got back into the swing of things on that score, he set about trying to hit his prostate with his right hand.

“Add another one,” rasped Ian.

“You’re gettin’ real mouthy, ain’t you,” Mickey complained, wetting his hand again before sliding in two fingers to the knuckles.

“Oh, sorry, am I supposed to just remain quiet during this phone sex?”

“Stop sassin' me while I try to hit the spot. Some of us don’t got long-ass E.T. fingers.”

Ian chortled. “Jesus, Mick. Can you not bring my favorite childhood movie into this? Plus, you don’t need to go that deep. Just flip your hand over and crook your fingers. You’ll find it.”

“You think you know my ass better than I do?”

“Probably.”

Mickey did as suggested, even though it was the weirdest combination of body angles. It didn’t do anything at first, then all of a sudden, “Oh.”

Both hands got fast and furious as he felt that familiar tingly throb building up inside. He let himself get lost in it for a few minutes, then came to just enough to realize that he wanted a visual of Ian to orgasm to. It’s what he'd been looking forward to all week.

All at once, he stopped, flipping onto his back and grabbing the phone. All he could see on screen now was the damn ceiling, which was annoying, but also hilarious, since it meant that Ian was probably holding the stupid phone a few inches from his stupid face.

“Why’d you stop?” asked Ian breathily.

“Cuz I wanna see you, numbnuts. As fascinating as your ceiling is, it'd be great if you got the main attraction back onscreen. Please and thank you.”

Ian tittered and angled the camera back down, pushing it past his sternum. “‘Kay, where’s yours?”

Mickey pointed his phone back toward his crotch, eyes extremely focused on Ian’s impossibly hard red dick and large pale hand, sighing when he touched himself again. He needed a finger or two back in his ass, though. He always came harder with something up his ass, and it reminded him more of Ian too.

But there was no way to film himself and still get a view of Ian, plus use both hands to get himself off. He had to choose one type of orgasm to have, and since he wasn’t entirely sure he could pop from anal only, he stuck with the jerking off.

Maybe Ian was right. He hadn’t thought this through enough. But he knew exactly what his daydreams would be scheming up until their next interlude.

“You gonna come all over yourself like I asked?” said Mickey.

“Just a sec,” Ian replied with a grunt.

Mickey’s hand synced up with Ian’s, flying up and down his length on the phone screen. “Wanna see it on your stomach and in your pubes.”

Ian’s moans and groans got louder and closer together, building Mickey’s excitement up to the edge.

And then of course his gay-ass boyfriend had to go and say some gay-ass shit like, “I love you!”

And then he was shooting jizz out the tip of his dick, letting it get everywhere.

And the effect was the same as a quality porno scene in that it made Mickey come too, eyes squinting shut as the sensations overwhelmed him. He wanted to throw the phone across the room, but he somehow managed to keep it resting against his chest and filming everything.

As soon as the last of it gushed out, he did let the phone drop next to him for a short time, and Ian must’ve been recovering too, because he didn’t hear any complaints. He reached for the toilet paper roll and wiped himself down as best he could, not bothering to put his shorts back on when he was done.

He flipped onto his stomach, picked up the phone and went back to the front camera, leaning it up against the wall as he burrowed a pillow under his chin.

“That was halfway decent, Gallagher.” He grinned in relaxed satisfaction.

Ian flipped his camera back too, lying on his side, and propping the phone up against what was probably the empty pillow next to him that Mickey should be on.

“You’ll get the real thing soon enough,” Ian replied with a sleepy smile.

“Fuckin’ hope so…” he trailed off in thought. “Sorry I can’t be there. It is my fault.”

“Nah, just forget about all that, okay? All we can do now is get through the time that’s left. But if you think I’m not gonna ride your ass the non-sexy way when you get out, you’re dead wrong. Not gonna let this shit happen again.”

“You want me workin’ some minimum wage bullshit legit job?”

“Yep. We know how to be poor, Mick. Tired of getting the shitty end of all the risk.”

“Your pillow talk could use some work, Red.”

“I know. Thanks for showing me your asshole earlier.”

Mickey laughed. “No sweat. Well, probly some sweat.”

Ian snorted and shook his head. “Shut up. I’m glad we get to do this. It’s nice being with you at bedtime.”

“Be nicer if it included your dick in my ass, but I guess it’s alright.”

“Want me to tell you about the boring shit now?”

“Might as well.”

“As long as you don’t fall asleep before you tell me you love me, bitch.”

