#damn they got that sibling argument goin on | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

notepadsandtealeaves · 3 years ago

Text

Javier Escuella x GN!Reader in: (Home is) Wherever I’m With You

Reader Requests || Immy’s 200 Follower Event 🎊 🎉 🎊

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT || 18+ ONLY ||

|| ao3 version | event tag | rdr tag | m.lists | main blog ||

↠ Requested By: @team-baku-is-blasting-off-again ((for my 200 Follower Event)) ↠ Reader Gender: Neutral ↠ Content Type: Angst-y H/C vibes that get NSFW at the end ((minors kindly fuck off, pls and thank)) ↠ CWs/TWs: Javier’s being over-protective like to a very uncool degree, as well as insecure in himself/his relationship with Reader. Likewise Reader has their own baggage/insecurities that don’t help matters at all. It all gets worked on and rectified by the story’s end, but feelings are indeed Hurt. ↠ Check below the cut for a more comprehensive list of tags. ↠ No betas—we die like damn near everyone you’ve ever dared to love in this damned series lol. ↠ Total WC: 14k~ ((my b, my uhh, my hand slipped??))

↠ Prompts:

“I’ll never be good enough.”

“Tell me to stop, tell me or I won’t be able to.” / “Then don’t.”

“No.”

“‘No’, what?”

“No, you’re not goin’.”

“I’m sorry,” you start, your own awakening anger transforming the words into sharp and dangerous things, “somethin’ must be gettin’ lost here because that didn’t sound like a question.”

The smoldering embers that had been in his gaze before are fully alight now with a flame that’s just barely checked as he regards you. “That’s because it wasn’t, mi amor…”

↠ In which what should be little more than a simple misunderstanding turns into something quite other. But no matter the storm, the pair of you are always willing to weather it so long as you can come home.

In which OP not-so-subtly simps for Arthur in the background lol. Let me love you, Mister Morgan, pls 😭

Sorry for the wait, dear requester. Between non-fun adult type stuff and my need to reboot in between fills this took far longer to write than what either of us wanted lol. Doesn’t help that there’s angst involved (which always induces a certain amount of metal strain); add to that the fact that three out of the four fills I got for this event were angst-y H/C type deals and you get an even slower turn around.

But anyways!

This is long—way longer than anything I intended on writing for this event, but tbh this is a work I already had partially done. It’s a short story that’s been hanging around in my drafts since January of 2019 (yeah, I know -_-), but despite how long it’s been since last I touched it, reading the prompts put me in mind of it right away. Here’s to hoping it was worth the wait!

Translations ((As always, if any of the Spanish in this is wrong feel free to take it up with Google Translate lol)):

No gracias, Tilly, estoy bien—No thank you, Tilly, I’m fine

Mi amor—My love

Joder—Fuck

Dios, soy un jodido idiota—God, I’m a fucking idiot

Nunca seré lo suficientemente bueno—I’ll never be good enough

Mi corazon—My Sweetheart

Cariño—Sweetie

Siempre me tomas tan bien—You always take me so good

General Tags: Arthur Morgan + Reader (platonic, affectionate) | Arthur and Reader have a close, sibling-type relationship | Arthur Morgan being a Good Man™ as well as a good brother | Relationship strife | Public arguments (and the embarrassment that comes with that lol) | Various insecurities on both Reader and Javier’s part | Javier gets over-protective/insecure, arguments ensue | Mildly toxic behavior (unintentional, but still; see aforementioned tag) that is worked on/rectified | Also Reader’s own insecurities/baggage leads to an overreaction on their part as well | ((I hate writing all this angst, but it needed to happen for ✨~plot~✨ lol)) | Light Micah bashing lol (tho no shade intended towards his fans) | Hosea and Charles giving good advice

“So are you in or out?” Arthur asks as he reaches the end of his spiel.

The stagecoach robbery seems straight forward enough, but given the fact that everything the gang has put its collective hand to since the infamous Riverboat Incident back in Blackwater has gone tits up he knows you have a right to be wary. And you are, just a touch, though you hate to admit it. This string of bad luck has been hard on everyone and many bear the scars—both inside and out—to prove it, yourself included.

But you trust Arthur and you know that if this is a job he’s sniffed out himself that it’s probably solid; the fact that Charles and Lenny will also be tagging along means that the chances of success are just that much higher. The three of them usually make wise enough choices, last month’s misadventures in Valentine’s bar notwithstanding. You quickly agree before you can think better of it, and the smile that it pulls from the bearded man makes the potential risks more than worth it.

It had taken Arthur a bit to warm up to you when you’d first joined the gang, but once he did the pair of you fell into a close-knit, sibling-type relationship. A few people around camp—namely Sean, Bill, and damn near all the girls—had insisted that there had to be something more there in the time since, and it was only once you and Javier became an item that the rumors were (mostly) put to rest. The close nature of your relationship was actually the reason that it took Javi so long to ask you out. He’d been thoroughly convinced by the others that you and Arthur were sneaking around behind the gang’s collective back, and it wasn’t until you explained to him that firstly, you were adults who wouldn’t have to stoop to such a juvenile level, and secondly that you’d adored him from nearly the moment you’d met that he finally got past that foolishness.

Though it was annoying at the time you can’t say that you blame anyone for thinking you and your best friend had something going. Despite all his posturing to the contrary, Arthur Morgan is and always will be a far better man than what your lifestyle allows for, and a damned handsome one to boot, and well, you ain’t too bad yourself. You complement each other in a way that just seems ‘right’, apparently, but even if Javi hadn’t come into the picture your relationship’s always been destined to be a platonic one.

Arthur’s hurts are old things that run deep and jagged, tainting his perception of everything—himself especially. Both life and love have never looked on him kindly, and so he’s stopped expecting to receive the latter. Of course this has never stopped you from extending the sentiment to him after a fashion, but years passed and experiences gained have taught you that trying to force feelings when they just aren’t there will only ever end in heartbreak. Because of this you’ve never pushed for anything more and the pair of you are all the closer for it. Having him in your life has definitely made it fuller in so many ways, and it’s a blessing that you’re always striving to return, so whenever you get him to smiling like this you always feel as if you’re one step closer to your goal.

“Great,” he drawls, pushing off of his knees as he rises from the milk crate-turned-chair. “We ride out at the end of the hour so be ready. And make sure your gun’s actually loaded this time.”

His comment earns a few snickers from the others that share the space with you, though most of them quiet down when they feel the weight of your stare. The only one who doesn’t is Tilly, but then again the woman knows that you’d sooner kick a dog before ever doing anything more scathing to her than glaring.

“Wasn’t. My. Fault,” you grit out as you chuck an abandoned tobacco tin at his back.

A drunken prank compliments of Sean had led to a mildly embarrassing incident involving a bet and some bottle shooting, and nearly a year later you’ve still yet to live it down. Though he teases you about it now, Arthur had nearly taken the Irishman’s head off at the time; had the blond not challenged you, you could’ve easily found yourself unknowingly unarmed in a situation far more dire than a simple test of skill.

For his part the man just chuckles as he tosses a sarcastic “Sure” over his shoulder.

“Jerk,” you mutter, though there’s no real heat behind it.

“Want me to kick his ass?”

Had the voice not been so familiar you might’ve been startled by its sudden nearness, but the dulcet cadence is one that you know better than even your own. Unfortunately you’ve not been hearing it nearly as often as you’d like these past few days. Between duties to the camp and following leads in town, you and your man haven’t occupied the same space for any extended amount of time outside of sleeping together—done in the most literal sense, sadly—and even that’s been choppy as a you’d both been assigned guard shifts that made your overlap damn near nonexistent.

Javi’s just finished one such shift and it shows. His usually warm eyes are dull with fatigue and his posture’s a bit stiff from the strain that comes with making rounds of the area for the better part of the last several hours, but despite it all he’s just as handsome as ever and your pulse quickens as it always does whenever he’s near.

“Mmm, maybe later,” you say with half a laugh as he plops down on the log next to you. Depending on how this job goes down you just might take him up on that offer—if the law doesn’t beat you to it, that is.

For his part the man just snorts before pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to your temple. He wraps his arms around you then and hoists you over into his lap, heedless of the scalding contents of your tin mug. A few moments of careful shuffling—and an unnecessary amount of cooing from Tilly and Sean—later sees you comfortable in your new seat. Javier had told you once that holding you like this feels like home, and sitting here with his head resting heavily against your shoulder and his hum of contentment warm against your ear, the statement rings especially true. Your free hand smooths over the pair of his where they rest against your thighs in a loose clasp, your fingers mapping out the ever increasing expanse of nicks and scars that mar the skin there; one scab feels especially fresh under your touch and you know that it’s compliments of yet another five-finger match, though who his opponent was you couldn’t say.

“You want something to eat, Javier?” Tilly asks from where she sits next to you—or rather next to your previous spot. Her thin, nimble fingers are making quick work of the trousers she’s mending with a level of skill that could put many-a seamstresses to shame.

“No gracias, Tilly, estoy bien.” (No thank you, Tilly, I’m fine.)

The young woman giggles at that. “Poor thing. You must really be tired because I didn’t understand half of what you just said. Sure sounded pretty though.”

“It always does,” you agree. Hearing Javi speak in his native language is truly a thing of beauty and, in your opinion, there isn’t much out there that can rival it.

He chuckles a bit at that, but makes no further comment. When you ask if he’d like a cup of coffee or even a sip of your own he turns this down too. “I’ll eat before I go to sleep,” he promises before you can get on him about looking after himself. “I just want to stay like this for a bit, mi amor. I’ve been missin’ you.”

His words leave your heart aching in the best of ways, but before you can reply a commanding bellow of “Miss Jones!” rings out across the camp. To Javier’s credit he doesn’t jump like the rest of you, but this is probably due him being far too tired to react in time. Everyone, from Dutch on down to Kieran, respects—and in some cases, fears—Ms. Grimshaw, and with good reason. The woman’s mouth can put any military official to shame, and her right hook is the stuff of legends. Anything with even the smallest amount of self-preservation knows not to get in her way when she’s scented her prey; the way the material of her skirt flutters out and away from her as if attempting to not further impeded her stride only serves to punctuate this point.

“Why ain’t you helpin’ out Mister Pearson?” she continues on as she comes to stand directly in front of the woman in question. “You’re not a goddamn workin’ girl, we don’t pay you to sit around on that ass of yours an’ look pretty.”

The blonde snorts loudly into her mug. “You don’t pay me at all.”

“Oh, love—no.” Sean’s plea is little more than a breath from where he sits beside her. Reckless though the young man may be, even he knows that there are some fights you just don’t pick.

“That girl’s really gotta learn when to keep her fool mouth shut,” Tilly comments under her breath.

“Is she drunk?” Javi asks. “‘Cause she sounds drunk. And it’s not even eight yet.”

You shrug as much as your position will allow. “I haven’t seen her drinkin’ anything other than coffee, but that don’t mean nothin’. She was goin’ at it pretty hard last night, though—she could still be drunk from yesterday.”

As the three of you converse the other two women continue to go back and forth, with volume and tempers both steadily rising all the while. Ms. Grimshaw might be a pill, but she’s a fair and caring woman in her own way. She never assigns anyone more than their due, and is always willing to work with anybody that’s suffering from an illness or injury severe enough to keep them from performing their duties properly. So long as a person’s able to provide for the camp in some major way—be that via money, labor, or acquiring much needed provisions—she generally leaves them alone.

Unfortunately for Karen she’s been bringing very little to the table as of late, well besides that lead on Valentine’s bank. Despite the fact that she’d pitched it well over a week ago she’s quick to bring it back up yet again for what little good it’ll do her. Even if Dutch does okay the job it’ll still take at least another couple of weeks of reconnaissance and planning before he’ll even think of making a move on the place which means that the blonde’s “–got one iron in the fire, but no damn legs to stand on”, as the older woman puts it.

“Well they’re not workin’!” Karen yells lamely, gesturing towards where you’re currently all hugged up with your boyfriend.

“That’s because I’m getting ready for a job!” you quickly call out. The last thing you want or need is one of Susan’s lectures on ‘pulling your own damn weight.’

“Sure don’t look it,” she shoots back in yet another blatant attempt to get the attention off of her. “Not unless you’re chargin’ your man by the hour these days.”

Her words leave Javier quaking with near silent laughter and he earns a sharp elbow to the ribs for his troubles. His apology comes in the form of a kiss placed just behind your ear, and though it’s a chaste thing you still feel a shudder run up the length of your spine. It’s been damn near a week since the two of you have had the combination of time, energy, and the minimum amount of needed privacy to do much more than some heavy petting, and given the state of your libidos, a week’s more akin to a month.

Of course he notices the way his kiss affects you, and of fucking course the jerk decides that now would be a good time to pepper more of them along the column of your neck. Knowing that telling him to stop will only lead to him doing something far less innocuous you decide that ignoring him to the best of your ability is the better course of action. If anyone else takes issue with his amorous display they keep it behind their teeth; whether this is because they’re too used to seeing shit like this by now, or out of fear of what the man’ll do to them if he thinks they’ve offended and-or embarrassed you, you cannot say—though if you’re being honest you know it’s probably mostly due to the latter.

“Fuck you Karen, I’m helping Arthur ‘n’ ‘nem rob that stagecoach outside of Valentine.” Your voice only catches once as you speak and you count that as a victory.

“You hear that, Miss Jones? They have an actual task to tend to, but you? You’re just sittin’ around–”

The rest of Ms. Grimshaw’s tirade is lost to you when Javi breathes a quiet “Qué?” into your ear.

“Oh, right, guess you wouldn’t ‘ve heard yet. Arthur’s got a lead on some rich fucks that’re passin’ through the area on their way to Golden Planes so me, him, Lenny, and Charles are gonna hit ‘em up. Should be a pretty decent sized haul from what I gathered. Apparently the feller’s some actor preparing for a role by ‘roughing it’ like us common folk, ‘cept not really since he’s got himself a nice little caravan-type-deal goin’ on complete with all the comforts that he’s so accustomed to.”

You roll your eyes hard at the absurdity of it all. You remember hearing a traveling preacher once say something about a fool and his money being easily parted, and while you’re pretty sure that armed robbery’s normally considered to be a sin in this case you just might be doing the Lord’s work. The thought leaves you snorting out half a laugh as you continue on.

“The man sounds like a asshole, and a dumb one at that. Hell, given why he’s on this fool’s quest we just might be helpin’ him out—ya know, lettin’ him experience the true grit of America’s untamed land and the hounding terror of the roguish gangs that rove its planes, or, yanno, some equally flowery bullshit. Anyway, it’s pretty poorly guarded, relatively speaking, and sure to be full of loot if Arthur’s contact is to be believed—and I’m sure she is. Barmaids hear everything and she’s sweet on Arthur besides. She’s been doin’ everything she can to help ‘em in hopes that he’ll take more of an interest in her, the poor girl. She’s so hung up on him she can hardly see straight. Kinda wish I could tell her better, but she probably wouldn’t believe me anyways.”

You aren’t expecting too much in the way of reply aside from a snort of amusement, or maybe even an offer to come along, really anything but the growled “No” that you get.

“Excuse me?”

You couldn’t have heard him right, you think, but then he says it again.

You lean off to the side so that you can get a better look at him. His expression is just as straight forward as the uttered word and twice as hard. You arch a brow as you look from the pursed set of his lips to the banked fire in his eyes. He’s clearly upset, though for the life of you, you cannot understand why.

“‘No’, what?”

“No, you’re not goin’.”

The smoldering embers that had been in his gaze before are fully alight now with a flame that’s just barely checked as he regards you. “That’s because it wasn’t, mi amor. I don’t want you anywhere near something that risky.”

You scoff loudly at that. Who does he think he is? That you are? There have only ever been a few people in your life that could ever even begin to think of forbidding you to do anything, and they’ve all long since died, so needless to say Javier Escuella is not among their number. And that’s not even touching on his blatant disregard of the skills that you’ve earned through the literal shedding of your blood, sweat, and tears. You can handle yourself just fine, and had been doing so for literal years before you even knew he existed. You’re not some goddamn damsel from out of one of Mary-Beth’s books, and you’re definitely not looking for someone to save you. When you tell him as much he just sighs.

“I never said you were. I know you can take care of yourself.”

“Well you’re sure as shit not actin’ like it,” you give back. He sighs again before muttering something under his breath in Spanish and for some reason that makes you even angrier. “If you’ve got somethin’ to say, Javier, then say it. And at a volume that I can actually hear, if you goddamn please.”

“I said, you’re acting like a child,” he bites off.

“I’m acting like a child? Me? Are you fuckin’ serious right now? You’re the one that started all of this!”

“I didn’t start anythi–”

“Oh so the whole ‘you’re not going’ bit—that wasn’t you startin’ it?” The sound you let out is a bitter shadow of a laugh. “I lost my father a long time ago, Escuella, and I’m not lookin’ to replace him, least of all with my goddamn boyfriend.”

He pinches his eyes shut in frustration. “I’m not trying to replace anybody! Fuckin’– I just want you to be safe.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I never said that you couldn’t.”

“Then what are you sayin’?” you demand with a toss of your hand. “‘Cause from where I’m sittin’ it sounds a whole damn lot like you think I’m too fuckin’ incompetent to get the job done.”

When the only reply you get is a hard, agitated breath you just nod your head. “And there it is. Hm. Well, regardless of your estimation of my skills, Mister Escuella, I’m more than capable of handlin’ a simple robbery. Now if you’ll kindly excuse me, I’ve a few things that need doin’ before I go and I don’t want Arthur and the rest waitin’ on my account.”

You give him a look when the arm that bars you in doesn’t immediately fall away. Javier meets your stare then and the tumultuous mix of emotions that you find in those warm brown irises leaves your indignation faltering, but before you can even begin to make an attempt at deciphering any of it he’s dropping both his eyes and his arms.

No further words are exchanged, though the small part of you that’s not currently pissed the fuck off feels as if you should say something. Leaving things like this is hardly wise, especially since there is a possibility—relatively slim though it is—that you may not come back, but you just can’t bring yourself to open your mouth. Javier has stepped squarely on a rather sensitive nerve, and that he can’t see that, that he won’t make the first move to apologize…

It hurts more than you care to admit, even to yourself.

You’re both adults and should be able to talk about this like the reasonable people you usually are, but you can’t be the bigger person right now. For a long time people had put you down and made you feel as if you and your abilities had no real worth and you believed them. It had taken years for you to realize that they were wrong, that you’ve always had value beyond anything they—and even you yourself—could ever know. Your self-confidence is a thing hard earned and you’ll die before you ever allow anyone to strip you of it again. Having one of the people closest to you threatening it, unintentional though it may have been, hits you hard and you just can’t.

Don’t. Won’t.

As you go you feel more than just Javier’s eyes on you. It seems as if you gave the gang a show to go with their morning meal and the thought leaves your face uncomfortably warm. Where’s Abbi and John when you need ‘em? you think as you make your way back to your tent. When compared to the screaming matches that the pair of them frequently engage in what you and your man had done can hardly even be called a proper fight.

Abandoning the mug that you hadn’t even realized you were still carrying, you grab everything you’ll need from the little box that sits tucked away in the shared space of your makeshift shelter; afterwards you head over to the medicine wagon and collect a few items, just in case worst comes to worst. Now fully kitted out, the only thing left to do is join Arthur and the rest over by the horses—which means cutting through the middle of the camp. Eyes forward, shoulders squared, and face set in a way that says ‘stay the fuck away’ you head towards your destination. Thankfully the pointedly unwelcoming combination works as intended and the short trip is blessedly uneventful.

Arthur and Charles are both in the process of loading up their horses, but Lenny is nowhere to be found. You breathe out a sigh of relief at that as it would’ve been beyond mortifying if your argument had caused you to be the last one to arrive.

“Gents,” you greet as you approach your horse. The cheer that you infuse the word with sounds fake, even to your own ears, but if the men pick up on this they don’t mention it.

You’re sure that your spat with Javier hadn’t been loud enough to reach them all the way over here, but gossip in the camp spreads faster and easier than legs in a cathouse so they’ve probably gotten an embellished account by now. Thankfully the pair of them are some of the most kindhearted men you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, and they won’t pry or shame you for your actions regardless of what they’ve been told.

True to form, they greet you in kind before asking if you’ve seen the youngest of your little party, and you shake your head. “Thought he’d be over here by now,” you say with a shrug.

“I swear to god if that boah’s still sleepin’,” Arthur mutters as he turns his eyes back towards the camp proper. Charles is already one step ahead of him, however. Sitting atop Taima gives him a better vantage and he easily spots the teen over by Strauss’s wagon. The older man doesn’t even bother with looking himself, instead choosing to scream, “Lenny! Get the molasses outta yer ass, boah!” across the expanse.

Lenny picks up the pace at the beckoning. Long legs carry him across the distance at a decent clip and within a minute he’s sliding up next to you. He gives Arthur a sheepish grin as he shrugs helplessly. “I uhh, I had a hole in my pants, man; had to get that seen to first.”

Remembering the trousers that you’d seen Tilly with before you look him over and—yup. Same ones. The sight leaves you huffing in amusement, but the feeling is quickly shadowed by everything that came afterwards.

We were okay, fine ‘n’ fuckin’ dandy—how the hell did that change so fast? You quickly shake the melancholy away. Now’s not the time or place to deal with your personal shit; distracted minds only ever lead to people getting hurt or worse.

Unaware of you inner turmoil, the men share a laugh before moving on to talking about the plan.

“Alright,” Arthur starts, “Charles is gonna ride on ahead and look for a good ambush spot outside of town, and I want one of you to go with ‘em.”

“I’ll go,” Lenny offers, as eager to help as ever.

His older flashes him a smile as he claps him on the shoulder. “Good man. That means me and you,” he nods his head in your direction, “are heading into town. Ruth says that they’re not supposed to be leaving out until sometime after ten, but I’d rather keep eyes on them all the same.”

“Fair enough,” you concede with a shrug.

