#whatever problems you have at home ain’t gonna follow you onto the open sea

[so-you-melted-22]

Why do they have the alchemy symbol for earth everywhere in this show???

This is on a boat? With no earth I sight??

[dennou-translations]

Violet Evergarden: Booklet 9

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A certain man picked up a wild beast.

It was beautiful to an uncanny extent. Catastrophically foolish. Laughably ignorant and violent.

However, it was also an extremely rare kind of beast, which had attachment for people and obeyed them.

Its fur was golden. Its eyes were a limpid blue.

The beast did not know how to let out a cry, but if trained, it could probably sell for a high price.

Such was the beast that the man had picked.

The man and the beast’s encounter was a result of misfortune, as a great number of people had fallen victim to the beast’s fangs.

The beast followed the man’s back around all the time.

It was a terrifying beast, which devoured humans. He had to hurry and dispose of it somewhere.

Still, the man thought, it would probably be useful in a battlefield.

The man’s occupation was national defense. His status was of naval captain.

A ferocious beast was suitable as a guard dog, and no one would be troubled if the lonely beast lost its life somewhere.

For the man, the beast was not a desired companion, but whatever could be used should be used.

Had he not thrown it away when he was supposed to, the future would have changed drastically.

   Violet Evergarden If

   “Shirt – not that; the shirt.”

The soft light of dawn shone over Leiden, the capital of Leidenschaftlich. It was a fine season, in which petals of bougainvillea flowers danced about. A beautiful morning. The appearance of the city was divine as sunshine flowed down from the rifts between the clouds, like ladders for the angels. A daylight that caused people to embrace a little bit of hope toward the day called today and the long period called life – that caused such thoughts to appear – was illuminating the city.

On this wonderful day, inside the dormitory of a facility built in the vicinities of Leidenschaftlich’s Ministry of the Navy, a man had fallen into an overcast mood, in contrast with the scenery outside. Although he had woken up a mere few minutes ago, he was irritated. He was not looking at the sunlight coming from the window. Neither did he have any interest in the dancing of the gentle shadows created by the fluttering curtains.

The only thing he had his eyes on was his beast.

“It’s the shirt. You’re not doing that on purpose, are you?”

The man belonged to a privileged class. One could tell that his furnished, private room had been renovated so that its user could live in maximum comfort. Something of the sort was not permitted unless the person was from a social position fitting of it.

He hated the idea of having his own house. He also avoided returning to his home and to a smaller component of his nation, his family.

“‘Shirt’.”

“The shirt. Shirt.”

“‘Shirt’.”

“No, that’s a cufflink. Listen up; I’m gonna say it one more time.”

As he spoke, his voice was low, charming and sullen. His hair, like ink in the color of nightly darkness with a thread of blue mixed in, was long and resembled silk. His deeply carved and delicate facial features would surely be showered with attention from women if he went on a walk in the city. One could tell the fineness of his upbringing with a single glance from his noble beauty.

The man who bore such looks, Dietfried Bougainvillea, was fed up with the girl in front of him, who could not do as much as bring him a shirt. From her appearance, said girl, unshapely clad in the female officer uniform of Leidenschaftlich’s navy, was so young that she had not yet reached her mid-teens. He could be considered much too immature for making an angry face at such a child.

Dietfried grasped her tiny hand, of a size so different from his own, and made her hold onto a white shirt. “Shirt,” he said while glaring at her, as if to give her a lesson. His lips also moved slowly, so that she would understand the pronunciation.

The girl being glared at alternated between looking at the shirt she was made to grab and at her master, who was naked from the waist up. Her big eyes opened even wider as she was attempting to learn something.

Dietfried wanted to start yelling at her immediately, but somehow managed to remain in his current state, accepting her silence and that she took her time.

Eventually, the girl nodded. “‘Shirt’...”

Dietfried exhaled. He let out a breath mixed with both relief and disappointment.

“That’s right; it’s a shirt that I want.”

“This is a shirt.”

“What will you do with that shirt?”

“Captain, it is a shirt.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Just hand it over after you say that. You’re really one handful of a mongrel.”

“A shirt.”

“Enough.”

“Captain, a shirt.”

“Enough already!”

What he was doing was teaching. The girl, who could not even properly say that word, had never had any education. She was an orphan that Dietfried had taken in due to certain circumstances and did not know how to speak very well. Most likely, she was being used by someone else before Dietfried had picked her.

She was definitely a wild beast rather than a person. All she could do was murder people as per her master’s order. She was a bestial girl who was unable to do anything but that. Dietfried had the girl live in one of Leidenschaftlich’s warships, immediately putting her into action for combat should there be any battles at sea, using her as a soldier.

The reason why he was scoring exceptionally good military achievements was that he kept her by his side. As she had the appearance of an infant, she easily incited negligence. She had already displayed her power a number of times by approaching enemy warships on a boat, causing a disturbance by the moment that she was mistaken for a victim and allowed onboard, then taking advantage of it to start a naval attack. It was an inhumane work for a little girl to do.

Dietfried was aware of that. Yet he had made her do it. She had done it countless times.

He had thought she would soon die, but whenever he went to check on the bodies, she was usually the lone survivor. No matter how much he attempted to kill her, to have her killed, she did not die. Instead, she would crush the enemy ships.

“Leidenschaftlich’s Undine” was what the navy soldiers called her now.

If he could not kill her, he had no choice but make her useful. Dietfried despised this girl, who had slaughtered his underlings when they first met, but that time had now passed and was opening up anew. Making use of this girl’s life until she collapsed was also a way to mourn for those who were gone. That was how he thought it over. For that reason, in order to work her hard also as a servant, he was teaching her how to speak.

He had started doing it because of the fact that they had trouble communicating, but Dietfried did not have much talent as an educator. He had been able to climb up to the position of naval captain due to his personal achievements. He was skilled at leading and instructing people, but for lecturing a child like this one-on-one, he was terribly unfit.

“Next, the shoes. Put my shoes on for me.”

“Sho...”

“Here, look at the way my mouth moves.”

“I—am.”

“Shoes. C’mon, try saying it.”

“‘Sho-es’.”

“Say it five times. Shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes.”

“‘Shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes’.”

“All right. Now, put my shoes on me.”

“Captain, you mean ‘shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes’.”

Clearly unfit.

“Captain.”

“You trash.”

“‘Tra-sh’.”

“Hey, don’t say ‘trash’ to me.”

“What does ‘tra-sh’ mean?”

Dietfried felt like crawling onto the bed he was sitting on and lying down to sulk just like that. In fact, he did hang his head and roll onto it.

Anyone who knew him well would evaluate that, for someone like him, he was teaching her very patiently. As he was the kind of man who could do anything flawlessly by nature, his attitude towards those who could not was cold. Such a man was attempting to educate an orphan child who did not know how to talk. He was in a state where one could say that he was making an effort.

“Captain, it is morning.”

“I know... I ain’t sleeping. I’m lying face-down ‘cause I’m disappointed in you.”

“Do you have any orders for ‘You’?”

“Y’know, I do call you ‘You’, but that ain’t your name.”

“If not, ‘You’ will be on stand-by.”

Albeit good at catching on words such as “stand-by” or “order”, she was slow to absorb terms that were used in daily life. The discrepancy between the things she did and did not have interest in was evident in the results of her learning.

This wild beast of a girl actually did not need words.

Even so, Dietfried had decided to grant them to her. Going back on a decision was shameful to him. He believed that he should never do such a thing.

——I gotta at least make her evolve from wild animal to watchdog. Or else, both she and I will be in trouble.

Dietfried was striving. He was exerting himself extraordinarily.

“Enough; I’m gonna comb my hair now. Gimme the comb.”

It seemed she had properly memorized the word “comb”, as she immediately took it from the dresser that the room was already provided with and presented it to Dietfried. She observed him with her big, gemstone-like eyes as he sat up as if it were a pain and slowly began combing his lengthy hair. He smooth and deftly braided it with his long fingers, then tied it with a ribbon and it was over.

Dietfried hit the bed with a slap, directing the girl to sit next to him. “Do as I do. As long as you’re wearing that uniform, you’re my subordinate. You having a bad appearance is a problem for me.”

Accepting the comb, the girl began combing her hair as well. She was improving lately, but her hair was damaged for a while due to malnutrition, so the ends tended to entangle. When she tried to force the comb through, Dietfried apprehended her with a hand.

“This again... Stop; don’t treat your hair like that... Why do I gotta brush it every day? Today’s the day that you’re gonna get it cut,” Dietfried said while carefully unraveling the entangled hair tips in her stead.

The girl was stock-still. Dietfried did not realize that the facial expression on her profile was a little bit different from her usual deadpan.

“Captain.”

“What?”

“Should ‘you’ comb your hair as well?”

“Nah, ‘s fine. I get a bad feeling when you’re behind me.”

Whether she had understood or not, the girl closed her eyes as if holding back on something. “All right...”

   In order to both replenish and repair the warship, Dietfried went on land. The stay at the port was scheduled to last up to five days. During that period, the crew would be on vacation. Most of his subordinates were roaming the city of Leiden, but those who lived close to it took full advantage of their days off to go see their families in their hometowns.

Dietfried also finally had free time today. He had to take several days to submit all sorts of greetings and reports. He made a long memo in his head with a list of the things that he had to purchase. One way or another, he was able to make time at least to go shopping in peace.

“Hey, let’s go.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Dietfried generally took action while keeping her by his side. She would be all right standing in waiting somewhere, but thoughtlessly leaving a woman alone amongst men was a primary factor for incidents to occur.

It was not as if he were worried about the girl. The ones he worried about were the people who would find the tables turning against them for attempting to lay their hands on her. In times of war, Dietfried’s decision was to avoid losing human resources as much as possible. He had to supervise this girl in order to prevent her from reducing his number of underlings.

However, there was also a good side to it. The girl’s fighting power and crisis-sensing abilities were outstandingly excellent, which qualified her for escort missions. He used to always walk around with bodyguards and associates as his ranks went up, but now, just this girl was enough.

——It’s nice that I can let more people, even if just one more, rest up by sacrificing her.

Under the light of the sun, Dietfried thought this as he watched the girl eagerly move her legs to chase after his back with tapping footsteps.

“We’re done buying these kinds of luxury items... Now for the clothes... Hey, this way. Follow me.”

“Captain, you are well-acquainted with the city.”

“That’s right. I’m ‘well-acquainted with the city’,” Dietfried gave a reply on the same level to the girl, who sometimes used words in a strange manner.

Just as he told her, Leiden was his hometown. In normal circumstances, it would be all right for him to return home as well.

“Though I don’t know if I like this city or hate it.”

But as he did not do so, one could guess about his family situation.

“You know what the good of this city is, do you?”

“I do not—know the city—very well.”

“The beauty of the architecture and the spirit of the people change depending on the city. If you leave out your emotions, Leiden’s a stunning city.”

“I do not have emotions. That means it is a stunning city to me.”

“You’ve got it wrong.”

“This is difficult.”

“You can’t understand human reasoning ‘cause you’re not human.”

“I see.”

After saying something that would hurt a little girl, he checked on her facial expression, yet it was blank as ever.

“You.”

However, he did not miss that her voice had become slightly gloomier.

“Don’t you wanna run away from me?” he whispered oppressively, stopping in his tracks and looking down at her from above.

Framing her huge eyes, the girl’s golden lashes fluttered like butterflies. She seemed surprised.

“We aren’t at sea right now. Or inside the warship. If you run off somewhere, I won’t be able to catch up. For starters, I’d have no intention to go looking for you. So if you wanna do that, you can.”

If a third party happened to hear the question, it would sound almost as if he were testing the girl. In fact, he might have been. People did such things out of foolishness every once in a while.

Dietfried absolutely did not admit it, but as he took this beast into his personal care and raised her, he began to feel that he wanted something. In return for that, he did not give her a name. If it were someone else, they would surely put it into words and display their desire with ease, but Dietfried was different. This man was awfully complicated – deeply compassionate yet cruel.