Mickey frowned. “Normal people don’t shout that shit as they’re coming, you freak.”

“I don’t care when you say it, just fit it in.”

It wasn’t really something they could comfortably say to one another on their regular taped prison calls and visits. It was better for Mickey's orientation not to be common knowledge to the wrong people around the joint.

“I love you, you silly bastard, now tell me about your dumbass day.”

Ian smiled brightly. “Franny did the cutest shit…”

Mickey half-listened, content to be in the distant presence of Ian’s face, voice, and manner; imagining a day soon to come when they would be reunited for good in the great wide open.

#ian x mickey #fanfic #gallavich #fanfiction #asks #answers

67 notes · View notes

whirlybirdwhat · 5 years ago

Text

flowers (still blooming)

Ace doesn’t know what his mother looks like. Makino met a woman twelve years ago.

(There are flowers in Rouge's hair.)

Read on AO3 for better quality!

Makino runs a bar – this is common knowledge to anyone who has ever visited Foosha.

She’s always behind the counter or at serving drinks, all with a kind smile and a laugh at hijinks. No one misbehaves, and there’s a shiny new gun behind the counter for any unwanted visitors.

(Rumor has it a pirate taught her how to shoot.)

She a barmaid and a bar tender and a bar owner – anything really. The Party Bar is her pride and joy.

And left over from her mother, a generation previous, it is her information hub as well.

People come in from all sorts of places for the taste of beers delivered directly by Vice Admiral hands and homebrews from the other side of the island. With them they bring stories, and tales, and wanted posters, secrets about criminals Makino has never known and praise for villains she never wants to meet. Alcohol loosens lips, and it’s an easy task to ask the right questions to get the right answers.

Makino’s smart. She knows the power she holds with all the information locked tight in her brain. She sends letters to Garp, sometimes, to warn about an upcoming raid on some poor island, and smiles at the news of the Hero of the Navy saving yet another place.

(She calls Shanks sometimes, to hear his voice, and to tell him that some upstart is planning on challenging him, to tell him that the Marines are planning some ambush but its only rookies, really, to tell him that she misses him and Luffy isn’t in Foosha much now a days, so can’t he come visit?

He doesn’t. But that’s okay.)

Wanted posters find their way onto the Party Bar’s walls, for one reason or another. A nice young man who tipped well, off to becoming a pirate, or a couple of scoundrels smacked down by Garp the Fist himself. Shanks is there, serious faced over a hefty bounty, with the rest of the crew smiling alongside him.

(A spot is reserved on the other wall for the bounty of three young to-be pirates – she can’t wait to see how high their bounties soar.)

It’s not often Makino looks through them, but then she meets Ace, whose face is so similar to one she has known before – one who smiled at her and gave her a hug when her mother didn’t bother paying attention to her.

Makino visit’s Luffy’s brothers, and cries, just a little bit, when she gets home.

Luffy is so happy but someone dear is gone.

Garp keeps secrets when he wants to but Makino knows how to get them out of him. A drop of knowledge here, a drink there, a smile, a private place with no prying ears, and the mention of grandsons is all it takes for the tears to well up in his eyes and for the words to spill out.

Ace, his first grandson’s name is, adopted or not, Portgas D. Ace –

All the information Makino wanted, really, but Garp keeps on talking –

Gol D. Ace, son of the Pirate King –

And Makino’s heart shatters.

(Like any bar, the Party Bar receives its fair share of unruly customers, those with cruel words on their tongues and hatred for people they have never met.

The Son of the King? They say, referring to the only king that ever really mattered. Hope he doesn’t exist! Should kill 'em if he does, sins of the father, right? Drown him at birth, noose around the neck, whatever works! Kid will turn out to be just as bad as his bastard father!)

Ace has demons in his eyes. Makino knows why.

Ace proudly calls himself Portgas D. Ace, so Makino has hope, and she loves this boy because he is Ace, the one who Luffy calls brother and the one who makes Luffy less lonely, and because Ace is a child and deserves love no matter what she thinks.

She works past the lump in her heart, when she gets home from that conversation from Garp, and opens the chest in her room.

(Tears drip from her eyes and the Party Bar is closed for the day, but that doesn’t matter.

Whatever has, in the face of this bloodline?)

Makino was seven when the woman came into town. She was the most beautiful woman Makino had ever seen, gliding into port with hair the color of morning skies and a dash of freckles across her cheek. A flower rose in her hair, vibrant and beautiful, and her smile changed her face into something different, something Makino wished she had. She was pregnant but didn’t stumble under the weight of her still small belly, and instead stood tall and imposing, almost as tall as Garp.

