#gonna save up some money for a new sketchbook

[shrimpinabugatti]

[miguelhugger2099]

Punk!Miguel who’s proud of his tattoos. At least most of them. He has some professionally done and others were stick and pokes from when him and Gabriel were younger.

Punk!Miguel who watches you with a smile when you touch up and down his arm. He hides the shivers down his spine when your perfectly manicured pink and green nails rake across the art decorated on him.

“What’s this one?” You poke at a terrible done smiley face, it was a little blobbed but barely noticeable with the much nicer ones done around it.

“One of the first tries my brother did on me when he was starting out.”

“And you kept it?” You tilt your head with a scrunch of your nose. Miguel laughs.

“Sentimental value.”

You scoff. “No way.”

“Yeah, way.” He takes your hands and pulls you closer, lugging you forward onto his lap where you belonged. Getting yourself comfortable you placed your hands on his chest.

“Are you just gonna have them on your arms?” You ask, tugging down his shirt for a peek at any new ones. Miguel smirks and stops your peeking by tsking and shaking his head—a knowing look on his face.

“Course not but tattoos cost money, babe.”

“You should get one of me.” You pout your lips, crossing your arms that makes you seem snobbish.

“What? Like get one of your face?” He laughs and leans back on his hands.

“No! Like—I dunno! Something sentimental about…me?” You look away, feeling the prickling embarrassment crawling up your neck. “Never mind!”

“Oh, so you want to be on my body, huh?” He teases, taking your hand and sliding it under his tank top to feel his warm stomach, faint dips of abs.

“You know what I mean!” You whine, feeling frozen with him holding your hand in place. He can’t help but find you adorable. Letting go of your hand to come around your waist as he leans up again, one hand coming down to cup your ass. He swallows your squeak with a kiss, unable to stop himself from biting into your sweetness.

Punk!Miguel who—even if he teased you about it—actually adored the idea of having a tattoo of you on him.

Punk!Miguel who thought day and night of what could represent you. Flowers he felt was done often, your name was cute but basic and anything else could very well be mistaken for something else. He wanted something that was obviously you.

Punk!Miguel who was rearranging his room again, bustling through various boxes for some spring cleaning.

Punk!Miguel who found his box of memories from when you two first began dating. It had been filled with all your gifts and letters you’d given him—every last piece saved securely in the corner of his room.

He smiles as he opens the box up again. Some pieces of papers falling out and the little broken keychain you got to match with him until it snapped when he accidentally sat on it.

He sits at his desk, flipping through the pages and tiny plushies you’ve given him. His heart swelling at the swirls in your writing with blue ink—the bunny pen you always wrote with.

The smile on his face continues as he reads through your words of love for him—words that you often found too difficult to say. He slams his forehead on the desk, blush coating his cheeks and ears while he groans loudly.

Each letter you’d given him ended with a print of your kiss mark at the very bottom. Some of it was a matte red, others was a faint glitter stain, but most of it was a soft pinkish color. The kind that was glossy and gave you just enough color that it looked tinted and natural.

His finger grazes the mark, an idea popping in his head.

Punk!Miguel who goes to a tattoo shop he was very well acquainted with, with an artist he knew extra well.

He slams his arm on the counter where a man was behind it, sucking on a lollipop and doodling in his sketchbook. The guy raises an annoyed brow.

“Do you have any space open for a walk-in client?” Miguel asks with a smirk.

“I don’t have space for annoying ones.” He sighs and puts his drawing pad away.

“I have money this time, Gabri. Plus, family discount.”

Punk!Miguel who is both afraid and excited to show you what he’s done to himself. He feels his heart hammering while he preps himself to show you. He’d done the aftercare as precisely as possible, taking extra care of it because this was no ordinary tattoo.

Punk!Miguel that lets you take off his shirt when he tells you he’s gotten a tattoo of you.

Punk!Miguel who smiles with amusement when you gasp and hit his arm that you were joking before! That tattooing is a permanent thing! He tells you that he knows.

His heart stills when you eyes land on his chest. On his left side, where his heart would be was your kiss mark. Just like the ones you left on the letters you used to give him.

You touch your lips subconsciously, your other set of fingers hovering over his lifted skin. You look up for permission and he nods, brining himself closer.

You marvel at the piece of work that replicated your lips. “Oh, Miguel…” You sigh, blinking back tears.

“Are you getting emotional?”

“No!”

He brings you to his chest in a tight hug, your hand still resting beside your kiss mark now permanently etched on his person—a permanent reminder that he is yours and that he loves you.

[made-nondescript]

Been thinking a lot about Scarland and how, as a spoof of Disneyland it would make sense if the eventual themed areas feature attractions based on animated films but I simply can't imagine Scar running an animation studio. I think my interpretation is that Scar was HotGuy, and then retired and used the money he saved to found Scarland.

Fond of how this paints Scar, as he wouldn't be using the HotGuy branding to get people into the park on the face of it. Although, there's like for sure a HotGuy themed attraction. Of course. He doesn't want to Completely ride of his past success, but like, HotGuy was a big part of his life for a really long time. He's gonna come up with a superhero themed ride at some point, just inevitably. And if you've got resources, use them! Just not to the point of shamelessness, he would add.

Because his attractions aren't built on pre-existing media (for the most part) I imagine he's got this huuuuge notebook/sketchbook that he has a million ride concepts in. He'll note something down quick every time a hermit or a build catch his eye and inspires him. Lots of them are completely impractical. He usually consults Cub to see what is doable, but of course Cub isn't exactly the Roy to his Walt* LOL. It's more like, if anyone knows how to do it Cub will, and less Cub shutting down every idea that seems impossible. They've conceptualized and built some rides that are definitely on the line of what's safe and reasonable for a theme park to maintain.

Also: Scar has drawn a lot of the posters in Scarland himself. Not all of them; he's just one man! But in his free time he likes to do a poster or two for his favorite rides.

He generally likes to be very hands on in a lot of areas of the park, which is of course exhausting and at times impractical. He just can't supervise the construction of every ride or sit in on every meeting, so sometimes he sends Jellie in his stead. This, of course, takes new employees some time to adjust to but she's very serious about her job because she gets rewarded handsomely when it's done well. (As if she isn't already the most spoiled cat in the world!)

Like Walt, Scar absolutely acts as the face of Scarland, and he's good at it. He's got a charisma that carries through the communicator screens and into the hearts of viewers -- and it helps that he usually manages to slip Jellie into every few ads, too. The public love a good animal ad!

*Roy Disney was Walt Disney's brother who was largely tasked with the financial side of any project Disney (company) undertook. He often had to reign in Walt and set limits for him on what was feasible, such as where they could realistically locate Walt Disney World.

[kkujo]

or i could draw. me forgetting that drawing exists

[caffeinated-cryptid]

ashes, ashes.

10.8k | AO3 link | tags/tws: intrulogical, serial killer/deity of death au, lots of death (murder, mentions of a previous suicide attempt, and brief descriptions of animal death), injury, violence, swearing, morally grey characters, crime.

““You’re not supposed to be able to see me.” Logan blurted out with a start, eyes wide and looking at Remus like he had just killed a guy in front of him. Oh wait-

“Mamma always told me I was special.” Remus replied with a woozy grin, leaving back against the cool bricks of the alleyway. Seeing things that weren’t there was a new level of fucked-up for his brain, but hopefully that was just a side effect of hitting his head and not something he’d have to take pills for later. Either way, at least this spectre was pretty to look at. Trauma had its benefits.

“You think a deity of death is pretty?” Logan asked wryly, cutting through the stream of subconscious babble he’d accidentally spilled into the frigid night air. “I’d be flattered, if that didn’t sound like such a red flag.””

(aka: remus chases death like it's his favourite pastime, since it means he gets to see logan again. understandably, logan has some objections to this.)

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

Case 1: the man in the alley.

The first time Remus and Logan met, it was more or less a complete accident.

As a part-time warehouse operative slash freelance artist, Remus had a lot of free time between jobs, and one of the things he enjoyed doing most while waiting for his next gig to come around was spray-painting obscene images into the side of alleys. 

His latest project was a 7-foot tall purple unicorn with generous proportions. Pretty tasteful by his standards, all things considered.

If nothing else, the piece of work would give passers-by a topic of conversation, and that was always something Remus aimed to inspire with his art. These topics, however, often happened to be the ‘why’ variety. Most commonly, the old classic (and his personal favourite): ‘why are you like this?’.

Regrettably, the evening passed pretty quickly with no curious pedestrians passing by his alley and starting up such a conversation. By the time Remus finished, it was past midnight and by now the only people around were the regular nightlife-- primarily the local college kids who had recently come home and were enjoying their break from classes, and adults like himself who were trying to chase away their loneliness with some other kind of high.

...Woo, and that’s enough depressing thoughts for tonight. Remus declared to himself. After all, he had a new piece to admire! Stepping back, he spent a moment taking in the completed artwork by the light of his phone’s torch before deciding it was as perfect as it could get. He’d come back later and get a picture during the daytime to show off to his friends, so for now he begun preparing to leave by packing his paint cans into his backpack.

It was when he had collected the last can of magenta from the ground that he felt something grab the back of his coat hood. Remus had no time to process the fact that someone had snuck into the alleyway before he was shoved against the same wall he'd painted his mural on, coming face-to-face with a hooded man waving a rather pathetic-looking pocket knife at him.

“Give me your money. Now.” The man demanded.

Remus blinked in delayed surprise. Usually he was the one being the creep in the alleyway. He had never expected to come across an actual creep. Heck, this situation felt like it was pulled straight out of an old PSA with how stereotypical it was.

“What?” He blurted out unthinkingly, because of that exact train of thought. 

“You heard me! I want you to get your wallet and hand over everything you’ve got.”

What an unfortunate victim this man has chosen.

“You think I have any money to my name? I’m practically the starving artist every parent warns their kid about becoming.” Remus said with a huff of amusement.

“Don’t try to bullshit me!” The hand clutching the front of his coat tugged him forward before violently slamming him back against the bricks. The back of Remus’ head ricochetted off them roughly with the sudden movement, and the small grin he had been wearing quickly faded with flash of pain and the realization he may actually be in trouble.

“I saw the paint you’ve got in your bag,” The man continued over his dawning concern. “Somebody who’s broke wouldn’t have all that.”

Remus’ thoughts halted for a second. His bag…! He knew the paint can he was holding onto for dear life wouldn’t do much in the way of self-defense given that it was practically empty, but a whole bag of them? Hitting this guy with that much weight would make him think twice about trying to stab him, at least.

“Okay, okay. You got me, I’m rich as hell. Just let me get it, alright? My wallet's in there.”

The man gave him a skeptical look, but stepped back slightly, continuing to hold the weapon in his direction. “I know how to throw knives. Try to run and you’ll have a hole in your back quicker than an onset stroke.”

Yikes, and Remus thought he was bad at metaphors. He didn’t even need Virgil here to tell him that that made no sense. Still, he grinned placatingly. “Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye: I won’t run.”

Finally, bad-metaphor guy let down his guard and allowed Remus to side-step around him. He walked a few paces towards where he dropped his backpack in his initial shock, putting the magenta spray in before he picked it up by the straps. True to his word, he didn't run; instead he swung around on his heel, slamming the full force of his hardback sketchbooks and cans of spray paint into the face of the hooded man.

He instantly dropped his knife, falling backwards and clutching his nose as blood erupted from it. Under the low-lighting of the street lamp, Remus was transfixed for a second, feeling like he was in one of those gritty r-rated movies he watched with his babysitter as a kid. The moment was ruined when he realized that 1) the man was approaching again very quickly, and 2) he couldn’t get the momentum quick enough to swing his bag around and hit him a second time.

Before he knew it, Remus had accidentally let go of the makeshift weapon when he was tackled to the ground, wind completely knocked out of him as the two of them collided against cobblestone moistened with rain.

“You fucking bastard.” The guy hissed furiously. His voice was nasally now that his nose was crooked and broken-looking, and Remus almost wanted to poke fun of him for it until he felt two hands wrap around his throat and start to choke him. “‘Could’ve just made things easy, but now you’re gonna die with all the other trash.”

Why? Remus wanted to ask. Over the 7 dollars and 15 cents he had?

But as he tried to tear away the vice grip on his neck, he couldn’t find the voice to talk back, even though the seriousness of the situation was hitting him like a freight train. Maybe it was his own fault for escalating things instead of playing along. Go figure, he had overestimated his own abilities after years being the off-putting one; the person others thought they had to watch over their shoulder for. Either that, or maybe it was the fact that his wallet carried more sentimental value with it than monetary. It was small and made of orange ducktape, but it carried so many things that Remus wanted to protect; a photo of his family, one of Virgil's guitar picks, the ticket to the last Tenacious D he went to, and of course, the receipt for his first condom purchase.

His mind flashed to his friends and family, and he wondered how they’d feel about this; him dying because of some dumb robber in a dumb alleyway because he was painting his dumb artwork. That was hardly the kind of death one could look back on and regard with pride (Hell if it wasn't funny to imagine how everyone will react to the news, though). But as he focused on the face above him, he realized with some panic that the grip wasn’t loosening, even as he could feel his lungs burn and a near-soothing feeling telling him to just let go.

As a final act of desperation to save himself from becoming a wholly embarrassing funeral eulogy instead of having a rockstar’s death in his 40s like he always imagined for himself, he patted the ground frantically, looking for a loose rock or something to stop this with. That’s when he felt it; the slightly warm plastic handle of the knife the guy had been holding. Remus’ heart pounded as he realized what he needed to do, and he barely even considered the repercussions of the action before he was plunging the knife into the side of the guy’s neck.

Finally, the grip around his throat loosened as the guy gasped, his expression flickering back and forth between anger and shock. Remus ripped the knife away, inhaling air greedily when the sudden action caused the man to loosen his grip and move off of him, trying to cover the stab wound with his hands and failing.

Remus quickly scrambled back and pulled himself up the wall, watching and waiting for the guy to fall still. He did, after what felt like a few minutes, and Remus didn’t know whether to cry or laugh. He’d just killed a man. It was self-defence, but still… even the morbid thoughts he had over the years couldn't have prepared him for what it would have actually felt like to go through with any of it.

In that moment of pause, his injuries caught up with him as both his head and neck begun to ache. He was so disoriented that he barely even noticed the third person standing in the alley until they spoke up.

“Well. I didn’t see that coming.”

Remus snapped his head towards the source of the voice, and immediately regretted it when the hasty motion made him dizzy. The only reason he didn’t immediately jump into fight mode was because of the unusually casual way the voice had spoken. Beyond that, the figure he saw standing a short distance away didn’t really… look like a regular person. Beyond the odd formal clothing that had no discernable modern style to it and the shock of white hair that could only be achieved with hella bleach, his skin was a cool grey like a cadaver and he had a ghostly appearance to him; transparent and misty around the edges.

Definitely not the sort of thing Remus expected to see, but he was always one to accommodate the unexpected. 

“...You and me both. My only goal for today was to draw unicorn porn.” Remus replied lightly, once he decided it wouldn't hurt to entertain whatever was currently happening.

The figure turned, startling at the sight of Remus staring directly at him.

“You’re not supposed to be able to see me.” He blurted out with wide eyes, looking at Remus like he had just killed a guy in front of him. Oh wait-

“Mamma always told me I was special.” Remus replied with a woozy grin, leaving back against the cool bricks of the alleyway. Seeing things that weren’t there was a new level of fucked-up for his brain, but hopefully that was just a side effect of hitting his head and not something he’d have to take pills for later. Either way, at least this spectre was pretty to look at. Trauma had its benefits.

“You think a deity of death is pretty?” The man (deity???) asked wryly, cutting through the stream of subconscious babble he’d accidentally spilled into the frigid night air. “I’d be flattered, if that didn’t sound like such a red flag.”

"I can't believe my own brain is kinkshaming me." Remus whined, slipping down slightly as the worn-down soles of his boots lost their grip on the concrete for a second. 

Death frowned, until a metaphorical lightbulb lit over his head. "Ah- you think you're hallucinating. Well, that's not an unfair assumption. Keep believing it, by all means."

"That doesn't sound like something a hallucination would say." Remus pointed out.

"Well then, I'll gladly prove my non-existence by disappearing." Death said as he took a step towards the body.

"Wait!" Remus called before he could figure out why. The ghostly figure stopped, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. Remus’ composure slipped as his eyes darted between the body and Death. "I...I need to know that this is real. That I'm not making this up. This feels like something I'd dream, but…" 

His hand clenched around the knife, feeling the squelch of blood and the tremor of his hand. Despite the mixed signals he was currently getting on the state of his sanity, it felt solid and real, and Remus wasn’t sure what to make of that.