“Captain Dietfried, what am I supposed to do—by running away—from you?”

Just like that girl, he was broken somewhere.

The question made no sense to her.

“I have no meaning. If you do not use me, that is.”

This girl had no feelings.

“There is no meaning to me unless I am being used. I am a tool. I exist to be used.”

She did not know love.

“I am a wild beast. Beasts nestle up to where their owners go.”

All she wanted was validation of her own existence. Money, honor, status or anything of the sort.

“I am sure that—I was made this way—ever since I was born.”

She needed none of it. They made no sense to her.

“And you—have been registered—as my master inside me.”

The girl before his eyes looked at him as if to say, “don’t forget that I’m a beast”.

“You bring me along and use me.”

It might be that their positions were inverted from the very beginning.

“Please do stand next to me, Captain.”

Perhaps Dietfried was the one being kept around as a proof of existence.

——It’d be great if I could kill her right now.

She was merely a lonely beast, who just yearned for a master. It did not have to be Dietfried. That was what he felt she had told him.

“I’m going back.”

Dietfried started walking. Towards a direction completely opposed to the set route. In large steps, his leather boots clicking, he strode as if to leave the girl behind.

“But you still—have not bought most of the items.”

“It’s fine; I’m going back.”

“All right.”

As expected, the girl was expressionless even as her master suddenly grew displeased and yelled at her. She was accustomed to being swayed around. Not just by the man in front of her, but by her own fate as well. She had flowed, letting herself go with the current, and was now here.

It was Dietfried alone who never became accustomed to the girl.

“Walk fast.”

There was no appropriate name for the relationship of the two.

“Yes, I shall not leave your side.”

——You scum.

Why did he have to be the only one manifesting his emotions? It would be great if he could make the girl’s face distort even if just a little. This feeling surfaced and disappeared within him. It was almost the way of thinking of a child whose mother would not give him any attention, but trapped as he was in his own emotions, Dietfried did not realize this.

“Captain.”

Disturbed by rage and confusion, Dietfried angrily yelled, “What?!” in response to the girl’s call.

“There is a suspicious person running toward us from behind us. Shall I suppress them?”

“Haah?”

As he turned around, just as the girl had said, there was indeed a strange individual running their way. He had a purse under his arm. They could hear the scream of a woman at the back. If one were to take a conclusion just from looking at the situation, he was most certainly a thief.

“Don’t kill; capture him.”

To the order whispered at her in a low tone, the girl replied with a clear voice, “Understood.”

Immediately, she dashed off.

“Outta the way!”

As the man harshly shouted such aggressive words while coming at the people around him, they would open way for him in fear. The only one who pushed through the opened path was the girl.

“Brat! Move! I’m gonna kill you!”

Seeing a girl clad in a military uniform heading towards him, the man took out a pocketknife as he ran. Running while swinging it around was dangerous to no bounds. No matter how much brute strength one had, they would still waver at such a head-on challenge.

“My name is not ‘Brat’.”

However, the girl did not falter. Right before the collision, the girl lowered her posture with a jerk and evaded the pocketknife’s assault first-thing. She then grabbed one of the man’s legs and hurled herself at him. As the strength that the man had applied to the direction of his move was forcefully stopped, he violently plunged face-first into the ground.

“It is ‘You’.”

The girl’s attack did not end there. She seized the back of the agonized man, and after lifting his body as if picking a cat by its collar, she punched his throat. On top of that, she twisted his arm, completely suppressing his movements.

“P-Ple—ase—let—”

“I cannot understand the contents of your speech.”

“L-Let—g-go—pl—ea—se—”

“I cannot understand the contents of your speech.”

There was a spine-freezing kind of fearsomeness to the girl, who heartlessly repeated the same response to the man that was most likely saying, “Let go”. There was as much beauty to her appearance as there was a spur of coldness in her.

“The lecture I gave you last time about human body vitals came in handy, huh.”

“Yes.”

Dietfried came walking in a relaxed manner, looking like his moody aspect from earlier had decreased by just a little bit.

“As you told me, Captain. Strikes to the throat are effective.”

“True. Remember the name of the spots that hurt when you hit it?”

“‘Vital parts’.”

“That’s right... In men’s case in particular, there’s Adam’s apple. Look at this.” Dietfried grabbed the hair of the pitiful robber and made him raise his face. He then pointed at the other’s Adam’s apple. “Listen up. This bulgy thing is Adam’s apple.”

“‘Adam’s maple’.”

“It’s ‘Adam’s apple’.”

The robber could do nothing but watch the exchange between the two oddballs in confusion. There was no way to describe them other than “bizarre”. It could also be said that they were crazy. After all, the duo was holding a lecture about vital parts using the body of a complete stranger.

“‘Adam’s apple’. Is it... Is it a vital?”

“Yeah. It gets difficult to talk when you strike here, so hit it when you want someone to keep quiet.”

“Understood, Captain. If I want someone to keep quiet, I shall hit them there.”

“Also, you were probably going for his feet ‘cause he has a knife, but when the guy’s used to fighting, you should drop the idea. You’d get kicked like that. You might be strong but you’re light.”

“Should I dodge to the side?”

“With your jumping abilities, you could’ve also fly-kicked him. He had his hands full with the pocketknife and the bag anyway. Most people wouldn’t think you’d fly-kick them, so it can work. Either that or start attacking after throwing the stuff you’re holding at him.”

The girl nodded as if to say, “I see”. “But Captain, I am not allowed to throw your belongings.”

“That’s right. If you’d done that, I would’ve given you a beating.”

Despite making a face that denoted she had not comprehended it, the girl nodded. Those who were used to obeying tended to gulp down the double standards of others.

“Anyhow, should we return the bag to the victim? Or should we report to the military police...”

Although Dietfried was dealing with the fuss in a brisk and business-like manner, his eyes took notice of someone squeezing through the crowd that had gathered around him.

“Please let me pass,” the voice of a man echoed straight throughout the area.

“Sorry; it’s dangerous here, so let us pass,” so did the sweet voice of another man.

“Excuse me; we heard that you have caught a fugitive criminal, and we have as well. Let’s bring them to the military police togeth...”

The men who had showed up lost their voices for a second. As did Dietfried.

“Gil...”

Hair the color of night and emerald eyes. There were parts of their physical appearance that were similar to one another, yet the air about them was overwhelmingly different. However, if the two stood next to each other, one could quickly tell what they were.

“Brother...”

The one standing there was Dietfried’s little brother, Gilbert Bougainvillea.

“Uwah, it’s the Captain.”

Together with a large red-haired man, he had a thief in his hold and they were dragging him away.

——Claudia Hodgins too... Sure ran into a noisy fellow.

The joy of meeting his younger sibling surfaced, yet once he pondered about how to explain the situation and how they would respond to it, his feelings soon leaned to the side of deeming it as a bother.

Gilbert displayed agitation for an instant at the sight of his older brother, but immediately switched his gaze over to understanding the state of the surroundings. When he saw that a girl was the one pinning down the assumed robber all by herself, the look in his eyes changed.

“Hodgins.”

“Aah, it’s okay. I can hold him on my own. You take care of that girl...”

Gilbert handed the man that they had under restraint over to the one named Hodgins, heading to the girl’s side and kneeling down with one knee. He then said, locking his gaze with hers, “Let’s switch; are you hurt?” Before earning her consent, Gilbert took the man’s restraining upon himself. “Any injuries?” he asked again as the girl did not answer.

The girl looked at Dietfried. “Captain is unharmed,” she reported her master’s condition, not thinking that she was being questioned about her own.

“No, I’m asking about you.”

The girl looked at Dietfried, then at Gilbert. She moved her neck left and right countless times, at loss. “Whether I am injured or not is not an issue. That question is inappropriate.”

As Dietfried heard this sentence, the area around his chest suddenly became heavy.

“What are you saying...? This is about your body. Your family would be sad if you were wounded, wouldn’t they?”

After all, he had not never asked her the question “Are you hurt?”.

“I do not have a ‘family’.”

Not even once until now.

Gilbert looked at Dietfried. Dietfried also looked at Gilbert. For a moment, the two brothers rejected what the other wanted to say with their eyes. An air that could be deemed as hazardous started drifting there.

Although Gilbert had been speaking to the girl in a soft tone until just a while ago, the warmth of his voice took a brusque nosedive, “Brother, we should contact the military police first of all.”

“Then, I will call them.”

“That’s fine; you stay here. Brother, you’re the most empty-handed of us. We can count on you, right?”

“I’m holding shopping bags.”

“Brother... I’ll get angry for real...”

Ultimately, Dietfried yielded, out of fear towards his little brother’s wrath. The two thieves were swiftly taken to the military police, and so the three men and one girl who had seized them left the scene as if fleeing from a turmoil.

   The course of events after that was, simply put, a spectacular sibling fight.

Gilbert was enraged at his older brother for making a little girl into a combatant and using her as a slave, while Dietfried desperately tried to refute him through the fact that she was not a “girl” to begin with. Stuck between them and unable to endure staying there any longer, Hodgins had attempted to take the girl away from the spot of their argument, yet she would not leave Dietfried’s side. In the end, they did not manage to keep the discussion together, parting ways with the decision to set up a proper place to talk on a later date.

While returning to the dormitory and even after arriving, Dietfried stayed quiet, not uttering a single word. It was already late into the night.

“Captain.”

Silence.

“What will you have for today’s dinner? I can take a seat in the cafeteria for you.”

“Don’t need it.”

“Understood.”

Dietfried’s irritation amplified even further with the fact that the girl, who was the point at issue, was conducting herself by operating in the same manner as usual.

“I don’t wanna look at your face. Go back to your room.”

“Understood.”

Once she left his bedroom, Dietfried had an abrupt realization. The girl would not go to the cafeteria unless he ordered. Since he had forgotten to tell her to do so, there was a possibility that she would not eat.

——I have to tell her.

However, a feeling surged within him, asking why he had to look after her to that extent. Whenever that girl was around, no matter what, he would end up restricting himself.

Rage welled up within Dietfried yet again as he recalled everything that Gilbert had told him.

“Brother, you’re a horrible person.”

——No, it’s not just me. She is, too.

“Don’t you feel sorry for that child?”

——You’re wrong; that’s not it. It’s not like that. You don’t get it.

“She’s still so little.”

——She’s a little murderer. An assassin who killed my comrades and kills my enemies.

Just which of them was the one in captivity?

——Who made a mess out of my life.

Wishing to become free, he had thrown everything away. Even if he were to receive criticism, he had run away from it all, not paying it any mind. That was Dietfried Bougainvillea.

——Even though I was free.

He had thrown away his home.

——Even though I was free.

He had thrown away his family.

——Even though I was free.

He had thrown away his brother.

——Even though I was free.

And then, he threw away even kindness, becoming a blade drawn out of its stealth and surviving in severity. He had been doing his best. Had been suffering.

Still, because of just one girl, everything was unstable now.

Dietfried moved his body with a sudden motion. He stood up from his bed and put on a coat. Opening the door of the room next to his, he made the girl dress up in as many layers as possible and took her outside.

Where were they going in the dead of night? The girl asked what their destination was, yet he did not answer. They walked, walked and walked, then hopped onto a carriage.

The carriage moved with clicks and clacks. The Moon could be seen chasing them all the while from the window.

Once they eventually reached a place much too far from the dormitory facilities, she could see a mansion that one would not call an ordinary home. One could assume that the surrounding plots of plentiful nature were also part of the estate, which was Dietfried’s former residence as well.

The mansion was property of the Bougainvillea family. This was a portion of it. The main house was located somewhere else.

The sky was already beginning to pale, about to welcome the break of dawn. Again, a beautiful morning was going to start in Leidenschaftlich.