“I already have a couple of places in mind,” Charles says as he gives his horse a few loving pats to the neck, “so it shouldn’t take too long. Want us to meet you back in Valentine after?”

Arthur nods. “It’s better if we’re not all seen in one place, so you two should head on over to Keane’s. I’ll linger around Smithfield’s, and ____ can take the hotel. Sound good?” When he gets answers in the affirmative he gives a gruff hum of approval. “Good. Alright folks, this should be an easy one, and if everything goes accordin’ to plan we’ll be done well before noon.”

“Aw come on Arthur, don’t say that,” Lenny moans as he swings himself up into Maggie’s saddle. “You’ll jinx us for sure.”

“Never took you for the superstitious type,” Charles comments.

“Never was, not before all this. I’m not usually one for all that ‘curses and bad juju’ stuff, but with everything that’s been goin’ on lately–”

The rest of their conversation is lost to you under the sound of their steeds’ combined hoof-falls. You and Arthur both mount up yourselves then before following after them at a more leisurely pace. A comfortable silence lingers as you steadily make your way towards Valentine and not for the first time you find yourself being distinctly grateful that Arthur is who he is. He’s not one to meddle, but he’s always there to offer an ear or a shoulder to cry on when you need it.

And he thinks he isn’t a good man. The musing leaves your lips twisting wryly.

“It’s nice to see Charles opening up more,” you comment after several long moments have passed. And it really is. You liked the man from the moment you met him, and more often than not you found yourself seeking out his quiet presence when things around camp got too rowdy. Charles has mastered the fine art of being and you can only hope that one day you’re as at peace with yourself as he so often appears to be.

Arthur hums his agreement. “Yeah. He’s a good one, that Charles—one of the best Dutch has brought into the fold in a long while.”

Unlike Micah, the unspoken subtext reads. You, like most people in the camp (and probably the world at large) can’t stand the rat bastard, but you also don’t feel like talking about him either. That man exhausts you to no end, and you’re fairly certain that just saying his name aloud has the potential to shave several hours off of your lifespan. Thankfully Arthur doesn’t seem too keen on bitching about him at the moment—odd given that it’s one of his favorite pastimes, but ‘gift horses’ and all that.

“You should’ve seen what he did to Uncle last night, nearly drove the old lush crazy,” he tells you around a laugh before laying out the scene.

Apparently the man had tried to strike up a conversation with his younger over supper only to have every starter shot down with one word answers. By the end of it all Uncle had walked away red faced, frustrated, and in dire need of something stronger than the beer he’d been drinking.

“And-and Charles, he just–” a hard spurt of laughter, “he just looks over at me and the rest of the boahs and he’s got the sliest little smirk on his face and we just lost it. He knew what he was doin’.” Though the retelling leaves much to be desired, the mirth in your brother’s voice is contagious and you find yourself laughing as well.

“That is funny. Wish I could’ve seen it for myself.”

“Mmm. Guard duty’s a bitch, huh?”

“Who you tellin’? I know why we have to do it, but dammit if it doesn’t get up my ass. At least I got one of the better shifts this time around. I was barely able to stay awake long enough to finish my stew, but at least I got a full night’s rest. Plus I didn’t have to worry about waking up Javi, so…” His name is out of your mouth before you realize it and just like that your mood loses what little levity it had managed to gain.

The man at your side sighs, though the sound isn’t one born of impatience or long-suffering; he’s always hated to see anyone within the gang at odds with one another, but especially people that are as close to him as you and Javier.

He flicks up the brim of his hat so that his eyes are fully visible when he looks over at you. “If you wanna talk about it…”

“I… I do,” you admit with a sigh of your own, “but I also don’t, not right now at least. Work first, emotional bullshit second—yeah?”

“If you’d like,” he drawls back.

You smile at him then, small and grateful, before reaching over the gap and giving his arm a squeeze. “Thanks.”

No more words are exchanged after that, none are needed. He gets it, gets you—so how is it that the man whose affections are supposed stretch far beyond that of a brother’s doesn’t?

They aren’t coming back.

Clink. Thud.

Not that they should.

Clink. Thud.

They can do better than you. Already have, really.

Clink. Thud.

He is perfect for them, has known ‘em longer, understands them in a way that you probably never will. They have history; no matter how hard you try, there’s no competing with that.

Clink. Thud.

They’re perfect together—they should be together.

Clink. Thud.

And what else did you expect? You already had your shot at love, how could you possibly think that you’d get another?

Clink. Thud.

And on the off chance that you did—have—how do you know it won’t all be snatched away from you again?

Clink. Thud. THWACK!

Javier embeds the axe into the stump with enough force to send large splinters of wood flying out from around the heavy metal head. An especially wayward piece nicks him just under his left eye, but he’s too numb—both inside and out—to notice the sting of it. His thoughts have been relentlessly following the same misery-fueled loop of self-degradation since he’d watched his amor ride out of the camp this morning.

Things had gotten awkward fast around the firepit, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. It was as if his body and mind both ceased all higher functions once he let you out of his arms, leaving him with only the capacity to hollowly stare after you as you went about readying yourself to go. Your movements were hard and jerky as you checked over your weapons and filled your pouches with tonics and salves, as clear a sign of your anger—your rage—as you were willing to show. And when you had walked past him to get to the horses… It was like he was air to you, no less than that. Some useless thing that was undeserving of even a scrap of your time or attention. Your expression was hard and your eyes blank as you passed him by without so much as even a parting glare and that’s when he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he had fucked up bad.

His amor is done. Their relationship is done. And it’s all his fault.

“Joder!” He hisses out the curse as he sends one of the newly quartered logs flying with a hard kick. It’s mildly satisfying, seeing the chunk of wood sail through the air, so he kicks another one. And another, and another. It’s only when the last one lands some several feet away that he pulls the axe from its resting place to start in on the pile of lumber once more.

“Dios, soy un jodido idiota,” he all but growls as the tool’s metal head embeds itself in the wood’s pale center. “Nunca seré lo suficientemente bueno–” (God, I’m a fucking idiot. / I’ll never be good enough.)

“I’ll admit my Spanish isn’t the best, but I know the sound of a man beratin’ himself when I hear it.”

Of course Hosea would be the one to come find him. He’s the only one with enough balls to approach him when he’s this pissed and welding an axe, but also enough heart to actually care—the bowl of stew and bottle of beer he holds are both further testament to the latter.

“If I said that I was fine, would you believe me and go away?” the younger man asks between chops.

Hosea chuckles a bit. “Given that you were mumblin’ to yourself somethin’ fierce just a few seconds ago—no. Look, if you don’t want to talk about it I’m not gonna make you,” he assures him. “But what I am gonna ask you to do is to sit down for a bit.”

“Why?”

“Because workin’ yourself half to death won’t help anything.”

“What if I don’t care?”

“You do.”

“I don’t.”

“Well then I do, and I can guarantee you it’s more than enough to carry the both of us ‘til you come back to your senses.”

He cuts his eyes over to the conman. “My ‘senses’ rode out of here this morning without so much as a backwards glance.”

“So I saw,” Hosea starts as he moves to sit on the repurposed barrel. “Does this mean that you want to talk about it then?”

Javier groans loudly as he embeds the axe into the stump once again. “No. Dios mío, Hosea, please—just drop it.”

“Fine,” the man concedes with a shrug. “I’ll drop the subject, you’ll drop that axe, and we’ll both go about the rest of our day.”

“Is that an order?”

“Don’t get your hackles up, Mister Escuella—givin’ orders is more of Dutch’s thing than mine. I’d much rather lay out your options and hope that you’ll make the best choice.”

“Yes, because clearly I’ve been makin’ quality decisions all day.”

Eyes nearly as dark as his own pin him with a pointed look. “While your sarcasm isn’t appreciated, it is telling. There’s no point in cryin’ over spilled milk, my boy—all you can do is clean up the mess and try to move on. Stewin’ over what you should’ve done or said isn’t helpin’ anything. Calm yourself, get some food in your belly, sleep if you can; you’ll need a clear head if you want to fix things between the two of you.”

“How can you sound so sure?”

“Well I was married for nearly fifteen years,” Hosea reminds him. The smile that accompanies his words is as bittersweet as it always is whenever the topic is broached, though as he looks the younger man over it softens. He nods for Javier to take the seat next to him and after a few seconds of hesitation he does; when offered the bowl and bottle he accepts them without further prodding. The patriarch waits until he’s got a few good spoonfuls in him before speaking again.

“You know, the pair of your remind me a lot of me and my Bessie. We had our fair share of rough patches, especially when I couldn’t settle into the humdrum of domestic bliss she seemed so intent on—but that’s a story for another time,” he says with a wave of his hand. “The point I’m tryin’ to make is this: if you both want to make this work, you will.

“Some people think that being in love means never havin’ to say you’re sorry, but that’s the biggest crock of shit I’ve ever heard. Love is all about sayin’ you’re sorry and forgivin’ in turn. It’s reachin’ consensuses and occasionally conceding, but never compromisin’. And above all else it’s all about how much work you’re willin’ to put in. The sentiment alone won’t keep you afloat—you have to choose to stay together.”

Javier has to admit that that all makes sense—even if it takes him several long, thoughtful moments to do so—but–

“What if they don’t want to? What if they don’t come back?”

“Oh they’ll definitely come back.”

“How do you know that?”

“Well it’s actually quite simple, Mister Escuella,” Hosea starts with a chuckle, “it’s because their home is here.”

The sound he makes in reply is equal parts rude and dismissive. “This place isn’t home to any of us, Hosea.”

“Not here, as in the ground we’re standing on, dear boy—their home is you.”

His first instinct is to argue, but there’s so much confidence in the old man’s voice that he finds himself faltering. If someone who’s on the outside looking in can believe it so emphatically, why can’t he? His amor completes him in so many ways, and they’ve told him countless times now that he does the same for them… Surely they wouldn’t throw all of that away—their love away—over one stupid little fight?

They wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

Not so long as he has some say in it.

If, once all is said and done, they still wants to part ways he’ll let them go, but he’ll be damned if he’ll let what they have die without a fight.

“Ahh, now there’s the right kind of fire!” Hosea stops just short of clapping him on the shoulder, having long since learned that his younger isn’t overly fond of undue contact. Instead he gives him a broad smile before using his knees as a push off point to rise to his feet. “I know it all feels like a bit much, bein’ your first major spat and all, but when you sit down and think on it rationally, nine times outta ten you’ll find that it’s not such a big thing.”

Javier’s reply comes in the form of a noncommittal huff followed by a long pull from the dark tinted bottle. His continued sullenness only serves to make the old man smile.

“You’re a tough nut to crack, Mister Escuella, but I’ll get there yet. In the meantime please try and get some sleep. None of us want to see you passin’ out from exhaustion, and that’s to say nothin’ of the tongue lashin’ you’ll get from Susan if she thinks you’re making a burden of yourself.”

“With all the wood I just chopped, both she and Pearson should stay off my case for a while yet.”

“True. Which is why you shouldn’t bother with any further tasks. Take a rest–”

“I’d rather take a bath,” he admits. Thanks to the tight schedule he’s been forced to keep it’s been damn near a day and a half since he’s had an opportunity to do more than a cursory rubdown and he’s long since started to feel grimy.

Hosea hunches up a shoulder. “Fine then. Bath first, sleep after, yeah?”

“…Yeah.”

The older man gives him a smile and a nod before leaving him to finish the rest of his meal in peace. Now that his mind isn’t so weighed down with sorrow he’s able to enjoy the freshness of the rabbit meat and the fine blend of herbs that accompany it—compliments of Charles’ snares and one of Mary-Beth’s ‘acquisition jobs’ in town respectively. Within a few minutes the bowl is empty and the bottle soon follows suit. Not looking to make more work for the ladies than necessary, he takes both over to the washing station and cleans up his mess before gathering up what he needs and heading down to the river.

The bath does wonders for his mood, with every swipe of the rough cloth over his skin rubbing away a portion of his self-loathing and doubts, and by the time he’s dressed in a fresh set of clothes he has mostly come back to himself. Taking advantage of the noonday sun he doesn’t gather his hair up as he usually does but instead leaves it to hang loose. Though the feeling of the heavy, damp locks against his neck is unpleasant he knows it’ll be dry soon enough. As he plops down onto his makeshift bed, his lover’s scent wafts up to greet him; it leaves his heart twisting with longing and just a little bit of dread, though he’s quick to push the latter away.

Soon, he promises himself. Soon they’ll come back to this place—back to his arms, back to their home—and when they do the pair of them will talk this thing out and reach an understanding, he’s sure of it.

“Now I do want to thank you all so very kindly for your cooperation,” Arthur starts as he swings himself up into his saddle and you have to resist the urge to roll your eyes.

It seems as if spending the better part of his life under Dutch’s tutelage has endowed him with the same grandiose flair that plagues your illustrious leader, and you can only thank the Almighty that he doesn’t indulge in it overmuch.

“Now remember: going back towards Valentine will get you nowhere—well, nowhere you’ll want to be, anyway. The only place there’s a future for you is out there, across the Dakota at Wallace Station on the train that waits for you. Right?”

A dozen-plus voices, shrill with fear and just a touch frantic, rise up in agreement; the owners of said voices are tied to the wheels of the ransacked wagons that sit before your little group of outlaws. Though they’re all more or less in the state in which you’d found them, they’re a bunch of gentle folk; all it took to cow them were a few well-placed shots and some rather colorful language.

Arthur and Lenny had walked them through tying themselves up while you and Charles had made sure that there weren’t any enterprising guards among them lying in wait. In the end it hadn’t taken you more than a solid twenty minutes to get them squared away and their valuables stashed on your respective horses. All the while the captives behaved as they were expected to. Crying, cursing, praying—all typical responses to being held at gunpoint and relieved of all your worldly possessions–

“Thank you for this, sir! I won’t soon forget the lesson you and your compatriots taught me here today!”

–and then there’s Slias Spatchcock.

Apparently the man’s some type of up-and-coming actor known for his portrayal of outlaws like yourselves. You can only shudder to think what that says about the state of the industry as a whole because this jackass can barely tell the business end of a pistol from his goddamn elbow.

Arthur had entertained a few of his questions—mostly just as a way to get the idiot to shut up—and in exchange the man had promised to model his next performance after the “–rough ‘n’ tumble gunslinger, whose eyes are as green as jade, but as hard as flint.” You’re pretty sure that nobody besides you had noticed the slight flush that had crept up the older man’s neck at the words, but you’re enough, really. You’d never tease him about it, he gets enough shit from everyone about everything as is, but you like to think of it as further proof of his allure.

Everywhere he goes just about every one of every gender finds their eyes trailing after Mister Morgan for one reason or another, though he’s loathed to notice this, let alone admit it. Hell, even now, with several of the women (as well as Silas) looking up at him with a curious combination of lust, fear, and anger he still doesn’t see it.

“See that you don’t, Mister Spatchcock,” the man of the hour replies with a tip of his hat.

“Here.” Charles’ voice is much louder than usual in deference to the distance between him and the captives; the dull thud of a knife embedding itself into the ground just a few scant feet away from one of the men’s boots punctuates the extremely short sentence. “Remember—if you try to give chase we will shoot to kill.”

It’s with this last grim reminder that the four of you set off back towards Valentine. Once you’re a good ways away you find a nice secluded spot to divvy up the loot. Surprisingly there isn’t too much of note in the haul; a decent amount of jewelry, some actual cash, and a few books whose value is found in their ability to entertain. Of course the camp gets its due right off the top, but you’re all still left with nearly sixty dollars and a few trinkets apiece. With that last bit of business taken care of you all go your separate ways.

Charles turns back the way you came, citing a need to make sure your victims don’t get any cute ideas. Lenny’s heading back to the camp to drop off the offering as well as to catch some sleep before his shift on guard duty, and you can only assume that Arthur will be joining him; this leaves the three of you to fall into step as you headed back towards civilization.

The men chat as you go—mostly about the heist itself, with Arthur giving his younger a few pointers—and you’re content enough to let them talk around you. Though the mildly euphoric feeling of a job well done rests warm in your chest, you can’t quite shake the melancholy that still shrouds you. You rather enjoy this particular aspect of your life, being a Robin Hood for a new generation, and the only thing that makes it better is having the people you love best at your side as you partake in it. You’ve always loved pulling off jobs with Javi, and you had thought he felt the same, but the way he acted this morning…

You sigh heavily as you mentally push the thought, and the anger that follows it, away; you’re not going to let him ruin the rest of this day for you. In fact, you’re going to treat yourself. You’ve already rented a room at Saints as part of your cover, and you don’t see any reason why you should let it go to waste. Yes, a nice hot bath will do you a world of good, as will a decent meal–

And the camp’s doing pretty well for itself. Between all of us workin’ and Charles and Arthur’s huntin’ skills we aren’t exactly wantin’ for too much. I could get myself something nice, maybe look into getting a new part for my pistol…

Lenny’s farewell snaps you back into the present and you return it with a nod of your head, as well as a warning for him to look after himself. The young man huffs a bit at your words, but doesn’t brush them off completely—can’t, not with the manner of luck you’ve all had lately. After one last tip of his hat he’s spurring Maggie on as they speed back towards the Overlook.

“You’re not going with him?” you ask your brother. He’s been running himself especially ragged these past couple of weeks and you’d thought that he would jump at the chance to sleep in his own bed.

“Much rather sleep in an actual bed,” he replies when you say as much. “Besides there’re a few things I want to do in town before we inevitably get run out of it.”

You laugh a bit. “Fair enough. Would you… care for some company?”

Despite your bond the question is posed tentatively. Arthur doesn’t take nearly enough time for himself and you feel no small amount of self-loathing for impeding on his rare allowance, but you’re not exactly thrilled with the idea of being left alone with your thoughts right now. Thankfully the “Sure” you get is quick and genuine.

“Feels like forever since we’ve done anything, just you ‘n’ me. But first I’d like to take a bath, if you don’t mind. I’ve got to smell like a goat’s ass by now and can’t look much better.”

“You’re not alone there. Meet you at Smithfield’s in a couple of hours then?”

He tosses you a wink that leaves you scoffing. “It’s a date.”

Freshly scrubbed and donned in the clean clothes you always leave stored on your horse’s pack, you meet a rather dapper Arthur in Smithfield’s Saloon at a quarter past three. Apparently he hadn’t spent quite as long soaking his cares away as you did; his hair and beard both have been seen to, with the former being a good several inches shorter and well tapered on the sides, and the latter not nearly so shaggy as last you seen him. You let out an appreciative whistle when you slide into the chair across from him at the table for two.

“Lookin’ sharp, Mister Morgan.”

“I–” He stops short when he sees the look on your face. You’d already told him to lay off that self-depreciating bull, and while you’re sure he still gets up to it when you’re not around, when you are he knows it’s a no-go. “Thanks,” he starts again. “You’re lookin’ mighty nice yourself.”

There’s nothing special about the plain ensemble you’ve thrown on, but you don’t feel the need to contradict the statement. “Well thank ya kindly, sir. Now what’s a fine specimen such as myself gotta do to get a drink ‘round these parts?”

Arthur rolls his eyes even as he chuckles before heading over to the bar. A few minutes later he returns with two glasses and a bottle of mid-shelf whiskey. “I took the liberty of putting in our lunch order,” he tells you as he pours you both a measure. “They said it should be out shortly.”

You hum your thanks as you accept your glass. You have no idea what’s on the menu today, nor does it rightly matter; the place serves what it serves and either you eat it or you don’t. Luckily their house chef is a good cook, much better than Pearson these days—though to be fair to the man, up until very recently he didn’t exactly have the best environment or ingredients to work with.

The pair of you chat about everything and nothing, mostly just catching one another up on what you’ve been getting into since settling in at the Overlook. By the time the barmaid is bringing out your meal you’ve fallen into reminiscing about the members of your cobbled family that you’ve lost. You share a toast in their honor before digging in.

“So, what do you want to do with the rest of the day?” Arthur asks once your plates have been taken away.

You shrug. “I was thinking about investing in a new pair of boots since these have certainly seen better days, maybe a part or two for my pistol too. If there’s anything left after that I’ll pick up a few things for the ladies just ‘cause.”

He hums in that way he does as he leans more fully back in his chair, a truly contented smile playing at his lips. “Lookin’ to treat yourself then?”

“You sayin’ I don’t deserve it?”

“Not at all. Well if that’s what you wanna get into, then that’s what we’ll do.”

“I never intended to monopolize your time, Arthur. I’m sure the absolute last thing you wanna do is putter around from shop to shop with me.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” he assures you as he rises from his seat. You give him a skeptical look as he nods expectantly towards the door, looking for any sign that he’s being overly selfless again, but for a wonder he doesn’t seem to be putting on airs.

“Well far be it from me to turn down such a strapping escort.” Ignoring his scoffing laugh you finally rise as well and head out into the town proper.

Javier awakes to the smell of coffee, much to his confusion.

It’s far too late in the day for anyone to be brewing the stuff, and the sleeping area is purposefully situated far away from the ‘kitchen’ besides. It isn’t until sleep-bleary eyes land on the little crate-slash-bedside table that he finds the culprit: the mug that you had been nursing this morning.

His brain stalls hard as memories of the harsh words and heated glares you’d exchanged come flooding back.

“God, I’m such a jackass,” he mutters under his breath as he pinches at the space between his brows.

Had he been less sleep deprived then maybe things wouldn’t have veered off so badly. He hadn’t meant to insult you or try to assert some control over you that he most certainly knew he didn’t have—he just wanted to keep you safe. That’s not so unreasonable, is it? He doesn’t think so, not with the way things have been going since the Massacre. In the time since the pair of you haven’t been apart too often, his brief trip into Valentine aside. And even then he hadn’t been too keen on the idea of leaving you alone, even if you were within the relative safety of the camp.

Logically he knows that you cannot be tucked under each other’s arms twenty-four seven—your responsibilities, as well as your sanity, won’t allow for that, but… Javier Escuella has always been a man who often times puts heart before head. It’s a habit that has gotten him into more than a few scrapes, but what went down between the pair of you may be his biggest blunder to date. Still, he has to believe that he can fix things. Even the darkest of nights have a dawn, he knows—I just need to find my sunlight.