"Fuck. Please tell me! Am I being as messed up as usual or did I really just kill someone?"

Death’s eyes softened. "You did. This is real." 

"Well shit. Okay…" Remus looked back at the body with a deep resignation. He wondered if he should do something about that. Probably not; that would look even more incriminating.

"...If it makes you feel better, he has hurt people in situations like this before, and completely unnecessarily; his only motive was to achieve a rush.” 

That did make Remus feel better, actually. 

"Good. I’m glad I killed a piece of shit and not someone down on their luck." Remus sighed, eyeing the spectral figure. "Speaking of, if this is real, then I guess that means you are too right?"

Any sympathy on Death's place quickly faded as he was caught out. "Erm-"

"It's cool." Remus leaned his head back again. "Talking to a cute ghost man? Sounds like a typical Thursday night for me."

Actually, this was the furthest thing from a typical Thursday night for Remus, but he didn’t want to admit that to the cute ghost man and risk looking uncool.

"You shouldn't get acquainted with it. Seeing me is hardly a good thing." Death replied, though his cheeks were distinctly a darker grey. 

"Aww- don't sell yourself short. I love your work!" Remus waved away vaguely. He always had a strange relationship with death in a way that others didn’t; always the first to laugh at a funeral or smile instead of grieve. That was probably why he felt so comfortable right now. “Besides, we’ll all be food for the dirt and worms eventually, anyway. Why get uncomfortable with it?"

Death met his eyes again, seeming slightly more firm. “Perish those thoughts, it's hardly your time yet."

Remus pouted. "It's still inevitable, though. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy I didn’t die today and got to meet you instead, but what’s so bad about something that’s going to happen either way?”

“I’m starting to think I was right by judging your attitude as a red flag.” Death muttered.

“But I'm right aren't I?” Remus prodded.

“Indeed.” Death begrudgingly conceded. “And do you know just how inevitable it is? Approximately 2 people die per second; 106 per minute. There have been 6435 events of armed conflict in the past year alone, and over 690 million people who are undernourished as we speak. Beyond that, there are even more people losing their lives to case-by-case natural events and incidents. So if you’d be so kind, do not be so eager to create more work for me.”

Remus absorbed that information, tilting his head. “Despite all that, you’re still here?”

“...I am.” Death agreed after a heavy pause, in the same manner most would admit their own defeat. “I’ll admit, I’m not used to… talking so much. It’s an unusual feeling, but it’s been pleasant, I suppose.”

“Death likes my company.” Remus laughed. “That’s gotta be saying something.”

Death rolled his eyes. “My name is Logan, not Death.” 

“Huh. I’m Remus.” Remus replied, a little baffled. He didn’t expect a deity to have such a normal name.

“Remus ‘Tsukio’ Kaneshiro, I already know of you. We’ve met before.”

Remus’ bafflement only grew. “We have? I think I’d remember meeting someone like you.”

“You wouldn't; you were unconscious. It was after you overdosed on cold medicine. Thankfully your parents got you to the hospital on time before I could do my job, but I remember it being a close call.” Logan looked at him knowingly.

“...Oh.” Remus laughed nervously. He definitely remembered that. Finding out you could overdose on a lot of common household items was pretty dangerous for him to learn as a teenager, and he’d never forget how furious his entire family was with him for being so reckless. He never knew how to tell them that it wasn’t quite the accident they assumed it to be (needless to say, his adolescent years were pretty shitty to him, being the outsider in this town in more ways than one). Thankfully, the taste of cold medicine had become too repulsive for him to try anything like that again.

“...I am glad you’re alright. It’s always unfortunate when a life ends too soon.”

“Well…thanks. This has been pretty trippy, so I’m glad I met you too, Logan.”

Logan hummed and looked towards the end on the alleyway. “By the way, you should think about leaving soon. There’s a group of people approaching us.”

Shit, Remus had almost forgotten that he had just committed a crime. Given how awful this scene looked, there was a big chance he’d get thrown into jail for this if he got caught. But at the same time, he was almost hesitant to leave behind the spectre that had enchanted his heart within a few minutes, even if his mind was still trying to catch up with the overload of information.

“Why would you help me?” He asked quickly and somewhat suspiciously.

Just as Logan finished his business with the body, he looked at him over his shoulder with an almost sly expression. “You seem interesting, Remus. I’d hate for you to lose your life over someone so unworthy of one.”

And with that, Logan disappeared like a cloud of fog. Remus stood there transfixed, until he remembered Logan’s warnings and snatched up his bag, shoving the knife into his pocket and dashing into the night.

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

Case 2: the man who couldn't leave well enough alone.

The next time Remus and Logan met, it was slightly less of an accident, but fuck if the guy didn’t deserve it.

When Remus got home after the night he first saw Logan, he was more grateful than ever that he lived in such a run-down part of town. There were barely any security cameras to look out for, let alone people who were willing to be out during the early hours of the morning. 

He was able to slip into his apartment complex unseen, avoiding his early-bird roommate long enough to wash away his crimes in the shower.

After that, he fell into his bed, completely unable to process everything that had just happened. So instead he fell asleep and left the deep thinking to his future self.

As expected, he needed plenty of time to collect his thoughts. First of all, he knew he hadn’t hallucinated the whole thing because after weeks and months of taking it as easy as possible, he hadn’t seen anything else as strange as a personification of death named Logan. Logan...what kind of name even was that? It felt like the name of a teacher, not something that should be as grim and macabre as Remus himself. 

But that was the other thing; Remus couldn’t get the thought of Logan out of his head. He was like the angel who had come down to bless him in a moment of weakness, saving him from further misfortune. He knew he had little to no chance of seeing their deity again, but that didn’t stop him from plaguing his mind constantly. 

Remus figured the best chance he’d probably get at seeing Logan again was to become involved with death once more. His mind immediately jumped to animals, the easiest targets; he pictured slipping into a farm late at night and slitting the throat of one of the sheep, going to a pet store and buying a hamster for the night before ‘accidentally’ leaving it in a box to suffocate, picking up a stray from the street and snapping its neck quickly. But just as soon as those thoughts came to him, he waved them away with a grimace. He wouldn’t be able to go through with any of that, even for Logan.

People had always talked about him like he was a serial killer in training. They would keep a wary eye when he picked up sharp objects and ask his brother if Remus had ever hurt one of their pets as kids, as if because he had unconventional ideas, he was a complete sadist towards the innocent. (And yes, perhaps he did have thoughts of that nature too, but they’d always fill him with sickness because he fucking loved the pet dogs they had as kids, damn it). In any case, he knew that going through with those ideas would only be proving those people right, that he was a dangerous individual who’d murder an innocent creature just for someone his brain maybe made up.

...Perhaps he was losing his mind after all. What was he doing, plotting out the best way to see Death? If anyone else could hear his thoughts, they’d think him half-mad or suicidal. It seemed like the best thing so do was to try to push this out of his mind, so eventually, that's what he did. He wasn’t so good at that usually; his mouth ran a mile a minute and the people who knew him would often say that his brain-mouth filter was non-existent. But this felt like something he’d like to keep for himself, especially when news of the murder made it onto the local news, presumed to be the outcome of ‘gang activity’ simply because the victim was successful and had a loving family and what else could explain this?

He decided to not think about making plans anymore, and he only thought about Logan when his mind was otherwise unoccupied. It stayed that way until the very next week when he found out about the situation with his roommate’s ex.

Remus didn’t have many people in the world who were willing to put up with him, but the one’s that did, he cherished dearly. So when Nadia, the woman he’d describe as belonging among the Valkyries (if only she could get past her deal of not wanting to hurt a fly), came to him looking uncharacteristically shaken and upset, Remus felt something in him snap.

She told Remus about how her ex-boyfriend was following her to her workplace and making threats on her life. He’d even begun showing up outside their apartment late at night in an attempt at intimidation, and that detail alone pissed him off considering he’d been too in his head to even notice.

“All because I decided I deserved better.” Nadia told him tearily. She was so strong usually, both physically and emotionally, so seeing her so close to crying felt like a punch to the gut. “I just want for him to be gone… But James would probably kill me before I could even file a restraining order.”

“What if he was gone?” Remus blurted out. “Hypothetically.”

Nadia blinked at him, wiping a stray tear. “Honestly? I think the world would be a better place. But that’s never going to happen.”

Remus nodded. “Right. Of course. Do you still have his number, by any chance?”

--

Remus’ plan was simple: Nadia would call her ex and ask him to come over to ‘reconcile’, and when he did, Remus would confront him. Scare him enough to stay away for good. He was pretty great at being intimidating when he wanted to that the both of them assumed it would work out.

Well, James came as planned. Their apartment complex had one massive security flaw in that anyone could get in without keys or permission, so the only clue Remus got that James was coming was the sound of footsteps bouncing off the walls of the stairwell. Remus stood upright and waited, until he saw the top of James’ head slowly ascending up the stairs, pausing on the second-top step.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” James scoffed disbelievingly as Remus moved in front of him. “Did Nadia seriously send out the guard dog? What? Suddenly too afraid to talk for herself?”

Remus considered barking at him in response, but considering how James was way above the common creep in terms of persistence, he crossed his arms instead and glared steadily.

“Hell yeah she did. You should know why, given how much of a low-life asshole you’ve been acting all week. When are you going to give up the big guy act, huh? Curley called and he wants his complex back.”

James, in all of his 5-foot-no-thoughts glory, only squinted as the insult went over his head.

“...I knew I never fuckin’ liked you. Don’t get involved in our relationship, you little freak.” James tried to pass him, and Remus quickly blocked him, taking out the knife he’d stolen months ago.

“Take another step and this is going in your goddamn eye.” Remus raised his voice, confident that most of their neighbours were already out at work. “You’re not going near Nadia ever again, do you hear me?”

“Or what?! What’ll you do, Kaneshiro? Stab me? Put the toothpick away and step aside, for god’s sake. This is embarrassing, even for you.”

The two of them stood in a standstill, staring each other down as the echo from James’ exclamation faded out.

“...Fine.” Remus said finally. He slipped the knife back into his pocket, and James smirked smugly until Remus grabbed the front of his shirt instead. “It’ll be more fun to do this, anyway.”

With that he shoved James backwards, who quickly lost his footing and fell down the long and narrow flight of stairs. He tumbled for few moments, hitting each step, until he landed on the ground floor with a distant thump.

Remus stared after him, preparing for James to get up and start making a scene like he always did when he didn’t get his way. He didn’t.

Frowning, Remus descended the stairs, and as he drew closer to the slumped-over body, he noticed the puddle of blood around James’ head and the odd way he’d landed.

“Damn.” Remus commented under his breath. “Nadia’s going to kill me.”

He heard a sigh somewhere ahead of him, and fearing someone had walked in on his compromising position, Remus quickly glanced up, excuse at the ready.

“It was an accident-!” He exclaimed, before he realized it was Logan standing there, looking between James and Remus with a pinched expression.

“I know you pushed him, Remus. That’s not exactly what the law would define as an ‘accident’.”

For a second, Remus was starstruck (and opting to ignore the consequences of his actions). “You remember me.”

“Of course I do. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon, though.”

That almost sounded like an accusation, so Remus held his hands up defensively. “Hey, in my defence he was just asking to die. The dude's a dick!”

Logan sighed. “Regardless, you shouldn't go around killing people. Sooner or later you’ll get caught.”

“Well, I’m 1 for 1 so far! But if you’d rather me not get in trouble… Have any tips on how to cover this?” Remus joked, winking.

Logan frowned at him before he truly considered it, looking around at the scene thoughtfully. “...Double check to make sure you left no evidence. Move quickly, before anybody stumbles across the scene. And if you have time, plant something which will make this look more like an accident-- for instance, a spill on the stairs.”

Remus’ eyes widened. “I wasn’t expecting actual tips. Holy shit- okay.”

He went over to check the body, feeling his cheeks heat up. He absolutely should not be getting flustered over advice on how to cover up a murder, yet here he was.

“I feel like you shouldn’t be encouraging this.” Remus said jokingly as he smoothed out the creases on the front of James’ shirt. “Didn’t you say something about having more work to do? Who knows, you might be giving me a new hobby.”

Remus laughed. Logan didn’t. When he glanced up, the deity was frowning.

“Perhaps not. Forget what I said; I shouldn’t be interfering in matters like this. I shouldn’t even be appearing to you now.”

“Woah, woah, woah. What’s the matter? I thought you liked talking.” Remus hastily stood upright, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I- regardless of my personal feelings, I have a job to do. I can’t allow myself to become so partial over one human.” Logan replied, rubbing at the crease between his eyebrows.

“Why? What’s the worst that could happen?!” Remus argued.

“You could cheat death, for starters.”

“You already know how I feel about that.” Remus whined. “I’ll off myself when the time comes, if it’ll make you feel better.”

“Don’t-” Logan exclaimed, before he reigned himself back in. “Just. No. You’re supposed to go naturally. Neither you or I should interfere with that.” 

Remus frowned. He wasn’t so sure he liked the thought of such a boring death. If anything, he wanted to go out in a blaze of glory. Otherwise, he’d be just another body no one would remember-- like loverboy over there.

“That means no more meetings like this.” Logan continued on.

“But what if I want to see you again?” Remus muttered. He looked across the room to Logan and found him wearing a similar downtrodden expression, until it grew serious.

“You’ll just have to deal with that, because we were never supposed to meet in the first place. I have a duty to fulfil and you have a life to live. Our paths are as parallel as can be.”

“This is bullshit, Logan.” Remus said, but he didn’t argue any further. Not when Logan walked around him to complete his business. Not when he prepared to leave, either.

“Don’t do this again.” Logan said finally, giving him a stern glare. “I mean it.”

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

Case 3: the woman in the streets.

The next time Remus and Logan met, Logan was starting to think Remus was making a habit of this after all.

In Remus’ defence, he totally wasn’t.

Logan’s parting words just wouldn’t leave his head. It was even worse than last time; the knowledge that he could kill anyone and get to see Logan again plagued him, and he found himself pulling away from his family and friends after the questioning from the police was over and done with.

They were all worried for him, but especially Nadia who knew exactly what he did and assumed it was because of the guilt that he was becoming uncharacteristically withdrawn. Although she was shocked at how things had escalated, she tried to apologize multiple times for letting Remus confront James, which he would always blow off. It wasn’t killing James that had gotten to him, not at all; in fact he was glad that prick was out of their hair. Rather, he grappled with the idea of never seeing Logan again, one of the few people who truly saw the worst sides of him and accepted them nonetheless.

He didn’t deal with it well. 

The night of their next meeting, Remus was out drinking alone. It wasn’t something he was proud of, but he didn’t want to justify why he wanted to get absolutely wasted to his friends, so being sad and lonely for one night it was. 

He had stumbled out of the bar late at night, beginning his unsteady trek home since he had accidentally spent too much money and couldn’t afford an uber to drive him back. Stepping onto the street a couple blocks from his apartment, everything was quiet until the person ahead of him crossed the road, just as a car sped around the corner and knocked them over with an awful crunch.

Remus stood in shock. He looked after the swerving car to get the licence plate, but it was already too late and they had hit the gas upon noticing him. Swearing, he stumbled over to the person left in the road. 

“Shit- Are you alright? Of course not, you need an ambulance.” He was struggling to unlock his phone when he noticed how still the person-- a frail old woman-- was. It didn’t even look like she was taking breaths, though it was hard to tell through his swimming vision and the thick coat she was wearing.

With unsteady fingers, Remus pressed against the pulsepoint on her neck, and felt the moment her heartbeat stopped.

“Oh…”

And then he turned on his heel and threw up.

Death wasn’t supposed to bother him like this. He had always been proud of his ability to frighten others with his dismissive attitude towards life’s eventualities. But this was different. He had just watched the murder of a complete stranger right before his eyes, and there wasn't even anything he could do. What the fuck?

He didn’t even feel better when the person he’d been longing to see all night appeared right in front of him, arms crossed and ready to give a lecture.

“Again, Remus?! What did I tell you?! No more murder!” Logan threw his hands up at the sight of Remus next to the body, that was until he noticed the cause of death and Remus’ sickly appearance,

“I-I didn’t do anything this time, I swear. Logan I promised myself I wouldn’t.” He picked himself out of the gutter he had been puking into, trying to look at the deity, just so he could feel some sense of reassurance. “I thought I’d never see you again. ‘Thought I was okay with that, but I’m not. I missed you.”