They had been traveling for a whole night and his body was aching. His condition was at its worst due to lack of sleep. However, Dietfried let out a relieved breath as they reached the mansion at last. Currently enlisted in the army, Gilbert had told him that he was in Leiden for a temporary stop. If so, in order to avoid an earful from their mother, he should be staying in their villa.

Right now, Gilbert was in there. His little brother, who – unlike Dietfried – had the shape of everything that their parents deemed a person must have, was there.

“Listen up: go inside that house. And then call Gilbert.”

His respectable younger sibling, whose emotions were not overly warped, was there.

“Tell him I kicked you out. If you do that, he’ll treat you right. You gotta show him how tired you are. No matter what, be sure to ask him to make you into an army officer.”

That was a sparkle in Dietfried’s life of complete darkness.

“There’s no way that someone like you could manage living a normal life at this point. Serve the military, and then die.”

The fact that he existed and was a relative with whom Dietfried shared the same blood was, to the latter, hope.

“He’ll protect you for sure.”

He was hope. He was light.

“I...”

No matter how broken he was, Dietfried could believe that he had one normal something. This had always granted him courage.

“You...”

He was aware that he was doing wrong as a person.

“You and I can’t be together.”

He knew he was the kind of human being who could not change, regardless of being in the wrong. That was why he loved his virtuous younger brother as if it were a necessity. He loved him even now.

Gilbert would never betray Dietfried. After all, he also loved his older brother.

The girl’s usual expressionlessness slowly crumbled. She repeatedly opened and closed her mouth, attempting to say something. However, probably unable to find the right words, she looked at the Bougainvillea mansion and shook her head like a child throwing a tantrum in refusal.

“Go; just go.”

“I—do not—want to.”

“Don’t talk back. I don’t need you. Go be used by a different owner.”

“I—do not—want to... I do not want to...”

“I’m telling you I don’t need you! Hurry and go!”

The girl tried to grasp Dietfried’s arm. Yet Dietfried began walking away before she could do so. He just uncaringly headed to the carriage that was parked a little far from the residence’s front gate.

“Captain.”

The girl was coming after him. Her voice was loaded with feelings of desperation.

——What’s up with you?

“Captain, Captain—”

——Even though you usually have no emotions.

“Captain, I do not—want this! Captain! Please give me—an order!”

——Even though you only think of me as a tool to receive orders.

“Captain! Captain! I will—properly learn—how to read!”

——Could’ve been anyone, right? Even if it weren’t me, anyone should do for you.

“Plea—se! Captain—I do not—want this, Captain!”

——Even if it weren’t me, you would...

“Captain... Captain... I will—do anything, Captain... Captain...”

——Even if it weren’t me, you would’ve been okay with it. Isn’t that it?

Dietfried turned around to check if her voice had died down. The same old girl was not there. Her wild beast figure from their first encounter had disappeared as well.

“Please, do not leave me—on my own...”

The one standing there was the infant that Dietfried had taught how to speak.

Dietfried looked at the child in front of him as if he had grown senile. She was crying. That beast of a girl, who did not cry no matter how many wounds she earned, was weeping. And also appealing to him with the things that she could do.

“I can fight; I can also—carry your belongings; and—put your—shirt on—for you.”

She was desperately bringing up what she could do to prove her existence.

“My wounds—heal quickly as well; I can—kill your enemies too; I will do anything.”

How could she assert her being?

“Please let me... Captain...”

What could she do to stay by Dietfried Bougainvillea’s side? She was attempting to certify her existence. In reality, Dietfried had misjudged her.

The girl had properly ascertained who her lord was.

If it could have been anyone else, there were several people other than him. Yet he was the one she had chased after. The wild beast had instinctively sensed and pursued him.

She had followed him while embracing the wish that, if it was a human like him, an adult like him, then surely...

“I can—be used; I can become—an optimal tool.”

...he would not leave her.

Had he not bestowed her with words and used her as a mere tool, she would never have said such a thing. Dietfried had failed.

Combing her hair and patiently teaching her about daily lifestyle had done no good. Neither had the fact that he taught her what to do and how to fight whenever she encountered difficulties while by herself. None of it had done any good.

Even without Dietfried Bougainvillea himself realizing it...

“Please, let me be—by your side.”

...the wild beast was turning into a person.

The complete darkness of the night was gradually fading. From the direction of the Bougainvillea mansion, a servant and Gilbert – the master of the house – appeared, having come upon overhearing the angry yelling. They stared at the duo with surprise.

Dietfried slowly changed his course. He turned to the crying child. One step after another, he moved toward the girl.

“Do you need me?”

He then reached out his hands, holding her small body in his arms.

“Yes.”

With an awkwardness similar to holding an animal for the first time, he supported her from the back.

“Even if I say I don’t need you, do you need me?”

In doing that, the two looked like one.

“Yes; please, do not leave me alone.”

They looked like a single living being, formed through a combination of distorted shapes.

“I see.”

Dietfried felt that the dark things squirming inside his chest until now were clearing up. His feelings for her, which were close to hatred, dimmed away as well. Same for the anger towards himself and his inferiority complex regarding the rest of the world. Illuminated by the gentle sunlight, they all faded and disappeared, just like the deep dark colors of the night.

——I see; so I wanted something like this, Dietfried thought vacantly while embracing the child that clung to him.

He felt like he understood why he was always so irritated at this girl. Just as she wanted to prove herself, he also wanted others to accept him.

Socially, he was acknowledged. He also had subordinates who idolized him. However, Dietfried...

——I wanted this.

...wanted that wild beast to acknowledge. To acknowledge him.

The times when he truly thought that he wanted to kill her had passed. So had the times when he wanted to push her onto someone else. And the times in which he tried to use her solely as a tool until she collapsed, just like a slave, were passing as well. They were now morphing into wondering about what he could do to make her last, to have her live.

They were properly changing towards the direction of the light.

“Then, be by my side.”

That was why he wanted to acknowledge as well. No matter how distorted a shape they had.

The child and man then welcomed the first morning in which they acknowledged each other.

   Afterwards, a mansion was erected in the outskirts of Leidenschaftlich.

Built once the Continental War ended, after the cessation of hostilities was finally called on, said mansion was home to a somewhat eccentric family. A man and a girl. Far apart in age, the two of them did not seem to get along well, yet did not show any signs that they would separate from each other.

“Captain, it is morning.”

As threads of golden hair cascaded smoothly in front of him like canopy curtains, Dietfried rubbed his sticky eyelids and opened them. At first, what he could see were exquisite blue eyes and cherry-colored lips. This individual, already clad in a naval uniform, bore features that anyone would call beautiful.

Dietfried regretted unintentionally thinking that she was beautiful first-thing in the morning.

“Captain, it is morning,” her voice echoed softly in his ears.

“Shut up... I know.” He sat up, yawning.

The girl began forcefully undressing Dietfried, whose gestures looked a little childish no matter what he did, without the slightest sign of embarrassment. “You have a dinner meeting today after work. I will not take part in it, but I have arranged a carriage for your return, so please give your name when you go to the assembly hall of the dinner meeting.”

“Got it.”

Letting her do as she pleased, Dietfried was having his clothes changed from sleeping garments to his uniform.

“You stayed up late yesterday night, right? There are dark circles under your eyes.”

“You’re real noisy lately... Most of it is Gil’s influence, ain’t it... You can’t go today ‘cause you got some business with him?” Seeing her movements halt completely when she was buttoning him up, Dietfried snorted. “So easy to read. You into him?”

“No.”

The duo’s conversation was a daily life scene that had happened countless times already. It was by no means anything special.

“Even if you aren’t, I don’t know about him.”

“No, it is nothing of the...”

“You two gonna see each other alone?”

“Mr. Hodgins is also coming.”

“Even if you hook up with him, I ain’t letting go of you. Work for me on commute.”

“Of course.”

“Hn, now comb my hair.”

“Yes.”

“The ribbon will be... navy blue.”

“Yes.”

Dietfried looked at the girl. She had grown up considerably. Back when they had first met, her height was about enough to reach his waist or so.

——But nowadays, she seems to be kinda intimate with Gilbert.

Although she was working flawlessly as his secretary every day, the feeling that she was being conquered lately was undeniable. That was certainly fulfilling for her, but to Dietfried, it was a tad unamusing.

“You say ‘yes’ but you’re gonna throw me away one day, aren’t you?”

A line that did not feel like him accidentally came out, and once it did so, he could not take it back. As Dietfried stayed quiet, the girl tilted her head.

“It is you who are in the position of throwing me away.”

“As if I can do that at this point; you’re mine.”

Silence.

“Aah, I don’t wanna go to work anymore... I feel awful; everything is so annoying...”

“Lord Dietfried.”

“What? You’re so noisy.”

Disgruntled, Dietfried collapsed onto his bed. After staring at him for a moment, the girl eventually imitated it, collapsing onto the bed and coming close to him.

“You gonna sleep too?”

“I am your asset, after all. I live, die, lie down and sleep together with you.”

“So you’ve come to say that.”

She completely had him on the palm of her hand.

Although he had several complaints about it, he also felt comfort from the nature of this relationship already.

Even now, he had never clearly put into words and explicitly stated his feelings towards her.

“One day... you will...”

“I shall serve you forever.”

“You say that, but one day...”

“I shall serve you. For as long as you do abandon me.”

“I said I ain’t gonna throw you away, didn’t I?”

“You tried once.”

“Y’know, that was a one-time flight response from when I was having a hard time rearing a kid. Raising you was a hassle.”

“I am grateful for it. I shall serve you for life.”

Dietfried was no longer his past self. He had become just a man that could not let go of this girl, who was the proof of his existence.

That was why Dietfried reached out his hand. As if to rule over her; as if to make her not forget about him, her lord.

He called her name, which he himself had chosen, “■■■■”

Having her cheek caressed and her name called, the girl crinkled her eyes a little. “Yes, I am by your side.”

   That was a story in which the future would have changed drastically, had he not thrown her away when he was supposed to.

[mintjamsblog]

Hey, I miss your writing! I don't know if you're taking asks but hate-sex? Argument-sex? Make-up sex?

Okay, sorry for the delay, have a horny ficlet

Tommy/Alfie Hate-sex

It's not that Tommy means to be selfish, Alfie's pretty sure of that, it's just that selfishness comes to him naturally. It's no doubt a byproduct of the life he's led, a combination of ruthless self-sufficiency and entrenched self-preservation that manifests in occasionally infuriating ways. He spends so much time wandering around in his own labyrinth of a head that 'e don't always seem to realise where 'e is or how 'e got there. How 'is food got onto that plate in front of 'im for that matter. Which is kind of a case in point.

Alfie scrapes the remnants of an individual salmon encroute into the kitchen bin, dislodging the perfectly-cooked pastry that's now curling upwards, like the ribs of a rotting cadaver, protecting what's left of the messily pecked-out pinkness inside. He can't help being stung that Tommy couldn't even be bothered to finish it. It's as if the cocky little bastard thinks perfectly-prepared dinners-for-one just appear in the oven of their own accord. As if the cupboards are self-replenishing — automatically restocking his favourite whisky and tea (and semi-skimmed milk, 'cause skimmed tastes like dishwater and full-fat's too creamy) every time supplies run low.

But communication is key in any relationship, innit? So rather than run his mouth off half-cocked, Alfie decides to conduct an experiment. See how long it takes Tommy to communicate his appreciation for the things Alfie does.

The answer, it turns out, is a fucking long time — longer than Alfie's patience will last at any rate. When he walks in for the fifth night in a row to find the meal he prepared half-eaten, dirty dishes next to the sink, and Tommy so enthralled by his laptop he barely nods, "hello," well ... Alfie has had enough. He schools himself though. Clenches his fists and forces his voice to taken on a deceptively breezy tone.

"You eaten, treacle?" he enquires.