To that end he quickly scrambles to get dressed before checking the time. It’s just a little past three in the afternoon. He has no idea when you all were set to hit up that caravan, but with any luck you’re already back and cooled down enough to tolerate his presence again.

People extend him more grace than what he probably deserves when he exits his tent, treating him as they normally would despite him showing his ass earlier. Unfortunately nobody has seen hide or hair of you, which is strange given the fact that half of the crew you set out with returned over an hour ago.

Charles and Lenny had rode in separately, with the former having broken away from the group early on. He had assumed that the others were heading back to camp, but clearly that wasn’t the case. What’s more the only one that would more than likely know where you are is fast asleep and Javier doesn’t want to wake him. That would be a dick move and a display of desperation that—well, he’s not exactly above, but not quite at the point of just yet.

“If they aren’t here they’re more than likely still in Valentine,” Charles tells him. “That would make the most sense as ____ rented a room there.”

The outlaw can feel his face harden with this new bit of information. While he knows there’s nothing more to it—to you and the man that is your brother in everything but blood—that treacherous little part of his brain that never fails to remind him just how inadequate he is when compared to the likes of Arthur Morgan rears its cruel head. Though he stays quiet it’s very obvious to the other man exactly what roads his mind have traveled down.

Charles gives him a disapproving look as he shakes his head. “Don’t do that, Javier. It’s a disservice to yourself as well as the both of them. Neither of them would ever betray your trust like that, and ____ would certainly never disrespect themselves or your relationship in such a way. I don’t know what you’ve gone through to make you think otherwise, but you’d be better off putting those issues to rest sooner rather than later.”

Though the unsolicited advice grates, Javier hears the wisdom in it. Old betrayals and past hurts have left their mark in mind and heart both, but if wants to have any hope of recovering and moving on—if he’s ever to have a real and solid future with you—then he has to move past it all.

From character to aptitude, never once in all the time that he’s known you have you ever given him any reason to doubt you in any capacity. You’ve only ever been good to him; radiating a kindness that warmed him from the inside out to melt away the ice around his heart so that love could blossom once more. How could something as inane as insecurities, ones that he’d convinced himself that he’d come to terms with long ago, come between that? Why was there ever even any room within him for that to take root and fester in the first place?

He knows the answer to this of course, and it’s a simple thing: because he let it. Had he at least tried to deal with his inner demons sooner instead of just sweeping them under the rug then maybe the pair of you wouldn’t be in this mess.

You really are a jackass, his brain silently reminds him yet again, as if it had no parts in this disaster once so ever.

Aloud, he breathes deeply before saying—admitting—“You’re right. I, uh… Thanks, Charles.”

The man nods before turning his attention back to the knife he’d been sharpening. Taking the sign of dismissal for what it is Javier heads over to the stables. He knows that fixing things won’t be so easy as uttering a simple two word apology, but as he preps Boaz for travel he’s positive that it’s definitely the perfect place to start.

“So, about that ‘emotional bullshit’…?”

You can’t help but to snort a laugh at that. “As tactful as ever.”

Arthur shrugs, chuckling a bit himself. “Never claimed to be anything other than what I am, you know that.”

“Fair enough,” you concede with a shrug. “As for the ‘bullshit’, I… I don’t even know what went wrong, honestly.”

As you proceed to lay out the whole of the situation to him, Arthur mostly keeps quiet aside from the occasional hum of acknowledgement. Once you’ve gotten it all out he goes quiet for a long moment as he considers all that has been said. When he finally does speak again he isn’t saying anything that you don’t already know, but hearing it from an outside source gives it more weight than what your thoughts alone could provide. He speaks of context and meaning, inferences and biases, and how at the end of the day you shouldn’t allow what’s little more than a simple misunderstanding to impede on what it is that you and Javier share–

“–but that’s just my thoughts on the matter. I’m nobody’s Romeo, as you well know–”

“That’s probably for the best, given the way that particular story ended.”

“Smartass. You know what I mean. But in all seriousness, I think things’ll work out in the end so long as you’re willin’ to let ‘em…” He lets the sentence trail off with a resolute nod as he takes a cigarette from an intricately engraved tin—an actual present from an admiring actor, overly-eager to please. He offers you one, shrugging again when you decline, before lighting up.

“You make it all sound so easy,” you reply as you fiddle with your bracelet. The simple gold number’s a gift from Javier for your birthday just passed, one made all the more special by the fact that he had gotten himself one to match.

“I know it’s probably not the best time to be thinking about rings and the like, but…” His words had left you both blushing at the implications as he secured the thing around your wrist with uncharacteristically shaky hands. “I still like the idea of letting the world know you’re mine, just as much as I’m yours, even in this small way…”

“That’s because it is easy,” Arthur assures you, snapping you out of the brief reverie. “Just because I’ve got shit luck with love don’t mean I don’t know it when it’s sittin’ squarely in front of me. The two of you are made for each other, and no doubt about it, but your being perfect for each other doesn’t mean that you’re actually perfect. You’re bound to make just as many mistakes as the rest of us, especially with you being so close to one another.

“Toes get stepped on, feelings get hurt—it’s only natural. The only time you need to worry is when you feel like there’s no coming back from it. You don’t feel like that, do ya? And before you answer, I’m gonna need you to push all of the dramatics aside and think on it logically.”

The look that you give him says that you can do without the sass, but you do as you’re told all the same, not that it takes much prompting. You’re hurt, sure, but even that isn’t as prominent as it had been this morning. Now you mostly just feel sad over the fact that you’re at odds with the man you love; sad and a touch embarrassed at your very public altercation. This isn’t going to be the end for the pair of you, of this you are sure, but it does shed some light on areas that you both need to work on if your relationship is to be a long and healthy one.

After letting out a drawn out breath you say, “I– No, I don’t think that at all. Clearly there are some issues that need to be addressed, but it’s nothin’ so dire as all that. I know that Javier would never purposefully hurt me in any manner any more than I’d do so to him. We both just let our emotions get the better of us this mornin’, but that ain’t exactly surprisin’, all things considered.”

Your brother hums his agreement. Though things have been markedly better this past month that isn’t saying much. The gang has only just begun to fish itself out of the mire, but there’s no saying when fate’ll decide to throw you right back into the shit. You’ve collectively got the temperament of a beaten cat, and honestly thinking on it now it’s a miracle that you and Javier managed to go this long without really snapping at each other. When you say as much Arthur laughs hardily as he gives your shoulder a fond pat.

“And just like that you’re finally able to see the forest for the trees. You’ve pretty much solved your own problem there, not that I’m surprised. You’ve always been a smart one, ____; I knew you didn’t need me telling you what you already know. All there is left to do now is kiss and make up.”

There’s an amused tilt to his lips as he jerks his chin at some unseen point behind you. You arch your brow at him, but when all he does is grin wider you turn around to find–

“Javier.” He’s here. He’s come to you.

Seeing him standing outside of Saints loosens the last bit of tension in your chest. Your feet carry you forwards without any conscious thought on your part just as Javier’s seemingly do the same. Ignoring your brother’s quip about him “–actually wanting to get some sleep tonight, so try to keep it down, alright?”, you pick up your pace until you’re standing face to face with your man.

Javier breathes out your name like a prayer to some higher power, eyes traveling over the whole of you almost as if he cannot believe that you’re actually right here in front of him. Tentative hands reach out for you, stopping just an inch short of touching, though you’re quick to bridge the gap. Despite the fact that it hasn’t even been a full half a day since last you saw one another, those interim hours felt like they ran longer, colder—and how could they not, with the way you’d left things?

An apology is slipping from between both of your lips at nearly the same time, a thing that leaves Javi taken aback.

“No-no-no,” he starts, head shaking hard, “you’ve got no reason to be sorry, amor. It doesn’t matter how worried I was, I never should’ve said what I did—or, at least, not the way that I said it.”

“But I do need to apologize,” you insist. “I know you would never belittle me like that. The way you said it definitely could’ve been better, but… I shouldn’t ‘ve, I dunno, come out swingin’ like that. I’m better than that, we both are, even if we didn’t exactly show it.”

“I… Alright then. This, uhh… This went down a lot smoother than I was expecting it to, honestly.”

You laugh a bit a that. “Yeah, well, I guess us both being at fault make it easier to forgive and be forgiven.”

“Yeah,” he replies, voice a touch sheepish, “guess so.”

You smile then, soft and sweet, as you cup his cheek with your palm. Javier is quick to lean into your touch, his own lips curling up as well before he turns to cuddle them against your hand. The tickle of his mustache against the sensitive skin causes your fingers to twitch against him, but his own hand comes up to cover yours and hold it in place; he trails his ministrations down the length of your arm, heedless of your shirt, until he’s able to kiss you properly.

Javier licks hotly into your mouth, greedily swallowing up the least little sound you make even as he strives to draw more from your throat. His hands drift down to your hips to pull you in closer as he continues to stake his claim on your lips with teasing nips and soothing swipes of his tongue that you succumb to with a sigh that is content, if laced through with longing. Your hands curl feebly against the silky brocade of his vest, needing something—anything, really—to help keep you grounded. But for all your efforts, you’re sure that the only thing keeping you upright is the arms that have since coiled around your middle.

You know that your not-so-little display of affection has to be scandalizing the good people of this small town, but neither of you have a mind to care overmuch. It isn’t until a familiar voice tells you that “You’ve already got a room, goddammit, so kindly go and use it” that you finally decide to make the short trek into the hotel’s interior. Either the receptionist recognizes you, despite the man that’s all but affixed to your face, or he wisely chooses not to confront you—again, due to the man that’s all but affixed to your face. In any event you make it to your room without incident, with Javier only pulling away long enough for you to open and then quickly close the door behind you.

When he kisses you this time it isn’t nearly as frantic as before. He’s thorough, taking his time as he remaps the whole of your form with eyes and lips and hands, as if he were actually able to forget the look and feel of you in such a short span of time. Or maybe his touch is more reverent than that, an act of worship for the body that he thought he might never be able to touch again—it would certainly explain the promises to do better for you and by you that he’s been steadily murmuring in between kisses.

There’s a ceremony to the way he removes your clothes, and it turns the simple act into a supplicant’s display of devotion. The hesitancy that he’d shown earlier is nowhere to be found as he traces over the lines of you now with calloused fingers and heated breath. There is no part of you that goes untouched, no bit left unseen, and by the time the last article is removed you’re left naked in more ways than the obvious.

Still on his knees from where he helped you out of your pants, Javier looks up at you with an expression that can only be described as awestruck, though as he kisses his way back up your body it changes into something a bit more love drunk.

“Mi corazon,” he sighs as he cradles your face between his work-rough palms, “so beautiful. How did I ever get so lucky, huh?”

You’re sure that he can feel the heat that creeps into your cheeks at that, and you’re quick to cover up your flustered state with another kiss. What starts off as an innocuous little peck soon turns into something that has you writhing against one another. Javier captures your bottom lip between his teeth, giving the plush flesh a little suckle before slipping his tongue into your mouth. He owns the kiss, owns you—body, heart, mind, soul—and all you can really do is receive this outpouring of affection and lust.

When he finally pulls away some long moments later he doesn’t go far. His forehead leans heavily against your own as his hands pull you tighter against the bulge that has been growing impossibly harder this whole time.

“Tell me to stop, amor,” he says, the words breathed directly against your parted lips, “tell me right now, or I won’t be able to.”

You regard him through half lidded eyes that flutter close as you sigh out your simple reply of, “Mm, then don’t.”

And he doesn’t.

Slow ministrations are replaced by harried breaths and eager fingers and the all-consuming need to touch, claim—to feel and be felt in turn. It transforms the removal of his clothes into a nearly feral affair, one that sees seams ripping and buttons popping. Later you’ll both come to regret the fruits of your impatience, but in the now your only real concern is the more-more-more your bodies are crying out for.

Javier backs you up until you’re tumbling backwards onto the bed with a startled squawk. He follows you down with a chuckle, a dark and deep roll of a sound that would’ve surely turned your knees to smoke had you not already been lying down. Of course your man knows the effect he has on you, and ever as always he’s quick to take advantage of it, telling you to lie back so that he can “–love on you a bit, yeah?”

He leans back just enough for you to make yourself comfortable and then he’s on you again. Hot, opened mouth kisses are slurred from jaw to neck—where he stops to leave a few bites and sucks that are sure to blossom into bruises come nightfall—and beyond. His trek stops just past your bellybutton, with him nosing at the skin there. He looks up at you then, eyes impish as he takes in your mussed state and annoyed pout.

When you whine out his name he responds with a cheeky “Yes, amor?” that leaves you gritting out a sound that’s caught somewhere between a groan and a laugh.

“Your eagerness is cute, baby, but you’re gonna have to use your words.”

“Ugh, fine! Fuckin’– Touch me, please.”

You realize your mistake a moment too late. And when he’s laving over your nipple, its twin caught between teasing calloused pads, you know that you have no one but yourself to blame.

“Patience is a virtue, cariño,” he reminds you when you start to whine, his thumbnail giving your nipple a pointed flick. “Now be good, and let me have my fun. It’s been too long since last I had you writhing all pretty-like underneath me, and I’m gonna take my time with you…”

When he puts it like that how can you do anything but lay back and receive his care?

Suckles that leave you sighing out his name are punctuated by nips that see the appellation scaling up into a whine. Tugs and pinches and the scrape of blunted nails—the roughness is always followed by something to soothe, and the dichotomy leaves you writhing with anticipation.

“Ja-vi~” the second syllable sticks in your throat as the pleasure-pain of an especially vicious pinch shoots through you, “ahhh, fuck! Please. I-I need…”

The desperation in your plea sees him finally pulling his attention away from your chest. You have no idea what it is he sees when he finally looks at you properly, but it softens his gaze. His expression goes gooey as he comes to hover over you; the position that he takes up is familiar, but one that long hours and disparate schedules have lent a level of elusiveness. Having it—him—back leaves you almost delirious with several types of longing. You want everything, from him and with him, and you want it all at once. The whole of your desire is laid out on display, you’re sure, but there’s no shame in it—and how could there be, in a love so pure?

Needy hands reach out and are instantly quelled by a warm body that is more than willing to oblige. The heated press of lips is accompanied by wandering hands that drag themselves along your torso. With experience guiding him, he alternates between feather-light caresses and purposeful strokes, always choosing the one that will leave you gasping out your pleasure into your shared kiss.

By the time he finally reaches your center you’re soaked, a thing that comes as no great surprise to either of you. Javier runs playful fingers through the proof of your arousal, gathering up a portion and smearing it across their pads before popping them into his mouth. You swallow thickly as you watch the near hypnotic way his tongue laves over the digits’ length, damn near cum on the spot when he slides the whole of them past his lips with a satisfied groan. You both know exactly what it is he’s doing to you, but that knowledge does little to detract from the provocative display.

When he releases his fingers some long seconds later they’re still glistening, albeit for another reason entirely, and you find yourself biting your lip at the sight. For his part Javier just smirks at you as he comes to lean into your space once more.

“Fuck, you always taste so damn good, baby.” As if to prove his point further he kisses you hard and deep, his tongue dragging heavily along yours to make sure you’re able to savor the fullness of your tangy musk.

His laugh is breathy when he finally pulls away with a little smack of lips—lips that he licks soon after, almost as if he cannot bear to waste even a smidge of your flavor.

“I gotta get a little bit more of that– You don’t mind, do you?”

“Fuck no.”

“Heh. Didn’t think so…”

His tongue is molten when it finally drags along the length of you. He groans deeply as he laps up the fluids that all but coat your twitching sex, and the vibrations leave your hips bucking wildly against his hold. It’s a practice in futility as every pass of the slick muscle against your heated flesh creates a bigger mess for him to clean—not that either of you are complaining.

Pursed lips suckle at your weak spot in a move that leaves you keening while long, calloused fingers prod at your entrance. The sheer amount of pre alone would probably be more than enough for him to slip comfortably inside, but he spits anyway—the hot, viscous glob allowing him to slip two fingers inside in one go. Pain and pleasure briefly mingle at the stretch, though the discomfort soon fades out leaving only a burning want that has you bearing down. Javier curses hotly at the added pressure against his digits, his movements’ efforts redoubling as he strokes and prods at your fluttering walls, focusing in on that spot that always leaves you seeing stars.

“‘M close,” you tell him, the words so slurred that you barely recognize them, “‘M close, so damn close, baby—fuck!”

“Mmm, then do it, amor, cum. I wanna feel it, taste it– Give it to me.”

With how wound up you are it doesn’t take much more than a few rolls of your hips to send you careening over the edge. A week’s worth of denial sees your orgasm washing over you with all the force of a tidal wave, overwhelming you completely as it drags you into an abyss of pleasure. The gasping of your man’s name is prayer and plea both—for just as he is the only one that could ever lead you to this beautiful ruin, he’s likewise the only one who can see you through to calmer shores.

“So good for me, pretty baby, cumming like that. God, you’re beautiful.”

Though he has been steadily murmuring such words of praise since you first fell apart, you’re just now lucid enough to fully comprehend them. You feel your face flush even as your core gives a nearly painful throb. You know it’s greedy of you, wanting more when you’ve only just come down from your high, but that’s what this man does to you—and thankfully for you as well.

If your eyes are alight with flames then Javier’s are a roaring inferno from where he hovers over you. He kisses you deeply, easily stealing what little air you’ve managed to take in before asking, “Think you can give me one more?”

The question is rhetorical, of course, but you give him a shaky nod anyway. He slots his hips in against your then, and the fit is as perfect as ever. Having him so close to where you need him most is too enticing a thing, and you find yourself rutting against him without thought. The drag of his heavy cock over your heat is exquisite, pulling whimpers and whines from you as you continue to grind yourself against him. You man humors you for a few moments, allowing you to wet his cock with your arousal—all the while a decadent little smirk pulls at his lips despite the light pant he keeps up—though once he thinks your efforts are sufficient he’s lining himself up and sinking slowly in.

“Fucking tight” he growls at the same moment you groan out something about the stretch. Were you any less wrapped up in your pleasure you might’ve laughed a bit, but as it stands you only cling to the body above you as he sets up a steady pace.

Javier takes you deep and slow, with the sinuous roll of his hips only interrupted by the little snap that punctuates them. You can’t help the breathy whimpers and choked moans that push their way out of your throat any more than you can keep your fingers from digging into his shoulders, scalp, arms, and any other bits of him that your restless hands can get ahold of. Javi is just as bad off as you, having dropped his head back into the cubby between your cheek and shoulder long ago to nose at your sweat-slicked neck, the hot, wet drag of his tongue against the overly-sensitive skin there oftentimes turning into a nip or suck. His moans are almost deafening from this close, the feeling of them breaking hot and moist against you making you shiver.

“Dios, ____, baby, amor—fuck, I’m–” The rest of his sentence devolves into a growl that originates somewhere deep in his gut. “Ooooh just like that, baby, siempre me tomas tan bien. (You always take me so good.)

“I’m close,” he starts again, “so fuckin’ close, I can—hah! I can tell you are too. You wanna cum with me, yeah? You gonna do that for me, amor?”

Your replying nod is frantic as you pull him impossibly closer. “Yes, yes—please, I wanna…”

Javier promises to give you what you want—what you both need—and he delivers with hips angled just so and calloused fingers furiously rubbing against your most sensitive area.

Thoughts turned hazy from your mounting bliss whiteout completely before fireworks erupt throughout the whole of your being. You arch hard against Javi’s hold on you, hips bucking in spastic little thrusts that you could never hope to contain. Your shuddering sob of a moan holds for an impressively long time before petering out into something weaker as you finally collapse back onto the bed.

For his part you man rides the wave of your body, somehow managing to match your jerky movements enough to see himself through to his own end, shuddering his way through his release. With his eyes pinched shut and your name falling from his lips like a litany you’d almost swear that he was petitioning some exalted being. You cannot help but to admire his beauty in this moment, pushing his hair away from his sweat-slicked face before running your thumbs over the apples of his cheeks as you wait for him to come back to himself.

Once he finally settles, Javier presses a sloppy kiss to the corner of your mouth before maneuvering you both so that you’re tucked in against his side. His fingers skitter back and forth over your ribs as he presses a few more kisses against your dewy skin in between declarations of love and praise. The moment is tender and perfect, everything you want and need, so why do you feel like you’re on the verge of tears?

You push back against the prickling heat that stings your eyes and tightens your throat, burrowing in deeper against Javier’s side in hopes of comforting yourself as well as to keep the sudden burst of melancholy hidden away. It’s not something you want to deal with right now, not when your emotions have been all over the place for the better part of a day, but Javier has always been able to read you like an especially well-loved book. He urges you from your hiding spot with gentle hands and soft pleas for you to “–look at me, please, baby?”

When you finally gather up enough courage to meet his gaze your heart stalls for a beat or two. There’s just so much love there—raw and unfiltered—that you almost cannot bear to hold his stare, but something within you, perhaps that selfsame unadulterated love, won’t allow you to turn away.

“No tears, sweetheart,” he murmurs despite the fact that any have yet to fall. “I’m here, and I’ll always be here. Always. For as long as you’ll have me.”

Your voice is small, and your smile laced through with something vulnerable when you ask, “You promise?”

“I promise. There’s nowhere else for me. My heart, my home, my whole entire life—it’s all in you, amor. Wherever you go, I swear I’ll always be right there, by your side.”

His words are simple, deceptively so, but they’re your shared truth and they’re more than enough.