Logan only stared at Remus when he began crying. He was a sappy emotional drunk when he got through the fun tipsy phase, sue him.

“...I apologize for yelling at you.” Logan said, awkwardly hovering his hand over Remus’ shoulder until it shuddered with a sob and accidentally brushed against him. Remus jolted at the cool touch, as did Logan, who quickly retreated his hand, eyes darting around worriedly.

“‘Always thought you’d be like mist.” Remus slurred, awestruck enough to forget his sadness. He reached forward to prod at Logan, who furrowed his eyebrows thoughtfully.

“I… Yes, that’s definitely strange.” Logan cleared his throat and straightened up. “In any case, you need to get off the street, report this incident, and go home. Being around so much death isn’t good for your mental health.”

“Maybe.” Remus sighed. “I quite like hanging around you, though.”

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re drunk. You’re going to feel a lot worse about seeing me in the morning, I promise.”

“I never feel bad about seeing you.” Remus said, picking up his phone from where he’d dropped it. “I only feel bad that it’ll be a long time before I get the chance to see you again.”

“...I don’t get it.” Logan replied softly after a heavy pause. “You shouldn’t want to see me at all. I’m a bad omen. You’d only ever get to meet me in times of tragedy.”

“‘Bad omen’... And I thought Emo was dramatic.” Remus chuckled weakly. “You’re not so bad, Lo. You guide people to the end. You care for them even when you have so many people to watch over. You’re opinionated and you’re easily curious when things don’t go to plan. You don’t mind when I’m weird and you’re fun to talk to. I like you.”

Logan blinked rapidly with surprise, clutching his chest. “I wish we could be having this conversation away from the recently deceased. But... I suppose I feel the same way. I still don’t know how or why you can see me, but our conversations haven’t been unpleasant.”

“Death likes my company.” Remus said, smiling softly to himself. “...You’re right though. I should probably phone this in. I just wish I could remember the licence plate… Something like XQ... ugh.”

“XQR 460.” Logan supplied helpfully. 

“That’s it!” Remus cheered, sloppily kissing Logan on the cheek. “Thanks babe!”

Logan floundered for a second as Remus begun calling an ambulance, struggling to regain composure. “I hope we don’t meet like this again soon. Three times over the span of a year is already too much.”

“I don’t know.” Remus looked at Logan slyly. “I’ve always had pretty bad luck.”

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

Case 4: the bad doctor.

The next time Remus and Logan meet, it’s completely coincidental and under less stressful circumstances for once.

Well, still stressful. Just for different reasons. 

Roman was in the hospital because of some dumb motorcycle crash he got into, which near-gave Remus a heart attack when he heard about because he may often ask for death these days, but not like this. Never like this.

Anyway, he was more or less alive in the end. Just a broken leg and a lot of scrapes and bruises since he always refused to wear the proper protective clothing when he went riding (due to it ‘not fitting his aesthetic', apparently. Remus assumed it was pussy talk for ‘I don’t look badass enough to pull off leather’).

Remus had stopped by to visit, bringing some of the fancy name-brand crackers Roman liked since he kept complaining about how stale and awful the hospital’s ones were, and to say hello to Virgil while xe was on shift. The three of them even managed to sit down while Virgil was on break and catch up, too. Roman and Virgil seemed glad Remus was doing a bit better after his downward spiral a couple of weeks ago, even if they didn’t mention it.

After a few hours spent catching up and teasing one another, he decided to leave Roman to get some rest. His plans for that evening were to take a load off and perhaps call for some takeout with Nadia. Honest to God, he didn’t plan on looking for any trouble.

But still, trouble found him when he noticed Logan walking the halls of the hospital, following a doctor to the elevator.

Remus double-taked. Though he shouldn’t really be surprised to see Logan here in a place with so much death, it was still odd witnessing the cloaked figure walk around normal people, none of them noticing his presence. 

Remus quickly jogged over. "Logan!" He hissed under his breath.

The deity startled (startled!) before turning to him, just like the doctor he was following. 

"Do you need something?" The doctor said, raising an eyebrow.

"Uhhhh, nope! Just… getting into the elevator." Remus replied, stepping in and standing next to Logan.

"Why must you have such awful timing?" Logan sighed stressfully as the elevator doors slid shut. Remus looked at him, unable to verbally reply with the doctor standing right next to them. Fortunately, his unspoken request to elaborate was picked up on.

"This doctor is going down go the morgue. I was here to see a patient that died under his care, and I noticed how death seemed to latch onto him. I got curious."

Sounds like a bad doctor, if even a deity of death was interested in him. Heh, that probably said a lot about Remus too. 

Logan elaborated for Remus’ misinterpreting amused expression. "Remus, he murders patients purposefully. You should not have gotten on this elevator."

...Oh. Remus looked past Logan to the doctor, who had noticed his glances.

"...Hm, aren't you supposed to be in your room? Broken leg, road burn, lacerations?" He questioned, eyes flicking down to where he assumed Remus must be injured.

"Nope! You’re thinking of my twin. I came to visit him today." Remus responded as chipper as he could manage, suddenly a lot more unnerved knowing that this apparently dangerous doctor knew about his brother.

"Ah! I see. I did wonder how you managed to grow a full moustache in a day." The man chuckled. "Twins… quite fascinating."

Uh oh spaghetti-os. "Yeah… people say we're like two unrelated people, we’re so different." Remus laughed dismissively. It didn't seem to bother the doctor. 

"Interesting… Say, a partner of mine is conducting a study on the differences in the individual psychologies of monozygotic twins. I'm sure it would please her to get more data, if you'd be interested in participating. There would be monetary compensation for your time, of course." 

"This is such an unethical form of recruitment. What kind of professional are you?" Logan argued in frustration. Remus almost burst into laughter on the spot from the bizarreness of the situation, but he somehow managed to turn it into an agreeable grin instead. 

"Sounds good, doc." Remus said. 

"What-?!" Logan exclaimed. Remus spared him a glance, hoping it would let him know he knew what he was doing. Logan didn't look placated in the slightest.

"Excellent! I'll pass the details onto your brother and we can arrange a meeting sometime this week.”

At that moment, the elevator stopped to let a few other people on. Remus took the opportunity to head out before they could reach the basement floor. 

“See you later!” He called to both the Doctor and Logan.

“REMUS!”

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

Case 4.5: the dead doctor.

The next time they meet, Remus fully expects it.

Roman asks him over text why he volunteered them for a study, and Remus makes some vague excuse like ‘sexy doctor’. Thankfully, he bought it.

Before the date sent to them by the doctor, Remus decided to do his own research first. To do so, he contacted Virgil and asked for details on the man. 

After copious amount of friendly jabs (like 'oooh Remus, I didn’t know tall, straight, and boring was your type'), Virgil told him his name and not much else, given that xe wasn't exactly close with the older staff member. That was fine; Remus used the information to find online profiles, where he found contact details and photos, where he found business accounts, where he found history.

After pulling a few more strings from people that owed him one, he managed to gain access to the vital records from the hospital. It didn’t take long to discover that Logan was right, there had been a spike in deaths since the doctor, a mister 'Stacey’, had begun working there. It was a mystery how no one had noticed the pattern honestly. Weren't doctors supposed to get their licences taken away after a certain number of incidents? As he begun looking through the files more closely however, he realized that the deaths were often chalked up to accidents; small things that could have been due to anything, from mistakes during operations, to the patients overdosing on their prescribed medication, to incidents days after they’ve been discharged.

As Remus closed his laptop, he begun feeling very glad he had impulsively accepted Stacey’s offer. 

--

The meeting ended up being scheduled for Friday evening, and by the time it rolled around, Remus was fully prepared and waiting outside of the agreed location. He dialled Roman’s number, looking out to the empty parking lot and familiarizing himself with the location.

After a few rings, Roman picked up, sounding slightly agitated. “Yes, Captain Dookey?”

Remus snickered at the old nickname-- it was practically a relic from when they played pirates as children. Perhaps Roman was feeling sentimental after his accident.

“Aye aye first mate. You should know that I’m not gonna make it to the study. I already called Dr. Stacy to let him know we’re cancelling for today, so you can stay home.”

“Really Remus? I just got ready.”

“Yeah well, you’re supposed to be resting anyway. Unless you want to drop a visit by yourself that is, but Virgil told me he’s straight, soooo...”

He heard a retching sound on the other end of the line.

“No thanks.” A sigh. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, I guess.”

“Bye, ugly.”

“Later, Rat Bastard.”

“Rats are cute, that’s not an insult. Byeee~.” Remus quickly hung up, his grin quickly fading as he took in the apartment complex. 

It didn’t look like the sort of space that would house an office, but Stacey didn’t look like the type to break the Hippocratic oath either, so perhaps the world wasn’t as straight-forward as it seemed.

Slipping his phone away, Remus buzzed the number he’d been given, and it wasn’t long before the good doctor himself came down to answer the door personally.

“Remus.” Stacey almost looked surprised to see him. “Is your brother not coming?”

“Oh, no.” Remus waved a hand. “I just got off the phone with him and he told me he’s running late. He said to get started without him.”

He received a charming smile. “That works just fine. Come on in.”

Stacey led him up the stairs to his apartment, and the whole time Remus felt the weight of the kitchen knife in his pocket. When they got to the ‘office’ (which was really just a living room with minimal furnishing), he offered him a drink.

“No thanks, I’m good.” Remus said, looking around. “...Seems pretty empty in here for an office.”

“Ah… Yes, unfortunately my colleague is having renovations done in her usual space, so we’ll have to collect our data here. I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

A fair enough explanation on the surface, and one his brother would probably accept if he was here, but Remus wasn’t nearly as trusting as Roman was. Nor was he as ignorant to the true purpose of this meeting.

“I see… That makes sense. Or at least it would, if I didn’t already know all about your dirty little secrets.”

Stacey glanced up from where he’d been looking for a pen. “...Pardon?”

Remus smiled back; a grin with all teeth. “You have quite a few skeletons in your closet, doc. Even for a fine medical professional like yourself.”

The doctor very carefully didn’t react to that. "My apologies, do you have the right person? To the best of my knowledge we've only spoken once." 

"Yeah." Remus agreed. "And once is all it took. I found out about all those little accidents that follow you, doctor. Weird how many times your patients pass away from nicked veins and potassium chloride overdoses, hm?"

The only outward response Stacey gave was the clenching of his fists. Subtle, but Remus noticed it. "Be careful Mr. Kaneshiro, because that sounds an awfully lot like a baseless accusation. People sue for that, you know." 

"I don't doubt it. But you already know it's not so baseless, don't you? You know exactly what I’m talking about, which is why you invited us here to a shady apartment late at night, no colleague in sight."

"Remus what the hell do you think you're doing?!" A familiar voice chimed from behind him.

Remus startled out of his focus, whipping his head around. "Logan?" 

"Don't look at me, you ignoramus-! You met a serial killer alone after I told you to stay away?!"

"He knows my brother, I couldn't just-!"

Remus looked back at the doctor was closer now, looking down at him pitifully. "I see now. The talking to air, the erratic behaviour, the pushing your delusions onto others… you mustn't be well. It's alright, Mr. Kaneshiro, I could easily refer you to a mental health facility who will take care of you."

"Remus, you have to get out! Now!" 

"I know!" He wasn’t a complete idiot, damn it! But he needed to get Stacey to confess or-

"Ah, perfect! If you wait here, I’ll go and make a call." 

Remus stepped backwards, hand going to the knife in his pocket. He needed Stacey to confess, but if he didn’t-

Unfortunately, Stacey noticed his movement and quickly grabbed his left wrist, putting way too much pressure in his grip than was necessary. 

"Ah-ah. I told you to stay put, didn't I? Come now, don't be difficult. I'm only trying to get you the help you need."

If he didnt-

"Let go of him!" Logan demanded to the man who couldn't hear him. 

Stacey froze, feeling the cool touch of Death on his arm as Logan tried to pull him away, and at that moment Remus pulled his knife out and stabbed him in the chest; slipping the blade right between the ribs. 

Red pooled around the knife, staining his crisp white shirt vividly. Stacey stared at the knife, and dug his nails into Remus’ wrist. 

"Fucker." Remus yelped with pain, pulling the weapon back out. 

Finally, Stacey let go and stumbled back, hitting the wall and sliding down to the floor. His expression didn't recover from the shock from when Logan touched him; he didn't even try to apply pressure to the wound as he bled out. He just sat there until the light left his eyes, and the only sound left in the room was Remus’ laboured breathing.

"I… shouldn't have done that." Logan muttered, eyeing the limp body. 

"Done what? I'm the one that killed him. That was my backup plan all along." Remus replied numbly, looking at the scene he had caused. 

"I gave him the touch of Death, it's- it's an omen. I'm not supposed to use it ever."

"Gee, I'm flattered. I promise murder was always on my brain though." Remus said as he took the tape recorder out of his pocket. No need for this anymore. He wanted to get a clip of Stacey saying something incriminating so that he could defame him and ruin his reputation, but well, him not being able to benefit from a reputation at all was the next best thing.

Logan watched him, taking in the claw marks across his wrist. "...Right. He scratched you, so remember to clean under his nails." 

Despite everything, Remus smiled softly at the advice. "Aww, you really care about me, don't you?"

"I- no. Absolutely not. That’s absurd" Remus snickered as Logan flushed an adorable shade of paynes grey, which he hid by going to deal with the corrupt doctor’s soul. 

"...Why did you show up, by the way? There isn't anyone dead in this apartment is there?" Remus realized belatedly, looking around the empty space. 

"Ah… No. Admittedly, I've been keeping a closer eye on this town than I really should, and after what happened the other day, I figured I needed to be here when I noticed you two meeting… I probably shouldn’t have.” Logan conceded.

"Well, at least you can't say this wasn't a business visit." Remus giggled to himself, wiping the blood from his knife with a tissue. Maybe he was a little giddy from the endorphins of confronting a prolific serial killer, or perhaps it was the confirmation that Logan cared for him, but either way he felt really good right now, like he could take on the world.

Logan looked at him and sighed. "I should've known you'd be trouble. No more killing, Remus. This has to be the last time."

"Of course, pinky promise~."

"...I can see you crossing your fingers behind your back, you brat."

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

Case 5: the one who tried to get away.

The next time they met, Remus broke his pinky promise. No surprises there.

It was hardly even a promise to begin with, but for some reason Logan expected him to stick to it. Quite foolish, if you ask Remus, given that he now had a total of three murders under his belt, and stopping there almost felt like giving up. 

Of course, he had to lay low after Stacey however. The hospital was holding a memorial for his death and Remus later found out that it was ruled a break in. (Made sense, since Remus took a few of his fancy cleaning products on the way out, as a treat to himself.)

It was a shame Stacey was being remembered so honourably, but he couldn't really do anything about that. At least he wasn't out in the world hurting more people. 

But unfortunately for Remus, the ruling of Stacey’s murder didn’t stop the incident from trickling into his normal life, as Virgil and Roman seemed to grow suspicious of him. Virgil didn't bring up the topic to him directly, but xe begun acting sketchy when the two of them hung out (Though that could easily be wariness after having one of xyr co-workers be killed). Oppositely, Roman brought the topic up at the first chance possible.

"Dr. Stacey was murdered the night we were supposed to meet him." Roman commented the next day they were able to have lunch together, arms crossed confrontationally. "Funny that."

"Yeah. Sounds like we had some pretty good luck, if you ask me." Remus grinned.

"Wha- why are you smiling?! A man died!" His twin hissed at him. Under his breath, as to not alert the other tables.

Remus’ grin faded. "Listen Ro-bro, I didn't want to tell you this but our good doctor wasn't as kind as you think he is. I called you off that night to help you. Trust me. It’s better off that neither of us went through with that ‘study’."

Roman leaned back, looking unconvinced. "What were you doing instead, Remus?"

"...Huh?"

"You heard me. Where were you? What's your alibi?"

"You're not accusing your own flesh and blood of murder, are you?" Remus sipped his drink casually; ice coffee with as many pumps of peppermint syrup as the barista would allow. 

"Just answer the question." Siiigh, what a tightass. How did they come out the same womb? 

"I was meeting an old friend, for your information. Logan." Remus smiled to himself at the inside joke.

"Logan? You've never mentioned a Logan before." Roman raised his eyebrows.

