Fairy Tail x Reader: Various One-shots

Laxus x Reader: Mourning

You sit at the counter beside Bickslow. He drums his fingers on the hard, wooden bench-top. The sound begins to consume your thoughts. Like a drone.

"Yo, Bickslow?"

He looks up, uncaring of your expression. Perhaps amused. "Yeah?"

 "Stop doing that."

"Doing what?" He quips, lolling his tongue around.

He locks eyes with you, a stare down commences. You hold his gaze for a minute or two before blinking. This makes you angrier.

You claw at your face. He knows where all of your buttons are, and never fails to hit them all.

"That!" You point at his slender fingers. "That! T-The thing with your fingers. Quit moving them!"

Bickslow draws back in his seat, grinning. "I win."

You roll your eyes. "Was never a competition."

He shrugs and proceeds to order his fifth drink.

You know better to stop after three, otherwise someone would have to carry you home. Bickslow notices your hesitation. "Tch, lightweight."

You punch him in the arm with a scowl. "Dumbass."

Laxus sits a few tables away with Evergreen and Freed. He is uncharacteristically silent in his friends' company. His attention is held by you.

"So." He finally speaks. "How does (y/n) know Bickslow?"

Freed glances at the duo seated at the bar. "To be frank, they live together. Rent issues or something. Poor things must be beggarly. How dreadful."

Evergreens leans into the table with her hands cradling her face. "We don't say beggarly anymore Freed. Its termed 'working-class', right Laxus?"

Laxus says nothing. He brings both hands to his mouth in contemplation. The silence makes Freed incredibly anxious.

He tosses asides his sea-foam green hair and slams his fists against the tabletop. "Where does your loyalty lie, Laxus? With us? Or the girl? You can have one but not the other."

Evergreen arches a brow, taken aback by what can only be described as scene from a trashy soap opera. She waits for their leader to provide some form of a verbal response.

Laxus groans and leaves the table, heading in your direction.

Before he can even get a word out, the guild door slams open.  Any sound becomes void. Erza stands at the entrance, sobbing and screaming. The few people who are nearby rush to her aid but she is inconsolable.

You stare with unease. A creak beside you catches your attention. Laxus leans against the bar with both hands gripping the table. His eyes are wet and his skin turns as white as moonlight. He comes across a realisation. Something completely gut-wrenching.

Makarov has died.

Being relatively new to the guild you find it hard to watch your team mates phase through the grief. You don't share the same relationship or memories with Makarov as they have. By 5 'o' clock it becomes so overwhelming that you decide to retreat to your apartment for the day.

A pool of anxiety pulls your chest inwards. You fumble around for the gaming controller and switch on the lacrima television. The uncertainty makes your tongue and lips grow numb. The video game brings temporary comfort. It feels safe enough to cry, so you do.

Around 3AM,  Bicklsow stumbles through the front door with the scent of alcohol on his breath. You pause the game and glance up at Bickslow. Your eyes ache from being glued to the screen for so long.

"You wanna talk, (y/n)?" He slurs. "I am 100% all ears."

He is not 100% all ears.

You rub some sleep from your eyes and outstretch your arms on the carpet to support your weary body. "If I'm being honest Bickslow, I don't think you're in the right headspace for that. Why don't you sleep it off and we'll talk in the morning, okay?"

"Sure thing, bub."

Bickslow sways and loses his footing, landing on the couch and promptly snores.

"Close enough," you sigh.

There is a blanket laying under the archway that leads to the kitchen. You pull yourself off the ground and pick it up.

"Sleep well," you murmur as you drape the blanket across Bickslow's sleeping figure.

3AM is too late for anyone to stay up. Just as you finally succumb to the fatigue, the front door open and closes again. A burly figure wearing a sleeveless black singlet and crimson jeans fumbles in.

You place the outfit of the man to none other than the lightning dragon-slayer.

"Laxus?"

He moans. Probably drunk. He leers from side to side, not so steady on his feet.

A small surge of adrenaline pumps through your body and you feel more awake than before. With the new-found energy you push forward to balance Laxus. "Hey take it easy, big guy."

You guide him through to the kitchen so as to not wake Bickslow.

He moans again as you squeeze his shoulders. "Did you come back with Bickslow?" You ask gently.

Laxus doesn't speak. Instead, he sinks down into the floor. His hands clasp around your midriff and presses his face to your belly as you remain standing.

The anxiety you had felt earlier comes back. This time it takes a hold of your throat. You don't want to feel it so you continue talking. "Laxus, what can I do?"

Laxus pulls away from your body and looks right at you. His eyes are faded and grey. "A part of me has died today, (y/n). How do I fill it back up?"

The sting of tears threaten to pour down you face but you choke them back. You're familiar with loss. The anxiety is merely a reminder. "You can't fill it back up. It's okay just to sit with it. Just to sit and feel what you feel. And it doesn't matter if you're angry or sad or relieved."

You move to kneel in front of him and you take hold of his hands. "I can sit with you for while, if you like. Just to sit. And be present."

Laxus stifles a sob which turns into grief-stricken laments. You hold onto him for hours that stretch into the mid-morning.

Bickslow wakes up to find the two of you curled up together on the kitchen floor. He sighs, feeling melancholic. However, the drumming headache and nausea that is a hangover overtakes his body and he runs in the bathroom.

You wake to the sound of retching and groan in response. But you forget instantly upon seeing Laxus' face so close to yours. A sticky anguish roils up in your gut and you lay still for a while.

It fades away and the sediment of sorrow remains. Just sit with it. The mourning process can now start.