© notepadsandtealeaves, 2021 || Please do not repost, translate, or otherwise alter or distribute my works without my express permission. And for the love of god keep it away from Youtube and TikTok lol…

#((Immy does fan fiction: The Yeehaws))#((Immy's 200 Follower Event))#and that's the last fill done--and it didn't even take me a full month to do it! lol #grant it that's probably because i only got 4 requests but w/e--i've learned to take my victories where i can get 'em #thanks to all that participated and for sending something in and for being so kind/patient!!#now send in the dancin' lobsters! and by that i mean the tags lmao #javier escuella x reader #javier escuella x gender neutral reader #Javier Escuella x GN!Reader #javier escuella x you #javier escuella x y/n #javier escuella imagine

132 notes · View notes

ikkaku-of-heart · 4 years ago

Text

Her Brother's Blood is on His Hands

(Originally written for @heart-pirates-week for Ikkaku’s day with the prompt “Family” but ended up being delayed until now. Inspired by discussions with @shambledsurgeon and @medicus-mortem)

Ikkaku awoke slowly, the persistent beeping of a heart monitor resembling that of a particularly slow but annoying alarm clock. She tried to sit up but a sharp pain in her side dissuaded her, so she was forced to remain on her back, looking around at the sterile walls of the infirmary. She was hooked up to an IV, there were several machines monitoring her vitals, and she could feel the pressure of tightly-wound bandages around her torso and arms.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Law said from the chair at her bedside, putting down the medical book he’d been reading. The circles under his eyes appeared darker than usual, but his grin was comforting and sure. “I was beginning to wonder if we’d have to resort to drastic measures to wake Sleeping Beauty.”

“Law?” she asked weakly, grimacing at how hoarse she sounded due to the dryness of her throat. “The fuck happened?”

“Gonna have to be more specific,” he stated as he carefully helped prop her up enough that she could safely drink some water. “Do you mean how did you end up here? Maybe the extent of your wounds? Or how about what, exactly, I did to the fucker who hurt you?”

Her eyes widened as she recalled what had happened. She’d been taking a walk with Jean Bart, venting about how much she hated that they were now government dogs because Law’d insisted on handing the Navy one hundred hearts. They’d run into a squad of Marines. Her brother’s squad, to be exact. Ushi had decided it was pointless trying to climb the Navy ranks the normal way, and thus had come up with the idea of sucking up to the Celestial Dragons. And what better way to do so than to return to Saint Rosward his wayward slave?

Heart clenching at the thought of her shipmate being handed back over to those bastards, she asked, “Is Jean—”

“He’s fine. Discharged yesterday,” Law promised, nodding towards the empty bed on the other side of the room. He picked up a chart, studying it as he continued, “Needed a lot of stitches for the lacerations across his back and arms, but nothing life-threatening.”

“Good,” she sighed in relief. He hadn’t been killed or taken. Jean Bart would continue to live as a free man for a while longer. He deserved that much.

“Was quite the sight, seeing him charging towards the ship, covered in blood, carrying you like a baby while you bled out from a stab wound,” he commented, voice even, though there was an unmistakable tightness in his jaw. “I’m just glad he managed to tell me who’d done this to you two before he passed out.”

White teeth sank into her bottom lip, guilt pulsing through her. That’s right. It hadn’t exactly been a victory. They’d managed to take down most of the Marines, but Ushi had managed to get behind her, and then there’d been excruciating pain as he’d driven a knife deep into her side…

“I’m sorry, Captain,” she whispered, black curls hiding her face as she hung her head in shame.

“The hell are you apologizing for?” he asked, gold eyes flicking up from the clipboard and narrowing in displeasure.

She wrung her hands, anxious and guilty. “Jean Bart got hurt because of my family baggage.”

“He got hurt because of an opportunistic asshole who decided that Jean being under the protection of a shichibukai didn’t matter,” he snapped. Pausing, he took a deep breath to compose himself. “The fact that said asshole came out of the same uterus as you is irrelevant.”

“We both know that’s not true,” she countered, refusing to look at him. “He targeted the Hearts because of me. He always has. And he wouldn’t have been able to go after Jean Bart if I’d let you kill him years ago. Or killed him myself. You deserve a subordinate with the stones to kill her own brother.”

Internally, she berated herself for that last part. None of this would be a problem if she’d just toughened up and put an end to that bastard. Why did she always seem to stop herself? Morality? Because she knew how heartbroken her parents would be? Because even years later, she was still scared of her childhood boogeyman?

Her thoughts were disturbed by the clipboard lightly smacking her on the head in reproach. It didn’t hurt, but Ikkaku rubbed her head anyway, frowning up at her captain. “You trying to knock me unconscious again?”

“If that’s what it takes to get you to stop talking bullshit,” he retorted. He glared at her for a moment before letting out a sigh, a tattooed hand falling heavily on her shoulder. “Ikkaku,” Law stated, tone brokering no argument, “what I deserve is a subordinate with the stones to stand up to a power-hungry bastard looking to sell her nakama to a bunch of delusional inbred freaks, which that’s exactly what I’ve got. And what you deserve is to not get stabbed in the spleen by your own blood.”

Well. It was hard to argue that logic. “I guess. But next time—”

“There won’t be a next time.”

“You don’t know that.”

The hand on her shoulder fell away to flip through the pages of her chart. “Ikkaku, you nearly bled out before you even got to the sub. You’re lucky Shachi and Penguin share your blood type and were basically tripping over themselves to donate. I had to replace your spleen and left kidney, and if that knife had gone in at a slightly different angle, he could have punctured your stomach or lung. In other words, this bastard nearly cost me my engineer. You’ve known me for goin’ on five years now; do you really think that once you were stable I just sat around twiddling my thumbs while I waited for you to wake up?”

Dark eyes widened in realization. “Did you kill him?”

“Would you be mad if I said I had?”

No. Not at him at least, but she still felt like she’d let him down by not being able to do it herself. “He shouldn’t have been your problem to solve.”

“You’re right. He shouldn’t have been a problem,” he replied harshly. Before Ikkaku could internally berate herself further, though, Law ran a hand through his hair in frustration, and there was a spark of guilt in his eyes. “No Marine should have even touched you guys. That’s supposed to be one of the fucking perks of being a shichibukai. I told you when I took this damn title that you be safe and look how that turned out.”

Yes, that had been a major argument between them, hadn’t it? For Ikkaku, not wanting to be affiliated with the World Government hadn’t just been a matter of pride or general hatred for the bastards who ran the world – she’d been afraid. Terrified that her brother would be waiting for her around every corner. That he’d find a way to get her alone, to finish the job he’d started when she was seven, to finally get her out of his hair. Law had promised she’d be safe, that he wouldn’t let him so much as breath near her. Eventually, she’d come to believe him, but things hadn’t gone to plan.

“You can’t blame yourself for Ushi not following the rules, Law,” she insisted. Yeah, she could have berated him for not listening to her, but in reality, Law’s logic had been sound; Ushi shouldn’t have dared to try anything. Ikkaku didn’t just have the Hearts protecting her anymore – the Navy itself had become another obstacle in his way. She should have been safe.

However, even she hadn’t fully considered why Ushi would go this far, but in hindsight, it made sense. Last she’d checked, he hadn’t been promoted in a while. Hadn’t advanced as quickly as he wanted or earned any accolades for heroism like everyone back home had been expecting. He was a commodore still – not even a rear-admiral, and his name didn’t strike fear into the hearts of pirates like Smoker’s did.

Because he’d been put on a pedestal, her brother had always gotten away with everything, which had only enforced his cruel and abusive nature. The whole island had believed that he’d become a famous Marine and boost their reputation, which was why they’d been willing to overlook the bruises that littered his sister’s arms, or the fact that she’d gone missing for three days while under his care.

If he’d come home a failure, everyone would have to finally admit he was nothing but a twisted, cruel bully. And instead of accepting the blame for enabling, they’d likely make him answer for his crimes.

But more than that, he’d be forced to accept that he was never that special to begin with, and she knew a man as arrogant as him wouldn’t be able to bear that.

Shaking her head, she almost felt pity for him. “Ushi was desperate, and desperate men are unpredictable as fuck. You couldn’t have known he’d be crazy enough to try to suck up to the Celestial Dragons.”

“Neither of us could have known, but I still could have protected you better,” Law retorted, crossing his arms. He still didn’t look fully convinced of his own absolution, but he declared quite plainly, “The fact is, brothers shouldn’t murder their younger siblings, or even try to.”

Well, not even Ikkaku could argue that.

But actions had consequences, and there was still a strong chance Law’s retaliation, justified or not, would bite him in the ass.

“Ushi might have been no one special, but the Navy’s not going to be happy about you killing one of their own,” she said, genuinely worried. Even if Ushi had been going against orders, shichibukai weren’t supposed to attack their Marine allies. What if they decided to strip Law of his new title? Sure, she hated that he was a government dog, but it was a vital part of his plan to take down Joker, and if that had been stripped away because he’d recklessly pursued revenge on her behalf…

The way he smirked at her belied that he didn’t share even a fraction of her concern. “The Navy’ll have a hell of a time pinning a murder on me when there’s no evidence. It’s unlikely he was ordered to attack you and Jean Bart, so there’s no paper trail. The man was obsessed with advancing up the ladder, so likely only a select few are even aware you’re related, thus no one knows of his unfortunate connection to the Heart Pirates. And unless they plan on gutting a bunch of Sea Kings and piecing together chunks of half-digested flesh, I doubt they’ll find enough of his body to even determine his cause of death.”

“You fed him to Sea Kings?”

“His remains, at least. As for how I killed him…well, I won’t bore you with the details.”

It was highly doubtful what he’d done could be described as boring, but Ikkaku decided not to press him. Knowing Law, it had been slow, painful, and had probably involved dissection. “You didn’t have to do all that for me, Captain.”

He dismissed her concerns with a casual wave of his hand. “Of course I did. You’re family. Besides, if I hadn’t, the rest of the crew would have gone after him themselves, and they wouldn’t have done as good a job covering their tracks. Or made him scream quite as loud. No offense to them, but conventional torture methods just can’t match the agony of having your heart slowly crushed to a pulp.”

Was she a bad person for not feeling sick at the thought of her oldest brother—her own blood—being subjected to the Surgeon of Death’s sadism? That instead of anger or disgust, she felt relieved? Sure, he was a massive piece of shit who deserved to die for everything he’d done to her, her other brothers, and who knows what else, but he was still family, wasn’t he?

No. The Hearts were family. Law was family. He was right – Ushi was blood, but he wasn’t her brother.

Law’s brow furrowed with concern and he reached forward, cupping her cheeks and wiping tears away with his thumbs. Ikkaku hadn’t even realized she was crying.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he said, looking genuinely guilty. “I shouldn’t have overstepped like that. I should have at least waited until you were awake and asked—”

Though she was tired and weak and it took far more effort than she’d like, Ikkaku lifted her arm and flicked Law squarely in the forehead. He didn’t quite flinch back, but he did give her an annoyed grunt, but his brow did smooth out when he saw her bright smile.

“Thank you,” she said, cheeks streaked with tears but voice warm with love and affection and gratitude. It might take a while for her to fully accept that Ushi was no longer laying in wait at every Marine base, but for now, she could breath a little easier. The monster from her childhood had finally been vanquished.

Trafalgar Law might not have been a knight in shining armor, but he was something better. He was the big brother she’d always wished for.

Relieved that she wasn’t angry, Law gave her a tiny but sincere grin back. His engineer was alive, safe, and giving him that sunny smile that could light up a room. Well worth the blood on his hands, and quietly, he vowed to keep her, and the rest of his Hearts, safe from whatever hell might come their way.

They were a loyal bunch of fools, but they were his family. He’d set the world on fire before allowing anything to happen to them.

A hand adorned with the word DEATH retreated from Ikkaku’s cheek to ruffle her hair. “Don’t mention it.”

#The Engine is the Heart of the Ship (canon)#Join the Hearts: We Have Uniforms #Heart Siblings #Drabble #(been wanting to go into what happens to Ushi during the timeskip)#(and how it would definitely be Law that kills him instead of Ikkaku)#(hope people like this!)#(not sure about the title but it's the best I could think of without being cheesy or cliche)

29 notes · View notes

violetwolfraven · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! For the prompt thing can you do sprace 22 or 28?

We both thought we were a secret but long story short all of our friends know.

and

What if we kissed because we were arguing and I really wanted you to shut up but we both enjoyed it? Lol jk... unless..?

I’m gonna write this in a modern AU cause I haven’t done a lot of that.

...

Race groaned as he flopped down on his little brother’s bed.

Usually, even sharing a room, Race was happy to leave Romeo’s side of the room to Romeo, but today, he needed to talk.

“Well, hello to you, too,” Ro said, looking up from his math homework, “What’s wrong?”

“Who says something’s wrong?”

“You flop on my bed when something’s wrong. Medda ain’t home, but do I need to go get Jack or Crutchie?”

Race could hear their two older brothers playing Mario Kart in the living room. It would be easy for Romeo to call out and have a full-on sibling powwow in here, but...

“No,” he groaned, “I fucked up, Ro. Like, really bad.”

“Given your complete lack of survival instincts and annoyin’ personality, you’s gonna have to be more specific.”

Race reached over to slap his brother’s knee, “I’m serious! I fucked up and I can’t take it back and I don’t know if I can fix this one, like, ever!”

Romeo was silent for a couple seconds before closing his math book altogether and turning to face Race.

“Is anybody dead?”

“What? No.”

“Is anybody physically hurt?”

“No?”

“Is anything on fire?”

“Romeo.”

Romeo shrugged, “If it ain’t one of those three, I don’t see what could be unfixable.”

Race sighed, “Well, this ain’t one of those three, and I’m pretty sure it is.”

“Talk to me, Racer. What is it? You’re scarin’ me.”

Race looked over at the door. If he got up to close it now, Jack and Crutchie would probably hear and guess that the two youngest brothers were keeping a secret. A super fun thing about this family was that they all could be a little nosy, and Race really didn’t want all 3 of his brothers all up in his business this time.

He leaned in close to Romeo, lowering his voice as quiet as he could and still be heard over the sounds of Jack and Crutchie yelling about Mario Kart scores.

“What would you say,” he said nervously, “If I was in an argument with one of our friends?”

“I’d say...” Romeo paused dramatically, “That sounds like you.”

Race gave his brother a shove, “Shut up.”

“Sorry. By all means, continue.”

“Anyway... what would you say if it was gettin’ heated. As in, we were shovin’ each other and almost full-on physical fighting?”

“Hmm. I’m gonna have to go with, I’d say... kinky”

“What the fuck, Ro?”

“I’m sorry. Keep goin’.”

Race sighed, “What would you say if I... kinda... sorta... got pushed up against the wall and he was yellin’ in my face and I just wanted him to shut up so bad so I might have kinda kissed him? And he kinda froze for a second but then he kissed me back?”

“I’d say...” Romeo lowered his voice to a stage-whisper, “It is about damn time you and Spot got over yourselves and just admitted it already.”

“What?! How did you know it was—“ Race lowered his voice, “How’d ya know it was Spot?”

Romeo shrugged, laughing a little, “Race, there’s been a bettin’ pool on how you two would confess your feelings since middle school. The whole friend group is in on it.”

“Oh my God!”

Race had been carrying a torch for Spot since seventh grade, but he’d never told anyone that. He’d assumed no one knew, but...

But apparently all of his friends did. Which meant all 3 of his brothers knew and not one of them had so much as tried to get him to talk about it.

“You absolute bastard,” Race said, completely deadpan, “You didn’t think I needed to know that?”

Romeo laughed, “Telling you woulda been cheatin’! Anyway, spill the deets! Is Spot a good kisser? Does he make you swoon? How did it feel, finally gettin’ your feelings out there?”

Race rolled his eyes, “Please never say ‘spill the deets’ again. And Ro... well, yes, Spot is a good kisser, but we... we didn’t get our feelings out there. I kinda ran away—all the way here—right afterward.”

“Oh,” Romeo’s smile faded, “Well... ya know where he lives. Go to him! Right now!”

“What? No! What if he don’t like me back?”

Romeo rolled his eyes, “Ya said he kissed you back, right?”

“Yeah, but what if that was just a in-the-moment thing?” Race asked, “What if he—“

“Trust me, Racer. Spot likes ya back so much it’s almost too sweet even for me.”

“How do you—“

Romeo rolled his eyes again, “Race, why do ya think we placed bets on not if you would get together, but how? Spot’s been pinin’ after ya since seventh grade. And it’s stupid, cause you’s been pinin’ after him, too, but you’re both too dumb to see it. The whole friend group, we’s all been frustrated as hell with ya for years.”

Race didn’t know how to process that.

“Oh yeah, and Crutchie won the bet. Damn. I owe him ten bucks. Poor Kath bet fifty, though, so... Wow. With everybody’s bets combined, our big brother is gonna be fuckin’ loaded.”

All of this was still making Race’s brain short-circuit.

“What’re ya still doing here? Trust me, he loves you, Racer! So stop mopin’, get Jack to let ya borrow his car, and go get the boy!”

Race got up, stopping only to grab the blue jacket Medda always claimed brought out his eyes, and hesitated before leaving the room.

“Wait... does... does the entire friend group know?”

Romeo laughed, “Even Jojo asked if you was already together within a week of meetin’ us.”

Race left the room so his little brother wouldn’t see his cheeks burning.

“Jack, I’m borrowin’ your car!”

“What? I didn’t say ya could—“

“You always let me borrow your car,” Crutchie pointed out.

“Well, yeah, but you’re not as annoyin’ as Race.”

“He’s borrowin’ it so he can go get Spot!” Romeo hollered.

“Oh my God, seriously?” Jack yelled as Crutchie wolf-whistled.

“Ask Romeo for the details!” Race shouted over his shoulder as he grabbed Jack’s keys off the counter.

“Ro, spill the deets!”

Race rolled his eyes, hearing Jack yell that as he headed out the door.

...

Spot looked completely shocked to see Race outside his house, but he still came out, closing the door behind him.

“What do ya—“

“Our friends know,” Race blurted, unable to hold it back, “Like, all of them.”

“What?”

“Romeo told me they’ve had a bettin’ pool on how we get together since middle school.”

Spot was silent, so Race rambled on.

“Spot, I’s had a crush on you since seventh grade, but I never told ya—I never told anyone, not even my brothers or Albert or anybody—cause I never in a million years thought you might feel the same, and—“

“Are you shitting me?”

Race fell silent.

Spot grabbed his shirt, pointing in his face.

“You had better not be bullshittin’ me, Racetrack Higgins, because I’s had a thing for ya since the first day I met you and now you’re tellin’ me we coulda been a thing since then but we weren’t because we was both too stupid to try and make a damn move.”

“That’s about what happened,” Race confirmed.

Spot let go of his shirt, “Damn.”

His tone was angry, but Race could read him well enough to know that mostly, he was just annoyed.

“I really liked kissin’ you,” Race said awkwardly, “I mean, I ain’t kissed anyone else before, so I don’t know if it was actually good, but I think it was, cause it felt really good, but...”

“I liked it, too,” Spot assured him, “It felt good.”

“Good. Um... do ya want to... do it again?”

Spot looked at the ground, smiling, “Yeah. I do. Just... not here. Not now. I’d prefer to do somethin’ else first. Like... that new superhero movie that came out last week. Ya seen that yet?”

“Nope.”

“Great. Are you free Thursday night?”

Race nodded, his feelings too excited and scrambled for him to respond verbally.

Spot smiled, “Awesome... I guess it’s a date.”

Race nodded again, “I guess it is.”

They stood there, just smiling at each other, for a couple minutes.

“You do know that since all 3 of my brothers are gonna know, all of our friends are gonna know ‘bout us bein’ official by the end of tonight, right?”

Spot rolled his eyes, “Ya think I care?”

“Oh. Okay, good. I mean, we’re all gay to some extent, so it ain’t like they can judge us, so... I don’t care, either.”

“Good.”

Spot seemed to be hesitating on something, so Race didn’t break the silence that followed that.

He was pretty shocked when Spot leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek before going back inside.

If he was still grinning like an idiot when he got home to 3 brothers and an adoptive mother waiting for details, that was totally fine.

#newsies #sprace #racetrack higgins #spot conlon #race x spot #fluff mostly #modern au #romeo newsies #jack kelly #crutchie morris #violet’s writing

63 notes · View notes

janexeu · 4 years ago

Text

though the mist might prevent some from seeing it, JANE MÁRQUEZ is actually a descendent of HYPNOS. it’s still a question of whether or not the TWENTY-SIX year old DEMIGOD ELEMENTARY EDUCATION MAJOR from NEW ORLEANS, USA has taken after HER godly parent completely, but the demigod is still known to be quite SACRIFICIAL & STUBBORN.

( she’s b-b-b-back on her bs : katya ! tis uhm ,,,, a lil bit of a chonk of an intro but ill try 2 b cute w it. any time u wanna yeet jus peep the gif again & forgive me bc Look At Her ! )

POWERS ( more info here )

hypnokinesis — p much made her a glorified babysitter w lynch-esque wacko dreams. it got stronger naturally as she got older, but jus w herself n eventually the ppl shes real close w. its also gotten a lot better since comin to eonia

seeing gods in dreams — she doesnt hang out w em every fridays at tgifs but like ,,, if she had Pertinent Questions she cud smhw make it happen. found out abt her being a demigod at age 10 when she met hypnos

memory retrieval — shes got great memry of her own but bc she knows it can help w grief n all that, shes been learnin in eonia how to do it 4 others if they mayb wanted it

BIO POINTS

her single ma died during childbirth so jane's been in the foster care system since 5ever. attempts at reunification nvr worked out but thankfully she got real lucky w her group home and foster families. twas stable enough to not emotionally scar her even further but the instability of it all was fosho a big ol’ lot and has influenced her rigidness in sum aspects of her life

she lived p much as a mortal even tho her powers r a lil freaky. never went to camp but it worked out bc all her abilities r internal and cannot be Perceived by others. she had a talk w hypnos abt what 2 do n he mentioned camps but also gave sum monster avoidance tips ( like rarely use ur powers, maybe learn self defense, yada yada ) n she jus ,,, did that so she cud continue livin real normal w the mortals. logistics of camp stressed her out esp bc shes livin w non-family n stuff yk it was All Too Much, miss her w the added demigod stress tyvm

got married at 23 to her childhood sweetums luis, but he ,,, died abt a yr later fr a car accident. coma for 2 weeks n jane p much slept the entire time in his hospital room, visitin his dreams n talkin to him. twas a life support sitch so they eventually decided to pull da plug whch was real sad but like she's processed it 2 da best of her abilities. her powers helped a lot in the coping too n she visits memories of him in her dreams smtms when it gets real sad then shes ok again bc life goes on n life is pretty uwu

bc of her bg round kids of all kinds, shes always been passionate abt em. always takin babysittin/tutor gigs and went to community college so she cud teach n then worked as an elem teacher. only started considerin goin 2 eonia 4 postgrad when she had a student who showed signs n strugglez of bein a demigod. she eventually got to talk to their godly parent 2 confirm n she was shocked pikachu meme, real concerned for all those youngins who hav no clue what to do ! or how to cope ! bc they cant facetime w the olympians lyk she can ! so cue her discussin eonia w luis a lot then a year after the accident, broke out the pro-con list again. took abt *checks watch* another yr til she finally decided to zoom 2 athens but then whoosh she did !