Remus leaned back in his chair with a shrug, opting to look out the window instead. By doing so he missed the flash of complicated emotions that crossed his twin’s face at the dismissive gesture.

"I don't tell you everything about my life, brother dearest."

"Clearly…"

--

A week or two passed since his conversation with Roman, and during that time Remus didn't get to see Logan again once. That wasn't such a terrible thing, most people would assume, to not run into a deity of death, but Remus was so bored! He wanted to see his favourite death pal again, but no opportunities arose to do that, and nothing was striking his murder-fancy.

That was until the day he saw a familiar licence plate parked outside a shop.

Remus froze in his tracks, remembering the night he last saw that car.

A woman crossing the street, a body too still, a car speeding away with no remorse-

Remus had given the licence number to the police, but clearly they hadn't done anything about it. Or perhaps they'd tried and the asshole bought them off. 

He growled at the idea, startling a passer-by who was crossing around him.

Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long before he found out who his ire belonged to. A familiar face left the shops and begun walking towards the car; Anton, a guy who had been a year above him back in high school. Remus’ memory of the man was vague; primarily made up of snapshots of cruelty and entitlement towards those around him.

He looked exactly the same, with his annoyingly polished appearance and ugly overpriced clothes. So he was right about the police being paid off, then. Typical.

He'd just have to do something about this himself. 

--

“I suppose there’s no point in trying to convince you to stop this, is there?”

“I mean.” Remus begun, looking down at the body he had just finished suffocating and rubbing at his bruised arms. There was more of a struggle than tv had led him to believe. “I kinda had to do this one. What? Was I supposed to connect the dots on a murder and not stalk and kill the guy who got away unpunished?”

“Most people would say yes.” Logan groaned, in the sort of tone that said he already knew he was fighting a losing battle.

“We’re not like most people though, are we?” Remus grinned, fluttering his eyelashes.

“You’re most certainly not. I’m barely a person.” Logan replied with finality.

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

Case 6: the one who pushed their luck.

And then shortly after; 

“Come on man, don’t do this.” The masked person pleaded, hanging onto the fire-escape for dear life. Literally.

Remus raised an eyebrow, making a show of contemplating the request. “Hmm, I don’t know. You did try to pull a gun on me.”

“It wasn’t loaded, jackass!” 

Remus tutted and held his foot over the person’s clammy hands. They shook violently at the unspoken threat. “And now you’re gonna wake up the whole neighbourhood too? No consideration!”

His joking tone must have angered them, because they began struggling to hoist themself back up again, red in the face with strain. “I swear, when I get up  there-”

Promptly losing his interest in hearing the rest of that threat, Remus stood on their fingers, causing them to let go of the fire-escape and plummet to the street below with a strangled yell.

“Whoopsie daisy.”

He leaned over the banister, whistling innocently as a familiar presence appeared next to him. Logan joined him in peering down at the body, eyebrow raised.

“At least this one was merely an accident?” He guessed by the cause of death, a twinge of hope in his voice.

“Nah, they’ve tried breaking in at least 3 times this year. It was getting annoying.”

As Logan scolded him for his recklessness, Remus decided not to comment on it when their topic of conversation turned back towards the casual banter they usually shared. The two of them stood on the fire escape until the sun was on the edge of the horizon and Remus had to dash back to his apartment to avoid being seen by the early-commuters.

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

Case 8: the innocent.

And then: 

Remus curiously nudged the raccoon with the tip of his boot. He’d just stumbled upon it and it still looked fresh; given that he was standing by a busy road, it was no wonder what had happened.

He was making a mental note to come back and collect the bones at a later date, when Logan appeared in-front of him in a blink, looking completely unsurprised this time around.

Remus on the other hand startled before regaining his bearings and shooting the deity a smile. “Our paths are looking less parallel by the day huh, Psychopomp-ous?”

Logan raised his eyebrows appreciatively at the word play. “It appears so. It’s quite the pleasant surprise to find you not getting into trouble for once.”

“There’s always tomorrow.” Remus wiggled his eyebrows back. “That said, I really didn’t expect to see you. I was wondering for a while if you dealt with this kind of thing too, y’know.”

Logan looked down, seeming to really notice the raccoon for the first time. He nodded after a beat. ”She had a life too. My brother brought her into the world, and so I must escort her out.” 

”Yeah? Anything of note happen?” Remus asked, eyebrows raised with genuine curiosity. He’d file away the latter half of Logan’s statement for later prodding.

”...She had a family. They stayed together under the porch of an old couple.”

“Ah, to be a racoon living under a porch.” Remus lamented dreamily. “I’m glad she got to live such a rich and fulfilling life before becoming road kill. I’m truly jealous.”

“In the wild, your lifespan would most likely be around 2–3 years as a raccoon.” Logan pointed out, attempting to contradict his idealistic tone.

“Exactly. The life.”

That earned a pinched expression from Logan that made Remus titter.

“Just messing with you, prim reaper~. Now, do you have any idea how long it’s going to take for her to decompose? I have a new piece of decor to make.”

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

Case 11: the matchbox.

Remus watched from afar as the house on Psyche Avenue burned. It was bright and brilliant, so of course the firefighters were already on the scene, trying to calm the fire and save the occupant inside. 

They’d be much too late; the trafficker was already unconscious and likely burning to death, along with any evidence Remus might have left behind. It was the perfect crime.

Satisfied with today’s work, he took a drag of a cigarette, delighted when Logan appeared beside him instead of with the dirtbag who deserved to burn forever (and since it was a mystery whether he'd end up with such a fate, it only seemed fitting for Remus to play god and speed up the process.)

“Those kill, you know.” Logan said in greeting.

“That makes two of us.” Remus grinned sharply, even when Logan rolled his eyes and pinched out the end of his cigarette.

For the second time in a month, the two of them overlooked the sky together, illuminated by the amber blazes of the fire. It almost felt like a date.

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

Case 13: the one with bad luck.

He was back in the alley that had imprinted itself so clearly in his memory, knife buried in the chest of a would-be assailant. Remus was boredly watching the blood seep between the bricks when Logan finally appeared to deal with the body.

“You’re late!” Remus complained with a whine. “This guy’s practically cold already.”

“Apologies. There was a flash flood across the country, and it took more of my focus to handle than I would've liked."

Remus hummed. He thought he heard something about that on the news. Mother nature could be cruel indeed. Perhaps even worse than Remus himself. 

“Anyone nearby?” He checked.

“Not in a half-mile radius, no. However, the police may be on their way.” 

“Plenty of time, then.” Remus said as he pulled Logan down to place a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

It had been months since that first drunk sloppy kiss happened, and less time since it had become a regular greeting. Remus would never get tired of the feeling of cold skin against his lips. It was like kissing marble-- if marble had a sassy mouth and a sexy amount of knowledge.

Logan pulled back first, smudging away the trail of blood running from Remus' nostril. “Did you have any trouble?”

“Nah, you should see the other guy.”

That earned a laugh-- a quiet chime that made Remus’ heart flutter. “I see them. Good job, you’re getting rather skilled at that.”

“Why, thank you~.” Remus preened under the praise. “It only took a couple tries, but I think I finally got the technique down pat.”

“Hmm. Speaking of 'Pat', my brother doesn’t seem to like this much. He’s not unappreciative of your choices in target, although he appears to be rather disapproving on the amount of times I've been called to your side."

Logan didn't talk about his brother much: the deity of life. From what little Remus had learned from his prying and Logan’s own complaints, he seemed like a bit of a killjoy. He blew a raspberry in response.

"Tell Patton to stop making so many criminals and maybe I'll consider it." 

The corner of Logan's lips quirked up. "I don't think I will, as humorous as I'm sure that would be. It doesn't quite work like that."

Remus shrugged, watching as Logan looked off to the side.

"...It seems I’m needed elsewhere."

”You can’t stay? We barely got to talk.” Remus said with a pout.

“Unfortunately so.” Logan turned to the body; what he should have been there for. It wasn’t long before his focus was back on Remus, though. “That said... It’s a busy night. Perhaps we’ll meet again sooner than expected.”

Remus’ frown tipped back into a smile as he watched Logan vanish. He then turned on his heel and retrieved his knife before walking off into the night. If he was going to make good on Logan’s expectations, he better get to work.

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

Case 0: the one who death followed.

It soon became an established pattern; Remus would come across someone shady, and he’d put together a detailed- or straight-forward- plot on how to get rid of them. By now his city must have noticed the string of deaths, but with such a random means and very little evidence, Remus was free to continue as he pleased.

In a sense, he was untouchable with Logan by his side, pointing out anything he left behind and giving warning for any potential witnesses. Especially when he gave up on persuading Remus away from this path. It's not like the moral argument could be made anymore; the city had seen a drastic decrease in crime once Remus had taken out a lot of big players (even if there was an air of fear that lingered in the back of everyone's minds, wondering if they'd be next up on the chopping block).

All in all, it was enough to make Remus cocky; perhaps even enough so to lead to his downfall. But how was he ever going to give up now? All his life he’d been hoping for some sort of excitement to fulfil him, and he finally found it in a surprise meeting with a deity of death. Death had gone from a distant longing to something familiar and welcome; something he could use to right wrongs and feel a sense of purpose with.

And as long as he was able to exchange a life for one more meeting with his beloved partner in crime, he would do his best to stay ahead of the game. 

(No matter who was out there, trying to stop the two of them.)

-------------- 

Writing taglist: @just-perhaps @sashootkahoot @anxious-l0ser @illogical-immunity @overlad-of-the-snakes @varthandi @whisperinginthevoid @and-this-sword @creamiiteaa-xx

Deityfucker au taglist: @arodynamic-enby @its-the-usda-certified-trashman @overlad-of-the-snakes @aromanticwhore @haha-phrog @hetalianhufflepuff @emeryyleaf @winter-wandering @gaylotusthatexists @8bituin

[kitkat1003]

On the issue of Mortality

AO3 Link

MK chose to be mortal, to be vulnerable, for the time being, and Monkey King is fine with that.

On the surface, at least.  Now he has a successor, one that he likes, and he’s vulnerable????

Yeah, he’s never going to sleep easy again.

(Or, 11 chapters through season 1 about Monkey King, and anxiety his successor gives him.  Who knew being a dad teacher would be so hard?)

Chapter 1: Picking a successor

(Or “Look, I’m gonna come clean.  Um...I’ve been kinda watching you”)

When Sun Wukong—the Monkey King—decides he needs a successor, it isn’t an easy decision.  For one, he refuses to admit why.  Because that would mean confronting it all and he doesn’t want to.  

He needs a successor because he wants one.  Who doesn’t want to retire?  It’s not like he’s spent hundreds of thousands of years in technical retirement, waiting for the Demon Bull King to return.  No, he’s been...super busy.  Yeah.  Turning Flower Fruit Mountain into a paradise has totally taken him…forever, and, like, he’s got lots of stuff to do.  He watches TV, once humans get electricity figured out.  Gets a computer too, once those things start popping up.  He gets a lawyer or two, yknow, keeping up with the times.

He’s...super busy.  He definitely deserves a retirement.

So all that’s left is find a successor.  Easy, right?

Well....

He actually starts looking when he hears whispers that the Demon Bull family is starting to get close to figuring out how to lift his staff.  So about a hundred years before Demon Bull King actually escapes.

He finds a few kids he thinks might work, but nothing happens, anyway, so there’s no point in interrupting their boring normal lives for nothing.  Besides, he doesn’t really see any of them with the spark of...something that he wants in his successor in any of them

He watches them grow.  Child to teen to adult, he watches, and then he leaves before they get too old because he doesn’t want to see the headstones.

He doesn’t understand why they have to be human.  Why they have to be mortal.  Why they have to be able to die.

Why he has to watch them die.

Years and years pass.  He gets lax, when looking for a successor.  Lax when it comes to keeping an eye on the Demon Bull family.

He does, on occasion, watch the town where his staff is.  It’s a pretty populace place, always buzzing with some sort of activity, which is both fun and boring.

One night, he watches a kid—no older than 13, he thinks, since he’s gotten used to watching humans grow and can gauge it pretty well—sprint down the street in the rain, wearing nothing but a ratty old hoodie, a shirt, shorts, torn up shoes, and a headband so dirty that even he can’t discern the original color.

There are three other figures chasing him, and he ducks into an alley as they sprint past.  Monkey King watches as the kid settles down, sitting in the alley, and pulling something out from beneath his hoodie.

A puppy.

“Hey there, little guy,” the kid’s voice is soft, and he scritches the tiny pup behind the ears.  “Sorry I couldn’t get your siblings, but they’d already been thrown in the lake—” the look on the kid’s face is nothing short of heartbreaking. 

Monkey King has plans for the group of thugs he saw earlier, if that’s what they were doing. Humans. 

“But hey, managed to save you, huh?  I’ll bring you to a shelter in the morning.  Someone will take you home and you’ll get loved to death.” Monkey King rolls his eyes at the saccharine display, but he wonders.

There isn’t a lot of crime in this city, with its advancements.  What’s a kid doing outside this late at night?

“I’d take you home with me, but mine’s more of a hovel than a place to live.  You can still see it, though!  C’mon,” the kid gets up, stumbling a little, and Monkey King notices that he’s favoring one leg, that the elbow of one of the sleeve’s of his hoodie is wet.

He follows.

The kid’s house is literally a shack made of a metal sheet wedged between an alley wall.  There’s a ‘bench’ that’s a slab of rock placed on top of more rocks, where a well loved sketchbook sits.

The kid sits on the bench, setting the puppy down beside him as he flips open his sketchbook.

“I’m gonna draw you, so I don’t forget, kay?” He pats the pup on the head, and then, using the smallest, most worn down pencil Monkey King has ever seen, he slowly carves out the puppy’s features, getting the soft tones of fur.  He keeps squinting, but Monkey King thinks that’s because all he has is the light of the lamppost for his vision.

This kid...is pretty darn good.

Monkey King watches for way longer than he would like to admit, and then watches as the kid pulls out a very worn blanket-substitute, curling around the puppy beneath it.

He frowns, but isn’t sure what to do about it.

So he leaves, and makes sure those thugs learn a thing or two about treating animals with respect.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

This kid just keeps popping up in Monkey King’s peripherals.

He likes to people watch, and the kid will just appear from nowhere.  He’ll be running down the street, hanging out with this girl who looks about 3 economic classes above him. They’ll go to the arcade and play for hours, and she’ll pay for practically everything.

He decides he likes her, if she’s nice enough to do that for the kid.  Plus, he feels a familiar energy coming off of her, something he trusts.

They typically end their day at a noodle shop.  Pigsy’s?  The kid always pays there, with coins of various sizes.  The girl, when the kid isn’t looking, will slip the cook some more money.  They get steaming hot bowls of ramen, harass the cook, and eventually get half chased out, laughing all the while.

“You know you can stay with me, right?” The girl says, one day, when Monkey King is people watching (read: eavesdropping on their conversation.  It’s like his new favorite TV show, at this point).  Kid rolls his eyes.

“Mei, c’mon, your relationship with your folks is as strained as mine!  I wouldn’t want you to end up like me.  Besides, I’m fine!” he insists with the grin Monkey King has grown accustomed to seeing on Kid’s face.  

The information Monkey King gains from those two sentences is certainly something, and he ponders on Mei, the girl who spends her days as far away from home as possible.

Mei frowns.

“You still won’t show me where you’re staying.  Or explain why your clothes are all torn up!” She pokes him in the chest, and the Kid shrugs.

“Cause you wouldn’t like either of those things!  I can take care of myself!  Promise.” He rocks back and forth on his feet, all smiles.

Mei fixes him with a glare, before she sighs, relenting. “Fine.  But, if you won’t take my hospitality, you get my undying loyalty and free stuff!” She whips out a brand new red winter coat.  

Kid takes it slowly.

“It’s getting colder out!” She explains.  “And red just isn’t my color, you know?”

Kid slowly pulls the jacket against his chest, like he doesn’t know what to do with it, and then he smiles.  This one is smaller.  Less performative.  Monkey King didn’t realize that he’d been watching the kid to be able to tell the difference, but it’s not too hard to see.  Kid uses big smiles like a cloak, to hide what’s underneath.  The smaller ones-those are like the slivers of sunlight shooting out from an eclipse.  Wukong finds he prefers the smaller ones.

Kid wraps his arm around Mei’s shoulders.

“Thanks, Mei.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The days get colder, and Kid is still in that shack.  Monkey King finds out that Kid doesn’t steal for money.  Instead, he does little odd jobs for short change, and then looks for coins people have dropped.  Apparently, the city’s wealth has made people more loose with their change.