"Yeah," Tommy answers with a quick glance up. The living room's in near total-darkness, not a single lamp switched on, which means Tommy's lit only by the bluish glare of whatever's on 'is screen. It's not a flattering light. Makes 'im look tired — haggard actually — all sharp angles and purple shadows. Then again, it is one o'clock in the morning. (It'd have to be some quality porn to have Alfie absorbed at this hour, but the sad reality is that it's far more likely spreadsheets.)

"What did you 'ave?" Alfie asks.

"Eh?"

"To eat."

Tommy sighs. "Er ... that thing you left in the oven." He glances up again, irritably this time.

"Hmmm," Alfie says. "Bouillabaisse."

"What?"

"Bouillabaisse. French fish stew."

"Yeah, it was fish." Tommy's typing something now, bashing the keys impatiently — workaholic little prick.

Alfie looks round the room. There's a bottle of whisky on the coffee table and a glass (no sign of a coaster). A sea of stale bread crumbs flecks the sofa — the accompaniment to tonight's lovingly prepared meal. The man himself sits cross-legged, bare feet tucked up into the backs of his knees, socks discarded amongst the pale shreds of sourdough like twisted creatures in a gloomy velvet sea. He doesn't acknowledge Alfie's scrutiny; doesn't even seem to notice.

Alfie would like to start an argument right here, right now, to ask Tommy what his last slave died of and who the fuck he thinks he is. Instead he finds himself gritting his teeth and swiping at crumbs with brusque, rigid movements. He pairs Tommy's socks and collects up the discarded innards of this morning's Financial Times, seething quietly all the while. He's worked damn hard tonight, serving one hundred and forty covers in two sittings, (one hundred and forty three if you count Prince Tommy's dinner. That thought irks him more than it should). He needs a shower more than a row, but he can't help himself from needling.

"Nice was it?" he asks, crumpling the newspaper into the fire-bucket.

"What?"

"Your dinner."

Tommy huffs and finally looks up, dropping his hands from the keyboard to rest either side of his legs. "Is there a problem, Alfie?" he says.

"Problem?" Alfie says, his eyebrows raised in mock surprise. "No, nah. No problem. Just wondered if it was nice? Ya know, the bouillabaisse?"

"Yes. It was nice," Tommy says, digging thick fingers into his eye sockets as if the bloodshot orbs were the source of his irritation. "I have to send this to Pol in the next fifteen minutes or she'll fucking skin me tomorrow. Alright?"

"S'not Pol makes all your dinners," Alfie mutters under his breath.

"What?"

"I said Pernot. Makes all the difference."

"Right."

"To bouillabasisse."

"Fuck's sake..."

"I'm going up for a shower."

"Fine. I'll be up when this is done."

Alfie stands under the hot water and lets his anger simmer, stirs it just enough to intensify the flavours. He pours over the paltry slights, the daily irritations and provocations that come from sharing a home. And alright, each annoyance on its own might not sour the dish, but combined they begin to thicken. Alfie's careful not to let his anger boil, he don't want to turn it bitter, but by the time he walks into the bedroom he can taste it on his tongue.

Tommy is already in bed, one hand tucked behind his head as he reads a document of some kind, several creamy pages stapled together. He tuts and turns the page, without looking over to Alfie. And p'raps that's what does it, finally tears Alfie's patience; he strides to the bed and rips the papers clean out of Tommy's hand, hurling them across the floor.

"What the fuck?" Tommy says. He looks shocked, and slightly bewildered. There's anger there, but dulled by a visible weariness.

Alfie ain't in the mood for concessions; he climbs onto the bed, boxing Tommy in on all fours.

"That's fucking rude," Tommy says, his mouth a mean little line.

"Rude?" Alfie says. "Me?" He laughs so unexpectedly it comes out as more of a bark. "You're fuckin' unbelievable, mate."

Tommy's face hardens in that way that suggests he's about to say something deeply unwise. Alfie leans down to kiss him, hard, before he has the chance. There's a startled sound and a clashing of teeth as Tommy tries to shut him out, but one strategically-placed hand around his throat and he opens for Alfie's tongue with an audible exhale.

Alfie licks into him, probes the inside of his mouth, overwhelmed with a desire to retake what Tommy's withheld: his attention. His full, undivided attention ... by god, he's gonna give it now. Tommy's defences start to weaken — his tongue softens, his mouth falls wide — when he lets out a whorish little moan, Alfie pulls away. He's hard with lovingly-nurtured anger and ready to put it to use. "Over," he says, nudging Tommy's hip with a knee.

Tommy rolls reluctantly, looking rather bewildered. Alfie reaches into the bedside drawer and slicks himself one-handed, cursing as the lube falls noisily onto the floor. Don't matter, he's done enough.

"Got something to say to me, Tommy?" he asks, fumbling in his haste.

Tommy doesn't answer, though he can be in no doubt as to where this is leading. It's a source of unending wonder how he can look so fucking truculent when he's splayed face-down on the bed.

"No?" Alfie prompts. "You sure about that?"

Tommy stays defiantly mute, so Alfie wraps an arm beneath him and slams in with a single thrust. The sound of breath being knocked out of Tommy shocks the air in the room, and sends fire licking through Alfie. He hauls Tommy closer still, squeezing his slender waist as if emptying a soda-bottle of air. His hips and forearm are opposing forces, jaws clamping down on a pelvis — he lets Tommy feel the bite of his strength, of his want, until a cry of anguish fills the air.

Then he waits, breathing slowly through the seconds of charged stillness as Tommy fights to yield. Ten seconds turn into fifteen, twenty, followed by a convulsion — one rigid spasm that travels the length of Tommy's body and ends with a shuddering groan. The precious sound of acceptance. Only then does Alfie ease back, sliding out an inch or two purely for the pleasure of pressing back in and making him cry out again.

"Thank me," he says, voice low as he presses a kiss into Tommy's neck.

Tommy groans and tips his head but doesn't form the words.

"Thank me," Alfie repeats with a thrust. "I want to hear you say it."

Tommy buries his face in the sheets and doesn't make a sound.

"Alright, if that's how you want to play it." Alfie heaves himself upwards, and presses his weight into Tommy's shoulder-blades. "You will thank me," he promises, "if I 'ave to fuck you into next week."

Maybe that's what Tommy needs, Alfie ain't giving any more chances. He builds up the pace with increasingly vigorous thrusts, which Tommy just lies there and takes it. And takes it. And takes it. The sheets come untucked, the pillows bank up against the headboard and Alfie fills with dark delight when Tommy starts to falter, to let little growls and mewls escape. He sounds like a wounded animal. Perhaps he's expecting sympathy ... poor deluded boy. Alfie slows his hips and shifts position, wrapping his arms beneath Tommy's armpits and locking hands in front of his chest. The position puts his mouth against Tommy's ear.

"If you ain't gonna say it, darlin', you'd better shut the fuck up." He pulls out achingly slowly, feeling the grip around his cock before slamming back in with a groan. The angle clearly changes something because this time Tommy sounds desperate — a series of high-pitched sounds ripples out of him, ending with a whine.

"Say it," Alfie growls, repeating the exact same movement to even more delightful effect. He pulls out for a third time, about to fuck in again when  

Tommy whispers something that sounds awfully like compliance.

"What's that?" Alfie says, pausing to pull him out of the pillows by his hair.

"Thank you," Tommy says, his voice barely a whisper as he quietly obeys.

"Again," Alfie says as he drives back in, pulling hard on the black locks so that Tommy's neck is bared.

"Thank you," Tommy repeats. This time the response is a gasp, two gasps, but still Alfie isn't sated.

"Again," he says, with another thrust.

"Thank you," Tommy replies; the struggle in his voice drives Alfie on like a racehorse under the whip.

"Again," he says, "again ... again."

"Thank you," Tommy murmurs, "thank, ahh, thank y—"

Alfie lets go of the hair and fucks Tommy hard, cutting off each gasped response before it's fully formed. Soon it's like an echo that follows every thrust.  "Thank—, than—, tha— urgh!"  Tommy's fingers splay out like flags of surrender but Alfie ain't feeling merciful.

"Again," he growls. "Thank me again, thank me until you can't say it."

Tommy does, he says it over and over, until he's so battered by Alfie's desire that every pitiful, "thank you," is a breath forced into the mattress. Is a plea. Is a please ... "please Alfie, fuck, god, please ..."

***

Afterwards, Alfie curls onto his side and basks in the faintly horrifying afterglow of his own cruelty. It takes a good few moments until he feels his own pinkness subside. Tommy shuffles closer, ducks into the concave space formed by the curve of Alfie's body. His arms slide around Alfie's belly and he holds on tight, in the way he only ever does after a particular type of sex. Alfie bends to kiss the top of his head, a single peck that's suffused, somehow, with more tenderness than an hour of tongued kisses.

"Thank you," Tommy whispers into the hair on Alfie's chest. Alfie strokes the back of his neck and feels overwhelmingly and incongruously protective.

"For the dinners or the sex?"

"Both. You always know what I need."

"Good job one of us knows what's good for you."

"You are."

"Hmm."

Alfie wishes he were more certain of that.

[artificialqueens]

Drunk in love (Branjie) - Thorpe

AN: Who doesn’t love drunk Brooke? I certainly do. And I’m happy to present you what that comment about alcohol “loosening Brooke right up” did to me. If you’ll like it, my ask box is opened at @freykitten. And most importantly, shout out to @pink-grapefruit-cafe for proofreading this. She’s just as lovely, as she is talented.

~

“You better put that down, bitch” Vanjie had to bite down a smile, her brows slightly furrowed as she watched Brooke lift his drink with hand so unsteady it looked as if it was barely keeping the glass upright.

“But I’m not done yet” Brooke whined, blinking and trying to focus his gaze on dark liquid coming dangerously close to the rim.

“Oh, you’re so done” the shorter man gave up on keeping her face straight and sneered. Drunk Brooke Lynn Hytes was the most hysterical sight she’d ever seen, hands down. And the fact that he was also the most adorable one didn’t help at all. “I ain’t no bodybuilder, I ain’t gonna carry you out, twinkle toes”

“I love it when you call me that, Papi” Brooke purred with half-lidded eyes and a lazy smile that came across slightly sloppy but gorgeous nevertheless. He put his drink on the counter, spilling it a bit, now interested solely on a tanned figure before him. Standing up, he held onto Puerto Rican queen to help himself steady but the hands that started roaming slowly over her shoulders and chest had nothing to do with fighting gravity.

“Na-ah, it ain’t happening, bitch, no way” Vanjie cackled, getting slightly flustered, gently swatting his forearm with the hand that wasn’t occupied supporting his weight.

“T’s not what you usually say” Canadian slurred with a cocky smirk, continuing his trail down Vanessa’s body, trying to bow enough to reach her neck with his lips but the sudden sway back made him pout and eventually put that off for later when he had already found his balance. Preferably in bed with his lovely companion.

“Usually you’re in better shape. Let’s go home, yeah?” She didn’t leave any room for answers as she handed bartender a few bills and firmly pulled Brooke away from their seats not waiting for change. He heard the beat of the music as they were carefully manoeuvring next to the crowd on the dance floor (well, it was mostly her manoeuvring and him bumping shoulders with every person they encountered). He thought of joining them but decided he liked the strong grip of a small palm on his waist better.

“Hey, hey, whatcha doin’? Hold on, I can’t walk like this!” Mateo struggled to keep both Brooke and herself from falling as the older queen tried to hug her but ended up throwing himself over her.

“Don’ wanna be away from you” the man in question mumbled into her hair, subtly rocking from side to side.

“Well, I don’t wanna split my head open on that floor. Come on, get off me” she was getting annoyed and tried to push him away enough to go back to their previous position but stopped when she saw the hurt painted across his face.

“You don’t want me?” He asked in a small voice, hardly audible over the loudspeakers. She sighed and held his head up to make him look into her eyes. He was hysterical after alcohol, sure, but he was also super emotional.