PERSONALITY

yearning ? idk her — shes can be a bit of a take it as is typa chick. can be a lil literal jsksj not dumb but like ,,, def doesnt read into things enuff to pine n long n year yk. some things might def fly over her head. she says Yes To Serotonin in this house. she dk the the mitskis n the sikens n the carsons ; its all mary oliver up in this joint. we just tryna luv life n be grateful folkz

le freak, say chic ! — control freak, that is. growin up in an unstable envi meant shed cling 2 stability n independence, wrvr she cud get it. so when it comes 2 the way she does things, she can be real a heel digger. also bc she has 2 deal w kids yk so it can b A Lot n shes v stern lyk dat. ofc she wont infantilize the eonians .,,,. or will she ? big sis vibes outta control. she means well tho always always means well. itll also b v hard to get her 2 giv up on sum1 bc life ? she luvs it n knows u can too

changes by david bowie — is decidedly skipped on the playlist. she doesnt like change !!! i mean she knows its inevitable but still not entire unavoidable. ever since she got out of the system, shes had a partner n her own way of doing things n its been workin out so why change it yk ? she says time may change me but jokes on u i can sorta trace time

rip but im different — this goes out to all em whores in this house. she respectz ur hustle but like ,,,, not her thang. girl doesnt even get drunk when she drinks bc she doesnt rlly drink sksjsk doesnt like the taste of it, big baby ! but like she's Lived, its more like. ok tried it, not for me. thanks tho. also for all the meanies in the house, y’all perplex her. shes empathetic n wont show the judgement but smtms shes lowkey lyk .,., ur how old n u had all this goin 4 u n ur still so rotten ? how u actin like a 7yo w a trantrum ? scratch head, make it make sense

at least u tried — dad jokes, bad puns, tries to be big jokester but isn't funny. she's pretty tho so she gets away with it. idk wht else 2 say ur honor. shes the type thatll embarrass u w affection

well that was Awkward — probably sum1 abt her if they see her actin a Fool bc shes in a foreign sitch or topic. when shes a fish outta water then she can be so ! easily ! flustered ! which is p much her in eonia. shes not new new but theres way 2 much godly shennanigans for her to wrap her head ‘round n sis has never gone to camp so its ice bucket challenge level shock from time to time still w da magics n lore

til death do us part — yknow when death cab for cutie said i knew that u wer a truth i wud rather lose than 2 hav nvr lain beside at all ? how abt when they wrecked me by rudely sayin love is watching sum1 die ? yes ? no ? nywy thats jane 4 ya. if she loves then shes in and if shes in then she is all in, luke danes stylez

was that a vivid enough picture or did i just word vom the same things agen n agen sjksjs jus know shes cute n sweet if a lil frustrating n annoying bc shes stubbornpants mcgee. may or may not have a slight compulsion to help fix other ppl ..,,.. someone set her str8 n tell her fix u by coldplay isnt it !!!

OTHER INFO

5′9″ born 4 october 1994, virgo sun n moon

not a freshie ! idk how long her program is but like ,,, lets ignore that 4 now ok jus kno that she been here a while

yogi & boxing enthusiast back at home. hc her mans got real into the martial arts w her when hypnos told her she gotta learn how 2 defend so that was one of their things : bonding by workouts so jane cud protecc herself if need be

her maiden name’s jane fulton. got her mommas surname but the name jane ? thats some jane doe bs some rando picked out for her which she hated at first but then seeing tarzan made her go hmmm, ok bet !

lgbtq+ alliance president ! identifies as pan

she met her late hubbie when they were abt 7ish, real friends 2 lovers cuteness. jane was there for him throughout his entire coming out & transition ergo her passion for the community esp queer kids bc she was That Cis Ally for her mans. wears her ring as a real lowkey necklace now

shes also real passionate abt sleep. will ask u how did u sleep last night p much every day u see her bc ppl spend like half their lives asleep catherine ofc shes gonna ask

her fave thing abt eonia ? the whole siblings bit. shes had 2 make do w what she got n build a family from scratch so this ? she luvs it a lot let her give u kithes hypnos babies

shes p well versed in the greek thingies but only thru the knowledge mortals gets + dream info. after her realizin who she is, all things ancient greek jus sorta became her niche interest ykwim ? shes not like Super Learned abt it more like ,,, ok i gotta at least make Sum sense outta all this, gotta learn what i can. imagin how embarrassin it wud b 2 see a god in ur dream n then go : sorry to this man. nope. not jane, not her, nuh-uh

luv languages : words, acts of service, physical touch !

useless hcs but she loves disney sfm ok. smtms dresses up as princess tiana for bday parties n shit bc shell do nythin 2 put a smile on the kids n babs faces

ya like jazz ? bc jane surely does ! adores motown & 60s music. nina simone owns her. no one drag peggy lee from 101 dalmatians ! not an important hc but i jus wanted to quote my bubble butt winged bee lover barry

POSSIBLE CONNECTIONS

children ! infants ! babies !

demigods that make her scratch head damn u live like this ? but also wud knife emoji to protect n care for. shes not the oldest on campus but shes been livin independently p much her entire life so she finks shes got a tight grasp on the myth that is Adulting

srsly tho the Big Sis vibes is off the charts w this one. shell perserve u dumdums

baddie influencies !

convince her 2 get drunk at a party ! bc she never does. convince her to maybe try drugs ! or go hook up ! do smths impulsive idk jus smth new !

gl tho bc shes not rlly ,,, easily influenced But she can b reasoned w ! in general i fink its just gonna be a fun dynamic if y/m knows how to coax sum wildness outta her or w/e bc thotty yummy theyre hotty yolo rzning jus wont do w this gal. will most likely get argumentative like a big ol momma hen but if u win then ur winning big

Sleep Now or forever hold ur peace !

idk sum1 she helps w their messy sleep ? shes def not super public w it, surely knows her other siblings r Better at it but if y’all are close, she probs enjoys doin it 4 ya. she runs her hair thru fingers a lot when she does it. like a lot a lot unless u tell her to get lost

lover boi, lover gorl, lover enby !

she can be a lil traditional when it comes to how she views rels. she wants all that meetcute courting bs ! no gender roles tho n u best be sure shes not constantly comparin w her late hubbie ,,, but she jus wants smth magical n 2 be wooed again yk ?

so yea ,,, crushers mayhaps ? sum1 who is tryin 2 woo her ? sum1 she had a meetcute w and now janes got lowkey heart eyes for em ? idk lotsa possiblities but pls keep in mind she is not good at the flirtings so hav mercy on her

eonia tour guide !

or jus friends who like ,,, constnatly fill her in w all the godly stuff n whatnot. years of not goin 2 camps mean u miss out on a lot ! explore ruins w her n get her info her mortal educ didnt make her privy 2 yk

head real empty atm i will think of sum n let y’all know when i do, but give us all the conekshunz. friends, enemies, the usual bit, lgbtq alliance peeps, lmk whats up whats done whats cookin we want it all

( shes p much a new muse n da result of me tryna bring in an emotionally healthy kid to this sad sad university. janes in a v good well-adjusted place rn n is my therapy muse bc that other bitch m** is a messy handful. but wbk life aint linear so mayhaps shit’ll hit da fan or one of y/m will ruin her lmfao press f pls ! but also color me eyes emoji bc we love to see it )

#euintro

7 notes · View notes

theauthorlives · 5 years ago

Text

“So What Happened....” (Accepting for all!)

@briingmayflowers

Oh, so I sees how it is. Youse could’ve asked any one’ve the other schmucks on this blog to talk ‘bout a bitta of their past but no. Youse just go straight for th’ jugular.

“Oh please Yancy! Tell us how you came to be here! Surely a sweet little baby like you would never do such a rotten thing.”

Well I got news for youse. I ain’t no sorta ‘baby’! I ain’t here ‘cause I was caught smugglin’ drugs, or got involved in some sorta gang mess that wasn’t my fault. Oh-ho no. I’m here for murder. Double homicide, if youse wanna be fancy ‘bout it.

I’ll give youse the full scoop, but I know these sorta details makes some folks get a bit squeamish so I’ll stick it under one of them ‘read-mores’. If youse don’t like talk ‘bout family problems, death, murder, or any of those sorta things, don’t click through. While I’m tellin’ my side of things, I don’t wanna make some of youse upset.

Now youse gotta understand, ain’t none of this gonna be in the ‘court records’ if youse is gonna do some research after. I pleaded guilty an’ skipped the bulk of a trial. I knew what I did, and it ain’t like I could’ve pinned the blame if I wanted to.

My family? Good people. Went out there, working hard an’ making a name for themselves. Some of my former older siblings even did quite well considerin’ how little cash we had at home. Since I’ve essentially been kicked out of the family for good, I’ll save them face an’ say nothin’ more there. All youse need to know is that theys is good people.

My own experiences growing up? Absolutely shit.

My old man was one of them ‘tough love’ guys. Probably should’ve been a soldier or something. He always thought that if he was strict with his kids, then they’d succeed. Yeah, sure, it worked with the rest, but never with me. I could never do good in his eyes. When I was ten, I tried telling him an’ Ma that I was havin’ issues in school. The stuff was too hard an’ I couldn’t remember it no matter what I tried. Youse know what I was told? I was bein’ lazy. That’s what. Joke’s on you, pa! I got proof now that I have a learnin’ problem! Some of th’ head docs made me do tests ta prove it! I ain’t lazy at all!

As for my ma? She would’ve been one of them moms that any kid would’ve loved. She was always there, wanting to do what’s best, making sure youse is happy an’ healthy an’ well-fed while you is chasing youse’s dreams. But when she learns that dream is learnin’ ta fix cars? Oh, suddenly that dream’s too small. I should be lookin’ at bigger things! I should consider goin’ to college an’ gettin’ a job that pays! “How can you be a good husband or family man if you’re only making pennies in a garage, son?” She was so set on this idea of what was best for me that she never once asked what was right for me!

Sorry, gettin’ a little heated here. Ain’t something I’m over yet.

So you would think that me killin’ my folks happened when I was at my lowest point in life, yeah? When I was a fuckin’ mess who was trying to make it big in a gang and was doin’ all I could to numb the pain of the days?

Nah.

I was 21 when it happened. I’d had this dream, y’know? Like, one like in that movie where a guy dressed like the Grim Reaper points you to youse’s grave an’ says how awful youse is? One’ve them, except it was a guy dressed in a dark red suit holdin’ a cane. He said somethin’ bout how all I was doin’ was lettin’ myself down. Who cares what my folks thought? If it was somethin’ I wanted to do, then I oughta do it! Otherwise, I was gonna be nothin’ but shit.

I mean, I still think I am shit, that didn’t change. Point is, it wasn’t a bad idea ta try goin’ for my dream again. An’ so I did. I managed to worm my way back outta th’ gang an’ get back to th’ mechanic that was probably th’ only guy that ever cared ‘bout what I thought ‘bout things. He promised to help me finish my apprenticeship if I promised to stay outta trouble. I quit drinking, an’ managed to cut down th’ smokes to a pack a week; to only havin’ ‘em when I’m stressed, like how I smoke nowadays. I knuckled down, an’ did all I hadta do.

An’ I did! I did it! I showed ‘em all that I could do well in classes if they was stuff I could work with! The day I got my cert to show I was qualified should’ve been the happiest day of my damn life... But no. I got into a bike accident on th’ way home. Some asshole broke a red light and rammed his SUV into my poor bike. It was some sorta miracle I wasn’t hurt beyond some bumps, bruises, an’ one hell of a headache; but the bike was totalled.

But when my folks came by to pick me up from A&E... Let’s just say they weren’t too pleased none. They didn’t believe nothin’ any of the other witnesses said. They all knew I was th’ victim and did nothin’ wrong, but my folks didn’t believe it. Once the docs were happy I hadn’t no concussion, we went home an’ we had a huge argument.

Did it matter I had done a big turnaround in my life? Nope. Did it matter that I had just graduated an’ got a degree to show I could work? Nope. Did it matter I had been clean from both alcohol an’ crime for nearly a year? ‘Course not!

Youse know what did matter? Th’ fact I was th’ reason some ‘good person’s’ car got damaged, how my bike got destroyed, and they were gonna hafta foot the bill for all that. Again, the crash wasn’t my fault, an’ I never asked them ‘bout helpin’ me fix my bike.

It all came crashin’ down on me that nothing I’d ever do would ever make ‘em happy... And I snapped. I’d been carryin’ this switchblade ‘round for self-defence (in case any of that old gang changed their minds ‘bout letting me leave) and I pulled it out an’ turned on my dad. A cut to the neck was all it took to get him to stop yellin’ at me. As for ma? She always said I broke her heart when I was at my lowest point. Seemed fitting to break it one last time. But she didn’t suffer none. I cut off her breathin’ so she never felt the real pain of a broken heart.

Youse could say that it was ‘cause of a bad day, an’ I’d agree. If I’dve managed not to get hit, I might’ve been able to go home an’ finally get some sorta validation... Then again I mightn’t have. This could’ve happened six months later. But as much as I hated ‘em for how they treated me, they wasn’t bad people. I got ta see how they treated my nieces an’ nephews, an’ they was great grandparents. If I’d been a little smarter, or if I didn’t have this stupid learning problem, maybe they’s woulda treated me like that too.

They didn’t deserve ta die, neither of ‘em.

But is it wrong that I ain’t sorry I did it?

#tw murder #tw death #tw family issues #tw implied ableism #(1290 words; btw)#yancyheadcanon #(you know what... I might regret this buuuut)#(okay to reblog)

12 notes · View notes

emiliios · 6 years ago

Text

TW: DRUGS, ADDICTION, DEATH.

- ̗̀✰ •【 CHRIS WOOD / CISMALE / 29 】announcing the arrival of his royal highness, ( EMILIO DE COIMBRA ), the ( PRINCE ) of ( PORTUGAL ). I’ve heard that he is ( STUBBORN ) & ( FACETIOUS ) but can also be ( PASSIONATE ) & ( LOYAL ). ( EMILIO ) is arranged to marry ( TATIANA ROMANOV ). Rumor has it ( HE IS ADDICTED TO COCAINE ). We hope you enjoy your stay at London!

sup bbys it’s riley again ( i also play christian and tomás ) and we r back w yet ANOTHER sad boy ™ , emilio AKA MILO, however this one is on a REDEMPTION ARC. MARK MY WORDS. we r in for a wild ride. as always. a pretty damn lengthy intro post underneath the cut. and as always, GIVE THIS POST A LIKE or slide into my tumblr ims / discord dms for some plot ho™ action thnx

BACKSTORY ! tw: drugs, addiction, death.

( read more about the de coimbras here !! elle did such a fanfabtastic job )

long story short, milo was close with his family, but not super close. he loved his parents and his siblings a lot, but never really showed it; would protect his siblings at all costs but never told them everything. sort of like a semi-close but not too-close kind of vibe there.

he was very close with his father, though -- despite their arguments about staying out late or getting in with the wrong people sometimes, he really looked up to his father. he respected the shit out of him for marrying out of love and not for political reasons, and always thought that just maybe he could do the same. but ofc, that future was not for him (OR WAS IT ....... stay tuned).

being the second oldest, he was expected to have responsibilities, but he never had the burden of knowing that he would have to lead a country ( that is, until now ). he had a weird relationship with his duties before pedro fell into his coma; knowing his status as a member of the royal family, he had things he had to do, but sort of skirted by and did the bare minimum. he’d attend galas, meet other royals, uphold a certain standard of himself, but other than that, he felt as though he had free reigns over what else he wanted to do with his life. that typically meant going out with his friends, traveling to the south of france for a weekend with his friends, etc. he wasn’t too rowdy as a teenager, but he dabbled in some drugs here and there. nothing too serious.

TW: DEATH. BUT THEN his father died when he was 23 and out of college, working as a manager for some international nonprofit, he spiraled out of control for a while.

and by that i meant he would go out and go like sicko mode version of his old life, like full send on drugs and partying and completely neglecting his duties as a royal. he got shit from his family and his siblings but he found even more that there was no reason to worry that much about his duties n shit.

the one bright spot in his life from age 23-present day was tatiana. o boy did he fall hard when he met her at age 26, almost got control of his life again with her in it. he was seriously in love w her but of course, his whole mindset of not giving a shit wasn’t really cutting it and he was probably not the best boyfriend LET ALONE someone that another royal should be betrothed to / associated with, so they broke it off after about two years.

TW: DRUGS, ADDICTION. the six months between his break-up with tatiana and pedro’s accident that put him in a coma was probably milo’s all time low. he went through a phase where he’d sleep around trying to get over her, this was also the time when he really got hooked on cocaine. he’d do it to try and feel something, and really spiraled to his absolute lowest. royal family negligence was at an all time high. real low point for my dude right here.

flash-forward to pedro’s accident, about six months ago -- it turned milo’s entire life upside-down. he was now the crowned prince, the one who would have to rule a country. he realized how much responsibility he would have to carry, without either of his parents or his older brother to help him. he started to turn things around -- cut out the partying, the sleeping around, the excessive drinking. he started to realize how vulnerable a human life was, realizing that his father’s passing and his brother’s accident were real, not just flukes, and his entire outlook on life changed.

he wanted to be good. he wanted to be good enough to be a role model for his younger siblings just like pedro had been for him; he wanted to be a leader that the portuguese people would stand behind and support, but he knew he had a long way to go.

TW: ADDICTION. he continues to put in a lot of good work to improve his character, his habits, his relationship with his family, and his royal duties. however, there still exist a few flaws: the fact that milo never wanted to be king or ever rule a country still weighs down in his heart, and he still harbors a bit of resentment toward carlotta for indirectly pushing this life on him, but also, deep down, he knows that without this push, he would still be in a very dark hole. second, due to the immense amount of sudden pressure pushed onto him, milo still frequently uses cocaine and needs it to relieve himself of pressures.

PERSONALITY !

milo is definitely outgoing and has a witty sense of humor. the fact that he was sort of a black sheep made him have a bit of a self-deprecating of humor at times in his life, but it shows that he is actually pretty self-aware as well.

milo is friendly; despite not really wanting to have a royal title, especially not that of ‘crown prince’, he does like getting to know people, and in a lot of cases, that means other royals. however, get on his bad side or annoy him, and he’ll be cold or aggressive.

milo is emotional, but doesn’t really show it. he bottles up a lot of his emotions and lets them out by himself, but we’ll all be damned if he ever cried in front of maybe more than like 1 person. while he is self-aware about a lot of things, he doesn’t know how to deal with his emotions sometimes.

milo was a bit cynical, but has been wanting to change. he used to think that every man was out for himself, but having come into a leadership role, he sees different perspectives better now.

milo is a little impatient, but he’s working on it. he’s really working on it 1!!!!!!!!!

TIDBITS !

milo is called milo only by his close friends and family; he still goes by emilio regularly.

milo is really into astronomy; often times while drunk / high / neglecting responsibilities, he’d find himself staring at the stars in the garden. he likes studying constellations. it’s cool and it’s his little nerdy thing.

milo is pansexual; doesn’t really care for gender or sex and probably discovered this during college or something.

milo really is into action movies. like fast and the furious or something. i don’t really know other action movies.

milo learned how to play guitar, probably when he was really high or something. he’s actually pretty good. probably used it to woo women at some point, but deep down it’s one of very few things that can calm him down.

AESTHETIC ! tw: alcohol.

well-fitted sweaters, headphones around his neck, expensive watches, pen ink stains, a neat desk, rock music, star maps, spearmint gum, speaking three languages in the same sentence, old cartoons, faded tanlines, smokey cologne, dark chocolate.

POTENTIAL PLOTS ! tw: drugs, alcohol, addiction.

previous friends / party buddies, people who milo used to hang around in some of his more crazy points of his life -- people who could do lines with him, who would travel recklessly around the world with him, who probably fed into his ‘fuck royal duties’ kind of thing. he probably cut ties eventually when he realized how stupid it was to be doing all these things ( about six months ago ); things could be tense now.

childhood friends, people who maybe were of similar age and who attended different royal gatherings together. preferably friends who grew up together and sort of got up to shenanigans.

former friends, probably someone of similar age and take their royal duties more seriously. when milo began to fall into a more carefree lifestyle, perhaps they didn’t agree with his life choices and their friendship fell through.

exes / flings, probably a handful of them. given that he’s charismatic and outgoing, he’s likely to charm his way to a person’s heart if he takes interest in them / they take interest in him. him being facetious and not taking things as seriously as he should, things probably ended if / when it was expected for the relationship to be long-term or serious.

good influence, someone who sees the potential in milo’s turn in perspective and may tutor him in royal tricks, or is trying to help him get off the rails finally ( bonus: they’ve seen him do coke and are subtley trying to him him get his shit together there )

literally ? anything ? hit me the fuck up once again LIKE THIS or dm me on tumblr/discord and lets get some P L O T S goin my dudes

#buckingham:intro #intro post.#tw drugs #tw addiction #tw death #tw alcohol #anyhow this took way longer than i thought #y? bc i always write intro posts that are way too long #anyhow I'LL BE on in the morning 2 do more replies and write starters

5 notes · View notes

differencesintheworld · 3 years ago

Text

A one shot of Kira and Keriahe in their past

(( A little piece of how Kira/Keri became a duo. Keriahe 15, Kira 17, before the murder. Daiko is Kiras boss. Please ignore the typos))

Kira walked into Daiko’s office with a deep sigh, tired. The first case was done and gone months ago, but work never stops and the bad guys don’t rest. She doesn’t even look up.