Mei drags him to warm places as often as she can, but apparently this time of year she has a lot of responsibilities, or “social events,” as she calls them, so she can’t be around as much.

Kid doesn’t seem to mind, shivering through the nights, curling himself as tight as possible with that jacket and shitty blanket, and Monkey King doesn’t know why he even cares, but...

He’s not cruel.  It isn’t pleasant to watch a kid suffer.

And then, Kid gets sick.  Like, delirious, fever sick, and he’s not getting better.

And Monkey King has told himself, a million times, that he would let Kid figure his own life out, but he ends up picking Kid up anyway, depositing him at the ever familiar noodle shop.

The cook drags the boy inside, and Monkey King doesn’t see Kid on the streets after that.

Good.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kid starts working at the noodle shop, apparently, and he lives above the shop.  Slowly, he accrues random objects.  Sketchbooks, games, figurines, Monkey King comics?  He watches the show near religiously, and Monkey King is both flattered and weirded out.

A super fan, huh?  Okay then.

And when he isn’t working, or watching “Monkey King: The Animated Series,” or reading Monkey King comics, he’s begging the resident bookworm, Tang, for stories, which he then sketches out.

Monkey King actually goes through the sketchbook once, when Kid’s asleep.  Yup, Kid’s really, really good at this.  Monkey King actually thinks about stealing a drawing, but that would be both very obvious and also stupid.

So he lets it go.  He ought to look for his successor, anyway.  He hears the Demon Bull family is getting close.

He leaves Kid to his life and moves on to his own.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He can’t find a successor.  Somehow.  It’s like every person in this city (and it would have to be in this city, because you need to be close to the staff in some regard if you want to have a connection with it.  Being born near it, living near it-makes it easy for the energy, the chi, to find you) doesn’t want anything to do with hero business.  The kids he considers are too small, the adults too...boring.

And he’s getting pretty frustrated here, because he thinks he might just have to fight the Demon Bull King all over again, which, ugh.

And then, it clicks.

He’s watching Kid drive around town, delivering orders, and somehow the kid steers towards the construction site.  Toward the staff.

Of course.

God, it was literally staring him in the face.  He feels kind of dumb, now that it hits him, but whatever.  Not like anyone’s around to tease him about it.

He watches Kid waltz towards danger, music in his headphones too loud to notice the literal demon family, until Kid opens his eyes and sees the whole demon army there, and hoo boy, is this comical.

Monkey King wonders if they’ll succeed this time, in lifting his staff.  They certainly seem confident.  He’s kind of curious, kind of bored.  The whole ‘take our rightful place as rulers of this world’ schtick is super annoying, and Red Son’s voice is grating.

The light show is pretty nice, though, and then.

Then.

Demon Bull King’s a lot smaller than he remembers, but his voice is the same, as is his attitude.  Monkey King can feel Kid shaking and takes a quick sweep of the area.  Seems his successor is right above Red Son.

He smirks to himself, not that anyone can see considering he’s a bird right now.  

This is going to be hilarious.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Kid touches the staff, Monkey King isn’t prepared for the feeling he gets.

It’s like he’s been the single Sun in an endless galaxy, surrounded by darkness, when suddenly another star appears from nowhere, throwing him into orbit with it.  The galaxy shifts, the light doubles, the darkness recedes.

Monkey King’s own center, his sun, feels red hot, warm, and tempered by years of life, with a spark of yellow and white in its center.  Kid’s is bright, brilliant golden yellow, more white than any color, bursting with energy.

That energy gets put to work pretty quickly, as the Kid fumbles his way out of the demon’s den, and Monkey King soars after him, watching the escape with a smile.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He doesn’t properly meet Kid until he gets shot all the way to Flower Fruit mountain.  After Kid escapes Red Son, he panickedly tells his friends what’s going on and tries to get there on his own.

Well, all the way is a bit much.  Maybe Monkey King had to catch Kid and fly him there, because Kid was looking half dead and Monkey King was a little worried, but that’s beside the point.  He leaves Kid on the shore, and follows him when Kid gets up.

He isn’t expecting the frustration, when he can’t be found, but he supposes that’s his cue.

Getting stepped on is unpleasant.  Guess Kid doesn’t like bugs.

God, the look on Kid’s face, when it hits him that Monkey King’s been watching him!  If he could frame a memory, that would be it.  Hoo, boy, is that going to be replaying in his head for a while.  Kid seems more bewildered than anything else, and the idea of being Monkey King’s successor doesn’t sit well with him.

Which, Monkey King doesn’t get that.  Who wouldn’t want to be taught by him?

But maybe he overestimates the kid’s spunk, his confidence, because waving off his worries doesn’t spur him on; rather, it seems to deflate him.

Ugh.  Why is being a teacher difficult?  It’s not like his teacher had a hard time with him, right?

Distantly, he thinks he can hear his master shouting at him.  He hops off his cloud, says just the right thing to get Kid pumped up, and watches him race off.

He considers just sitting back and not watching, but then, that wouldn’t be any fun, would it?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He isn’t actually sure what having a successor means, really.  How much their powers, their lives, would mirror his own.  A part of him was terrified by the prospect—could he even be known as anything special, if he was no longer one of a kind?

But there’s also something quite exciting about this.  The idea that your life is being rewritten, the story unfinished and yet also repeating itself.  The Demon Bull King is on the loose, with his army and family, trying to take over the world.

And only one person can stop him.  The Monkey King.

Kid’s powers are volatile.  He can feel them flare up from time to time, wildly flickering out of control.  A lack of self confidence, that might be causing it.  A part of him is annoyed by that, a part of him is relieved.  Far better to have to teach someone to believe in themselves than teach them humility.  He’s pretty sure he hasn’t learned that latter lesson all the way yet.

Kid vanishes into the Demon Bull King’s chest, where the staff lies, and for a moment, the new sun vanishes.  Monkey King feels the cold rush of space in its absence, and feels panic, even though he’s only known this warmth for a few hours.

But then, it bursts back into existence, as a familiar stone drops from the Demon Bull King’s chest, cracking open, and, well, it’s history being written the same way over and over again, isn’t it?

Kid has a flair for silliness, childish maneuvers.  He likes to have fun, and that’s the best part of the powers they share.  To be invincible, to have fun while saving the day. 

It’s a repeat, until, well, it isn’t.

The blow Kid takes makes Monkey King wince.  The body becoming invulnerable takes time.  It doesn’t just immediately show up.  Every second, Kid’s body is absorbing and meshing with the powers thrust upon it, but that doesn’t mean getting hit a mile by a guy twenty times your size doesn’t still hurt, at this point.

But Monkey King knows this is what has to happen.  Because heroes aren’t heroes if they never feel pain, never get hit.

Heroes, he thinks, as Kid tears himself from the wall he’s embedded in, as Kid stands, eyes ablaze, are heroes when they get hit and they get back up.

And Kid sure as hell does.

“I’m the Monkey Kid!” He shouts, like a battle cry, like a challenge, and Monkey King smirks.  Monkey Kid, huh?  It suits him.  And then, Kid slams the staff on the ground, and the world shifts.

A part of him is kind of jealous.  How come he never got a mech?!  Has that been a thing this entire time?  Another part is in awe of this Kid’s creativity, ability, at such a young age.

And seeing DBK get trounced again certainly keeps the jealous part of him quiet.

Kid’s got a nice group of friends.  Reminds him of his journey days, him and a rag tag group of idiots going around wreaking havoc and learning moral lessons at the end of it.  He’s glad Kid isn’t alone or on the streets anymore.  A strong foundation leads to a stronger ability to grow.

Well, he’d better get some sort of training regimen ready.  Or, at least, start thinking of some things to do to train this kid.  He’s sure at some point Kid is going to bug him for a lesson or two.

Somehow, the thought doesn’t bother him as much as he thinks it should.

[omniswords]

Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 14

Happy Chronicles Update! I promise I'm still trucking along on this baby. I think?? We've also officially reached the halfway mark on this installment, which is kind of. Wow. That's WILD.

anyway, I hope you enjoy!

welcome to today’s episode of Luka’s Word to the Wise: whatever it is, it doesn’t have to be perfect. it just has to be good.

thanks, I.

Ivan is right. And technically, so is his Ma, who’s been telling him and Juleka this for as long as he can remember. But Luka will give them the gratification of saying I told you so when this is all over. Even though he could take a stab in the dark and guess that only one of them would take him up on that offer. And it wouldn’t be Ivan. And it wouldn’t be his Ma.

In between messaging back and forth with Bubbles over the next couple of days, Luka puts together a flyer. It’s not exactly the best—just something he threw together on one of those free graphic design websites, definitely nothing like a Gabriel billboard. But it’s punchy, and it fits the vibe, and it gets the overall message across. And more importantly, Juleka doesn’t give him The Look for it. In fact, she smiles over his shoulder when it’s done, and she rubs her fist in his hair, and she affectionately says, “Now can you chill?”

Luka only grins and throws her into a fireman’s carry for another round of ping-pong. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t know how to be totally chill any more.

They pool pocket money, leftovers from past paychecks, to put in an order for copies at the local print shop. Only Rose has ever been; she tells them she’s tagged along with a couple of old friends from an art club to print issues of the comic they’ve been working on together. It’s nice to see her take the lead, point out the best paper stocks and finishes and spot colors, whatever those are, based on what she’s overheard. It certainly beats the alternative: four barely-adults standing awkwardly at the counter, pretending they know what they’re doing.

Even if, according to Luka’s Ma, that’s most of what adulthood is, anyway.

They decide on something glossy because it makes the colors pop, and admittedly Luka has to thank his lucky, anxious stars for saving the file in every format imaginable because he wasn’t sure which one they’d need. Before he leaves them and heads to work on his bike, Juleka gives him another smile, and Ivan manages a single, subtle nod, and Rose’s eyes sparkle. And it’s starting to feel a little less like a thing he needs to do. It’s a thing he wants to do. With them.

And, well. Any bonuses are just that. Bonuses.

These days, Luka’s made it a point to bike past the bakery on his way to work, because if he’s as much of a regular as the Dupain-Cheng family claims, then he might as well act like it. To be fair, he doesn’t always stop in to talk or buy something; in fact, most times he doesn’t. maybe it’s some silly sense of hope that he’ll be seen. That Marinette really did talk to her parents about picking up an extra shift or two behind the counter. That there’s still room on the bulletin board for him—them. And most times, it is just Mrs. Cheng at the storefront, organizing displays or chatting with a friendly customer.

But sometimes it isn’t. Sometimes it is Marinette, idly staring at the window with what he can only assume is her sketchbook at her side and her apron tied around her waist. And sometimes, she looks up at him. And sometimes, she waves and smiles with all the warmth and none of the sweat of July.

That’s why he does it. For the sometimes.

The flyers, once they’re printed, are nothing short of gorgeous, but Luka can’t bring himself to take any of the credit for it. More than anything, he’s just happy to see his bandmates all in on this, even if he did jump in with both feet. Even if they do still rib him during practice about how he’s way too invested in this. (At least Mylène has only nice things to say. He’ll have to remember to order a few extra pastries just for her.)

They split the flyers into four stacks, because of course Mylène insists on helping and of course Rose and Juleka insist on going together. They run or pedal off in different directions once they’ve put a game plan together, and at least Luka can credit them for not teasing when he offers to take the third and fourth arrondissement. They all know it’s where the bakery is, in spite of how he talks up the Place des Vosges. They know, and they don’t have to say anything.

He’s still trying to figure out whether it’s a blessing or a curse to have your real-life friends on your social media accounts.

Even as he’s hanging the flyers in downtown coffee shops, in libraries, on signposts and public bulletin boards, Luka can’t stop staring. With every flyer he pins or tapes up, he finds something new to love about it. A splash of neon color in the top left corner. The jagged, cutting edges of the lettering. The blurred glow of a spotlight. Every time he looks, he gets the feeling that he’s already there. Music pounding in his ears, stage lights burning so bright and hot they make him sweat, fresh calluses on his fingertips that he’ll regret and adore later. He doesn’t think of stardom often, but he imagines this is something close to it.

At the very least, it’s what he would want to make of it.

It’s close to closing by the time Luka arrives at the bakery-patisserie; the usual lingering smells of fresh bread and sugary frosting and the easygoing music are both conspicuously absent when he walks in. But Mr. Dupain and Ms. Cheng are both missing from the storefront, and he has to double check the time on his phone to make sure he didn’t accidentally arrive too late, or that he’s not interrupting some closing routine. It shouldn’t take long; he spent almost the whole bike ride over rehearsing what he needed to say. He looks around cautiously, even clears his throat in case it gets someone’s attention.

It does. Marinette pops up from behind the counter with a squeak, and it startles him so much he nearly drops the stack of remaining flyers in his arms. And that would’ve been a pain in the ass as much as it would’ve been straight out of one of Rose’s cute romcoms for Marinette to round the counter and help him pick them up until their hands brushed over the same one.

Jesus. He really needs to get out of the house on his sister’s date nights.

He really needs to have a date night.

He also really needs to stop thinking about date nights when the person he’d actually consider a date night with is right in front of—

“Luka?”

He blinks to attention, standing awkwardly in the quiet. God, he really hopes he wasn’t staring at her when he zoned out like that. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

Marinette shrugs it off with an apologetic smile. “We’re fresh out of napoleons, you know,” she says casually, slipping past him to flip the sign on the door. “Guess you’ll just have to come first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, I guess I will—wait—” He shakes his head. “No, that’s not why I’m here.”

Marinette pauses at that. Even seems to stand a little taller, intrigued. Hopeful? “Oh…? Then why…  are you here?”

Meekly, Luka holds up one of the Kitty Section flyers and nods toward the bulletin board. Here’s hoping he—it— isn’t too much of a disappointment.

Marinette squints at the flyer for a second, and then her eyes widen and spark in delight. She looks… impressed, at least. which isn’t to say she’s never seemed impressed by him before. It just makes all the things he’s been working for a little more worth it. “Wow,” she says. “You really weren’t kidding about being in a band, huh.”

“You know it,” he says with what he prays is a casual shrug; this… wasn’t part of the script. “I don’t wear this thing on my back just to look pretty.”

She stifles a laugh, then claps a hand to her mouth immediately. “Sorry, I didn’t—I wasn’t implying that you’re not handsome—pretty— “

Oh God. She’s stammering. And it’s adorable.

Marinette composes herself with a deep breath and her arms folded over her chest. “There are pushpins in the corner,” she says. “Hang it up wherever you want.”

Except Luka can’t help feeling like she’s got her eyes on him the whole time. Either she’s coming to terms with the fact that he was telling the truth all along, or she’s… judging him. Or the flyer. And honestly, he can’t tell which is worse. “What’s wrong?” he asks once he notices she’s still staring. “Did I put it up at a funny angle or something?”

“No, just… thinking…” Her voice sounds distant, perhaps somewhere he might never find her. But then she snaps her fingers, and she says, “That’s it!”

“Uh.” Luka’s brow furrows. “What’s it?”

“Oh, just… sorry, my thoughts just ran away with me, I guess.” Marinette steps toward the flyer, brushing her fingers over it and wincing. maybe it’s just from the finish; his nails have scraped over then more than once, and it felt just as bad as a chalkboard. “I was just thinking, well…  you’ve been good to my parents and all. Why don’t we help you with promotion? You know, put postcards in the boxes or bags. It couldn’t hurt, could it?”

Luka nearly spotters, but the only thing he can manage to say is, “Where am I gonna get postcards?”

“I can make ‘em.” She says it like the simplest, most obvious thing in the world, and looks him up and down when he falters. “If… you and your band are okay with that, I mean. Cause I, y’know… dabble, in graphic design. But I don’t want to impose, if you’re okay with this. It’s your band and all.”

“I can,” he starts to say; then he stops himself, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “I can ask them?” Idiot, he thinks. That wasn’t supposed to be a question. “I’ll let you know what they say. Have to come in bright and early tomorrow anyway, right?”

Marinette only smiles. It’s faint, almost absentminded, but that sweet little tug at the corner of her mouth is hardly lost on him. “You don’t have to.”

“Ask them?”’

“Come by.” Her bag is hanging on a peg by the register, and she’s off rummaging through it before Luka can ask what she means. He gravitates toward her more than he actually walks to her, and by the time he reaches the counter she’s fishing a card out of her wallet. It’s pink and black, decorated with the same spray of flowers and monogram as her apron. when he turns it over, there’s her name at the top, and below that, two email addresses. And two phone numbers.