Portgas D. Rouge came into port like a storm and exited like a whisper

“Child,” she had said to the only one at port that day, Makino, playing in the waves. “Where is everyone?”

“At the bar,” Makino told her blindly, because Foosha was small and had no need for anyone to be wary of strangers.

(The era of pirates was beginning today after all.)

“The Pirate King is being executed – everyone’s watching it.”

It was strange, how people’s faces broke at the strangest things.

“My name is Rouge,” the woman introduced herself. “Will you take me to the bar?”

“Sure.” And Makino did.

(She grabbed Makino’s outstretched hand when Makino lead her to the bar, and didn’t let go when they were inside. Makino didn’t mind (her mother never held her hand anymore). Eventually, the woman, Rouge, lifted her up and placed her on her hip, so she could see the Pirate King.

(He looked big, up on that stage. Who could ever kill him?)

They stood in the back of the bar as Roger shouted his last words – You want my treasure? You can have it! I left everything I gathered together in one place. Now you'll just have to find it! – and an era was born with the death of one man.

Rouge cried when it happened, and Makino didn’t know why. She was smiling though, still smiling that beautiful smile she gave Makino, so she figured it was alright even as tears dripped from her face onto Makino’s hair.

She clung tighter to Rouge, hoping to give her some comfort.

(Hoping she could make this woman happy again.)

It worked, as they left the bar where people were cheering, screaming, at the death of a King. Rouge smiled and her tears mixed with the salt spray from the beach, as she and Makino played in the sand.

Rouge stayed for a week, playing with Makino and giving her more attention than anyone else ever did. She left a flower in her hair when she left, whispered secrets of men and women Makino had never known, and kissed her forehead when Makino went to sleep on her shoulder.

Makino loved her, didn’t you know?

(She left, and never came back.)

Makino knows the path to the bandit den like the back of her hand by now. She makes journeys up there in the middle of the week, when the bar is quiet, to give boys a well-cooked meal and some bandits some booze. Its tradition, at this point.

This isn’t her usual day, so it’s a miracle the boys are even at the bandit den (she had heard from an excited Luffy that they were hiding out in a tree house now.) They cheer at her presence and the meal she brought while Dadan gives her a curious look.

They are covered in bruises, a blessing from Garp before he visited Makino, but are still running around, screeching and wrestling in the mud.

Makino doesn’t mind, and in a quiet moment, takes Ace away to talk to him.

“Ace,” She starts, kneeling down to be at his level. ��Garp told me about your parents.”

Ace locks up, body freezing as his eyes go wide. There’s terror in them, and Makino feels her heart break. His mouth opens and shuts, words not coming out, but that’s okay.

Makino knows his question.

“I don’t care, Ace, I still love you.”

His eyes well up and he bites his lip, like he can’t bear to believe it. He’s trying to stay strong, and Makino can’t help but wonder at how similar he is to his mother.

(The freckles are a spitting image of Rouge, and Makino can’t help but wonder what he would look like if he had his mother’s hair.)

Ace sniffles and she draws him in. He’s too flustered to fight back, to unused to hugs to hug back, but that’s why Makino drew him away from everyone else.

Her shoulder grows wet from his tears as she gently brushes his hair back. “Shh. It’s okay, Ace. It’s okay.” When he grows quiet, eyes dried up, just a little, she says what she truly came up here to do.

“I have a present for you.”

He lifts his head up, face curious. “More clothes?”

“No, silly.” She laughs and then laughs again at the redness of his face. “Do you know what your mother looked like?”

Ace shakes his head, stilling. “No. Shitty Gramps told me stories though…”

And by the tone in his voice, it’s probably stories of his birth – not the ones Rouge told Makino on Foosha’s beaches twelve years ago. She’s going to have to fix that.

Makino pulls the old and faded paper out of her pocket. “Here”

Ace takes one look at the poster and promptly breaks again

Two weeks after Rouge left Foosha, the News Coos brings another round of papers. Everyone scrambles for one, eager to hear what has happened since the Pirate King fell, but Makino is lucky enough to grab her mother’s copy.

Her reading isn’t the best now, but she likes looking at the wanted posters that come with them. There are so many new pirates now

The wanted poster that falls out is a new one, an updated one, with a face Makino hasn’t seen on a wanted poster before - but has seen in reality, cupped in her hands and counted the freckles of a stranger’s face

‘SEA STORM’ PORTGAS D. ROUGE - WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE: 1.5 BILLION BERRIES

Rouge... the pregnant woman who laughed and dance with Makino as if she was her own child. is wanted? is a pirate? Why?