”Did you want to see me, Uncle?”

“Aaaaw great, you’re here…” a familiar voice rings out. Kira immediately looks up, to recognize the same redheaded brat she babysat. Keriahe glared her down through her furrowed brows, with a bandaid over her nose.

“God fuck, who did you fight this time to end up HERE?!” Kira exclaimed, already expecting Daiko to lay out what she needs to cover up.

“Girls, GIRLS!” Daiko interrupted. “Please behave, as you two will be working together from now on-”

“BULLSHIT-!” both girls yelled in unison, before glaring at each other.

“Uncle Daiko, this is unprecedented. I know that her parents worked for the agency way back when, but for crying out loud, she is a civilian! And a brat to top that off-”

“WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU CALLING A BRAT, YOU SPOILED BRAT!?” Keriahe interrupted Kira’s protesting.

Before the argument could continue, Daiko knocked on his desk with his cane as if it were a gavel.

“GIRLS, you two better behave before I have to put you in time out! Kira, as you might have heard, Keriahe has been working with Miles Smiley, and training under his command. I have a very special case for you, but you will need some additional muscle.” Daiko explained, as he rummaged among his papers, tossing the file closer to the two. “This case involves a specific couple of ex-mafia members. They have been messing in our area, and according to Agent Smiley, his men have seen them trying to sabotage cameras and other communication centers near police stations.”

Kira grabs the file before Keriahe can, skimming over it. Keriahe lets out a louder huff. “Isn’t this something you cops can figure out together with electricians? Like, why am I necessary here?”

“For once we can agree…. This looks open and shut, the perpetrators have been caught on cams, and their motives are obvious.” Kira muses, looking over the photos.

“Are they obvious?” Daiko teased, arching a brow. “Do inform me…”

Keriahe joined Daiko on the skeptical look. Kira glanced over the photos and reports one more time, before passing the papers to Keriahe out of courtesy. “The bags they have look suspiciously like they could have a bomb in them, and we have received multiple false alarm bomb calls from those areas. They are trying to set up a mess and a half, while everyone is scrambling to fix the cams and whatnot for someone to blow the place up.” she simply lays out, looking satisfied with her conclusion.

“Are you a dumbass or something? Why would they let themselves be seen then?” Keriahe asked, scoffing.

“They are decoys. It’s obvious they aren’t at the top of the operation, just acting like pawns in this scheme.” Kira proclaimed, sticking her tongue out at Keriahe. Sure the redhead is younger than her, but god did her attitude piss her off.

“Not bad..! But, this is exactly why you need back up. Corner them and get information from them. Who are they working with and why.” Daiko explained, walking around his desk closer to the girls, placing a hand on their shoulders. Keriahe immediately pushed his hand off with a growl.

“STILL doesn’t explain why Kitty cat over there is here! I can do this just fine by myself, or I can grab someone to join from our team!” Kira protested again, glaring daggers back at Keriahe, who was seething over the nickname, cursing her out under her breath.

“Because of her affiliation with Smiley. She would know how to find a common language with gang members, and a better way to intimidate them. She will be the bad cop to your good cop, so to say…” the old man explained. Keriahe sneered.

“Fair enough, most of those rat bastards still remember me as the teenage street fighter Feral Cat, so they know not to dick with me-” Keriahe proudly admitted only to hear a “HAH!” from Kira.

“Oh yeah, coz a 14 year old tiny delinquent is sooooooooo scary, oh I am SHAKING in my boots-”

“OH SHUT THE FUCK UP RIGHT?! You are only a year and a half older than me, you are a kid yourself!”

“I have proper military and police training, and I am taller and more mature than you! Maybe if you actually listened to the adults in your life you wouldn’t be in a gang right now…”

“OH YEAH, Coz being a pain in literally everyones ass is SO much better right?! I bet I could kick your ass here and now! Fucking go die-”

“GLADLY, but unfortunately, I have work obligations that won’t allow it!”

“Glad to see you two get along…” Daiko sighed, sarcastic. “LOOK! You two must come back alive and in one piece! Your assigned names for this mission are Midnight Wolf and Feral Cat respectively.”

“OI! Don’t go thinking I am joining this circus only coz I am helping out right now-” Keriahe interrupted.

“Of course not, but code names are necessary, so that you two can’t be tracked… Now, play nice you two~” Daiko wished to the two. The girls shot a glare to each other again, before Kira bowed to Daiko. “Whatever…” Keriahe scoffed, making it for the door, leaving Kira to catch up.

The two teens marched on through the streets, Kira taking the lead. As Keriahe trailed behind she kept shooting looks at the older one. The intense expression she caught on her face before was beginning to irk her, even more so because of what she said earlier.

“Can’t ya make a less stone face? It looks like you’re about to shit your pants or something…” she tried to chide her, only to get a huff.

“Oh, sorry, I guess I can’t help it with a pain in the ass trailing after me…” Kira grumbled back, finally shooting a glare over her shoulder. Keriahe stopped dead in her tracks at the stare. This sort of agression wasn’t common from Kira. Sure the insults and remarks were a daily routine for them, but something in those eyes didn’t look normal.

“Jeez louise, get that stick out of your ass- All I’m saying is that you look like you are about to fight a man…” Keriahe responded, catching back up. “What happened to ya?”

The sudden tone shift only caught Kira off guard as she snapped back from her own thoughts for a second. Sure, Keriahe wasn’t the type to never check in on her, after all they have known each other since the twins were born. The shift simply was too sudden. However…

“Must you always be so curious? Just a rough day is all it is, and let’s leave it at that.” she rambled off, trying to keep her cool. Though Keriahe couldn’t help but snort.

“You’ve always sucked at lying, you lanky bitch… Come on, cough it up..” Yup, there was the call out. Kira might have been trained well to read people. Yet outright lying never worked for her. She shuffled a little uncomfortably into her jacket, the readheads eyes boring into her, as much as she avoided eye contact. Keriahe got impatient, nudging her arm. ”Oi, ya deaf or somethin’-”

Kira cried out in pain, forcing Keriahe to step right back. She clutched at her arm where Keriahe nudged her, trying to regain composure.

“Okay, I know I hit hard, but that should NOT have caused that shriek-! Did you get hurt?” Keriahe questioned, trying to put a hand on Kira’s shoulder, only for her to move away.

“DON’T! Touch that side…. I.. I fell earlier… That whole arm is fucked up… I’ll be fine, I managed to finish training today even like this, I can keep working…” she explained, avoiding looking at Keriahe entirely. Yet still Keriahe knew something else had to be wrong.

Spitefully the redhead touched Kira’s shoulder, noticing the wince. “Yea… sure… If that’s a fall, I’m Saint Mary… Was.. was your stepdad back at it again?” she asked, her voice surprisingly softer. Kira however was not too happy to be figured out, looking over at her.

“It was mom… Is… Am I that obvious?”

“Not really… Working for Mister Smiley though taught me a bit… Ya know you can stay with my family if something happens right? Sure, I might hate your guts, but my siblings damn adore ya, and I guess I can suffer through a couple of days-” Keriahe tried to offer some support. As much as Kira was her rival, she still took care of her little siblings and helped them all with homework and other things where she could. Despite everything, she had to admit Kira isn’t just some asshole.

“That won’t be neccesary… If I try to run away or hide it will get only worse I recon… But… Thanks for the offer. I appreciate it.” Kira responded, looking away again. She couldn’t get choked up now, not on the job anyway.

The rest of the walk to the destination continued in silence. Of course Keriahe had more snarky comments up her sleeve, but right now they all sounded out of place. She nearly bumped into Kira as she suddenly stopped.

“Okay, so this is the crossroad they seem to target the most… Am I wrong or is there a metro nearby?” Kira asked, as she survayed the area.

“Yeah, I think so…? Onarimon station should be around the corner that way… This is Atago, right?” Keriahe mumbled, looking around further. “Yeah, there’s the Family Mart I stop by-!” suddenly she chimed out, pointing in that direction. “Wait… why are you asking?”

“Hmmm… Onarimon… that should be the Mita line…. Could the culprits be traveling along that line?”

“Thaaat doesn’t really narrow it down, does it? The line goes from Meguro to Itabashi, that’s like five cities through…” Keriahe huffed.

“You seem to know that line well. How so?”

“Me and the guys were trying to plan out a trip and one of the lines we needed was Mita, plus school stuff… What can I say, my memory serves me well I guess…”

Kira hummed in response. Keriahe observed her as Kira started watching people closely. She seemed lost in thought before she suddenly began walking again. “Wait, where are we goin’?” Keriahe exclaimed, running after her. Kira merely shushed her, seemingly following something. Keriahe furrowed her brows, looking up ahead. A few sharp turns, and they found themselves in an alleyway near the station. Only then did Kira’s phone ping with a new message. The two men they had tailed after suddenly looked up at the sound.

“Right, so that’s the notification for the damaged camera, the third time this week. Mind explaining yourself, gentlemen?” Kira asked, innocently tilting her head. Keriahe stared at the two men, already taking position next to Kira, blocking off the way if they tried to bolt.

“Huh? And what are you little girls doing here, hmm? In an alley with two old men, do you really want to test your luck?” one of the men tried to feign innocence. Kira sighed. “Tadashi Yashihiro, age 40, and Sugihara Keisuke, age 38. Ex-members of Inagawa-kai… To leave the third largest family in Japan, and do something petty like this… I wonder what the pay is…” she said, matter-of-factly.

“OI! How do you know-”

”Do you really think your criminal records don’t show this? Inagawa-kai might be huge, but they don’t bother erasing traffic violations for a couple of lazy idiots who don’t know how to park.” Kira inrerrupted. Keriahe snorted loudly. “Man- Imagine going under the radar for most of your crimes, but it’s a traffic violation that does you in, what losers…” she taunted. Both girls smirked to each other as the older men growled. “Alright you shits, what do you want?”

“It’s simple… Tell me who you are working for now, and I might let you leave…” Kira suggested.

”HA! Why should we tell you anything!? You are just some little teenage brat, bet you would sell nicely on the red light district!”

Keriahe’s eye twitched at the remark, feeling a growl grow in her throat. However Kira’s giggle interrupted whatever insult she was about to spew.

“Please, you two have been caught on camera’s and multiple police stations know I am on this case. If I were to go missing, do you really think they wouldn’t put two and two together? Or are you both truly so daft?” she asked, making small yet determined steps closer. “I should probably actually introduce myself. Detective Kira Tenkuu of Tokyo Private Agency. Now are we willing to-”

An abrupt stop as one of the men pulled out a gun, aiming right for her forehead. “Alright, enough jokes kids, get lost.” he growled. Kira however stared straight at him. Something about those piercing ice blue eyes and empty gaze made his hand shake. ”Glock 26…9 times 19milimeters… Good to conceal due to it’s small size, perfect for fast operations, and shoot up to 6 meters… We found rounds of this gun at a different location near Mitsubishi Ichigokan Museum… Still on the Mita line… So my theory was correct, your current group opperates in and around Mita station lines…” she spoke, her voice calm and clear, as if her life wasn’t being threatened right now. It sounded almost as if she were reading an excerpt from a book. Even Keriahe had to take a double-take at what was going on.

“I-I will shoot! Shut up!” the man shouted. A sudden cold enveloped the two men, a chill so strong that their breath was hanging in the air. His hands shook worse as he could have sworn the girls eyes were glowing in the darkness of the alley. ”Now now, no need for that… Even if you did shoot me, Atago station is nearby, and there are plenty of people in the street… The more of a ruckus you will cause, even if you get rid of me, you can’t get rid of everyone in the street… How about you put that down?” Kira responded, the emptyness of her voice making her sound less human. The man lowered his gun, hand shaking. This little girl was instilling fear in two grown men.

Finally Keriahe snapped out of her own shock, composing herself. “Alright, now that you two clowns have stopped causing a show… Who do ya work with anyway?” she asked, approaching them, still more cautious than Kira did. ”W-We won’t tell you brats nothing-!”

”Very few mafias function near this area you know… Simply process of elimination could work this out.” Kira suggested.

Keriahe grumbled. “Oi, what’s with the dragging it out, we can just beat the shit outta them for intel-” she argued.

“Really there is no need for that.” Kira huffed, glaring at Keriahe once again, this time in annoyance.

”Yeah, so instead we will start guessing every mafia on the fucking street, GRAND idea - do we start alphabetically or will you pull the order out of your ass?!” Keriahe barked back. Kira growled before turning back to the men, looking them over. It suddenly dawned on her.

“You two never left Inagawa after all, huh?” she asked, only barely letting the surprise come out.

”WHAAA-?! Bullshit—” Keriahe was about to argue, to be interrupted.

”H…how did you know?”

”You don’t JUST leave one of the three largest syndicates in Japan and JUST join a small gang that operates locally. Noone could pay the ammounts Inagawa do, and you have to be a complete idiot to just switch over like that. But this isn’t Inagawa-Kai signature at all, you lot work very quietly and even do charity work on the side. So what’s the deal?”

The men looked to each other, groaning. Kira looked to Keriahe, signaling something with a tilt of the head. At first Keriahe didn’t understand what she meant, before noting the phone in Kira’s hands behind her back. She took it from her, looking at the message discreetly.

”Co nt Act The Polive”

Horrid spell-check fail aside, Keriahe realized what she meant, staying behind her still.

It was in this moment one of the men suddenly came for Kira, grabbing her by the arm. “We’re willing to take our chances.” he growled, tugging her by the injured arm. Keriahe didn’t hesitate, running at the man and slamming him with all the speed and strength she could muster, knocking him back. The other man fired his gun, but luckily the girls were quick on their feet. A swift sweep to the mans ankles had him down as well. Keriahe roared as she pounced on the other man, forcing him to fall over. The police got there quickly.

“Hm, not bad, for a short-stack you hit pretty hard…” Kira praised Keriahe, as they were on their way back, after getting some taiyaki.

”Who ya calling a short-stack, Fucking weirdo!?” Keriahe yelled back. “I still can’t believe ya sussed them out like that… What gave it away even?!”

”Don’t yell… Well… Like I mentioned, Inagawa is the third largest family in Japan, they even function overseas, and hold too much power and are allied with THE largest syndicate in Japan, the Rokudaime Yamaguchi-Gumi… Splitting off from them would be a death sentence… I should have known though, that they were trying to cause mischief for antoher gang - the gun is not popular in Inagawa…” Kira began explaining, pulling out her small notebook from her pocket.

“Tokyo Washi, huh… Eagles… With a name like that they can’t be that big of a family yet…” she mused.

”Ya recon they work around this area?” Keriahe asked, peeking over at the notebook.

”Hmm… I might need to find a way to speak with them… Having Inagawa medle in their affairs must mean they are a threat to them… And a threat to them could be a friend to us.”

“Wha, ya thinkin’ of joining them or something? After giving me shit for Smiley?!”

“Oh no no no…. Simply to offer an Alliance is all… We will see~ Now keep up, I don’t want Felitzia on my ass for you getting home late!”

“ ‘tte OI! WHOSE FAULT IS IT THAT YOU TOOK YOUR SWEET ASS TIME!? …UGH WAIT FOR ME, DUMBFUCK!”

#Yin yang duo #Midnight wolf #feral cat #lurkers writing

0 notes

queen-scribbles · 7 years ago

Text

Worth It

Merry Christmas, Alex! :D Partially inspired by this from Christmas a couple years ago, partially by the ugly-Christmas-sweaters-everywhere thing. They took forever to give me an ending, hence the silence about its existence. I wanted to be sure it wasn’t going to stay a WIP. xD

“C’mon, Harvey, we’re leavin’ in, like, ten minutes for my house; you need to get ready.” Trinne leaned over the back of the couch to kiss him on the cheek and playfully reach for his book.

Harvey absently leaned into the kiss but moved the book out of her reach. “I am ready.”

“Um, no, sweetheart.” She smiled almost apologetically as she dropped a pile of (mostly) green and brown wool next to him. “You hafta wear the sweater Mom sent you.”

He looked at her and raised an eyebrow(Trinne wasn’t sure if it was skepticism or reluctance. Maybe both. She couldn’t blame him). “Really? I have to?”

“Why the hell do you think I’m wearin’ mine?” Trinne retorted, tugging at the scratchy blue wool

Harvey shrugged and closed his book. “I figured you were being nice and trying not to hurt your mom’s feelings. You’re like that with your family.”

“Pfft, no,” Trinne snorted. “I’m not that nice, even with them. It’s Amell family tradition, trademarked when I was about.... five.”

“It’s not really cold enough for sweaters,” Harvey pointed out. “Everyone will melt.”

Trinne shook her head, grinning with extra (fake) sweetness. “Not if Dad turns down the heat. And you and I are serious enough, Mom considers you part of the family, so that argument’s no good either.”

“...Can we say Queen chewed on it?”

Another shake of her head. “You don’t wanna do that, trust me.” She climbed over the back of the couch to sit with him. “Two things will happen: she’ll bug Aed for a week minimum about has he taken his dog to the vet, is she okay, eating yarn is bad for dags, yada yada. And she’ll pull out the back-up sweaters for you to pick from.” Trinne made a face and raked her fingers through her hair. “This is a big deal for her and Dad.”

“Obviously, if there’s a box of back-up sweaters,” Harvey muttered, probably wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into dating her.

“I mean, these sweaters are, like, twenty or thirty years old,” she explained, raising her hands in a gesture halfway to a shrug. “From when Mom and Dad were our age, so they smell like mothballs and are legitimately ugly. They’re awful. So we wear the newer cheesy-bad ones Mom gives us cuz the alternative is scare-off-your-date levels of ugly.”

“Okay, there’s a story these. Just not sure it’s one I want to hear.” He eyed the green and brown sweater and set his book down on the coffee table.

Trinne laughed, moving the sweater to Harvey’s lap so she could scoot closer. “Long story short, when Jowan was... seventeen or eighteen--I forget which exactly, but not long after he officially became part of the family--he tried to convince Mom the washer or dryer had mangled his sweater cuz his new girlfriend was comin’ and he didn’t want to wear it in front her. And I’m talkin’ new girlfriend; they’d only been goin’ out a month, tops. Her family was really “proper” and kinda classy and upper-crust-ish an’ I’m still not sure how Jowan got her to go out with him-”

“Trinne, this isn’t short,” Harvey interrupted, half-smiling as he nudged her shoulder with his.

“Right, right, sorry. So he tries to get out of wearin’ it by saying it got ruined, Mom goes ‘It’s okay sweetie’ and gave him one of the backup sweaters to wear. Didn’t let him pick, mind you, just handed him this monstrosity that looked like a Christmas tree ate a reindeer and threw up all over the damn sweater-”

“Descriptive,” Harvey said dryly, running his thumb over one of the santa hats that decorated his sweater.

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure he had a few seconds where he almost wished we hadn’t adopted him. But only almost, b’cause, I mean, he got me for a sister, so that’s worth it, right?” Trinne joked. “Anyway, he and this girl were broken up before New Year’s. Not sayin’ it’s just because of the sweater, but I’m pretty sure that was a contributing factor. Course if she scared off that easily, she wouldn’t have fit in anyway...”

“Mm.” Harvey shot her a look. “Sounds like your parents use this to gauge the people you or your siblings date.”

“If it is, you’re afe,” she promised, poking his side teasingly. “Mom loves you. And, I mean, one good thing about this is she says it counts as her Christmas present, so we don’t mind doing this to make her happy. An’ that girlfriend is the only significant other who got scared off. We just don’t let Jowan live it down, ‘cause where’s the fun in that?”

Harvey shook his head with a small laugh. “You’re terrible, you know that?”

“Yep. It’s part of my charm,” she grinning, extra cheesy on purpose. “And if you really don’t wanna wear your sweater, I can turn said charm on my parents, try an’ talk ‘em out of making you wear one. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable...” She rested one hand on his shoulder and absently ran her fingers through his hair. “Or we can not go and I’ll apologize later.”

“No, that’s okay,” he assured her. “If it’s important to you, I think I can manage to wear a somewhat ugly sweater for a few hours. Besides, what’re you going to tell them for why we can’t come? It’s not like I have family parties to worry about.”

She nodded concession of that point. “Are you sure? I really will try and talk my folks down if you want me to. It’s not that big a deal.”

“Yes, it is,” Harvey contradicted, smiling fondly as he pushed to his feet, taking the sweater with him. “You gesture a lot and get all... rabbit trail-y when you’re talking about something that’s important to you. You’ve done both over the course of this conversation, so I will wear the sweater. It’s okay.” He picked up the offending garment and headed for his room.

“You could just change out here, y’know,” Trinne called after him, grinning as she slouched down on the couch and put her feet on the coffee table. “Nothin’ I haven’t seen before.”

“Clothes stay in the bedroom,” he returned, voice briefly muffled as he pulled on the sweater. “Or Aed’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

She frowned. “That doesn’t sound like him...”

“Because I always give him grief about how often he leaves his clothes everywhere,” Harvey clarified as he emerged from his room, dark green button-down exchanged for the sweater.

“Ah. That makes a little more sense,” Trinne laughed.

“It doesn’t have to be spotless or anything,” he said, offering her his hand. “Just... the couch is for people, and occasionally large slobbery dogs. Not dirty laundry.”

She giggled as she accepted the help up. “That’s fair. And that sweater doesn’t look that bad on you, by the way.”

Harvey wrinkled his nose. “You’re just saying that-”

“Because it’s true,” she cut him off. “And cuz I know you’re wearing it for me.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”

He smiled. “You’re welcome.”

“We can count this as my Christmas present, too, if you want.”

“No, I already got you something. This is just one of those boyfriend things.”