He looks up, wide-eyed.

“So,” Marinette says. “Unless you’re coming all this way for a napoleon, a pear tart, and my pretty face, I think you’re good.”

“I—” Luka turns the business card over and over as though it will teach him now to speak again. “I guess so.” Does she know he thinks her face is pretty? Wait—of course she does, he gave her that note. Oh, Jesus, does she still have that thing? It’s been weeks. “Well,” he says, scuffing his heel against the tile. “Who knows. Maybe I’ll come anyway.”

Okay, that was definitely not part of the script.

But then, neither is the way her eyes are sparkling. “Well,” she murmurs. “Maybe you will.”

“I should, uh—” He jerks a thumb toward the door. “Go, um. Happy closing?”

She laughs behind a hand, glancing between him and the tacked-up flyer before she grabs a broom and sends him off with a delicate wave. And to be honest, Luka’s never been angry with nature before, but he curses the wind for being so loud that he can’t hear that giggle in his head, over and over. Almost as much as he thanks it for drowning out all the stupid things he said, and the lingering questions of why she offered at all.

Luka’s Word to the Wise, Part 2:

Progress isn’t linear but it sure as hell doesn’t mean you can’t stutter your way through getting a girl’s number and succeed.

[onepiecehcs]

im gonna go ape shit wild if i dont write this down so. here you go i guess.

Thachs favourite nickname for Ace is a tie between “Road flare” and “Emergency Rocket”

Dark Logia! Thatch is constantly in need of saving because he forgets he can´t swim anymore and is always jumping after Ace whenever he goes overboard. Namur suffers.

Vivi is taller than Nami and that is a Fact Babey!

Actually I don´t know if she is and I´m too tired to check but. Y´know. Height difference.

In a world where Vivi comes along both of them work out a lot (at least during and after the time skip), and they are always carrying each other around in some way or fashion.

Vivi likes to lightly trace Namis tattoos when they´re cuddling.

Because I promise you, Nami gets more tattoos along the way.

She comes back to the Sunny after two years and her arms and back look like she just up and dipped herself in paint.

She has, if it´s even possible, even more freckles than before.

Vivi has a hat, and no you can´t disagree. She has a hat, period.

It´s almost a cowboy hat, but it´s not like Aces, his is more curved upwards along the brim. Vivis is almost flat all around, but not really.

She has a pride flag tied around it.

The day that Nami manages to deadlift Zoro is the day the Strawhat crew riots.

They have bets on that. Usopp almost has more money than his debt to Nami is worth on this. (He thinks she´ll do it before the end of the year.)

People on new islands sometimes think Zoro and Nami are dating.

“Ew.”

“I´m gay.”

“I have a girlfriend.”

They are both Gay as all fuck.

Nami will sometimes just. Climb Zoro and sit on his shoulders for a while. No one questions it. Not out loud at least. Usopp doesn´t think Zoro even notices she´s there half the time.

Usopp draws his crewmembers a lot!

Sometimes you´ll find him in the galley with his sketchbook and pencil in hand, making small talk with Sanji who´s working away at the counter.

Luffy has pierced ears, and he got those piercings the same way Ace got his piercings. They found a dude with the skills needed when they were kids (15 and 12 to be precise) and told him to get to work.

Ace got a tongue piercing shortly after he left at 17.

[dakotacrisis]

Deal’s End (7)

Felix and Marinette take a day off for themselves

(Read on AO3)

---

Marinette couldn’t get settled. She had been sitting in class for what felt like forever. Everything floated around her in a daze and she couldn’t even read what was on the chalkboard. She wanted to get up an move. To do something so she wasn’t going crazy in her seat.

Just then the lights in the classroom died. Half the class had disappeared in the blink of an eye. A cold sense of dread washed over her and she turned around. The entire back of the classroom was now a long empty field. In the distance she could see a figure approaching rapidly, a large scythe swinging in their hands.

The Creep! She started running. Her heart hammering hard in her ears. Yet she could feel the murderer racing ever closer. She had to get away! She needed to find help! She screamed for help. For someone to be there. But the field remained empty. Her voice was gone.

She spotted a shack in the distance and bolted for it. She ran inside and before she could close the door The Creep burst in and cornered her against the wall. The pentagrams drawn across the walls and floors started to glow as she cried and begged. There was a flash of light and a sharp pain in her stomach.

Marinette bolted up right breathing heavily and crying. Her entire body felt like it had been doused in a bucket of cold water. When she closed her eyes she fell right back into the nightmare.

“Marinette?” A voice from below made her scream.

“Why are you screaming?” Felix’s head popped up over the railing of her bed. His silver eyes reflected back at her. “Whoa, are you okay?”

She shook her head.

Felix climbed up next to her on the bed. He switched on the nightlight by her head. “Love, you’re shaking...and crying? Did you have a bad dream or something.”

“Nightmare.” She gasped out. “I was run--running in a field and--and--and there was a scythe and--”

“The movie…” Felix sighed.

“I told you I can’t do horror!” She cried. “I told you!” She felt like an idiot getting so scared over a movie but it had felt so real. Her momentary anger ebbed away and she pathetically held out her arms. She needed some physical reassurance.

“Come now, shush,” Felix pulled her close. “It was just a bad dream. It’s over now.”

She squeezed him tighter. He ran a hand softly through her hair and her breathing came easier. “Do you need something? Glass of water or...I don’t know.”

“Keep talking.” she whispered.

“About what?”

“Something. Anything.” She pleaded, “Please, I need something to distract me.”

“Okay…” he thought for a moment. “How about a story? Do you wanna hear a story?”

“Sure.” She nodded.

“Alright, relax, take a deep breath, listen to my voice.” His hand continued to run lazily through her hair. The feeling soothing to her rattled mind.

“This is a story of a deal I made many, many, many years ago.” Felix said in a voice so gentle she knew she had never heard it before. “In this story there was a man. A poor man. He was lame and dirty. He could barely afford to eat and his clothes were worn and thin from years of use that left him in a chill during the cold nights. And this poor man was in love with a woman. This woman was everything he was not. She was beautiful and rich beyond measure. There was nothing she wanted that she did not receive. Yet the woman was humble and kind and revered like a saint by everyone that knew her.”

“I think I know where this is going.” Marinette mumbled, her eyelids already growing heavy.

“Every night in the poor man’s prayers he prayed that the woman would be happy in her life. That she would remain healthy in all her days and never want for not.” Felix continued. “Then one day there was an announcement. The beautiful woman was to be married. A worthy suitor from a far off land that had heard of her grace and beauty and struck an accord with the woman’s father.”

Marinette’s head rested on Felix’s shoulder and she let out a long yawn. Felix asked if he should keep going. She nodded slowly. She felt the gentle press of Felix’s cheek on the top of her head as he continued with his story.

“The woman grew sad because the man she was to marry was a brute. It was obvious from first impression that he had a short temper and no fine set of manners. The woman wanted to object but the arrangement had already been made. Not wanting to upset her family she went along with the union but in her heart she wept for she knew it would not be a happy marriage. The poor man upon hearing of the woman’s plight grew sad as well. He weeped for his faraway love for he knew that she deserved so much better and yet there was nothing he could do. What could a poor man like him do to help her?”

The pull of sleep was dragging her down quickly. Thoughts of a poor pining man watching his beautiful love from afar replacing the nightmare that plagued her.

“That’s when I showed up…” Felix whispered.

It was the last thing she remembered before she was asleep again.

She woke up several hours later refreshed and cozy in her bed. Felix wasn’t next to her on the bed where he had been when she fell asleep. The pang of disappointment lasted only a second before she noticed him reclining on the ladder up to her bed. He was flipping through her sketchbook once more. He noticed she was awake and smiled.

“Hey sleepy head.” He closed the sketchbook. “Feeling better, love?”

“Yeah.” She yawned. “I feel like I should apologize for freaking out on you like that last night. The nightmare had freaked me out and--”

“You don’t need to justify yourself to me.” Felix assured her. “You were shaking like a leaf.”

“That stupid movie.” She muttered. “I knew I should have watched something more lighthearted before bed. Then none of that would have happened.”

“Maybe. But there’s no use harping on the past.” he jumped down to the floor. “These past couple of days have been stressful and busy. I need a day to regroup. How about we take it easy. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.” Marinette slid out of bed. “Thank god for the weekend.”

She was getting a late start to the day. Her parents were already downstairs working in the bakery but they had left fresh croissants out for her. Since they weren’t upstairs she invited Felix down to share them. They made small talk while eating before taking up space on the couch for some TV and a couple rounds of Mecha Strike.

As tempting as staying inside in her pajamas all day was Marinette did want to go to the fabric shop today. There was a design she was really excited to get started on and today was the perfect day to start. She got dressed and headed out.

“So this is a fabric shop?” Felix gazed at the rows and rows of different fabrics and all their patterns, textures, and colors. “How do you find anything in this mess?”

“It is color coded. And while I would love to buy a lot I do not have a whole lot of money saved up so we’re gonna have to stick to the bare essentials.” Marinette made a beeline for the clearance section to see if there was anything there she could use first. When that failed she moved onto the regular floor.

“So what exactly are we looking for?” Felix asked.

“Silver organza. I would like some slightly iridescent if I can find it.” Marinette scanned the rolls of fabric. She pulled some out to see if it was right before pushing it back in. “I’m making a sheer dress overlay and I want the fabric to shimmer when I move. There’s a white bodycon dress at home that I was planning on layering it over.”

“And what occasion is it for? Some big party you planning?”

“None that I know of but it’ll make a good party dress if one arises.” She found the perfect fabric and pulled it out.

“You have a dozen other projects you’re working on and you choose to spend your time on something new that you’re not even sure if you’re gonna wear?”

“What can I say? I like making pretty things.” She did a mental calculation of how much fabric she would need. To be able to afford it she’d have to be very careful in her measurements. Every inch was gonna have to be used to perfection.

She paid for her purchase and they headed out. It was about lunch time and Felix suggested they stop somewhere to eat. “My treat.” he held up a wallet.

“How do you have money?”

“The same way I can change my clothes without actually having a closet. You spent all your cash at the shop so I’ll get lunch.” They stopped at the same cafe they had gone to days prior with Adrien.

They sat outside and ordered. “So, I gotta know.” Marinette said as she picked at her salad, “The devil’s food cake that you dropped off at the table last time. Was that from the kitchen or did you just make it appear for an inside joke?”

“I stole it from the kitchen.” He shrugged. “Why? You want another slice?”

“Honestly? Yeah. I don’t think I could eat the whole thing myself though without feeling like a pig.”

“Weak.”

“I’m sorry if I wouldn’t feel good about myself for eating all of that.”

“You’re eating a salad! You can definitely have cake and not feel bad about it.”

“Sure but we also had a lot of croissants and nutella for breakfast.”

“That’s fair but I’m still gonna order the cake.” he shrugged.

Marinette looked over the boy across from her. No. Not a boy. A demon. She was having a hard time remembering he wasn’t just an annoying roommate. She had tried five years of her life to him. He was here to help her become Adrien’s girlfriend and then he’d be gone. She hadn’t thought about that before. She had become so used to his presence that to not have him around anymore was going to be strange. When she first started this all she wanted was for him to be gone. Now that their time was coming slowly yet steadily to an end the thought of not seeing him again was bittersweet.

He was annoying and made crude jokes and had invaded her privacy on more than one occasion but he wasn’t all bad. Especially not in a way she thought a demon would be. He was legitimately helping her and his efforts seemed to be working. He was very relaxed when he wasn’t throwing her into stressful situations. He was also pretty funny when he wanted to be. Marinette couldn’t remember a time she laughed as hard as when she was with him. And though he may deny it Felix was kind. He didn’t have to comfort her when she got scared or treat her to lunch but he did.

Thinking back to last night and how she had clung onto him in the aftermath of her nightmare made a blush rise on her cheeks. It was probably the closest she had been to him since she woke up with him in her bed that first day. She hadn’t noticed it before but he did have a scent. Even now she could smell if as the wind picked up a tad and blew in her face. Fresh sheets and just a whiff of cinnamon.

He looked up from his plate and caught her staring. She quickly looked away cursing that she had been ogling him so absentmindedly in the first place. Why does he have to have such striking eyes? It felt like he was staring into her very soul.

She peeked up to see if Felix was still watching her and a shiver went down her spine when she saw he was. He raised a single pale eyebrow at her.

“Something on my face?” he asked.

“Oh uh, yeah,” Marinette lied. She grabbed her napkin and pretended to wipe some crumbs from his cheek. “There. Got it.”

“Thanks. I could have gotten it myself though.” He smirked and her face grew hotter.

“Right. Of course.” She nodded. She distracted herself by finishing off the last of her drink as fast as possible. Get it together, Marinette! She chided herself.

The plates were cleared away and a single slice of devil’s food cake brought to the table. They picked at it from either side and Marinette had to threaten to stab Felix with her fork if he didn’t slow down and let her have more.

“Felix, I was wondering about something.” Marinette said.

“Does it have to do about why you got so defensive about the cake even though you said you weren’t gonna eat that much?” Felix pouted as he waited for Marinette to get a bite.

“No. Not that.” She chuckled, “I was wonder how long you thought this process is gonna take.”

“Well if you let me at it I could have this cake cleared in ten seconds.”

“Not the process of eating the cake, dummy!” Marinette sighed. “I was talking about our deal. The contract stated that you had to stick around and help until Adrien either fell in love with me or became my boyfriend. How long do you think that is going to take?”

“Why? Want to get rid of me so soon?” He grinned as he was allowed to get another bite of cake.

“No.” Marinette said, “I was concerned because you had mentioned that your bosses wouldn’t like it if you were up here with me too long. Aren’t they going to be mad about you spending all this time on me?”

“Nice of you to worry about me but there’s nothing for them to do now. We struck a deal so I am allowed to stay with you as long as till the deal is fulfilled.” Felix explained. “They might not like it but they can’t tell me that I’m not doing my job. In reality I think they’re jealous that I get to stay above ground for so long.”

“I know that you’re from literal Hell but is it really so bad even for demons? It’s not like you’re the damned souls burning in endless torment.”

“Yes and no. Down below it is endless work and the reprieve and fun we’re supposed to have has grown stale. It’s like we’re stuck in a cramped room grinding against each other as we shuffle about generating a constant feeling of contempt and anger.” Felix sighed pushing the rest of the cake in front of Marinette. “I didn’t know it before but you can get so tired of being angry all the time.”

After they paid for the meal they walked back home. Marinette got back to work on her design while Felix lounged at her computer playing Mecha Strike. He was sure that if he practiced on the highest computer difficulty enough he could beat Marinette.

Nightfall came and Marinette found herself hesitant to go to bed. The nightmare from last night creeping back into mind. So instead she lit a bunch of candles all around the room, put on her most relaxing playlist and laid back on the floor.

“Are we having an existential crisis?” Felix asked from the chaise.

“Not ready to go to sleep yet.” Marinette stared up at the ceiling. “This helps clear my head. Care to join me?”

“Not like I have anything better to do.” Felix laid down opposite her so their heads were side by side but they could still spread out like a starfish. “Cozy.”

They stayed like that for a long time not saying a word and letting the music from her phone drift above them half heard.

“Hey Felix,” Marinette whispered, not wanting to break the peace they were in by talking at full volume.

“Yeah?” Felix whispered back.

“I’ve been thinking about something.” Marinette said, “If you’re a demon and the way demons are made are to be believed, does that mean you were once an angel?”

“Is this the part where you try to unlock my tragic backstory?”

“I’m curious.”

He was quiet for a long time. Marinette started to think she overstepped before he spoke again. His voice so soft she almost didn’t hear him. “Yeah. Long time ago.”

“What made you fall?”

Felix didn’t answer.

“Felix?” She turned her head to look at him, “Why did you fall?”

“There are things angels aren’t supposed to do. Rules we must obey.” he sighed, his gaze lost to the ceiling, “I broke one of them and next thing I know I was falling through the heavens.”

“Literally?”

“Yeah. Hurt like a bitch.” His voice was quiet, “One second you’re high up on a cloud and the next you’re hurtling through space, red hot and burning. Not knowing exactly where you’re going to end up and not really caring. All you know is that you are burning away everything you thought you were. Then you hit the ground and the ashes that you once were collide in the fall and reform you into something you never thought you’d be.”