Makino can’t fathom it and worries for the woman who she had known for a week.

She hopes she’s alive

She hopes she comes back

(She asks Garp about the woman, once, and some strange happenings run across his face, like worry and concern and anger all at once. He curses then interrogates Makino about everything she knows about the woman, which she tells him, trembling. Her mother scolds her for being dishonest but Garp thanks her, tells her she’s keeping her safe. That Rouge will be safe.

Makino is thankful.)

Raids start for the pirate Kings son the next week. Makino stays at home, afraid and hidden as soldiers interrogate every woman on the isle, how long they been there, if any people visited port before the capture of the king.

She hopes Rouge, regnant and tall and bold, escapes it.

Her bounty comes in again with a New Coo a year later, when raids have died down, and Makino is sure she’s alive.

1.7 billion, and she’s smiling.

Rouge survived. Makino can’t wait to see her again.

(That is the last picture she ever gets of Rouge. It’s not put up with the others when Makino takes over the bar at 16. It’s much too precious for that. instead, she hides it in her chest of precious things in her room, taking care to make sure the paper doesn’t crumble or fray. It’s a treasure she doesn’t admit to having, and dream she doesn’t say to the world but keeps close to her heart.)

Makino sees ace and knows Rouge didn’t survive for that woman, who played with her when no one else would, would never abandon her child willingly.

The wanted poster is faded but the picture is still clear through meticulous care. a woman stares out from in, angled away from the camera but with her face fully visible. her hair flows in the morning light of the picture, pink against the sea in the background, and freckles dash across her face. she’s closed mouth but smiling eye amused but with one eyebrow raised. A hibiscus, pink and blooming, is nestled in her hair. Her skin is warm and glowing and she looks like an older Ace.

Its Rouge, queen of the seas.

Its Rouge, Aces mother.

In the wanted poster he takes gently from Makino, he sees his mother for the first time.

“Mom?” he croaks out, voice shaky and so, so hopeful. Makino hums, and settles in, guiding Ace to sit next to her as they stare at the wanted poster.

“Yes. When I was girl she visited this island... you look just like her, you know? I knew it was her the moment I saw you.”

“What... what was she like?” Aces voice is soft and hopeful as he traces the bounty number, so unbelievably high for someone he has never heard of.

Makino smiles. “She was kind, so unbelievably kind, to me at least. Just wandered into Foosha one day and took my hand – I think she was pregnant with you at the time, isn’t that fun?”

Ace gives a tiny smile, eyes wide and big as he stares at her. He hangs onto every word, trying to show that he isn’t lest she decides not to tell it, which she never would, but it’s endearing all the same.

“But to others,” Makino continues, “She was the storm at sea. Sea Storm Rouge, the papers called her, a legend known by the burning flower in her hair. She would appear like a maelstrom at sea, suddenly there before you could blink and taking down ships at a speed no one could rival save for a select few. She would free slaves from nobles in the same breath she took off with all their loot. She took nothing lying down.”

Sabo and Luffy sneak in to their tiny clearing and find their place next to Ace, knowing there’s a story to be told and not willing to miss it. She laughs at their curious expressions, and continues wither her tale of the woman she might have called mother as Ace pulls his brothers in close.

“She told me once of how she stared a sea king the size of an island down because he was bothering her morning meal…”

Rouge leaves in the quiet moments of dawn, when the sun is only barely rising and all is quiet save for the fishermen already out in the waters.

She takes Makino with her, out to the shore, taking her by the hand and leading her out as the girl rubbed sleep from her eyes.

There’s sadness in Rouge, Makino notes as they leave, passing by houses and towards the abandon beach half a mile from Foosha.

She doesn’t like the sadness there, but she senses it’s not her job to get rid of it – it’s the selfish kind of sadness, the kind that comes with loving some great.

(Makino’s young, but all the children of this world know that feeling.)

They watch the sunrise together in front of Rouge’s small ship, and lean into each other. Rouge’s hand braids Makino’s hair as she plays with the sword handle at the woman’s hip.

“Rouge,” She asks, quiet. It’s not the time for loudness. “Why are you leaving?”

Why are you leaving me?