“That you do with far less complaining than some, if any at all, because you’re a wonderful person,” Trinne finished for him, sliding her hand in his and trying very hard not to think about the last (only other) boyfriend she’d dated long enough to take to the family get-together. She mostly succeeded. “And I appreciate it so much, seriously. But we need to get going or we’re going to be late. Which is almost as bad as not wearing your sweater.”

“How many rules are there to this gathering, dare I ask?” Harvey said as he opened the door.

“Not so much rules as traditions,” she replied with an almost sheepish shrug. “Like, there’s no real punishment beyond copious teasing. And those are the only two big ones, but Isla’s probably gonna throw mistletoe at me at some point--cuz that’s more fun than tricking us into standing under it--and various other things that... well, let’s just say if you wind up wondering what you’ve gotten yourself into with me, I won’t blame you.”

“Trinne, I’ve already done that at least once a month since we started dating,” he laughed on their way down the hall. “The answer’s pretty much always the same; nothing that isn’t worth it.”

Trinne felt her face heat. “Cousland, if you don’t stop being so damn sweet, we aren’t going to make it to my house. Even if it means I’m the one who gets razzed now instead of Jowan.” She grabbed the front of his sweater and tugged him down into a kiss. One that only ended because they sort of veered into a wall. “Oops..”

“Is this going to turn into one of our holiday traditions?” Harvey mumbled, only half joking, free hand still braced against the wall.

“What making out on the way to the car?” Trinne whispered, grinning mischievously as she released her grip on his sweater to rub the back of her head. “Shit, Harv, I’ll do that year round and you know it.”

“True,” he conceded with a small smile, pushing off the wall and tugging her with him. “I was thinking more along the line of us being late to this party because you can’t keep your hands to yourself,” he teased.

“Oh, that.” She paused to consider a moment. “Yeah, probably. ‘Specially if you’re this sweet about it every year.”

“Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, holding the door for her.

“So you can do it more or less?” Trinne needled with a laugh, unlocking’ the car.

Harvey smiled as they climbed in. “You’ll just have to wait until next year to find out, won’t you?”

“Jerk,” Trinne huffed and glared at him, but that just made him smile wider. “It’s a good thing you’re cute, you know that?”

He laughed. “That much of a handful, am I?”

“Don’t worry,” she smiled, leaning over to give him a peck on the cheek as she started the car. “You’re worth it.”

-----------------------------------------------------

Ugh, I’m so rusty on these two I’m a little irritated at myself. :P Hence the modern AU; they’re a little easier there than in canon. And oh the irony of Trinne implying Harv’s the handful in this relationship. You’re lucky he loves you, you dork.

(for newer followers, bc GOD it’s been that long since I wrote them, Trinne Amell is mine, Harvey Cousland belongs to @errantgoat)

#queens fic #otp: shadows & sparks #harvey cousland #trinne amell #dragon age fic #i do have an idea in canon that i can hopefully flesh out in time for your birthday :3

4 notes · View notes

susan-gampre · 7 years ago

Text

Squandered Rumors

This is a collaboration piece between @ophelia-gampre , @gwynepainelacrux , @ralleigh-breakridge , and myself!

When word reached her of Ophelia's attacker the Madam was absolutely murderous. True she loathed her sister for having pulled the stunt she did just a day prior, but despite how much she hated the woman... She loved her. Ophelia was still Susan's sister, still the woman she grew up with -- loved with, cried with, fought with. And fought for. still the woman she grew up with -- loved with, cried with, fought with. And fought for.

A coward... On the cusp of doing his worst to her sister had their oldest brother not arrived upon the scene. She heard the full story from a more beloved servant, a woman so soft spoken and meek she was too naive to even attempt to play tricks on the Madam. So instead they formed a type of bond that gave Susan a necessary in with the servants.

Lilian was Susan's eyes and ears of the manor. And the story wasn't at all what Susan was expecting to acquire when having asked Lilian how the day was looking for Snowdrift.

Viewer discretion is advised --- Beyond this line is a story detailing suggestion toward rape, abuse, nudity, and death -- NSFW

Upon rounding the corner, Ophelia nearly bumped right into one of the guards, "Ah-- shit, excuse me." She apologized, her tone as drained as she, sleepy from having just awoken.

He eyed her, very obviously.

"Aha! Hey! Should watch where your goin'." The man joked, and she just forced a short exhale of air that could classify as a laugh, she started to move past him but he lifted a hand to her shoulder, stopping her.

Ophelia did not want to be touched right now, so she just glared upward.

"Hey, where you going?" He asked.

"To the kitchen." She replied.

"Oh, I can take you."

Ophie tugged - and he didn't release her all the way at first, but she did get free, straightening her thing sleeve.

"That's alright. I can find it myself." She scowled so mean, irritation in her tone.

"Awe, come on - you can take a minute to please a poor fella', can'tcha? Heard you tried to kill yourself yesterday, girly. It really shook me up, I wanted to pay for a piece of ass before you got crazy." He reached to grab a handful of her rear but she moved back and smacked his hand away, just hurting her own against his material -- but she didn't show that.

"What the fuck? Lay a hand on me again and see if I don't split your thick skull in two."

He grew irritated at that, narrowing his eyes, "Last I checked whores don't get a choice. What is it, your pussy still sore from gettn' fucked by your brother?"

Ophelia's eyes widened, ringing with a deadliness that was right in his path. How dare he think that. How fucking dare he. Ralleigh was a saint for keeping his sister company in her darkest time, and they were turning it all around into something so sickening. She clenched her jaw and slammed her fist right into his throat.

"You fucking cunt!" He choked but reached out and grabbed her by the waist, slinging her onto the floor like a rag doll. Ophelia groaned, having landed funny and rolled a bit when she was thrown.

The guard kept a hand to his throat, "You're a godsdamn insane bitch. I don't stick my dick in crazy - even if it is for free."

Ralleigh was making his way for the room when he saw what was happening and, setting Eleanor down, he tackled the man into the wall, yelling in rage as his fist repeatedly flew into his face. If nobody stopped him, he was liable to kill the man.

Eleanor's eyes widened, hugging onto her colors and paper frozen.

The first thing Ophelia did was roll up and dart the short distance past Ralleigh and the guard, who was slumping against the wall, his face constantly slammed into. He had hands tight on Ralleigh's bicep but had delayed reaction - that first hit got him good, so unexpected. Ophelia leaned down, cupping Eleanor's face and hurridly saying: "Shh - shh, it's okay. It's okay, stand right around this corner," She pushed her lightly around the wall so she at least wouldn't have to see any of this.

Whether or not she stayed, Ophelia couldn't control.

Ophie got up, Ralleigh must have hit him at least five times now, he broke the guards nose, knocked teeth out, blood meshing between rough knuckles and a messed up face.

"RALLEIGH," Ophelia shouted, like she was trying to get him out of the trance.

"Ralleigh - Ralleigh stop it--" Ophie hooked fingers against the waist of his pants and tried tugging him back, begging her brother, "Ralleigh she's watching -- stop it, she's watching."

He turned, a wild, enraged look about him. But seeing her face, and the way she looked at him...he clenched his jaw and looked down to the prone man. Releasing him, Ral flexed his hand, the knuckles cut on his teeth, "Im taking this fockin' pig t'susan's pussyboy. Needs ta get his damn people under control. "

Ophelia was panting slightly, lifting her fingers to push back her hair.

"Uh, yeah." She said obviously, "Are you okay?" She asked and then looked back at Eleanor, who had one eye peeking around the corner.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" Ophelia moved to Eleanor, running a hand over the top of her head. The guard slummped down. She said nothing, just stared at Ophelia llike a doe caught in tramlights.

"Let's go." She muttered, "Time to face more than one demon."

Whispered words, plaguing gossip which infected the staff’s ability to mind their own fucking business. It was all horrendous bullshit:

‘The youngest Gampre was as bad as the others, a whore, willing to fuck anyone without requesting pay.’

‘Ophelia and Ralleigh bedded eachother in secret, and not because they were in love but because they liked it.’

‘The Gampre’s molest Ralleigh’s only child.’

‘Susan Gampre manipulates her siblings and forces them to fuck and fall in love to control them.’

The rumors had been circulating for some time since Ophie's initial arrival. Now with the entire Gampre family mingling in the same Manor, it was no surprise to the Madam how the rumors now included all four of her siblings-- she was quite aware how the servants talked and gossiped about them behind all of their backs.

It was only appropriate.

The world would always make jokes at the expense of those who were raised differently, and it just so happened it was the Gampres this time around.

She was only surprised by how swiftly Gwynepaine singled out the people who had been the most callous and offensive. It was said gentleman who was found not minutes later calling for all the servants as well as the family to come to the main hall, thinking to resolve this problem once and for all.

The look on Susan's face is what hurt Ophelia most in all of this. Or so that was the Madam’s plan, she knew her sister well enough to determine which buttons functioned better in her favor to win arguments or fights against her kin. But still... She could feel Ophelia's eyes on her, soft, sad. Pity where it was not due nor appreciated.

It only pissed Susan off even more.

"I'm sorry, Susan,” Opehie’s voice was heard, murmuring softly, “I... I know that's a shitty thing to say but there isn't much else I can."

Susan was unamused. Stalwart. She bore no emotion, fearful that the slightest break would cause her to revert back into a sobbing mess. So Susan just stared forward, never looked at her family and especially refused to acknowledge Ophelia.

It's like she truly was dead to Susan -- thats exactly what Ophie wanted, wasn't it? That's exactly what she was going to get.

Once most of the people were gathered, including the family, and the rumor spreaders, Gwyn had an appropriate number of stools brought out. Beneath them were nooses. The women began to sob, thinking this was their end.

Gwyn smiled and spoke up, "Ah good. You're all here. Now, can anyone tell me why it is that in my own home, ill is being spoken of my love's family? Of my family? These guests of mine are being harassed, both physically and verbally, and for what? For your amusement? For your entertainment. Well now, I think it is your turn to entertain them."

Ophelia muttered soft - not to draw attention, she knew she could at least hear her. "I didn't mean to hurt anyone, I just needed it to stop." She ended it there, not wanting to fully detract from Gwynepaine's purpose here.

As the guards brought the offenders forward, they were put on the stools, nooses around their necks, "Well, you all seem so knowledgeable about the art of whoring and dancing. Why don't you dance for us then? Give us a show! Make sure not to slip!" He had a look of carefully contained rage about him.

The guilty persons were all shocked and begging for forgiveness. Gwyn rolled his eyes, and walked over to the stools, raising his leg, "I better see some dancing, or I’m going to start kicking."

Ralleigh looked uncomfortable and moved to take Eleanor back to the room so she didn't have to see this.Ophelia looked up at what was happening -- holy fuck, who was this man. A blond brow rose, lips parting. What the fuck? She frowned slow.

Ophelia inhaled sharply, she was conflicted and this was such a strange time for this family. They disrespected them -- so they deserved to be humiliated. But to die? That was questionable. "I want an apology." She said. "And I want to believe it."

The different people began to apologize, and also dancing. Gwyn grinned and looked to the guard who's nose was broken. He apologized as well.

"Mm...what do you think, Gampres?" Lord LaCrux mused, clearly amused by the going ons.

Ophelia's nose scrunched in slight disgust. "I've no doubt he would have raped me if he'd gotten the chance. His verbal attacks alone were disgusting and brutal." She glared, "Cut out his tongue."

The guard begged for forgiveness, but Gwyn was now in no mood for games.

"Someone get him down. Take him outside, and do as she has asked. Make sure he doesn't pass out. I'll be out to deal with him shortly. He looked to the others, all women.

Ophelia inhaled sharply, arms still crossed. She had this severe frown on her face, turning and moving out of the main hallway to return to the room in which she stayed.

Walking past them each, who were now all dancing carefully, so as not to fall, and sobbing, Gwyn mused out, "Now then, if I hear any more of these rumors in my home? I'll make sure the last thing any of you remembers is being used as a fucktoy, and that you're remembered for how many cocks were in you. Am i clear?"

The women all nodded through tears, and he had them letdown and sent away. He came to Susan with a clenched jaw, "Bring Anthrel outside. She could use some sport."

The Madam's calling to Anthrel would be met with a startling, fierce roar. The tigress unfurled from her state of rest, fur bristling whilst claws unsheathed from her fluffy paws, slowly stretching out each leg whilst approaching the woman's extended palm. True to any feline the beast would rub her cheek and chin against Susan's hand, nuzzling her fingers with a throaty gurgle to acknowledge her.

Next, Susan leers toward Gwynepaine. Still her mask had yet to waver.

Gwyn motioned for them to follow, going outside, and whispering to Susan, " Do what you want to him, but leave him alive for Anthrel to play with."

The Madam's fingers fiddled and toyed with the grip of her hunting knife, tugging the steel blade from it's sheath along her hip simply to marvel it's beauty in the glittering of the snow and sunlight.

A cruel smile had coiled its way across her lips in this moment, unforgiving eyes lowering to inspect her sister's attacker -- and the fear in the guard's eyes was just the cherry upon her fucked up sundae.

"The safe word is 'Mercy'," she teases the man, her tone harsh and venomous, "Just say it when things get *too* rough for you."

Muffled cries and mumbled begs for “Murphy! Murphy!” was heard, the man nearly choking on his words as he sobbed so blatantly at the woman’s feet.

With that the Madam would begin to cut and shred the man's clothes from his body -- Shirt, pants, underwear -- and threw it all to the ground, marveling his nude form against the cold snowy grounds just a moment longer, aiming to make the man feel as small as possible.

“Get up,” she commands, the bark met with a swift reaction as the man struggled to scrape his sorry self from off the cold grounds, hunching over immediately to cover himself up, as well as warm himself as the cold nipped and bit into his bare flesh.

Slowly the Madam walked around him, getting a view of the guardsman at every angle, her twisted smile only darkening as she stopped behind him.

WIthout warning the Madam slashed her knife into his exposed back causing the man to jerk backward and upright with a cry. Blood would begin to dribble down his arm and drip into the snow. He’d fall to his hands and knees, flinching at the pain of the snow nipping at his skin -- but the pain of Susan’s knife carving into his back was even more horrendous.

She made it a point to carve the words “PIG” so deep she nearly cut to the bone.

With that the Madam would point North with her knife, not even giving the gentleman a moment to breathe before her icy tone would mingle in the air, breathing out a single command: “Run.”

And off he went, barreling toward the distant tree lines as the flight motion overcame him. He had no will to fight, no strength to do anything but run for his life.

It was just as the man reached the tree line that Susan leered down toward the tigress. Her bright golden eyes had yet to remove from the retreating figure. THe moment the beast licked her chops had the Madam thrust her hand outward and in the direction of the man, her final command resonating in the air: “Kill.”

And off was Anthrel, a vicious roar ripping through the beast's throat as she rushed across the open plain like a bullet.

It took only mere moments before the tigress pounced forth and raked her claws down the exposed back of her prey. A howl of pain and fear lifted into the air, and it seemed to be music to the Madam’s ears as she’d give forth a bought of maniacal laughter, clapping her hands together before gathering her dress skirts in her palms and beginning to cross the open plains to approach the scene.

The man hadn’t even made it to the trees to hide from the world his brutal death, the tigress was much too fast and the surrounding environment had significantly slowed the man down. He didn’t even have a chance, and the morbid thing was... He was thankful for the cold of the snow. The tigress had proven so heavy that she partially buried him into the soft frozen waters and it effectively numbed a good portion of his nerves, thus he did not feel a significant amount of pain as fangs tore into the flesh of his shoulder.

With a smug Susan leering on Anthrel ate in semi-peace, the haunting howls and cries of the man had yet to stifle. Not until the tigress clamped down on the man’s neck and bit so hard he’d begin to choke on, both, his own blood and the crushed windpipe.

#The Gampres #Susan's a psycho #Have yet to proof read #Wrote it as quickly as I could #whoops #One day I'll give you quality writes #But today is not that day

16 notes · View notes

fallen029 · 7 years ago

Text

Accidents and Incidents.12: Divulge

Previous Chapter

"L-Lisanna," Mirajane stuttered in shock as she stared at her younger sister. "W-What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here?" the other girl repeated. "What are you doing here? Huh?"

She'd taken this defiant stance, right off the bat, arms crossed over her chest as she stared in at her older sister with heavy eyes. Though she was going for firm, she was fearful of coming off as petulant.

"What are you talking about?" Mira countered. She saw Bickslow standing there, in the hall with her sister. More like hiding behind her, honestly, but there all the same, as well as his five little dolls who were floating around. Upon further checking, however, Mirajane took note that there didn't seem to be any other people from the hall lurking around.

Good.

Though she wasn't sure what difference it would make, with the two standing before her clearly there with a mission in mind. Her own was racing, trying to formulate any way that she could possibly get rid of them and fast. Not coming up with one in the allotted time she gave herself (all of three seconds), she just moved to shove them away and step out into the hall herself, leaving Laxus, who she hoped they hadn't taken notice of, behind.

"I told you," she hissed at her sister, feeling slightly better then, out there in the hall. Their blue eyes clashed as she returned just as heavy a look back at Lisanna. "I'm doing a job for Master. I can't believe that you would be so brazen to-"

"No," her sister said with a swift shake of her head. "You're not."

"Excuse me?"

And then Lisanna lost some of her bravado. For all intents and purposes, Mirajane had had a big hand in raising her. And she did not raise her to undermined her authority. Very few people did.

"I just… You never came back," Lisanna argued, dropping her arms then. Bickslow was still behind her of course and was mostly shifting the weight from one foot to another, trying to figure out if he should just bypass the two of them and go on in to see the boss or if he should wait for his punishment. "And Master Makarov said that he didn't send you on a job. Just to get Laxus. Surely you've done that by now, haven't you? So what is it, Mira? Huh? That's kept you away for over a month?"

"I...I don't have to tell you that," her sister said, looking off. At Bickslow that time. "And you knew that we were on a serious job."

"Oy," he agreed softly. "I did."

"Then why did you bring her-"

"She kidnapped me!"

"Oh come off it," Lisanna complained, making a face at him. "Honestly."

'She did," he argued and then, after glancing around, he took a step closer to Mirajane. "Not to mention, her and Lucy offered me-"

"We did not!" Lisanna's face heated up immediately. "Don't tell her that!"

"-the choice of either fessing up or fightin' the Salamander." Bickslow nodded heavily. "So I chose fight, of course! And as I was beatin' into her precious Salamander, the kid here pulled me off and demanded that I take her here, less I wish for the Master to come down on me. Apparently, he' ain't too keen on whatever job you and the boss are doing and, well, boss is boss, but Master is, you know, supreme boss."

The two sisters shared a blink. Then the younger frowned at him.

"What are you talking about?" she complained. "None of that happened. Or at least not the way that you said it."

"That was freaking vertebrae, woman," he retorted.

"Verta… Verbatim, idiot."

"Don't call me names."

"Then don't say things that make you seem like the words I call you."

"Ooh, kid, you're really askin' for it."

"Oh, whatever. You're such a- Hey, Mira! What are you doing?"

Uh, try going back into the apartment while they were distracted and leaving them alone, out there. She wasn't sure what good that would do her or even what she'd do once she was inside the apartment, but figured it was better than standing there and listening to her baby sister argue with the guild's resident seith.

But she'd been caught and there was no way that Lisanna was letting her get away. With the door open and her sister slipping in, the other woman just moved to hold a hand against the door and force it open herself.

Laxus was in there, she saw him, seated in his wheelchair with an extremely pissed off veneer. Bickslow could see him too and only took in a breath before following the two sisters.

"I don't know what to do," Mira said simply, glancing over her shoulder at the two stragglers (seven counting Bickslow's babies) with a sigh. "Laxus. Should we tell them...about our job? And how we're deep undercover and have discovered some sort of massive coverup that we weren't telling Master Makarov about because...it could get him killed and he's Laxus' grandfather and he loves him and I love him and we all love him, really, so what did you expect us too do? Huh? What did you expect, Lisanna?"

She was too shocked, the other woman was, to even say anything. So was Bickslow, actually. Stunned, really. Laxus, however, only let out a long breath before speaking.

"Mirajane," he began, but she wouldn't let him speak. Didn't think he needed to. It was on the fly, but what she had come up with sounded good enough. She knew if she kept talking that holes would begin to appear, but for what it was worth, the lie wasn't horrible. If she could only get her sister and the seith out of there, they might get away with it for a bit longer.

"No, Lax," the woman insisted. "It's alright. Seriously. I've told them the situation and now it's okay. They're gonna go and we can get back to our job. Remember? Our important job. So just-"

"Shut up," he told her harshly, though his eyes were still on his bodyguard and the woman's youngest sibling. To the two of them though, he only glared. "So what, huh? Who told on me? Was it Mirajane? Huh? Did she talk to Gramps and have him send you fools down here? Is that it, Mira?"

"What are you talking about, Laxus? I didn't-"

"It's some sort of big conspiracy, right?" He snorted. "Like there'd be any other reason for these two dopes to show up. You cover it, Mira. Guess what? I ain't goin' back. So you can go with your damn sister and-"

"Laxus, I didn't tell them anything! I-"

"You aren't gonna trick me."

"You just heard me lie to them about some made up job," she argued. "Why would I have done that if-"

"I don't know. What? You expect me to know everything, woman?"

"Laxus, shut up, you-"

"Wait." Bickslow held up a hand then. He and Lisanna were kinda just standing there, dazed by not only the original lie, but also the argument over the lie. Lisanna, personally, was starting to connect dots, but Bickslow was still very much so in the dark. "What are we talking about now? So there ain't a job? And boss, is Mira givin' you trouble? Don't worry. I'll prevail where Freed failed. Understand?" Then he snickered darkly, looking away from Laxus and at Mirajane. "Come on then, Mira. Let's fight!"

"No, you idiot," Lisanna hissed, moving to grab the seith's arm when he raised it, as if to call his babies to arm. "Don't you get it?"

"Get what?" Then he glared. "And don't call me an idiot! Else I'll have to take you out too, kid."

"Oh, whatever."