“I’m sorry.” Marinette reached for his hand. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s okay. It’s kinda nice to talk to someone about it. Down below everyone’s been through it so no one has any sympathy for the next. Doesn’t matter if you were cast out or chose to rebel. All you become is another face in the crowd. Another nightmare in mortals’ dreams.”

“The most nightmarish thing about you is your manners.” Marinette joked. Felix’s stoic expression cracked into an amused smile and he turned to look at her. His nose almost bumped against hers. “Do you ever regret it? Falling? Breaking the rules?”

“No.” Felix squeezed her hand, “I may not be favored but I do have some agency over my own life. That’s more than I can say from when I was an angel.”

“I guess that’s one way to look at it.” His silver eyes bore into hers. She wasn’t unsettled though. If anything she felt a certain calm that came with the shiver down her spine.

“And,” his smirk softened, “Because of it I got to meet you. That itself I think is a good enough reason to not regret it.”

Her heart beat harder in her chest. “What’s so great about me?” she asked.

“What isn’t?”

Her breathing stilled. Her whole body had. All she could do was stare at this boy across from her. His hand was still clasped with hers. She could feel his thumb idly stroking back and forth across the back of her hand. She didn’t know what she was doing. Her eyes searched his face for some kind of clue as to what it was that was going through her head. A reason for why her heart wouldn’t stop beating so fast.

“Marinette,” Felix’s voice brought her back to the present. He so rarely used her first name. His face inched closer and he left a whisper of a kiss on her cheek. “Thanks for talking with me.”

“Felix…” Her body flooded with warmth. The small part of her cheek he had kiss burned like a hot iron. She watched as he stood up and walked out of the room. Where he had gone she had no idea but the click of the door as it fell shut left her cold and small in the empty room.

She sat up and hugged her knees to her chest. God help her, what was she supposed to do now?

---

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (8)

---

(tagged)

@sannsibarr @miss-mysterys-blog @maribug-adrienoir @mermaidreject @corabeth11 @goblinwhoships @symwinter

[belladonnaandulriched]

the artist | chapter ten

I finally got a hold of Lars later that evening, and right before I went to bed no less. I placed the set of graphite pencils Joey had given me on my desk and I positioned them around a bit so they were leaned up against a small stack of books there, right underneath my window, and I wondered if I could convince Dave and Stone to send me one of their plants for an added mood to it. I still wondered about their garden and the mechanics behind it, and in particular why the two of them were so adamant on ensuring no outsiders got a hold of it. Maybe that was why they were so kind to me on that first impression: Dave figured I hailed from around there and thus he made that assumption.

But after I had changed my clothes and ran a brush through my hair, I picked up my phone and dialed Lars' number. I figured Chris had fallen asleep at that point so I wished not to bother him. I knew Lars had had a long day that day given his speech slurred a bit. But it was in fact nice to hear his voice again after a time. He cleared his throat twice in the first minute alone I was on the phone with him.

“Will and I are figuring that it's best that we let Joey stay in the upstairs loft with the both of us,” he was saying at one point. “At least until one of us can travel back home—you know, I can go back to San Francisco.”

“Is there not enough money for you guys to go around?” I asked him as his line crackled a bit.

“Not at all. I have some and Will scrounges up a little bit from the bottom of his bank account, but that's about it. Joey spent almost the rest of his money on those pencils he got for you.”

I swallowed at the sound of that.

“I should probably tell you,” he started up again, “William—doesn't really have a lot of money anyway.”

“I thought so,” I confessed to him. “I mean, just hearing that he's living in the upstairs loft above the speakeasy and whatnot, and he's living there with you and Joey.”

“Well, I mean, he's almost out of money. He showed me the amount in there at the moment and it's alarming to see. He hopes to get this place open before he runs out of funds entirely.”

“So what're you thinking?” I asked him as I crawled under the covers of my bed. I started to wonder if Joey getting me those pencils were more than just a gift for me.

“Well, I am glad that you called when you did and I thank you for doing so. We need you here with us, to help us out. I have no idea what your situation is but we need you. We need your genius and your prowess—” He was cut off by the sound of something. “—huh? Oh, I'm speaking to Holly.”

He returned to me.

“Darling Joseph says hi.”

“Hi, Joey,” I said in a sweet voice. He was sweet to me, and thus I needed to return the favor.

“Hey, Hahlls!” he called out in a broken voice.

“So you guys want me there? When?” I asked Lars again once he returned to me.

“Well, preferrably tomorrow. That's how badly we need you here.”

“Bring your digital stuff with ya, too,” Joey added from the background.

“Yes!” Lars chimed in. “Bring your digital enhancement stuff, too. We need to see you at your fullest potential and at your most vulnerable. You gave yourself through your art when we modeled for you. The only way we can succeed is if we have you with us.”

“Sounds like a lot,” I admitted, even though if I had survived the pandemic, I could bring that speakeasy forth and I could help turn things around for the three of them.

“Well—I am sure you know what to do,” he assured me. “I believe in you. Joey believes in you, as does Will. We believe that you can lead the way and we shall be right behind you every step of the way.”

I smiled when he said that and I bode him good night before hanging up. I set my phone down on my desk and then I reached underneath my pillow for my sketchbook. I was about to doodle something real quick when I got an idea upon looking at those graphites again. I set my sketchbook down on my lap and reached for my phone again.

I pressed on the number in my address book and brought it up to my ear. I waited out one ring, and then—

“Hey, Holly,” Dave replied in a soft voice; he, too, sounded tired.

“Hey, Dave, can I ask you a question before you or I fall asleep?”

“Sure, what's up?”

“Do you have any extra flowers?”

“As a matter of fact, we do, yeah!” he answered. “Why, would you like some?”

“Yeah, maybe one of your lilies or one of your sunflowers. A little something to brighten up my room a bit. You know, like that.”

“I think we can do that, although Chris called me earlier today and said he wants to do something nice for you, too. He told me that he's kind of in the same boat as Joey, though, like his savings are starting to fall by the wayside.”

“Oh, man.” I frowned at the sound of that.

“Yeah—that's according to him, anyways. Stone and I are doing alright, but a few bucks for us goes a long way whereas when you're living in a place like the heart of Seattle like he is, it's pretty brutal.”

I cleared my throat. “Did Lars tell you what's going on with them?” I asked him in a small voice.

“He did, yeah. And I would know about that, too. After Nirvana, I was livin' in a van and I had no motivation to do anything.”

“What changed your mind?”

“I took a good long look at myself in the mirror and said, 'I'm gonna live every day as though it were my last.' And I did, and I have been. The pandemic also helped bring that to fruition. You know, the whole thing that the virus could infect you at any given second and it could kill you within a day.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about that,” I said as I received flashbacks to when news of the virus hitting the mainland United States entered my mind right then.

“So what kind of flowers did you say? A lily or a sunflower?”

“Yeah, but I'm good with either one. Plants inspire me as much as music does.”

“And new ideas, I would reckon,” he added; I heard the rustling of a sleeping bag on his end and I knew he and Stone were ready for bed, too.

“Absolutely!” I declared. “And I dunno 'bout you but after the pandemic, I'm more than happy to go forth with a new way of life. I know my parents are.” And as soon as I said that, I regretted within a few microseconds of saying it. I hoped he didn't take it the wrong way.

“Say 'hi' to them for me when you get a chance,” he said with a little chuckle.

We said good night to each other and hung up at the same time. That time, I set my phone on the desk and picked up my sketchbook again. I decided to just use a mechanical pencil for this late night drawing and save those nice graphites Joey got me for something a little more important. I leaned back with the book sprawled over my lap and proceeded to do a study of hair: Chris' luxurious black waves, Joey's beautiful jet black corkscrews, Will's fine but fuzzy kinks, Lars' smooth feathery tendrils, and I even tried my hand at Stone's fine head of hair and Dave's delicate blond locks.

I doodled until I fell asleep with the book on my lap. I woke up at some time early in the morning and set the book on the desk, and lay down onto my back. I fell asleep for about a few hours when I was jarred awake by the sound of my mom's voice.

“Holly!”

I opened my eyes and peered about the room. The sun had risen just enough to bring some fresh new light in there, but I knew it was still early. I rubbed my eyes when she called my name again.

I rolled out of bed and darted out of the room to see what was the matter. I skidded into the living room where she had taken her seat on the couch and leaned forward as though something intense took place on the television. She, too, had woken up by the tired look upon her face and her robe wrapped around her body.

“What's wrong?” I sputtered as my voice broke from sleep and from fear.

“The virus came back,” she told me in a grave voice.

“Oh, no,” I muttered. I looked on at the news report to find that it was in fact true: the corona virus had returned with a vengeance. Cases were spiking all over the remnants of the country in the past few days alone.

“Yeah, the current vaccine isn't working anymore because the virus behaved like a regular, actual pathogen and it mutated again.”

“Which means...” My voice trailed off.

“You can't really go out now, unless it's important,” my dad added from the kitchen.

But helping out Will, Joey, Lars, and Chris was important. It was imperative that I be there at the speakeasy to do the dirty work for them. I promised Lars I would be there that day: if I had to sneak out with my mask on over my face, then I would have to do that.

This virus and the pathetic response to it singlehandedly ruined their lives as musicians: I needed to ensure that it wouldn't ruin my life as an artist, much less an artist who wanted to save them from the horrors of poverty.

[snow-pitch-grimm]

Boys In Love

Summary: Simon wears a pink eyeliner while Baz paints his nails glittery black. Simon likes to make flower arrangements while Baz paints demons.

Still, it doesn't mean they can't match in every way that matters

Note: This is supposed to be for the Pastel prompt but I very loosely followed. This is just an excuse to write two boys in love.

SIMON

I look in the mirror and adjust my curls, then I inspect my nails. They're pink and the polish is still impeccable.

Perfect.

There's a knock behind me and turn to see my mother standing at my door.

"Almost ready, love?" she asks

"Yeah," I say

"Feeling a little bold today," she says

I smile and look back in the mirror to inspect my face full of make-up, complete with light blue eyeliner and baby pink lipstick.

"Felt like that kind of day," I say

"Well," she says, "You look quite nice. I'm sure a certain someone will appreciate it,"

"He's very biased," I tell her but her words still make me feel giddy from happiness.

She gives me a knowing look.

"Well, Happy Valentines Day, love," she says, "Now let's hurry before you're late for school,"

"Okay Mum," I say, taking one last look in the mirror.

I do look lovely

BAZ

I watch myself in the mirror as I put on my choker. It's made of black leather and has a glittery butterfly in the middle.

It's also new.

I head downstairs to where I can hear my family getting their breakfast.

"Bazzy," Cry out the twins at once

"Octavia. Victoria. Good morning," I say, giving them both a kiss on the forehead

"Morning Mother," I say as I give a kiss to baby Collin

He only babbles in response

Daphne smiles and hands me pancakes with a heart made on top.

"Happy Valentines Day," says

"Thank you," I say, "Where are Father and Mordelia?"

"Mordelia's Valentines Day surprise," she tells me

"Ah," I say. That made sense

I'm on my second pancake when My father and Mordelia come in, arms full flowers, cards, and chocolate.

"Happy Valentines Day," She cries with all the energy of a six-year-old can muster.

We all get a chocolate heart each, one rose, and one card. Daphne gets a bouquet of nine roses from my Father. Some old traditions I never asked about.

My father finally notices the shocker and raises an eyebrow.

"Is that new?" he asks

I nod.

"Did I pay for it?"

"Two of them actually, I bought Niall one too," I say, "Don't worry I didn't go over my monthly limit,"

Father had a monthly limit set out for me. Something about learning money management.

"Well, it looks nice," he says

I smile, remembering the first time I had tried on the getup I was wearing right now. His eyes had pretty much fallen out of his head.

"Are you looking pretty for Simon?" asks Mordelia, "Show me,"

I get up to do a spin for her, showing off my black jeans, combat boots, and my dress-like shirt with fishnet sleeves.

"I'm looking pretty for me," I tell her, "And if Simon appreciates it, it's just an added bonus,"

She just hums in response and goes back to her pancakes.

"Are you doing anything with Simon tonight?" Daphne asks

"We're going to a festival after school," I tell her, "I'll be home a few hours before dinner,"

"Lovely," she says, "You should go before you're late,"

I nod, drinking up the last of my tea.

Grabbing my keys, I head out of the door.

SIMON

Penny is waiting for me at the steps of the school, her purple hair twisted in a messy bun.

"Well, looks like Agatha's lessons really worked. Your make-up looks amazing,"

"Oh thanks," I say, "I got up early to do it,"

"Putting in the extra effort on Valentine's Day, " she teases

"I also did my make-up on my birthday, Penny, and for Christmas," I say

"Fair point," she says, "Oh look, Baz is here,"

I turn around and sure enough. Baz just pulled up in the parking lot.

I watch him as he gets out of his car, right along with Dev and Niall.

He looks as beautiful as ever. Even from here I can tell his mascara is making his eyes pop. He has purple lipstick on and I can see his muscle through his sleeves.

God, I love his arms.

He looks up and his eyes lock with mine. I nearly melt when he smiles at me.

God, he's beautiful.

"You are so gone on him," says Penny, "Go, I'm gonna go find Shep,"

I nod and make my way down the stairs.

BAZ

My breath catches in my throat as I spot Simon.

He's the epitome of beauty as he walks toward me.

Behind me, I can hear Dev and Bial snickering about me being lovesick.

But I don't care.

My boyfriend is wonderfully lovely.

"Hi, Baz," he says, with a blinding smile, "Happy Valentine's Day,"

"Happy valentine's day, Darling," I say, pulling him in, "You look beautiful,"

He blushes and is about to respond when someone clears their throat behind us.

Right. Dev and Niall. Forgot about them.

"What do you two want?" I snarl at them

"It's impolite to snog in front of your best friends," says Niall with an impish grin

I'm about to retort but Simon lets out a chuckle, slipping his hand into mine.

"Sorry guys," he says, "You guys have a ride for after school, right? We're going to go to the festival right after your football practice,"

Dev and Nial instantly smile, and I swear I can see hearts in their eyes. Yeah, Simon has that effect on people.

"Yeah," says Niall, "My mum's picking us up,"

"Good," he says as we turn to leave, "Oh and Dev, I like your nails,"

Dev smiles and says thanks.

I pout, "My nails are painted the same way,"

He smiles, "I was just being nice Baz. I always like your nails best. Cause they're yours,"

My heart melts.

I have a lovely boyfriend.

SIMON

We don't have morning classes together but I do get to see him at lunch.

It's Valentine's Day so we planned on having lunch together, just the two of us.

I make my way to the music room and find him in there, sitting on the carpet and, for once, not practicing his violin. Instead, he's drawing.

"Hey," I say, "What's that?"

He smiles and turns the sketchbook. It's a drawing of wolf demon feeding on a deer in the moonlight.

It's both beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

"Wonderfully done," I tell him

And I mean it. I might not understand the subject matter, just like he doesn't understand my obsession with flowers (I work at Ebb's shop. I love it) but he has a wonderful talent.

"Come sit," he says, patting the space beside him

I sit down and we take out our lunch. Halfway through, he laces our hands together (he's left-handed).

I look down and observe them. Mine are pale with nails done in pink. He has brown skin, with a skull ring and his nails a sparkling black.

They look lovely together.

BAZ

After school is our football breakfast.

I have to take off my make-up for that. I don't usually wear a lot. Just a bit of mascara. Sometimes some lip gloss and eyeliner but I still have to take if off if I want to avoid it running down my face.

Simon is watching me as I run around the field.

I'm not ashamed to admit, I show off a little whenever he's watching.

Dev and Niall always tease me about it.

As if they're any better. Niall once walked into a wall after his crush smiled at him.

After practice, and after I've showered, I find Simon in front of the locker room waiting for me.

He smiles at me and holds out his hand.

"Ready?"

I smile back and take it. I always want to smile around him.

We walk back to my car and when I get there, he pulls out the make-up bag I keep in my car.

"Can I?" he asks

I nod.

He takes out some mascara and lipgloss and applies it to me gently (Gentle. He's always so gentle with me)

He also pulls out some eyeliner, his this time. It's purple.

"Do you mind?" he asks again

"If you think it'll look good..." It might as well be permission

"It will," he says.

I look in the mirror when I'm done. He was right, I do look good.

SIMON

After I' done his make-up, Baz pulls the car out of the lot and we're on the road.

Its a pretty day, and there's minimal traffic. I keep the windows down and watch the air make Baz's hair fly around while I hold his hand.

BAZ

Simon holds my hand as I drive.

I know he would hold my hand all the time if I asked me to.