(Makino’s mother runs the Party Bar and doesn’t leave time for anyone else. Her father isn’t around and the closest she has is Garp and Woopslap, and it should be enough, but it isn’t. Not next to this stranger who has told her of legends and let her hold her hand and dance under the stars. It’s not enough to the raging storm of Rouge’s love.)

Rouge smiles, face softening as she finishes tying off Makino’s braid. “I have to, to keep those I love safe. If I fight, I can win, but others won’t. And I won’t hurt them for their selflessness.”

“But what if its selfishness?”

What if I want you here for me?

Rouge rests a hand on her stomach and one on Makino’s head, and the world seems to still. There’s a pressure from Rouge, one that seems to make the light from the sun flicker under the force from it. It relents, after a moment, but Makino feels safe.

Secure.

Rouge loves her.

“Then you must live with that selfishness, like I do mine.” Her voice is soft. Makino takes the words and keeps them in her heart. It’s hers.

The sun is half over the horizon now. Rouge gets up, and lifts Makino from the railing where they sit to put her on the sandy ground. They are both barefoot, now, having run in the sand half an hour before, and their toes sink into sand as water runs over their toes.

It’s a peaceful kind of ending.

Rouge kneels, soaking her pants in the shore to look Makino in her eyes. She pulls the flower out of her hair, still immaculately pristine and beautiful, and places it behind Makino’s ear. “A gift,” she says, and kisses Makino on the forehead, “so you don’t forget me, alright?”

Makino nods and knows she never will.

No one but Makino knows the Maelstrom of the Grand Line was on Dawn Island, but as Rouge sails off into the raising son, one child left behind and one yet to be born, she finds that’s quite alright.

She was there, and that was enough.

(Never, her selfish heart whispers, never enough.)

Ace is the only one still awake by the time Makino tells the last of her few tales. He’s tired, clearly, resting heavily on Sabo as Luffy rests in his lap, but he keeps on blinking his eyes open. The sun is setting now, and Makino must really be going, but she has one last thing to show him.

“Come on,” She says, pulling Ace up and leaving his brothers to collapse on each other. “I have another gift for you.”

Ace looks at the wanted poster still held so gently in his hands, and follows into the woods.

There’s a field on the west side of the island, the cliffside above the shore half a mile from Foosha. Its filled with beautiful hibiscuses the shades of vibrant pink.

Ace had seen it before, on his ventures.

But now, Makino shows him the truth.

“Your mother gave me her flower, one of them at least, that was in that poster. It started wilting after a few days, so I found a way to replant the seeds and pressed the original… they quickly spread over the valley…”

The sun makes them burn like fire, and Makino sees the love of a mother reflected in Ace’s eyes.

Saltwater falls down her cheeks as she sees Ace take a flower like it is the most precious thing in the world (like Makino had treated the flower Rouge gave her) and place it in his hair. It’s just long enough in the step that it nestles gently in his hair, and he smiles, so happily, like she hasn’t seen him do unless he’s with his brothers.

Tears mirror hers on his cheeks and suddenly she’s staring at Rouge on the day she met her.

He gives her a flower next, and they walk under the setting sun to Dadan’s hut with Rouge’s love intertwined in their hair.

Makino is a bartender, which means she keeps information, and it means she inherited the place where she met a woman who changed her life.

She sees Ace off on the same shore she saw Rouge off, and cries and waves with joy in every moment. He sails into the sun, brilliant and bold, as flowers float around the waiting crowd, and she’s so, so happy.

She is a bartender so she gets the wanted posters two months later first: information is key, after all.

The poster is put up on the reserved wall, a place of pride for three two boys.

Fire Fist Ace, it declares, Captain of the Spades Pirates WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE!

The picture on it is a smiling boy on fire, freckled and smiling. His hat has two charms around it and a wreath of beads is around his neck, a gift from his bandit mother. Expected, for a runaway pirate.

Intertwined in the hat and in his hair, however, are brilliant pink hibiscuses – a tribute to a woman forgotten by the world.

(The rumors Makino hears tell of a boy who doesn’t care what you do to him, but if you harm his crew or the flowers on his ship and hat, there will be hell to pay from a boy made of fire.)

Makino thinks Rouge would be proud.

“Rouge? What are you going to name your baby?”

“Ann if it’s a girl. I would name her Makino, but I think the one I know is great enough!”

“Sesesese! And if it’s a boy?”

“Then Ace! That’s the name his father loved – it’s a good name, don’t you think? I love him already.”

“Can I be his big sister?”

“Of course.”

(Makino is a bartender, and that mean Makino has connections.