“‘Course I do. You know I do” she said in a deep, meaningful voice, stroking his cheek. Puerto Rican hated to see her lover doubting something she was so sure of. He should be certain he meant everything to her at all times, no matter how out of it he might have been at the moment. She gave him a light peck, hoping for it to be enough of a reassurance. “Now home, please” He didn’t say anything, just nodded but a brilliant smile that was now lighting his features told her it was indeed enough. Without any further obstacles, she led them out of the bar to wait for their uber.

Earlier it was muggy and hot, typical for California summer. They spent a nice day walking around the town, stopping by at her favourite places to take cute photos and discovering those she’d never been to before. Simply enjoying the sun and the company of each other that never seemed to last as long as they wanted. But she was thankful for each and every moment ripped from their hectic schedules that they got together, as she was for delicate wind and a slight chill in the air around them now. With both hands cautiously placed on Brooke’s waist, she leaned on the wall behind her and closed her eyes. Where was that damned car? She was tired and couldn’t wait to get that lovable drunk of her boyfriend safely tucked in bed and call it a day.

Fingers grazing her jaw brought Vanjie back to reality just a split of second before she felt familiar lips pressing against hers. She closed her eyes again and angled her head to reciprocate the kiss, smiling into it at the soft sight of contentment the taller man made. It was blissfully unrushed, like waves of a peaceful sea lazily brushing the shore or poppies gently swaying among the grass under a breeze. But the breeze was soon revealed to be a presage of an incoming hurricane as former ballet dancer pushed his leg in between Vanessa’s and kissed her with more power. She let it happen for a short while but the taste of alcohol, stronger than before, made her pull back.

“Baby, we’re in the middle of the street” she tried to regain some composure but judging from how raspy her voice came out, she wasn’t doing best.

“And that’s a problem because?” Brooke trailed off and smiled smugly before sucking in one of the fingers she had covered his mouth with to create more distance between them. She shivered, partly aroused, partly surprised at the sudden change of temperature and quickly retrieved her hand upon meeting his tipsy gaze.

‘Because you’re drunk as the all living fuck’

‘Because I’m barely holding back myself’

‘Because we’re under contract and can’t have anyone walking in on us’

“Because our ride is here” or at least so she hoped as dragged the older man in direction of a black car which pulled in next to the bar’s entrance. Trying to leave an empty seat between them proved itself to be an idea as failed as Trixie doing RuPaul for Snatch Game since just as she gave her address to the driver, she had long, strong arms squeezing around her midsection and blond curls tingling her neck. Bent in a way that couldn’t be even close to comfortable, Brooke seemed extremely pleased when she scooted even closer to the shorter man. With an eye roll, she returned the weird side hug, fingers tracing nonsensical patterns on the other’s biceps.

His head was slowly beginning to spin and the buzz in his ears was becoming overwhelming. For once he was thankful for the traffic that never ceased in LA because his limbs felt way too heavy for him to move anytime soon. Currently he was the happiest he could be, at the side of the man of his dreams as they were going through the streets of the city that brought them together. He smirked at the memory of flying from Nashville at RuPaul’s invitation, knowing damn well it would change his life but having no idea to what extent. His thoughts were getting less and less clear, everything a blur with an exception of blindingly white teeth framed by a brilliant smile or biting his neck in the dead of the night and warm brown eyes he would gladly spend eternity staring into. It sounded like a good idea, he realized. If only he could lift his head but that otherwise trivial task seemed unachievable in his present state so he sated himself with snuggling closer and letting the presence of the man he was lucky to call his envelop him fully. After what just as well could have been an hour or mere minutes but still appeared way too short, the warm hand moved away from its previous spot on his arm and he instantly hated it.

“You asleep? Told ya I ain’t gonna carry your ass” voice too loud for his pounding head’s liking shook him out of his haze. He frowned and mumbled something incomprehensible. Puerto Rican sighed heavily at the sight of a literal tragedy in the making sitting next to her and longingly looked in the direction of the wooden door just a couple of metres away. As it turned out, Brooke was surprisingly lenient and very gladly followed the smaller body that radiated safety wherever it went, unfortunately not missing out on hitting his forehead while getting off the car. “Are you okay?” Vanjie asked, her tone worried but with the corner of her lips quivering in amusement.

“Never better” came a slurred response. With a headache either way inevitably coming to him in the near future, she let it be and slowly led the graceless tangle of limbs to her front door, having him rest his weight on her as she fumbled with the keys. She needed to have a lamp installed, she thought absent-mindedly. Finally, they stepped into the corridor not bothering to turn the lights on, having a fair share of experience at stumbling to the bedroom in the dark.

“There you go, careful” small but firm hands secured him lowering to the bed and helped him out of his clothes, then tossed them definitely not in the direction of the laundry bin but neither of them cared at that point. Brooke felt the drowsiness approach but forced his eyes open to watch his boyfriend move around the room, bringing him a glass of water he would desperately need in the morning and changing in the bathroom.

“You’re beautiful,” he said towards the silhouette he could barely muster through lids dropping dangerously.

“Whatever you say, toes” a snort came as a reply, followed by the rustling of the sheets as she joined him in their bed. He frowned at how unimpressed she sounded.

“No, but you are, like… you really are” he was getting frustrated with words that seemed to slip away from his tongue. Suddenly there were fingers caressing his temple, momentarily making him relax.

“Shh, we’ll talk tomorrow, yeah?” he liked that, next day he would have all the words in their proper places, full of meaning.

“I love you” he mumbled and felt soft lips on his cheek before tiredness overtook him for good.

“Love you too” the quiet response went unheard as it’s recipient was already fast asleep, dreaming of caramel skin under the moonlight and palms that fit perfectly into his.

[foolsdiamond]

Big Ol’ McCree Get Together

Big Ol’ McCree Get Together - Ao3

Summary: Hanzo accompanies his fiancé Jesse to his family reunion. Cute domestic fluff as Hanzo meets with his new family and starts his own with Jesse.

_______________________________

The air in the barn was hot and humid.  The reek of moldy hay and dirty animals stuck in the air like a dense fog, dulled only by the warm cider and jack-o-lanterns.  The cows mourned the warmth and safety of their barn as they bemoaned their misery outside the doors. The whole barn was massive; it had a fully fleshed out second story, for visitors or travelers to stay and for Jesse when he finally found the road back home.

This time, when the McCrees got together, it’d been a good two or three years since the eldest son Jesse had made his way on time.  He scarcely showed himself anymore, and he liked it that way; while he loved his family with all his heart, they just didn’t agree on a few too many issues for him.

McCree leans on the sturdy oak table laden with three-days labor of food and feast, his hand linked tightly with the strong, calloused digits of his wealthy companion.  Jesse tosses a gentle look at Hanzo Shimada, whose nose is crinkled at the intense smell and sea of people.

“You look like you took up Keith’s offers for a cow pie,” Jesse suggested.  Hanzo turned his attention to his partner, trying to relax his face.

“I’ve never experienced this many stenches simultaneously, even after the grueling boatride,” Shimada responded.  They both tightened their grip on the other’s hand.

“I reckon you know more words than I do.  At least, you put ‘em far more eloquently, more than I ever will.”

Hanzo smiles warmly and tugs on Jesse’s arm gently; he leans in to receive the gentle whisper.  “Your words are beautiful, as they are yours.”

In a heartbeat, the calm between the pair gets interrupted.  A young boy runs from beneath the table, forcing himself between Hanzo’s legs, and gets followed by a tiny little girl.  Shimada catches himself easily, but the eldest McCree kid peels away to chase after his little relatives.

“Mario, you can’t just attack a guest like that!  Olivia, you keep fightin’ like that and you’re gonna have to face me one of these days.”  The two kids squeal gleefully as they get caught, scooped up by the grisled cowboy’s strong arms, and relax comfortably in his familiar grip.  

“It’s Paul, Jess!  He goes by Paul now.” Olivia chimed, pointing at Paul accusingly.

“ Sí, Jesse.   Me llamo Paul ahora. ”

“Don’tchya mean ¿te llamas Paulo? ” Jesse piped in, but his littlest brother shook his head.  “Alright. Paul or no Paul, I’ve got some fight left in these muscles if you keep harassin’ yer little cousin.  Same goes to you, Olive.”

The two whined, reluctantly agreed to not engage a 23-year-old man, and wandered off to harass Gran’mama.  Hanzo rested his hand on Jesse’s shoulder to silently catch the other’s attention, who leaned up into the touch as he straightened his back.

“You have a large family, Jesse.”

“Aw, it’s pretty small for how long we’ve owned this plot of land.  Some people got enough cousins and siblings to populate a whole town to themselves.  Half of us can’t even make it to the yearly gathering anymore,” McCree responded most humbly.  He gently slides Shimada’s hand down until their fingers lace together once more, squeezing confidently.  The shorter man offers up a happy smile from the gesture.

“Why has your family dispersed so drastically?” he asked.

Jesse paused, glancing around.  Of course, it doesn’t seem like anyone’s paying much attention, but he can feel burning stares from his mother’s favorite chair.  McCree decides to tug Hanzo to the door and out into the cool night air. His boyfriend is easily led away from the dizzying smell and overwhelming population in the barn.

“Jesse?” he offered, once they were far enough that only the moonlight illuminated their faces.

Jesse stared hard at his lover.  It was still so foreign to say… his lover , his partner, his boyfriend and fiancé.  He stared at Hanzo Shimada, whose warm charcoal eyes offered nothing but concern and support; whose muscular arms opened up for an embrace, a hug tight enough to squeeze out all the tension in his bones.  He let himself melt into his boyfriend, let the anxiety eating at his appetite dissolve into the solid mesa beneath their feet, and let the unease in his gut untwist. The two breathed synchronously for what felt like a fleeting hour.

“Is it because you’re gay?”

“I wish it were that easy, Han.  I wish I could just say my family hates me for havin’ a taste in men, but I’m not gay.  I like boys an’ girls. They hate me for not pickin’ sides,” Jesse started, his tone solidifying by the end of it.

“There’s more to it, clearly,” Shimada offered.

“It’s hard to talk about with you,” Jesse finally pleaded after a long pause.  He’s certain he’ll get the brunt of Hanzo’s offense now, taken aback by his boyfriend’s lack of trust, uncertain whether he can handle a relationship with such  a big secret--

“Then tell me why it is difficult.  So that I may ease whatever anxiety it is that prevents me from helping you.”

“Hanzo,” McCree starts, pulling away from the warm hug to cup both of Shimada’s hands with his.  He savors the warmth of the foreigner’s palm on his. “The problem is you’re gay.”

Now he looks offended.  Well, mostly confused, a little hurt, a little stupified.  Jesse squeezes Hanzo’s hand tightly, then drops the grip altogether.  His sweaty palm slips from Shimada’s, and he uses his real hand to unbutton his shirt.

McCree peels off his clothes, layer by constricting layer, and the look on Hanzo’s face fades to total understanding.  He rests his hand on Jesse’s chest as the cowboy is about to peel off his tank-top. He ignores it, removing the garment anyway and breathing deeply, now that his lungs have a little space.  Shimada leaves his palm resting onto McCree’s bare tit, chest swelling with a few deep breaths.

Hanzo slides his hand up to McCree’s shoulder, the other on his hip, then falls forward and squeezes the cowboy tightly.  The last of Jesse’s anxiety fades with that hug, and he squeezes his boyfriend back just as tight.

“I do not understand,” Shimada said quietly.

“Well,” Jesse starts, leaning his face into Hanzo’s shoulder and breathing, catching his thoughts.  His lover leaves him with complete silence and all the time in the world. “Let’s just say, I wasn’t born as a man.  But I am one, now. My Paw taught me to shoot, and my Maw taught me to cook; I started wearin’ pants when I was 12 ‘cause I kept tearing up my dresses in the brush.

“I found me a gang by the time I turned 15.  They were rowdy and wild and hungry, but they believed me a boy, and they trusted my aim like I trusted theirs.  Wasn’t until I got caught by the sheriff at 19 that I finally got my way out.”