"Keep whatevering me, kid, and I'll-"

"I'm not a kid!" Huffing, she added, "And this isn't about you. Or did you forget that?"

"Me? You're the one making it about you."

"Am not."

"Offering up threesomes-"

"That never happened!"

And it was Mira and Laxus' turn then to just stare, the former in slight disgust and the latter only getting more peeved by the moment.

"Boss, can you believe this?" Bickslow looked back at the man then. "This kid here-"

"Stop calling me that!"

"Blindfolded me and tried to gang up on me, right? With that Lucy chick? And-"

"You what?" Mira was done with Laxus then. "Lisanna, what have you been doing while I've been-"

"Nothing!" She was still glaring at the seith though. "That's not what happened!"

"Laxus, if you want me gone so badly, fine," Mira said then, though she wasn't looking at him either. Just her sister. "Apparently, I'm needed back home."

"That never happened!"

Bickslow snickered then, grinning over at his esteemed idol as his tongue flopped from his mouth in triumph. Another life ruined. Good day's work, he figured, as the babies took to laughing too.

"Oy, boss," he said, walking over to where the man was still glaring at him from his wheelchair. "Looks like I might have driven your woman away from ya. So, what are you really doin' down here? Way I figured it, since you kinda spilled the beans about the lyin', you're probably bonin' Mirajane, huh?"

"What?" Mira looked at Bickslow for the first time in the past few minutes. She'd gone over to her sister, to scold her, but her head shot over to the seith at those words. "Why would you-"

"The candles, the flowers from before, the apartment far away-"

"That has nothing to do with-"

"Now what I don't get," the seith continued with a big grin, "is where the wheelchair comes in. Some sort kink or-"

"Bickslow, knock it off," Mira told him as Lisanna only groaned. "Honestly, just.

"Shut up," Laxus hissed, though that was at bodyguard. The man was grating on his sanity and they'd only been around one another for a few minutes. "You dolt."

"B-Boss, I was just-"

"And get out of here," Laxus added with a glare."Now. Take 'em both with you."

"I-I don't-"

"I mean it, Bickslow," he ordered. "I told you not to come back here."

"I didn't want to! The kid, she kidnapped me and-"

"Oh, you get kidnapped by little girls now?"

"Laxus, you don't get it, I just-"

"I think I get more than enough."

Bickslow didn't know what to do then. He'd been having fun since they got there, but it appeared as if he were the only one. Well, his babies too, but they enjoyed whatever he enjoyed.

"I didn't...I'm sorry." The man reached up then, to push off his hood and visor before glancing back at Mirajane. "I didn't mean to ruin you and the boss's little getaway, Mira. And I shouldn't have said he was bonin' ya. Is that what you wanted, boss?" He looked back at Laxus then. "Was that okay? I really meant it. Mostly. Should I apologize again or-"

That was the thing about the Thunder Legion. It was just impossible to stay mad at them. Especially when they were all contrite and shit. Looking off, the man grumbled out, "No. And that's not..."

"I was just kiddin'," Bickslow informed them all, as if they could have possibly missed picking up on that. Looking around at each of them, he said, "I really didn't wanna come back here even. But the kid, well, you had her spooked, Mira, and she got the Master all freaked and he forced me to go. Well, she did, but under his orders. And she didn't wanna sleep with me. She's just a kid."

Lisanna stuck her tongue out at him before saying, "I'm not a kid, jerk. But gross, for the record."

"You'd only be so lucky."

"Barf."

Ignoring that last jab, Bickslow grinned at Mirajane. "See? We didn't do nothin' that should have you worried. With Lucy either. Or Natsu, but I'm not so sure if he was in on it or-"

"That's enough," Laxus grumbled. "Bickslow."

Nodding, he said, "In closing, the kid's great. We rode on the train, had lunch, and boss? Can you pay the woman? She sorta paid my way and I'd feel bad about it if-"

"What part of enough don't you get?" Laxus glared at him that time. "I was being serious. Get the hell out."

"But boss, I apologized and-"

"And I accept it, alright? Just scram." He rolled his shoulders. "All of you."

"Lax." Mira sighed, looking to him once more. "It's alright, okay? Just-"

"No, Mira. You get out too. All of you! I-"

"But boss, why?" Bickslow was hurt, really. He knew that the man would be mad and, at most, was expecting a good talking to. Not to be kicked out in the cold. That wasn't cool. Not at all. "If you ain't on a job, then what's the problem? Huh? How come we can't stay? Ain't you and Mirajane here just having a nice romantic...month...or more… Or something?"

Or something.

Mira gave Bickslow one of the most sympathetic looks he'd ever seen. It was like she'd just seen his puppy get run over or something and had to break the news to him. That bad. Seriously.

"What is it?" He frowned when Lisanna, who was still fuzzy on the details, but had most of the puzzle pieced by the point, gave him one just as bad. "I don't… What's going on?"

"Bickslow," Mira whispered as Lisanna took to glancing away from him. "Maybe you and I should go talk about…something in the other room. Okay?"

"What? No." He was glaring at Laxus then. "What is it, boss? What? Is it me? Or… Oh, gosh, it's Freed, isn't it? Is that why he hasn't come back from his job in forever? Oh shit. Shit. He wanted me to go, you know, but I wanted to take a different job and I didn't go and now he's dead and shit. Shit. Damn. I'mma have to tell Ever. I take these things better than- I can't take it!"

"What are you blabbering about? Freed's fine, idiot," Laxus complained.

"Really?" Bickslow, who'd been ready to rub at his eyes, dropped his hands. "Oh. Good. Man."

"Well," Mira added softly. "As far as we know."

Bickslow was alright with that. Completely. Grinning at Laxus once more, he wagged his tongue as he said, "This is great news! In fact, it calls for drinks. Now, boss, you've been here for a bit, so I'm sure you know the best bar in town, huh? And are willing to pay for me? And the kid? AS repayment for her, you know, also paying for me? So let's get after it!"

The seith turned to walk off then, but noticed that the man didn't get up. Didn't even move. Pausing, he glanced back at him. "Uh, boss? Ain't we going?"

No one said anything. Didn't even move. Bickslow, undeterred, walked back over to the man and patted him on the shoulder.

"Boss," he repeated. "I said come on. Let's go. You know, to a bar? Come on! Boss?"

"Bickslow," Mira whispered. "Maybe-"

"No." He wouldn't even look at her that time. Just Laxus who was glaring off at one of the walls. "Boss. Come on. Get up. Boss? Get up. Let's go. Boss?"

That hung in the room for a moment or two as Bickslow only stared at him.

"B-Boss?" He didn't know what to do. Only stood there, in front of the man, as if coaxing him would get him to his feet. "Aren't you coming? You gotta get up, boss. I-If we're gonna go-"

Laxus wouldn't look at him. Only moved then to release the brakes on his chair before rolling backwards, so he had room, before off, towards the bedroom.

"Mira." His voice was loud and sounded even, but she knew it was only a cover. "I need… Come here."

She was frozen though, if only for a moment, and could only make the short trek across the tiny living room, gently patting Bickslow on the arm as she went, before following the man into their bedroom. The door shutting softly behind them killed the seith just as much as the entire scene had.

And then there were two, just standing there. Lisanna was unsure of her whole part in the situation and only stood there awkwardly, rubbing at her arm.

"Uh," she tried. 'Bickslow, maybe-"

"W-Why didn't he just get up?"

"Master said there was an...accident," she told him softly. "Maybe Laxus broke his leg or-"

"But it wasn't bandaged," he pointed out, glancing back at her. "So it can't be that."

"Maybe-"

"So he should have been able to get up," he said. "Right? He should have been able to get up. How come he just didn't get up?"

"I-I don't..."

"It doesn't make sense," he insisted. "That he didn't get up. Why wouldn't he?"

"Maybe we should just… You should probably sit down and, uh, I don't know, just-"

Bickslow sniffled then. "He could just get up. I don't know why he just doesn't get up."

Taking a step closer, she said, "I'm sure that...that he's alright. I mean, it's probably only temporary."

"That what is?"

"You know. His...not being able to-"

He turned on her real quick for that, eyes glowing green as he glared. "Boss is fine! So don't say he's not!"

"I wasn't! I mean, I just-"

"He's fine." He sniffled again. "He just didn't get up because he didn't want to. Because he can, if he wants, but he didn't, because he just didn't, Lisanna, what don't you get about that?"

"S-Sorry. I just-"

"He's fine! He has to be. Because if he's not then that means that… It doesn't mean anything! Because it's not true. It can't be. Boss would never get hurt. Laxus is great. He's not some sorta chump, you know?"

"I know."

"He never gets hurt because he's too great. He's awesome. He's the best mage ever! How could the best mage ever be...be… Is boss...paralyzed?"

The green glow disappeared in his eyes and was replaced by moisture as his vision blurred. Turning from Lisanna, he only stared at the closed bedroom door, the shock fading and the realization setting in.

As bitter as it was for him, reality was far worse for the man on the other side of it. He only sat there in his chair, only having rolled just inside the door before Mira got him. His head was hung and her hands were on his shoulder, but they weren't bringing him any comfort. Nothing was. Or would.

Avoidance had been nice. Real nice. Comforting. But at the same time impossible to keep up with. Keeping the others out hadn't spared him any of the pain. If anything, it just prolonged it. And now that Bickslow and Lisanna knew, everyone would know. It was over.

It was really over.

Mira's hands left his shoulders then and he felt slightly colder. Glancing up from his own self pity, he found her heading over to the closet. When she returned, it was with one hand outstretched.

"Here, dragon," she whispered, placing the object in it into his lap when he didn't reach out to take it from her. "It'll be okay. I promise."

He didn't believe her. But the dead, plastic eyes of the green dragon she'd thrust upon him said otherwise. Stroking the stuffed animal's old fur gently, he whispered, "I just want it to all go back to normal."

Mirajane didn't know if he meant before Bickslow and her sister showed up, before they'd kissed, or even before the accident, but all three sounded just as nice to her, so she nodded.

"Yeah," she agreed. "Me too."

They could hear them, outside the bedroom door, talking softly. Bickslow sounded really distraught and Mira wished that there was something that she could do for him, but Laxus was her job. There was nothing she could do about it.

"What," she asked softly, staring at the man, "do you want me to do? Dragon?"

He didn't know. He didn't even know what to feel right then. He wasn't a child, of course, and in no way had he thought it possible for him and Mirajane to stay hidden away forever. Someone was going to find them. And, besides, Bickslow already had once before. It was his fault for sending the dope away without really addressing the problem. The blame landed squarely on his shoulders.

Not that it made him feel any better, however.

When Laxus didn't answer, she only asked softly, "Did you want me to go get him? Did the two of you want to talk? You think? We can do that. And Lisanna and I can go… We'll go get dinner. Or something. Instead of me making it. And then we can decide where to go from there. Okay? Dragon?"

Nothing was okay and he wasn't sure how she could think otherwise, but still, all he did was nod. What else could he do? He did have to talk to Bickslow eventually. And without Mira around or her sister judging him, it should be a bit better.

Maybe.

Still, he didn't want to immediately, so he just sat there for a few more minutes, with his stuffed dragon, letting Mirajane rub at his shoulders. Eventually though, she leaned down and kissed the top of his head.

"We should go out there," she told him when he glanced up at her. "Alright?"

Slowly, he handed over his stuffed dragon and Mirajane went to put it away once more in the closet while Laxus only took a deep breath. He could go out there. Hell, he was the Thunder God. He could do anything. Anything. Even face one of his followers and admit that he made a mistake that led to his inability to walk. He could. Honest.

He just needed some support first.

"You ready, dragon?"

And Mira was great at giving it.

"Am I ready?" He snorted as he attempted to get back to his usual self. He was going to need it if he was going to go tackle the Bickslow problem. "Of course I'm ready. Why wouldn't I be? All I'm going to do is go out there and talk to him. Like what? You think that I'm a what, Mirajane? A baby? A child? Who needs his mother to take care of him? Yeah, well, I don't. So don't try to mother me. It's disgusting."

Mira only stood over him though with a slight frown. "Dragon-"

"No. No. I'm fine. I-"

"It'll be okay, dragon." Reaching out, she stroked his cheek a few times with her thumb, cupping the rest of his face in her hand. Reluctantly, he leaned into the touch. "Alright? No matter what, I'll always be there for you. I promise."

It felt good, her saying that, even if he wasn't so sure there was any validity behind it. Then again, they were still guild mates and, well, Mira could say that same thing to any of them, so…

Ugh. He was over-thinking. That wasn't even the problem of the day. Instead it was seated in the living room with Lisanna, waiting to be addressed. He had to just go out there and get it over with.

And what was it anyways? Huh? Just that he had to explain to a dope that worshiped the ground he walked on that he was injured. That he couldn't walk. He could still do everything else just fine though. His magic was still intact. His looks. His ability to get women (or at least a demon). He was set, really. Now he didn't have to worry any about walking. Ugh. Who liked that anyways? Huh?

"I told you," he told Mirajane gruffly. "I'm fine."

She only stared at him for a moment or two before sighing and saying, "Come on then."

In the living room, Bickslow was still just standing there in front of Lisanna, a shocked look frozen on his features as she tried to make him feel better. She wasn't sure how though and was slightly glad to see the emergence of her sister and Laxus. It saved her, really, from all the awkwardness.

"Lisanna," her sister began as Laxus and her came out of the bedroom. "Laxus and Bickslow have a...lot to discuss. Come on. We'll go pick up something to-"

"Yes, okay," Lisanna didn't even let her finish. Just rushed to her side. "Let's go. Right now."

Because, yeah, Laxus and Bickslow did need to talk about things, but so did Lisanna and Mira. And stat.

The women were quick about getting out of there, Mira tapping the back of Laxus' head gently before she left. He only stared at Bickslow who, even with his visor off, couldn't manage to do the same. When the front door closed after the two women, they were completely alone.

Laxus only wheeled closer as Bickslow sniffled some more. This annoyed the slayer for some reason who growled.

"Stop groveling, you fool," he complained, coming to a stop. "What are you? A woman? Huh?"

"S-Sorry, boss," he mumbled. 'I just-"

"I expected," he growled, "this from Evergreen. Maybe Freed. But you?"

"I just- This is just so much to take and I can't-"

"Come the fuck on, Bickslow," he hissed. "What are you? Huh? Not the one in the chair. Not the one that has to deal with this. What do you gotta do? Huh? Absolutely noth-"

"I gotta take care of you."

"What?"

"Boss, I don't know why you went to Mirajane," he said, rushing over. "And I'm so sorry if I did something that made you think that I couldn't… That I… But I can! What do you need? Huh? Someone to cook for you? Clean? Bathe you?"

"No one...bathes me. Damn it, Bickslow, I'm a grown-"

"I'll do it all! And so will the rest of the Thunder Legion. Unless you, you know, specifically want me. Because that's good too. Really good. I mean, sheesh, I already take care of my babies. I can do this. Really. And you can come live with me and I'll take care of you and it'll be great. Two bros just living large and...and...and..."

The man had begun to dry heave at the end of that and, by the time he reached the final trailing off point, couldn't even speak any longer. His throat was all closed up and his eyes were welling with tears and he felt...funny. Really funny. But not funny, funny. More weird funny. And wasn't that funny? That he was feeling funny, but there wasn't a damn thing funny going on? Real funny.

"Boss," he sobbed as he only came over to the man, unable to contain himself any longer. His babies were upset, as they had been the entire time, and began to moaning loudly, all five of them. They weren't too sure what they were supposed to be so morose about, but they definitely were. Through sobs, Bickslow got out, "I just want you to be okay!"

Laxus only groaned as the man fall to his knees before him (Bickslow had more of a flare for drama than Ever at times), and laid his head in the man's lap, crying over him.

"There, there," Laxus grumbled patting him on the head. "I mean, think about this, Bickslow. You only, what? Have absolutely nothing wrong with you at all? Should clear those tears right up."

"I'd rather have something wrong with me," he told the man then, "than you. Of course I would! I'd cut off my legs right… Boss, how did this happen? Huh? What accident? I'll kill them. Was it the Strauss chick? I'll kill her. I'll mangle her body and- Ow, boss!"

Laxus had hit him in the head, making the other man lift his. "Stop...crying on me. And you're not going to touch Mirajane. Ever. So drop that. And it was just… It's hard to explain, alright?"

Still on his knees, Bickslow only rubbed at his eyes. "But we can fix it, huh? Can't we? Fix it? It's not forever, right?"

The man only took a deep breath before saying, "Look, things are...complicated. And right now, all I want from you is a promise."

"Yes. Whatever it is, of course. I've pledged my life to you and I mean to keep it! I love you, boss."

Sighing, Laxus said, "Yeah, I know."

"And I just want to make sure that you're okay. And that you'll keep being okay." Another sniffle. He couldn't help it though. "How come you didn't tell me, boss? I mean, am I that big of a screw up? Huh?"

"No," he groaned. "I just didn't want anyone to know."

"Oh, so what? You think that I can't keep a...that I can't..."

"Don't," Laxus said, frowning down at him, "start crying again. Seriously, just don't."

"I'm not going to," he argued. "I mean, I know that you're going through a lot and that your life has to be hell right now, but Mirajane Strauss? Really? Over me? Or even Ever? Or Freed?"

"I asked for Freed, you twit," he grumbled. "But he was out. If I had known that, I probably would have requested you from Master, but he just sent Mirajane, not knowing what was wrong. You know that her and Erza are his go-to people."

A horrible thought occurred to Laxus just then, one that he hadn't thought of before. If Mirajane had been busy and Erza free, it might have been the swordswoman that came to take care of him. And probably would have immediately reported back to Master what was wrong.

Or worse; not and have stayed to take care of him.

Or even worse, perhaps the two of them would have…fallen for one…

Bleh. Unfathomable. Mira? Fine. Whatever. But Erza? What would the two of them even do together?

Hmmm.

"Uh, boss?" Bickslow frowned. "You look torn."

He was. Erza did have all those sexy little outfits. Although, Mira could just transform into them. Right? He was pretty sure.

Hmmm. So which trumped which? It pretty much came down to preference, but-

"Is it about me?" Bickslow just wouldn't shut up and let him get that worked out. "Honestly, Laxus, this is a good thing. All Ever or Freed would do is hamper you. I'll help. You want this to be a secret? Hell, I'll kill anyone that knows. Sic the babies on Lisanna and Mirajane, keep them from ever opening their mouths. Swear it. I'm that committed to-"

"Just… Get off your knees, alright? It's awkward."

"Of course, man, anything you want."

Laxus only watched him for a moment before saying, "And make your babies stop crying. It's buggin' me."

Bickslow didn't even do anything visible. Still, the babies suddenly just all came crashing down to the ground, their bodies going dormant just like that.

"Anything for you, Laxus."

Hell yeah.

Relaxing into the chair some then, Laxus rested his arms on the armrests, tapping his finger against one.

"What," he asked slowly, "did Lisanna do to you, exactly? To get you here?"

"Well, uh, she kinda threatened me with Master Makarov," he said, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. "And hey, about you and Mirajane..."

"What?"

"Is she… Are you guys screwing? Or can you...not? Because either way's cool, man! But-"

"Fuck off, Bickslow. Is that all you think about?"

Recently? Yes. But at the moment it was more him trying to get back on to neutral ground. Talking about he wheelchair (more like wailing over it) had only pissed the man off. And, considering that was the major thing in his life at the moment, Laxus was left without anything else to talk about as himself was his favorite (and typically only) subject. Another one of his big talking points however was, of course, women. And with Mirajane being the only one that the other man had seen him with since, well, since he got there and the time before, it was only natural to ask.

For him anyways.

Bickslow knew no such thing as social graces.

"Sorry, boss," he said then, holding up a hand. "I's only askin'. I mean, you guys were all close and stuff when I ran into you before and you'd gotten her flowers and then, today, you bought candles and stuff for a dinner and you're living together and I only see one room, unless that other door's a room, but I figured it's a bathroom 'cause, well, it's open and I can see in there and I ain't thinkin' badly of you, but I don't think you'd make the poor woman sleep in the bathroom-"

"The couch pulls out," Laxus grumbled. He wasn't sure why, but it just didn't feel like the time to get into the simi-relationship that he had going with Mirajane. "Then there's a bed in the bedroom."

"Oh." Bickslow nodded because that sounded about right. "Then you and Mirajane that day were-"

"We just get out of the apartment sometimes. Is that a crime?"

"Of course not, boss. I didn't mean to make it sound like I'm questionin' ya or somethin'. I just… I should have been smarter. Yeah? When I saw you here with Mirajane, I was so easy to just write it off. I mean, what if you needed me and I was such an idiot that I just wrote it off? Huh? I'm so stupid."

"No, you're not. And don't say that, idiot." After all, it was only okay when he said it. "I told you I was fine and you believed it. That's on me. Not you."

Bickslow, slowly, turned and went to retrieve his fallen visor. "I just wish you'd trusted me, Laxus."

The slayer sat there for a moment before saying, "I fucked up. Out on that job. And I didn't… I didn't want anyone to know. And when Gramps sent Mirajane, well, I thought it was over. But she made it so easy to hide it. 'cause I'm with, like, the most clean cut person in the guildhall. Mira? Hide something? No way. It just made it so easy. It was such a good cover. But I just… I don't know. I'm sorry, alright?" Then, with the first grin of the hour, he said, "I'm an ass. You should be used to it."

Bickslow didn't grin though. Only shook his head.

"Nah, boss," he said, glancing back at the man once his visor was replaced on his face. "You're not ass."

"And you're not stupid." Then, after a beat, he added, "Although, being taken down by a Strauss girl-"

"It's a lot more complex than that."

"Yeah. I heard something about a threesome or-"

That, finally, got a grin and snicker out of Bickslow. Hanging his tongue from his mouth, he went to begin picking up his babies dormant bodies.

"Yeah, well," the seith said, "I am a lady killer."

Laxus nodded then. "A soul stealer, I heard."

"A jack of all trades."

Grinning, the slayer agreed softly, "A jack of all trades."

Fanfic