She asks Shanks to fill Ace’s grave with pink hibiscuses, and for Rayleigh to give Luffy a bouquet of them to give to the cracks in the Earth at Marineford.

It’s not nearly enough, but she will be selfish, just this once, and will cry about it.)

She names her child Ann and calls her my little sea storm, my little flower.

She knows Rouge would be proud.

128 notes · View notes

whirlybirdwhat · 5 years ago

Text

Compass Left Behind

Ao3 - One Piece, Gen, Modern AU, Look for Warnings! (See Ao3), Focus on Straw Hats.

Word Count: 2,847

When Ace dies in a flurry of fast motions and undeniable death (gun fight – a gang fight, Akainu fire arson why were you born- oh god it burns) Luffy screams at the pain of being alone. His brothers are dead, Shanks spirited away into the wind, Garp, military (abusive) and untrustworthy, and Makino and Dadan’s gang, underserving of this mess.

Luffy is 14 when he becomes completely abandoned, and he is 14 when the thought whispers into his mind

Why? Why am I alone? It shouldn’t be this way - Never should be this way. Where are they?

And so he starts to search.

Monkey D. Luffy first whispered into their lives with the soft smile on Zoro’s sunlit face as he wandered home from school. This smile last for the week, a week of Koushirou’s adopted son seeming more complete and alive than he has ever before - and then he is gone, katanas packed away with sturdy clothes and tracking chip pulled out of his phone

Koushirou wonders about the boy who Zoro mentioned only once (I met someone today – his name is (and the way he said the name sounded like a king)) but accepts it. Zoro always had the spirit of a wanderer in him - but it never seemed to belong just to him.

He reports Zoro’s disappearance to the authorities but it gets buried. Somethings were not meant to be - somethings were meant to be lost to the world (Zoro had always been lost – always had an internal compass that only pointed at one person.)

Koushirou hopes the boy he raised (in place of a daughter who died) is happy now.

They meet Nami in the mall, her life safe at last and her family and their tangerine farm whole and unharmed. There is nothing stopping her from saying no when Luffy stretches out hand, to stay with her family who have no recognition of the name Arlong.

But she takes the hand anyway, the weight she never knew was there lifting off of her. She was supposed to be a navigator for a big company in the fall, with big rewards, perfect for a girl who had no interest of spending big bucks at college

But she drops it all and takes the hand offered.

And well -

That is that.

(They, piled into Luffy’s (Ace’s) old custom flame-detailed Camaro, make for an odd bunch with Luffy’s scars and Zoro’s swords and Nami’s maps and money bags (and three shriveled tangerine tree seeds kept in a golden locket) but they could not care less.)

Usopp joins them three states over and for once does not lie - he speaks truthfully about the pull he feels, like waves to the moon’s commands, like a compass to the north and laments that maybe he’ll meet his dad on the road - out in the big wide radiant west.

He brings along a ride and tall tales, a reminder that there’s joy in the smallest of things.

(Kaya, they learn, is a name not to be spoken for she died a year ago, officially due to an illness. Unofficially, Usopp tells them of a butler who had a history in poison and botany, and how his claws quickly sunk into the family riches once the orphan girl passed away suddenly.

This is not a tale of heroes or interference in carefully laid plans- this is a tale of people finding home and family.

And Kaya, while she had a place in Usopp’s heart, never had a place aboard the sunny, beloved ship (home) in their dreams of before.)

Sanji kicks them from his restaurant, freshly inherited from Zeff who died three months previous, four times until he finally caves and agrees to go with them.

The chefs and waiters are happy to see him go, even if his boyfriend, Gin, isn’t (he’ll miss him, can’t he see that?).

The restaurant was never the twenty-two-year old’s dream, only a prison made of a debt and a soured paternal love and the staff knew that.

They do not understand what makes these strangers so important to him, but they do not stop him from leaving, from kissing his mafia boyfriend one last passionate time, from signing restaurant over to his most trusted workers and hopping in the car with two teens and a young adult.

It was never their place to know what made him so weary of food being stolen.

(Besides. His cigarettes were clogging up the air.)

They never meet Vivi. They only ever hear of her in newspapers clippings, proclaiming that the last princess of Alabasta perished during an uprising in her kingdom.

(It’s not a world of heroes and happiness, in this life)

The story is sad in general, but they are even more so because more than it being a tragic tale, they never got to meet her again.

(But they knew she would never, ever stay, no matter how hard they begged. Her heart belonged to the desert sun and the sand beneath feet, and the people hailing her name. Some things are constant like that.)