“But,” Hanzo trailed off.

“Well, a few things happened to split the family.  Part of ‘em supported my decision, part of ‘em didn’t.  Most of my aunts an’ uncles moved out to the nearest city, my Paw’s remainin’ family refused his decision to accept havin’ a gay son, a few of ‘em have died through various means.  Maw’s takin’ care of my four siblings, along with three of my youngest cousins.”

“So it is not entirely your fault, at least.  You made it seem like your decision--” Shimada began.

“It wasn’t really a decision,” McCree interjected.

“Your… gender?” he offered, met without objection.  “You made it seem as though your gender were the sole reason causing your family reunions to dwindle down to tiny gatherings.”

“I guess that’s how it always felt.  Maw definitely don’t like her eldest kid decided to run off with a gang of rough boys and abandon her with all the young’uns,” Jesse said.

Hanzo finally released the tight hug and Jesse forced himself to relax, the duo staring at the dying light of the barn.  Seems tonight’s feast is finally getting cleaned up, and they’ll have to wander back before they lose their only guide to shelter.

“I don’t think they hate you as much as you feel, Jesse.  You have a large, supportive family, who thrive off of their love for each other.  I think they miss you,” Hanzo finally said as his arm slid around McCree’s waist. The cowboy bent down silently, retrieving his shirts and slowly sliding into his constricting undershirt.  A gentle squeeze from his boyfriend stops him with his arms and head still stuck inside. Jesse grunts in confusion.

“We are about to sleep, yes?  Alone?” Shimada asked.

“Mhm.  My room’s been moved to the upper floor of the barn, so we most likely won’t get disturbed.  Bright side of never comin’ home on a predictable schedule, I reckon,” McCree chuckled. He slithers back out of his undershirt and decides to just button up his outermost shirt, up to the throat, and folds the rest of his clothing over his arm.  He holds out his wooden hand for Hanzo, who delicately wraps both of his around McCree’s with an amused grin.

The only one who hasn’t cleared out of the barn by the time Jesse and his partner return is his eldest cousin, herding the cows back in for the night.  McCree decides to leave his clothes with Shimada and help him out.

“They left you all alone, Marshall?” Jesse grinned.

“I reckon it’s the credentials.  Now that I’m Sheriff Marshall, they figure I can handle herding twenty cows into a lil ol’ barn,” his cousin laughed.

Hanzo stayed back, somewhat obscured by the midnight shadows, watching the two work.  Marshall has a curled mustache and a smooth jawline, but he could be taken for his cousin’s double if they tried.  

After the last cow finally wandered into the barn, Marshall rested a hand on the doorframe and extended the other to Jesse.  He paused, offering up the wrong hand for the shake, but his only good hand; looking a little embarrassed, the older McCree switched hands to shake proper.  

“You oughta find time to visit more, Jesse.  You and I never get to talk and catch up,” the sheriff said.

“That’s a mighty difficult request.  It ain’t just that I’m not available to come home, y’know,” Jesse responded.

“Believe me, I know.  I think you’re only hurtin’ yourself by stayin’ away, though.  Y’oughta at least write letters--hell, drop them by the Sheriff’s office and I’ll deliver them myself, faster than any postman could ride!”

The two laughed a good spell before finally pulling away.  Marshall McCree turned to the house; Jesse quickly got to Hanzo and threw an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders.  He dragged Shimada closer to Marshall, waving his free hand around.

“Hey, Marshall!  You met Hanzo yet?” Jesse hollered; his cousin stopped and whirled on his heels with a grin.  

“Can’t say y’ever introduced me.  Who is this dapper oriental?” he asked, grabbing Hanzo’s tattooed arm to examine it.

Shimada paused, tense, before tugging his arm out of the sheriff’s prying grip.  He tucks his arm behind his back casually.

“My name is Hanzo Shimada.  I am Japanese ; I traveled here with my brother after we left our family,” he said.  Marshall, thankfully, looks embarrassed to have offended his cousin’s friend, and tucks his thumbs into his belt loops.

“Mighty fine to meet you, Mr. Shimada.  How’d you meet Jesse here?”

“Han and I met out in Cal,” Jesse started excitedly.  Hanzo leaned into his partner, who relaxed and cleared his throat.  “Continue.”

“My brother Genji and I were new to the country.  We passed through Angel Isle legally, happy to have each other.  When times grew harder, McCree rescued the two of us, allowing us to travel and stay with him.  Once we were established, Jesse and I continued to talk while my brother began to wander for work.  We’re engaged now, and have been wandering together for three years.”

“Three years, y’say?” Marshall asked, looking bewildered.  “I swear I seen Jesse single since then.”

“Well, we used to both have horses, ‘til I sold my girl to buy an engagement ring.  We didn’t always go everywhere together,” Jesse piped in.  

The sheriff stares intently at Hanzo, now that he has a better idea of who this foreigner is.  He seems satisfied with the introduction and pats his shoulder good and firm, with a light chuckle.  Hanzo smiled, genuinely, and shook his hand again.

“G’night, boys.  Catchya at the breakfast table,” Marshall waved and wandered into the farmhouse.

Jesse and Hanzo migrate to the top floor of the barn, to McCree’s space.  He has a full size bed with a hand made wooden frame, a dresser with a change of clothes, and a trunk with personal belongings he doesn’t bring with him.  The foreigner politely sits on the bed and watches his fiancé undress completely; after an expectant stare from the cowboy, he mimics the gesture.

The two sit down on the first actual bed they’ve shared in a few months, leaning on each other and breathing the night air seeping through cracks in the wooden walls.  A full moon peering through the window provides just enough light, the two cowboys gazing into each other’s loving eyes. In full silence, the two gradually shift, sliding beneath the blanket and pressing warm skin to warm skin.  A hard jaw rests in the crook of the other’s muscular neck, with calloused, dirty hands stroking lovingly over tender pectorals. McCree pulls the blanket tightly to his chin, and Shimada pokes his nose over the edge to breathe. Legs tangle and feet tickle curiously.

The pair don’t even realize they fell asleep until warm dawn rays kiss the pillow.  Jesse groans, trying to roll over and nearly throwing Hanzo out of bed--which of course stirs him awake as well as he clings on to stay in the warmth.  McCree pauses, clutching his lover tightly and breathing in the sweet smell of his hair. He plants a kiss on Shimada’s forehead, and he reciprocates by pecking around the younger man’s beard.  

A fresh change of clothes for both of them is sorely appreciated.  While McCree slides into his new clothes happily, his partner struggles; his pants are just a little too big, his socks fall down, his shirt hangs loosely off of his broad shoulders.  Shimada tucks his overshirt in and snaps on a vest to hold it in place, tightens his belt, and tucks his pants into his boots.

“How do I look?” Hanzo asked curiously.

Jesse chuckles, leaning in for a smooch while he straightens his partner’s vest.  “Lovely, ducky.”

Shimada grins into the kiss, absentmindedly sliding his hands into the back pockets on McCree’s itchy wool pants and squeezing. The younger man chuckles happily and wriggles out of his lover's grip to start packing up.

“We oughta get our gear washed while we're here. And take a bath down in the creek, too,” Jesse said, grinning.

Hanzo beams back, soaking up the atmosphere. “Breakfast first?” he asked coyly, receiving a playful smack on his shoulder.

“You ain't never had a breakfast til you've had my Maw n’ Gran’mama’s. Sausage and bacon and eggs and pancakes stacked higher than New York and biscuits so fluffy you can sleep on 'em and gravy so thick y’could brush your teeth with it and fresh picked cinnamon apples and if we're real special, she’ll squeeze oranges straight from Florida, and baked peaches…”

Hanzo nods along as Jesse describes everything he loves to eat for breakfast while they walk down from the barn to the farm house. They've got more people packed at the table than they do plates. Fourteen people spaced out from age 2 to age 69 and from the Yucatan to Michigan to Japan all crammed into the large kitchen. Jesse sits on a bar stool at the kitchen counter with Hanzo balancing on his lap, with Marshall standing by them and tiny little Guadalupe sitting on the counter. They all hold hands, linking a single chain around the whole room.  The cowboy breathes in the warm scent of his lover's hair while Gran’mama’s calm, creaking voice says grace.

“Dear lord above, we thank you. You provide us with food with which we fill this table, with family with which to fill these chairs, and with love with which to fill this air. Dear lord, we thank you for this meal, and for bringing our family together. We thank you for returning Marshall home safely, and for helping Jesse find his way back. Thank you Lord.”

A gentle hum of amen echos as Gran'mama McCree wipes her cheek. A heavy silence is immediately interrupted by the little kids digging in.  The whole family wordlessly follows, clinking dishes and sipping drinks. They only made pancakes and bacon, but the McCree women made enough to feed their army.

Hanzo and Jesse take turns offering each other bites of flapjack, kissing fingertips and giggling. Marshall chuckles, watching one of the Alex twins wipe Guadalupe's face for the tenth time.

“You two look just like your parents,” the sheriff finally chimed in. Both Jesse and his partner turn to look, and sure enough, they're feeding each other blueberries and sharing a glass.

“You know, Jesse. I have not had a formal introduction to your family. Only those who asked last evening.” Shimada twists on his lover's lap to stare expectantly. Marshall playfully mimics him to the side; it takes the 2-year-old smearing his milk-soaked sticky pancake concoction onto his eldest cousin's pristine mustache to make Jesse’s poker face crack.

“Alright, alright!  Hop up,” he finally says, playfully pushing Hanzo off.  Of course he catches himself ( gracefully, too ), then stands on the footholds to hover over the heads of the whole McCree family.  Jesse picks up his glass of hand-squeezed orange juice and rings it with the handle of a clean spoon.  Everyone looks up, and Alexander--one of the twins--reaches up to refill his cup. He stares, allowing it, and takes a sip.

“Everyone, I have done a dreadful sin by not formally introducin’ y’all to the newest member of the McCree family.  Say howdy to Hanzo Shimada, my fiancé!” Jesse said; he set his glass down and put his arm around said boyfriend’s waist.  He starts pointing out faces, one by one.

“That there is Gran’mama McCree, the oldest known McCree and the hardest bitch to live out in these plains.”

“I am Marisela Martinez,” she said, bowing her head humbly.  “This is my daughter Esmeralda, and her husband Elijah Keith.”

“My parents,” Jesse pipes in .

The heads of household bow politely, then start pointing out their kids.

“Austin is our big man around the house,” Mrs. McCree says while squeezing his cheek. He flushes hotly, and dad slaps his back.

“Aussie’s en route to take ahold the farm once I can't work no more.”

“My lil Bluejay, Jane.”

“And Elijah Keith, Jr.”

“Keith,” Esmeralda corrected lovingly. “And my little Paul.”

The main family sitting at the table turn to Marshall to introduce the cousins. He takes a second to notice, and quickly scoops up the tiny tot off the counter.

“This lil tyke is Guadalupe. My nephew; sister died in labor, a real tragedy. Especially after the pregnancy was forced on her. We're all takin’ turns watching him,” the sheriff starts. “I saw you fightin’ Olivia last night. She's my girl, my pride an’ joy. A real fighter, gonna be one hell of a shot when she joins the rangers. My aunt and uncle--your parents--are helping look after her while my wife travels to New York for a doctor's degree.” Olivia beams at her praise, rolling on her feet and grinning at her proud, loving father.

“And meet the quiet tag team. Alex and Alex.”

“I am Alexander, I respond to Alex and Xander,” the apparent boy out of the identical pair says, turning to his sister when he's done.

“I'm Alexandra, or Alexis. Sometimes Sandra or Sandy. Al… Aly… But I like Alex the most,” she said.

“And me. Sheriff Marshall McCree, who you are quite acquainted with.”