Chopper, prodigy and fully-fledged doctor at the age of twenty-six, takes one look at them and quits his job at his adopted father’s old clinic.

No one comments on how though he is the eldest, everyone ruffles his hair like he is the youngest.

No one talks about the little cherry blossoms and antlers embroidered on his sweater, or the way he despisesmushrooms.

No one mentions the way he gapes at Zoro and Luffy, one with too little scars (though they are thankful for that) and one with far, far too many.

(He’ll pass creams to both of them, helping smooth it over Luffy’s back and arms and chest and face and just anywhere really (so many scars - skin didn’t scar this easily before) and letting Zoro do his own, spreading the cool substance over his chest and ankles and face (but never his back - would be a shame if he did), places that had always ached mysteriously previously, and always during storms like Luffy’s did now)

Robin comes into their lives silently, appearing in the back of the Merry (Usopp’s mothers old Volkswagen van that he inherited, that he and Kaya had painted with pictures of seas and sheep and dreaming words before ... everything) one day and never leaving after that.

There are no doubts that she belongs with them - not this time, and not ever again. She brings a multitude of books with her and helps finishes Zoro’s and Luffy’s spotty education, filling in gaps of knowledge with care and love.

She never speaks of genocide, never speaks of the circling brand on her left shoulder blade, and the haunted look in here eye but she doesn’t have to.

Like before, the past does not matter here, with them.

(Unlike before, the only thing that does matter is them - there are no dreams in this concrete world, only slowly filling in the ache of where were you and I was alone.)

The blue haired man who tried to steal their car is Franky, and this time only his arm and nose are metal - it doesn’t make him any less strong or big though. Once he sees the little keychain of a straw hatted jolly roger, custom made, hanging on the mirror, however, he stops, sitting there in the front seat, the wires already hotwired, and smiles. That’s where they find him, and after only the briefest of introductions (for they all know each other already, really, in some inescapable way) and goodbyes (the Franky family are still family but the world is crueler now then then, and bonds like that aren’t meant to stay (but bonds like theirs are)) they leave after a small pitstop.

Merry cannot hold him (cannot hold three more people, they need more) and so it is a near blessing in disguise when Merry is forced to be ripped away from them by a bad car accident - a cop careening down the road after a clown with a sword (an odd sight but not the oddest. They were all more worried about clinging together and making sure they were all alive). No fights happen between them (they do not know how they would take it if one of them walked away - they don’t know if they even can now that they’ve found each other).

Instead, they watch as Franky commandeers his brother’s company for one week, and creates a home on the road for them. Simple and deceiving on the outside yet extravagantly homey within, the extremely luxurious and custom RV is familiar enough with a small shielded garden on the top, a library within and couches and bunks soft and plush to rest their weary head.

Sunny, they decide to call the RV, now detailed on the side in bold, dreamful lettering with a painted lion face, for all the sunny days they will have together.

(They’re almost complete.)

Brook sees them in the crowd and steps off his stage, disappearing into the night. His fans are disappointed and the rest of the world confused - where had the man gone?

The man himself is gaunt, brittle and bone like, which is only accented by his skeletal make up, but he laughs and cracks jokes with them all, one more puzzle piece, one more weapon to defeat the battle that is loneliness.

His music soothes them to bed with the sweetest tunes, and the songs he releases to the public are more popular than ever - for they have something the old Brook used to have but thought he never would again.

The love of family.

(He does not speak of years spent by the coast, playing songs with other folk and whales, as they danced happily to the breeze. He does not speak of tsunamis and death and wondering why he above all others survived because he knows why - so the loneliness would end when he was with them.)

Jinbe is last and when they break him free from the prison on the coast, it is all they can do not to cry with relief. They are whole again, never mind the mafia and government after them thanks to Jinbe’s escape, they can breathe again.

When they collapse inside Sunny, far away from the lights that searched for them, bandages applied to broken boys (why did he have so many scars?) and smiles given, they do cry, and Jinbe envelopes them all with a hug until they fall backward into a giant, happy dog pile.

He is warm and big and steers them in the right direction, just as he always did. The last part of the puzzle is complete and now they can be free with each other instead of trapped alone.

(Jinbe is the first to know about the beginning, what happened to their captain in this life, (for he knew Ace as well) and he does not forgive himself for not being there like he was before. But he does pray to and thank every god he knows that Luffy was able to get up alone - and find them all.