Hanzo stands silently, taking in all the faces and names and absorbing his new family eagerly. Jesse wonders if he feels lonely, not having Genji with him. His only place in this cluttered mix of settlers and farmhands is his boyfriend; McCree stares at his lover with all the compassion and support a man can portray with a look alone. Shimada smiles cutely and bows his head, hopping off the stool and into Jesse's strong arms.

Breakfast dissolves into a mess of conversation and oversharing, eating scraps and cleaning dishes as a family. The kids wander off to explore the farm house, eager to get started on their pre-chore play break. During the shuffling and storytelling, Hanzo ends up carrying Guadalupe, holding the child to his chest tenderly. Jesse weaves through his parents’ conversation to his partner, resting a hand onto the man's shoulder.

Shimada silently peels away at the familiar gesture, and the two stand alone in the family room with the little toddler sleeping peacefully, for the time being.

“He is so small,” Hanzo said quietly.

“Well he's a baby, Han. Whaddayou expect?” Jesse responded.

“We can't have kids…” Shimada whispered.

Jesse curled his lip and took Guadalupe from his boyfriend, clutching him to his chest tenderly.  “I ain’t broke, y’know.”

“I,”  Hanzo started, paused, and stared.  “I would never ask that of you.”

There’s a long silence.  McCree savors his fiancé’s expression softening as he leans in for a kiss.  Inevitably, Guadalupe gets woken and upset, so Jesse sets him down on the floor in the hopes that a little running around will help.  He just sits down and starts crying louder.

Hanzo picks up the toddler again, cooing quietly and swaying.  Jesse almost looks mystified as he watches; for a minute, he even regrets running out on the family before he could help his Maw with his little siblings.  

“Where’d you learn that?” he asked dumbly.

Hanzo stares at him contemplatively.  “Instinct.”

“You’d make a mighty fine father, Hanzo.”

His lover beams, and Jesse feels his heart lift.   They tuck Guadalupe down for a nap and decide it’s high time they get a bath, since the morning cleanup is finishing in the kitchen.  McCree leads Shimada down to the creek, alone and isolated from any prying eyes, with the promise of Maw to not allow any of the young'uns to come down until they’re finished.

Jesse enjoys getting to watch Hanzo slip out of his clothes again.  He gets caught up and forgets to undress himself, so he eagerly holds his arms out when Shimada moves to do it for him.  The two both gawk at each other, getting to take in and examine each other’s muscles and hips and legs and body uncovered for the first time.  McCree puts his hand onto his lover’s chest stupidly, and he chuckles, his whole rib cage swelling up into his touch with every breath.

The cowboy flashes a cheeky grin before he shoves his fiancé into the water.  Hanzo doesn’t go down alone; he stumbles and grabs Jesse’s wrist, pulling him in, too.  They hit the water with a hard splash and swim to a more shallow depth, until they can get a good footing in the mud.

McCree abandons the creek entirely, dripping wet and slowly returning to their clothes.

“I do not believe the bath is finished,” Hanzo shouted, remaining still.

Jesse grins and tosses a rock at him.  He dunks under the water to avoid it and springs back up; McCree jumps into the river immediately, shouting, and retrieves the object.  

“I thought you’d appreciate the soap, c’mon,” he whined.

“Perhaps you should offer it to me in a manner that does not trigger my fight or flight response,” he said cooly.

Jesse sighed heavily and leaned his forehead on Hanzo’s shoulder.  The two held the position until McCree felt a tickle. He curled away from the touch, shrieking joyously as Shimada follows up.  He tries to avoid it by dunking completely under the water, but those searching hands follow him.

He’d apparently released the soap when he went up to the surface to wipe off his eyes.  Hanzo’s ticklish touches suddenly feel much more firm, rubbing the fat bar on Jesse’s skin soothingly.  He freezes, then shifts as needed to make it more comfortable on his lover.

Hanzo rubs the cowboy down completely.  Even going under water to get his legs and feet, then pops up gasping for air  with his hair glued to his face and neck. It’s really, really nice.

“Are you done yet, ducky?” Jesse asked cooly.  Shimada grins, chucking the soap at him with the same strength as he’d received it.  That’s probably going to bruise.

McCree chuckles fondly as he slides behind his lover to reciprocate the relaxing wash.  He feels Hanzo’s tight muscles loosen beneath his massaging hands, watching the dirt and grime peel away with the licking waves.  The two wind up spending the better part of the whole morning enjoying each other.

They pull away from the creek and dry each other off with Jesse’s shirt, then lay back on the dusty rock, prone and alone, while the sun warms their skin.  

“Jesse?” Hanzo starts, turning his head to look at his partner.

“Mmm?” Jesse murmurs, turning back.  He blinks when he receives a kiss. A happy silence returns as the cowboy rolls on top of his partner, to return the surprise.  They allow their hands to traverse sun-baked skin calmly. Then, slowly, McCree forces himself to his feet and tugs Hanzo up with him.

They get dressed again and return back to the house on clouds, hand-in-hand.  They miss lunch, but don’t care enough to get in a twist about it.

Jesse peels away to help Marshall and his Paw out with the animals, while Hanzo helps inside with the little ones.  The cowboy spends the afternoon out in the hot sun, sweating away and dirtying up all that cleaning he wasted the morning on.  He and the boys wander back inside, laughing and patting each other’s backs. Dinner’s already set up--chicken and cornbread and greenbeans--and everyone’s getting seated just like breakfast.  

Hanzo is sitting on the same stool as this morning, with Guadalupe sitting on his lap.  Jesse stays in the doorway, watching mystified. It takes one of the twins tugging on him to actually coax the McCree over to his fiance.  Shimada looks up with a blissful smile as Jesse takes his seat. Maw says grace, and the family digs in again.

“You’ve takin’ quite the shinin’ to Guadalupe, haven’t you?” Jesse asked, leaning his elbow on the table so he can prop his chin up.  The toddler attempts to get a green bean stuck in the cowboy’s beard, but Hanzo peels it off and feeds it to him instead.

“Do you wish to settle down, Jesse?” he asks calmly, foolishly diverting his attention from the nibbling child to McCree.

“Like, pack up the wanderin’ and make ourselves a farm, settle down?” he said.

“Yes.  I intended to save the suggestion for when we are older, or perhaps more experienced in our marriage.  Settling permanently was always my end goal for America. The horseback have been an excellent adventure, but I still want a permanent residence someday.”  Hanzo’s eyes are soft. Anxiety pangs hard in Jesse’s stomach as he wonders just how long his partner has kept this question wrapped up, waiting for the right moment to say it.  Shimada’s staring eventually pulled his husband out of his trance.

“I can’t say whether or not I’m ready to settle down, not after so many years roamin’.  I can’t guarantee I’ll stay stuck if we ever do build us a farmhouse, either,” Jesse says carefully.  He definitely doesn’t want to come off as having an opinion on the matter. “Why are you askin’ all of a sudden?”

“Jesse McCree.  Next month, we are going to join families.  As much as I have loved my time in the McCree house, I believe you and I will need space in a new McCree-Shimada home to start our own family.”

“Family?” Jesse stares stupidly.

“Your mother and grandmother agreed,” Hanzo says.

“On?”

“When we have our own place, we may take exclusive custody and care of Guadalupe.”

Jesse freezes.  He just went from daydreaming about his gorgeous boyfriend to a soon-to-be married, home-owning father.  He takes a while to process the extent of the information, blanking out pretty thoroughly. Shimada waits patiently.  Most people are putting their plates up to the wash.

“I reckon I could handle parkin’ my ass down somewhere if that’s the case.”

[ylla]

This Must Be The Place - Chapter 2

Series: JJBA Characters: Okuyasu Nijimura, Josuke Higashikata Pairing: Josuyasu Tags: modern au, oku wowing ppl with his mad cooking skillz, two dudes being guys and kissing, this particular chapter is pretty fluffy and doesnt really need warnings Rating: M

AO3 link

so uh, decided to make this into a multichapter fic! Thought it would make a lot more sense if i laid out how it goes from them getting together before senior year to freshmen in college. the chapters after the first one won’t be near as long, because i would probably die, but hopefully i will make up for that in chapter numbers? who knows, i’m just kinda going with it, since i havent really planned this far. i will probably will write little ficlets in between updating this, and i still have a jotakak and avpol thing i wanna get started on.

 remember to like the fic, reblog the fic, and follow me for more fic content

Okuyasu was convinced that his life was just an elaborate dream that he would eventually be woken from, either by the anger of his still-human father or Keicho demanding he stop being such a lazy asshole and get up. He would rise from a dirty mattress, go through the motions of getting ready to split from the abandoned house they broke into, and feel a profound sense of loss for something that his imagination conjured up.

If it was fake, and the warmth that Josuke Higashikata embodied was just an illusion his mind invented to lessen the loneliness of a sad, neglected teenager, then he never wanted to wake up.

The start of senior year presented a host of problems, all of them centered on his budding new romance. As he got ready for the first day of classes as a newly minted senior, Okuyasu would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. His phone had been buzzing all morning with texts from Polnareff, who was giving him unwarranted ‘advice’ about surviving senior year as a dude who was dating another dude. Since meeting Polnareff during all the Stand bullshit, the Frenchman had taken a liking to Okuyasu, and had more or less taken him under his large, buff wing. In the deep parts of him that never saw the light of day, Oku was comforted by having someone that wasn’t Josuke or his mom look out for him.

Not that he would ever tell Polnareff that to his face.

He glanced at the clock, and made a disgusted noise when he saw the time; he was running late, wearing a tank top and his underwear, and his hair was refusing. To. Cooperate. The front door creaked open, “Yo, Oku! You up?”

Okuyasu’s heart did that weird stuttering it always did when he saw Josuke for the first time every day. “Yeah,” he poked his head out of the bathroom, “Jus’ getting’ ready.” There he was, the black mage that bewitched his heart, Josuke ‘Big Ass’ Higashikata, waltzing up his staircase like he owned the place. Which, he didn’t, but he sure had the deed to Okuyasu’s heart.

Josuke gave Oku a peck on the lips, before leaning against the doorframe, “Good morning, handsome. You sleep okay?”

The kiss turned Oku’s ears red, “I guess,” He turned his attention back to his hair, “The mess on my head ain’t cooperating though.”

“Want me to do it?” Josuke had his eyebrows raised, enjoying the view of Oku in his boxer briefs and tank.

“Nah it’s—“ he went to start sculpting his hair again, but his hands were shaking too much and he fucked up, “Oh goddamnit!”

Wordlessly, Josuke walked into the bathroom and quickly fixed Oku’s hair. The blush from Oku’s ears spread to his face and down to his chest as he felt Josuke’s breath on his neck. It seemed like it was contagious, because as he finished, Josuke was just as red. “There you go.”

Okuyasu turned around, finding himself chest to chest with his boyfriend. He was only two inches shorter, and it was nice. He felt like they were on equal footing. “Thanks, I owe ya.” He planted a kiss on Josuke’s mouth.

“No problem, but if you wanna pay me back, buy me ice cream.”

“Fine, fine. Lemme go get my pants on.”

After the confession on that fateful night weeks ago, the bromance had quickly turned into a romance. Not that anything really changed. They still acted like the delinquent little shitheads they were, the only difference is now they held hands and kissed. However, the stares they got before were “look at those two punks, acting a fool”, now it was either “ah, young love” or something far more terrible.

You can’t really carry your school bag and eat ice cream, but once the cones were finished, the two resumed their handholding. They were approaching campus, and Oku felt himself get increasingly nervous as the distance shortened. “You…you sure about this?” Okuyasu squeezed Josuke’s hand, “I know you said you were, but—“

They had discussed how open they wanted to be about their relationship at school. Oku had already heard from Koichi and through the grapevine that almost everyone knew him and Josuke were an item. It was pretty obvious they were, it’s not like they had made any attempts to hide it. But, they were never around the other kids they went to school with, so actually being in class could bring out a whole clusterfuck of issues.

“Yeah, I am. I don’t give a rat’s ass what anyone else thinks.” Josuke stopped and pulled Okuyasu close to him, “I love you. I’m not ashamed to say it—“

“I’m not ashamed either! I just. I don’t—“ Oku averted Josuke’s eyes, rubbing the back of his neck, “Girls are gonna be super disappointed, and are gonna make a scene and, like, I don’t wanna make your life hard, ya know? I ain’t worth that.”

With a sigh, Josuke pressed their foreheads together, pomp slightly in the way, “Yes you are, don’t say that about yourself. You’re my boyfriend, and I don’t give a shit who knows it. I love you, okay?”

Josuke smelled so good. Okuyasu couldn’t help himself and moved to rub his face into Josuke’s neck, “Okay. I love you too.”

The rest of the walk was comfortable silence, but as they rounded the gate and walked into the courtyard, Josuke whispered, “Courage, dude.” He had none, but he mirrored Josuke’s swagger, trying to look like he didn’t notice or give a shit about the gawking and loud whispering. There were some girls crying, some dudes jeering and making kissy faces, money was exchanging hands, and some were just passively watching, curious.

They found Koichi by the lockers, face deadpan and hand out. A few guys were around him, handing over money and grumbling. “Goddamn you Hirose, you’re robbing me blind,” one of them whined.

“Then don’t make bets you can’t pay out.” Koichi counted out the stack, satisfied, “Pleasure doing business with you guys.”

As the group walked away, Josuke clapped Koichi on the back, “Still making money off of us?”

“Yep,” Koichi pocketed the cash and started to open his locker, “still not lending you any.”

Josuke howled in frustration, while Oku barked out a laugh that he managed to quickly stifle. “So Josuke,” Koichi fiddled with his combination lock, “Do you figure you’ll get confessions still?” The answer to his question came in the form of a tower of letters, chocolates, and various other gifts crashing down in on top of Josuke.

Okuyasu took one look at the completely, utterly done look on Josuke’s face and started howling. Like, from the bottom of his stomach, snorting like a pig, laughing. He had to hold onto his locker door to keep himself upright, lest he fall to the ground and roll around clutching his stomach. His boyfriend carefully picked the cards that got stuck in his hair out; face, jacket, and hair covered in pink, purple, and gold glitter. Josuke looked like he wanted to be mad, but his lips almost twitched into a smile. Okuyasu managed to get ahold of himself, reaching over to dust some of the glitter off, “You know, the glitter’s a good look,” he choked out.

He dodged Josuke’s embarrassed smack, and gave him a quick smooch on the lips. Josuke retaliated by pulling him close, and rubbing his glitter-encrusted face all over Oku’s. With a yelp, Okuyasu managed to get Josuke into a headlock, while Josuke hollered, “WATCH THE HAIR.”

“Ahem,” someone coughed behind them. That’s when Oku remembered that he was at school, and that there was a crowd of interested students and unamused teachers surrounding them. A girl pointed at the locker they were wrestling in front of, “If you guys are done flirting, I’d like to get into my locker.”

Whoops.

The rest of the morning was pretty quiet until Okuyasu went into his home economics class. He wouldn’t have taken it had it not been for the encouragement he got from Tonio and Josuke. When Okuyasu walked in, there was a sea of girls who turned their heads toward him, including the one whose locker he was wrestling around with Josuke in front of. Looked like he was the only guy. Great. He was already regretting this.

The teacher was a nice, soft-spoken lady who gave him a sweet smile as he sat in the very back. “Good morning class, and welcome to Home Economics. I am your instructor, Ms. Iwamoto. Today, I would like to start us off by having you showcase your cooking skills! It doesn’t have to be anything fancy, but I just want to see how well you do.” She assigned everyone to stove tops, directed them to where they could find ingredients, and let them have at it.

Okuyasu was assigned to a large island tucked into the corner of the class with three other girls that seemed like the best of friends. They talked amongst themselves, but kept an eye on whatever Okuyasu was doing. Which was fine by him, gave him enough space to work on his crepes.

“Ritsu! Your eggs are messed up again!” the tall one with short red hair cried out, “This is the third time!”

The small strawberry blonde girl sighed, and threw her depressed, runny eggs away, “I’m never gonna get this right. Take me out back and shoot me, Yukie.”

The chubby, quiet one with glasses and silver hair leaned over, “It’s okay Ritsu. I can’t even cook rice to save my life.” She gestured at the disaster that was her rice cooker.

“Hitomi, that’s the saddest thing I’ve seen all day.” Yukie said.

Okuyasu cleared his throat, “You’re not letting the pan get hot enough.”

All three girls whipped around, “What??” they said in unison. It was strangely choreographed.

Oku started cutting strawberries, face pink, “If the pan is hot enough, the eggs won’t run.”

They looked at him like he had suddenly grown a second head and was shouting in tongues. Ritsu turned the heat up on her stove, waited for a few minutes before cracking her egg. It landed and stayed in place. “EUREKA! Thanks Nijimura!” Ritsu jumped up and down with glee.

Hitomi took one look at her rice cooker, then looked at Okuyasu, “Nijimura, can you help me too?”

So, Okuyasu found himself helping the others while finishing his dish (“That looks so good,” Yukie moaned, making grabby hands at it before Hitomi batted her away.) He learned that they were juniors, had been best friends since grade school, and that Hitomi and Ritsu signed up for home economics because neither could cook.

“I only signed up because they did,” Yukie said, her grilled cheeses coming out nicely.

The last part of class was dedicated to taste testing. A few were pretty decent, with one of the girls preening as Ms. Iwamoto praised her sandwich as ‘great’. Some got passed over, (Yukie gave poor Hitomi a pat on the shoulder in sympathy), and then at last, it was Okuyasu’s turn. “Now, our lone male. Mr. Nijimura, if you please?” Oku trudged up front, girls tittering around him. His face was hot when he sat the plate down. “So, what did you make?” the teacher inquired.

“Uhm. I made strawberry crepes.”

“They look great, let’s try them.” Moment of truth right here. Okuyasu cringed as he watched her cut off a piece and take a bite. “This is fabulous! I’m very impressed!” Ms. Iwamoto’s face lit up, “Girls, come here and try this.”

Everyone walked up and took turns eating, all of them expecting something terrible, but sound surprised when it was delicious.

“Wow!”

“This is so good.”

“Color me surprised, Nijimura can cook.”

“Didn’t think he had it in him.”

“Good job!”

If his face wasn’t red before, it sure was now, “Th-thanks.”

Maybe this class wouldn’t be so bad.

“So, that’s when Ms. Iwamoto told me that she was super impressed and expected good things outta me! Never heard a teacher say that to me before.”

Josuke and Okuyasu were in the courtyard for lunch, sitting in the shade of a big tree. They were poking at their lunches, more interested in talking than eating.

“Good shit babe!” Josuke kissed Okuyasu on the cheek, “And you even made friends. It’s shaping up to be a red letter day for you, sunshine.”

Okuyasu went crimson at the pet name. It was so saccharine, so cliché, but he couldn’t help that he got major butterflies every time he heard it. “What about you? How was your class?”

“Anatomy sucks,” Josuke made a face and took a bite out of his sandwich, “There’s actual medical pictures in the textbook, but I didn’t feel all that sick looking at them.” He chewed for a few seconds, looking thoughtful, “So that’s good right? If I do decide that being a doctor is what I want?”

“Mhm. You’ve been doing good lately, so hopefully anatomy won’t be bad, ya?”

“Here’s to hoping. Oi! Koichi!” Josuke waved over their friend, “How was calculus?”

The rest of the day was unremarkable; Okuyasu just wanted it to end so he could go home and kiss his boyfriend without being stared at like they were zoo animals.

Josuke’s locker was filled up with letters again. While Okuyasu and Koichi were getting ready to leave, Josuke read through some of them, “Most of them are begging me to reconsider dating you and going out with them, some of them are congratulating me and saying we’re a match made in heaven, and one is threatening to beat my ass—didn’t leave a name.”

“Fuckin’ coward,” Okuyasu was annoyed, but didn’t feel all that surprised. He opened his locker and was bewildered when a single envelope fell out. He started tearing it open, “If this is a letter threatening to whoop my ass, I will find the motherfucker and punch his head off.“ The letter was short and to the point:

Nijimura,

You and Higashikata being open about your relationship has inspired me to confess to my best friend. Even if he doesn’t reciprocate, it will be nice to finally be honest about myself.

Thank you.

Tears started marking the paper; Oku wiped his face off on his sleeve. It was a good feeling to know that something he did helped someone else, even if it unconscious.

Josuke was slightly alarmed, “What’s wrong?? What did it say??” He snatched the paper away and scanned it, a small smile replacing the look of concern.

Koichi looked at the both of them, “What did it say?”

“Jus’ someone sayin’ thank you. Come on Oku, let’s go home.”

The school days breezed by uneventfully. Between dates, homework, and hang time with Koichi, Okuyasu didn’t even notice that two months of school had already passed.

One early Saturday morning, Okuyasu woke up in his bed tangled in Josuke’s limbs, tired, hungry and way too hot. He struggled to extract himself without waking his sleeping boyfriend to go make breakfast. While the bacon was sizzling, he glanced at his phone. Three missed text messages greeted him:

Ms. H: Oku, remind Josuke to go to the store and pick up the items on the list I gave him. Thank you!

Polnareff: Me and those damn Kujo’s are coming in soon, bringing the littlest Kujo and possibly Jotaro’s mom??? Don’t know yet, but it’ll be a good time either way

Yukie: Hey Nijimura! There’s a party happening tonight. Ritsu’s crush invited her and said she could invite whoever she wanted, so you and your man should make an appearance. If it sucks, then at least there’s free booze.

Oku shot off texts back:

You: i will

You: good shit

You: sounds cool. send me directions??

Loud groaning and footsteps echoed down into the kitchen. “Mornin’ Sleepin’ Beauty,” Okuyasu called out, not bothering to watch Josuke walk into the kitchen.

Josuke just kept groaning until he reached wrapped his arms around Oku, burying his head into the crook of his neck, “That smells good.” He pressed kisses into Oku’s neck, making him shiver.

“Stop distracting me and I’ll be able to get it done quicker.”

He did as he was told, stepping back to watch Oku work diligently, “Have I ever told you that I love you?”

Okuyasu’s ears went pink. “You tell me every day,” he grunted, starting on the eggs, “Especially when I’m cookin’ for ya.”

Josuke clutched his chest in mock indignation, “How dare you, I love you all the time, not just when you’re feedin’ me.”

Chuckling, Okuyasu handed him his egg and bacon laden plate, “Here.”

“Thanks sunshine.” Josuke sat at the table, with Oku right in behind. They ate like a pack of ravenous wolves.

“Your mom texted me earlier and wants ya to run to the store for her.” Oku managed to say between mouthfuls.

Josuke rolled his eyes, “Alright.”

“Polnareff said that him and everyone’s comin’ to visit.”

Josuke groaned, “Yeah, Noriaki messaged me too. They might be bringing Jotaro’s mom. Not sure how my mom’s gonna handle that.”

Okuyasu shrugged, and pressed on, “And we got invited to a party tonight.”

Josuke went from tired sulking to wide awake and bright eyed, “No shit? Looks like we’re getting hammered tonight.”

“Should we invite Koichi?”

“Nah, he’s got that thing with the student council tonight, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s right,” Oku cleared the table as his phone dinged. It was Yukie, with a time and directions to the house, “Yukie said it’s gonna start around 10. You can just tell your mom you’re staying the night with me again.”

“Sounds good. Let’s go take care of that shit for her so we’ll be on her good side when I tell her.” Josuke wolfed down his remaining food, gave Okuyasu a swift kiss on the cheek, then pounded up the stairs.

Okuyasu texted Yukie back saying they would be there. It did sound like a lot of fun. What could possibly go wrong during a party filled with drunk teenagers?

Famous last words.