It’s a miracle, really. (It’s what he was known for))

Together they travel, making money in dubious ways (street performance and thievery among them – stealth is a skill that Luffy has somehow acquired now but they do not like to think about how) and having as much adventure and life as they can before their time inevitably runs out.

They travel and learn about each other what makes them different from before (they learn what before was.)

They learn of new ages (Luffy 14, Zoro 16, Nami 18, Usopp 20, Sanji 22, (Vivi would be 24) Chopper 26, Robin, like before 28, Franky 30, Brook 32, and Jinbe, 34 - two years apart for the two years they spent apart. They wished their youngest weren’t so young,) new habits (video game design was what Usopp was going to go to college for, once he had saved enough) and the things that stayed the same (Nami can still haggle prices down to a quarter of the original price, and Zoro still uses three katanas.)

It’s a good life, a happy life. They found each other again - how could it not be?

Of course - not everything’s perfect. It comes back to them in the little moments

It’s In the way Zoro will sit himself beside the door on rainy days, ready to catch anyone who slips; in the way Nami hoards money like she’ll die without it and what she’ll be willing to sacrifice for it (herself and others but never her family), in the way that Usopp, though understanding, will lurch whenever someone seems just a tad too sad and frantically tell a tale as if everyone’s life depended on it, and the way he’s wary of every trusting, loyal servant they come across.

It’s in the way Sanji won’t eat if someone else wont (all too common, none of them are okay with food sometimes, even Luffy, who will sometimes stop eating randomly, or Zoro, who occasionally forgets he can keep eating) or in the way Chopper will quadruple check every medical thing he does when not in an emergency.

It’s in the way Robins mind goes blank at certain books and the way her fingers tremble even when doing something she loves; in the way Franky will ghost his hand over his nose and arm and belly and scars and remember the day everything was lost; in the way that Brook can’t stand foggy nights that become like his mind occasionally, clouded and alone.

And especially it’s in the way the Luffy, Luffy who used to never be afraid (because rubber couldn’t hurt, at least not easily), will flinch and snag fingers in Zoro’s or Jinbe’s clothing, arms taut and eyes wide, trembling and so abruptly quiet and push whatever food on his plate away whenever voices raise or fists fly in the kitchen (only ever the kitchen), and will shriek and go silent, crouched in a ball if its directed at him - (The kitchen area is a no fight zone now, if they have to do it they do it beyond the divider and in the other areas while the rest distract Luffy.) It’s in the way Luffy has far too many scars (from punches and kicks and being thrown off balconies and cliffs from supposedly loving hands, from fights in back alleys and scrambling to survive – he’s only 14 and before it wouldn’t faze them but this world is so much more real in the way the other wasn’t) and in the way one used to be able to count each individual rib on his side.

No.

It’s the little moments that hurt the worse.

But there are also happy moments, happiness found in places one wouldn’t think to look.

Like being chased by cars flashing red and blue lights, in a flame detailed beat up Camaro, like seeing how high cola rockets could blast, like finally hearing the end to Robin’s memorized bed time story that spoke of pirates of old and new, and sunny days always looking toward the horizon.

Like being there to see Zoro and Luffy, always on the same page, experience something for the first time, like the high school dance they snuck into or the stars on the unlit coast (well that was a first for most actually). Like seeing Brook’s guitar strum a special song just for each of them, or having Chopper give special band aids for each of them (Luffy’s had pirates, Zoro’s tigers, Nami’s tangerines, Usopp’s birds, Sanji’s hearts and Franky’s gears. Robin and Brook were more careful so everyone was still vying to see what design they would get)

It was the joys that built them up again

And it was the experiences that reminded them of who they were

Because no matter the world, no matter the life now or the life before, Luffy would always have the soul of a conqueror, of a king- and the rest of them would always be his most loyal crew.

These experiences included back alley fights and dealings and tussles with gangs, included hunting down Ace’s killer and killing him in return (because none of them are perfect, even now) in breaking out of prison as a family (whoever thought of imprisoning them all together made a mistake) to shielding Luffy from his grandfather when the mere mention let alone actually meeting with the man made him tremble and near cry.

It was falling from the mountain Skypeia, miraculously making it out alive and visiting Fishman Island off the coast of the southern continent. It was visiting Venice and Antarctica and the pyramids and breaking into historical places (but being respectful because robin loved history) and everything amazing in-between.

And it was being together that made it all worth it - because in this life they didn’t have dreams to reach for, to strive for, to devout their lives towards. They just had each other.

And that was enough

21 notes · View notes