The knowledge makes me feel warm.

SIMON

We start with the rides.

We whoop on the fast ones and snog on the Ferris wheel.

Later, Baz buys me cotton candy.

BAZ

I hate cotton candy but Simon loves. I don't get it. It's just sugar.

We get some more snacks and afterwards, Simon tugs me to the games.

I try to tell him they're rigged but he insists.

"I'm gonna win you something!"

And what do you know, he does end up winning me something.

A plush cat as big as my pillow.

"Thank you, Simon," I tell him

I end up buying him a heart-shaped cushion later.

SIMON

Baz gives me a long kiss when he drops me off to my house.

My mum is waiting for me and she smiles when she sees me.

"Nice look she says," I look in the mirror and sure enough, my lips tik is smeared.

"Well," I say, blushing a little, "I had fun. He got met this,"

She looks at the heart and grins.

"He's a lovely boyfriend,"

"He really is," I tell her

BAZ

I step inside and am instantly greeted by my sisters, all asking me questions about my date.

Where do a six-year-old and two four-year-olds even get these questions? I honestly don't know.

Daphne finally comes along and saves me from them.

"Hello, Baz," she says with a mischievous smile, "Your hair is looking great,"

I look in the mirror at our entrance and I see that it's sticking in a few different directions.

Ah, yes. Simon likes to tug at it.

"What can I say?" I tell her with a cheeky smile, "I had a wonderful time,"

"So it seems," she says, "I'm glad,"

"Thank you, Mother,"

SIMON

We're lying in the sitting room after dinner. Mum is speaking to my Grandmother on the phone and I'm looking at new flower arrangements to try.

I find one particular one that makes me smile.

I screenshot it and sent it to Baz.

Something to have at our wedding!

If nothing else it'll amuse him.

BAZ

"How come you didn't go out tonight?" Ias k my parents once my siblings have been put to bed.

They look at each other and Daphne smile, "When you're been together for as we have sometimes, it's nice to just stay. It makes the adventures a lot more fun if they're rare. Anyway, big fancy Valentine's Day dinners aren't my thing. I have all the love I need right here, in this house,"

It's a nice sentiment and I wonder if Simon and I will be that kind of married couple one day. Happy to spend the night sipping wine in each other's company.

My phone rings and I pick it up to see who it is.

Simon has sent me a picture. It's a bouquet with bright pink flowers and black lilies.

The caption makes me grin wide.

"What's got you smiling like that?" asks my father

"Oh, nothing. Simon just sent me the centrepieces we're going to have at our wedding,"

Daphne looks up alarmed while my father chokes on his drink.

"Don't worry," I tell them, after letting them stew a little, "It's not happening for another ten years,"

I have never seen my father look so relieved.

SIMON/BAZ

I love him so much.

[timelock97]

Game Changer

Chapter Two: A New Game, A New Discovery

Word Count: 3155 

Warnings:  Language

_________________________________________

The summer before the new semester was long, and I missed Leon a lot. Leon was busy in Galar, trying to figure out why I wasn't even able to come in the first place, as well as keeping himself in shape for the season. On the other hand, I spent the summer working my tail feathers off, and on the occasion spent some much needed time with friends.

My group of friends from high school had always stayed close, even though we went to different schools. We spent countless hours talking about new games and shows that were out, but also throwing in stories from the year: failed flirting attempts, horrible teachers, funny all-nighters, you name it. However, one of the hot topics we talked about, or at least three out of four talked about, were the new Pokemon games. Ginny, Aaron, and I had spent a majority of the summer speculating the new game and they attempted to fill me in on what I had missed from the past few games.

"Wait, how much have you actually missed," Aaron had asked as he steered the boat to head back to the house to pick up Max to continue our lazy wandering and conversing.

I stretch my arms over the back of my seat, Ginny giggling as I make a face in thought, "Uh, the last game I played I had Piplup as my starter-"

"So generation four." Ginny concludes, making Aaron laugh.

"I'm really behind." I giggle, leaning back against the seat, soaking in the sun.

"Oh yeah, definitely behind. I think a crash course is needed."

"I think you'll enjoy it more going in blind." Ginny giggles, moving to sit next to me. "Besides, it'll be fun either way to see what you think."

"The game cannot get here fast enough!" I cheer excitedly, ready to explore the newest region on my new console.

~

Leon sighs into the receiver. "Sorry it didn't work out for this summer, love."

I shift my phone between my ear and my shoulder as I gather my school supplies from the backseat, I had one more week before school started back up and I was already feeling restless. "Quit apologizing, Lee. It's not your fault there is some weird process for me to get approved to come to Galar. You wouldn't have known. Besides, they were happy I was able to come back and work for the summer." They being an old diner that can't seem to hold servers. I was used to the workload and the usual people that came in, which meant better tips. "How was your season?"

"Good as always, Raihan gave me a run for my money, but still ended up on top. Hop is just happy to have me home."

"Well they are probably even happier knowing you don't need to come back here." I walk over to the front door and shove my key in the lock and slip inside.

"Yeah, the Chairman has been having me running ragged; doing errands and practicing."

"Hopefully nothing too hard," I smile as I set my bag down on the floor.

"Nothing I can't handle." His voice is teasing, and it makes me miss him more. I don't say anything as I unpack my stuff, just hum into the phone. "Are you excited for school?"

I laugh, shaking my head, "More like already ready for break. You are coming for Thanksgiving, right?"

"Already have it on my calendar." He hums, making me smile. "You're going to do amazing this year, you know that? You always amaze me with how much you know."

A blush warms my cheeks, damn do I miss this boy. "And you are gonna do amazing things in Galar. Just remember to take some time for yourself too, okay?"

I hear his sigh as I sit on a kitchen chair. "I'll try my love. I will try." There is a long pause, and for a second I think he hung up until, "I really miss you."

"I miss you too, Lee. November, and then you will be here."

"Doesn't make the waiting any easier."

"I know, but keeping yourself busy will ease it a little." I turn toward my stuff before sighing. "As much as I want to stay on the phone with you, handsome, I really need to study for that test I have next week."

He chuckles, his voice soft. "I know, I'll call you tomorrow. That okay?"

"Sounds perfect." I smile, "I love you, Leon."

"I love you too, my love."

~

I practically throw my stuff onto the ground as I enter the house, new game already in hand. Aiden, my little brother, follows in behind me complaining about school and how some of his friends were being annoying. My mom lifts her head from what she is completing on her laptop, giving us a lopsided smile. "You look excited, and you look like you need to go take a nap."

Aiden groans again before placing his face into her shoulder to complain in muttered tones as I move about the room to get my things together.

"I am headed to Ginny's, I don't expect to be home until about nine or ten-"

"Don't forget you have a dog, (Y/N)-"

"I will be home by nine then, and no worries I know," I giggle, rubbing Buster's head, the little Australian Shepard pup is bouncing at my feet as I slip my shoes and coat back on. "Sorry, bud. Go ask Aid, he will probably love to take you outside to run."

Aiden happily agrees as I wave one last time to my mom before slipping back outside. The drive is quick thanks to Ginny only living outside the neighborhood. I pull into her driveway and park in my usual spot, practically running to the door.

I hear her dog bark as I make it onto the porch, "Are you excited?!" Ginny's voice calls from behind her front door. She opens it quickly, pushing her dog aside as I enter.

"You know it!" I call back, stepping inside, my hand falling onto her chocolate labs head to keep him from slipping out the door. "Afternoon, Theo." I coo as I scratch under his chin before turning toward my best friend and pulling her into a hug. "How far are you?"

"Not too far, I've just been exploring." Ginny smiles as she motions me to follow her. The two of us clamber down the stairs, talking quietly about school and her job. Once settled on the couch she grabs her switch from where it sits on the floor plugged in.

I finally get to take a break, no school, no classmates, no responsibilities besides playing the game.I pop out the game already inside the console and replace it with the new game. "Here we go, here we go, here we go!" I sing, making Ginny laugh.

I turned up the volume and let the game start. As it starts through the main intro I decided to read along aloud, simply to get a laugh out of my best friend, making comments all the way. Until I come across the name of the region,"Galar?"

"Yeah, that's the region this game." Ginny states nonchalantly, eyes never leaving her switch.

I nod, eyes reading along. I let out a squeal, "Look at the elephant!"

"I know! I don't know what it is, but I want it!" Ginny giggles back.

"My name is Rose, and it is a pleasure to be here."

"Rose?" I whisper, no it's just a coincidence on the name and place, it's not the place Leon had been describing the past four years

"Now turn your gaze to the Galar region's greatest Pokemon Trainer, your undefeated champion..."

"It's time for Champion Leon's exhibition match!"

My eyes watch as the screen lights up, as it brings the game's champion into view and my breath hitches, making Ginny look up at me.

"What's wrong?"

I shake my head and stare wordlessly as the battle begins, Charizard dynamaxes and the shield logo appears on the screen. It quickly switching over to the protagonist, showing off "Wooloo?"

"Isn't wooloo adorable?" Ginny smiles, but she can see the confusion on my face. "You good?"

"Yeah, yeah, I think." I mutter as I get into the game. As the game continues, my heart gets a little tighter. Hop arriving at the protagonist's house, telling her to meet him at his, taking the main character to meet his brother at the train station. "God, Hop is a little shit," I giggle, Ginny agreeing with me with a laugh. "Like how long have I been living next to him and I haven't met his brother once? Aren't we like the best of friends?" Finally I have to stop, saving after choosing Scorbunny and setting my switch down into my lap. "Ginny?"

"Yeah?" She doesn't even look up.

I go to the screen shots on my switch and pull up a picture of Lee, my Lee, on my phone. "Please tell me I'm imagining things."

Ginny sets down her switch before shifting closer to me. She takes the phone from my hand before looking back at my switch. I watch as her eyes widen before she shakes her head. "Okay, this just has to be a coincidence." She raises her head to look at me, "They just look really similar-"

"That's what I thought, except Lee's boss is Chairman Rose, he lives in Galar which is an island off of the United Kingdom, his little brother's name is Hop-"

"(Y/N)." Ginny lets out a nervous giggle, but I continue.

"Ginny, he has even described animals for me to draw and one of them I just saw on screen." I can feel a headache coming on, and my anxiety is starting to settle in. "He has described his whole home and hometown to me and my character just ran through it." I place my head in my hands, putting pressure on the places that are aching.

She looks between the photos, she knows exactly what I am talking about. She has heard all about what Lee has told me, and seen the pictures in my sketchbook. She takes a breath, "Look, you can't prove anything right now. If he knows that this is a huge coincidence, he would tell you."

"I don't know, Ginny..."

"You have to have faith in him, you know how he is. He will tell you-"

"If he even knows." I whisper, lifting my head.

She nods, "And if he doesn't, then you will just have to bring it up. Everything will work out." She nudges my side, "C'mon, let's turn on YouTube for a bit then we can try and get back to the game."

~

I sit in my room that evening, I didn't go much further in the game even though I wanted to. My eyes linger on my cell phone, text messages open to Leon's messages.

_________________________________________

Lee Lee

I'll be at work til late, but I just want to tell you goodnight and that I love you.

Hope your day was good, gorgeous

_________________________________________

He could just be someone who works for the games and didn't tell me? But then why did he need a business degree, especially here? I rub my forehead as my dog crawls over to me and places his head on my lap, a sign that I should really be headed to bed. But my mind is reeling, and sleep probably wasn't going to happen for another few hours. Tonight would be a night I would lose sleep over.

I wake the next morning by Buster pressing his cold nose into my cheek. I sigh as I rub a hand through his fur before sitting up in bed and seeing Leon had texted me.

_________________________________________

Lee Lee

Good morning, my love.

I hope you didn't stay up too late playing your game 😉

I'll call you later today after I see Hop back home

(He has been asking when you are coming to visit)

I love you!

_________________________________________

My fingers move across the screen in habit, telling him good morning as well, but adding that I had a lot of homework this weekend and would need to be working and that I'd call him later in the week. I slipped in to enjoy spending time with his family and to tell Hop that I was excited to meet him when I finally made it out there.

I rolled out of bed and followed the pup out into the kitchen before letting him out into the backyard to do his business. I sigh as I lean in the doorway, watching him prance about the backyard happily. I let out a low whistle, "Buster, c'mon baby it's cold."

Buster comes barreling over, happily bouncing about my feet as I walk back into the house. Time to get to studying.

After a few hours, my mom pops her head into the office to see me hard at work on a presentation that was due that Monday. "Hey, honey?"

I put up a hand to tell her one minute before I finish the sentence I was working on. I gently push away from the desk to look at her. "Sup?"

She shakes her head, laughing, "You good?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" I ask, standing to walk past her and get a drink from the fridge.

She's quiet as she follows me slightly. "You and Lee okay?" She sees me visibly stiffen, "Did you two have a fight?"

I sigh, setting the juice container on the counter, "No, we didn't have a fight; I think it's the long distance getting to me. I mean, he keeps in contact and we skype, but it's not the same as being in person you know?"

She nods, "I can understand that." She shifts to the side and watches me for a minute while I pour my juice. "Did he tell you when he was going to fly out?"

"No, he just said before Thanksgiving." I sigh, replacing the juice in the fridge and chugging down the amount in my glass. "I can text him and ask though."

My mom shakes her head, "No, it's okay. Ask him later, you don't have to do it now."

I look over at her, and a part of me tells me that she is hiding something, but I shake it off and rinse the glass out before returning to the office. Just have to finish this presentation.

Thanksgiving could not come any faster. Between practicals, exams, and paper presentations my classmates and I had finally hit our wall. My hands were basically hovering over the keyboard as I skimmed over the material. God, I needed a break.

The sound of the back door opening catches my attention, ears perking up over the music playing from my laptop. After a minute, I hear my mom talking to my dad making me nod as I go back to my typing. Buster barking excitedly doesn't fade as I make the last bullet point to my study guide before I jump back over what I needed to look at for the practical for Tuesday, and the chapters due for Monday.

The door opening causes me to pause my typing to rub my forehead. "What?" I ask, it comes out more harsh then I expect, but between school and Leon suddenly being MIA, my nerves are a little shot. Whomever walked in makes no sound, and before I can ask what they want again a pair of hands clasp around my shoulders and massage the muscles there. A soft groan of satisfaction leaves my lips as I tilt my head to the side, their hands moving with me to massage at the base of my neck.

"You know, if you laid on the bed I could reach a lot more." My head whips around to meet golden honey eyes. Leon laughs before cupping my cheek, "Don't turn too fast love, you'll get whiplash."

I manage to let out a soft "move" before I spin around and stand from the chair, throwing my arms around his neck just as he leans down to pull me in and lifting me so that I was just that much closer. Emotions erupt as a small sob leaves my lips, arms tightening around his neck as I bury my face into his neck.

"I got you, love, I got you." Leon coos, shushing me as he sits on the couch, his hand cupping the back of my head to keep me close.

The two of us sit silently, Lee rocking me softly until my sobs turn into sniffles. I eventually move so my face is away from his neck, forehead pressing against his while I catch my breath. "Sorry, the past two weeks have been shit."

"Should'a brought you a hot cocoa then huh?" He teases, making me laugh as I press a soft kiss to his lips, his curling into a smile as he attempts to hold me there, only to let out a small groan when I pull away.

"I don't think you want me kissing you until I have washed my face." I tease, motioning to my blotchy, snotty face as I untangle myself from him and stand. Lee doesn't let me get very far, following me into the bathroom so I can do just that. Once that is done, Lee doesn't waste time grabbing my face between his hands and kissing me deeply. I sigh against his mouth until someone clears their throat. We pull apart to see Aiden standing in the doorway.

"Can you not make out in the bathroom? Thanks." He groans before walking away.

Leon chuckles behind me, "You know, I think he and Hop would get along pretty well."

I nod before turning and kissing Leon's cheek again. He smiles at me, hand cupping my cheek again before he presses his forehead to mine, my body relaxing at the contact. But my mind goes back to that game, and Leon's face flickering and talking with the characters. "Hey, Lee?"

His eyes flicker up to mine, "Yes, baby?"

My mouth opens and closes again, words not wanting to come out. I have to talk to him about it.

"(Y/N), what's wrong?" He whispers bringing his other hand to my other cheek.

Later, we'll talk later. I shake my head, "Lost it, sorry. Brain's kinda fried." I force out a giggle.

I can tell he sees right through the excuse, but he nods anyways. "Okay," he whispers before kissing the tip of my nose making me laugh. "C'mon, let's not stand in the bathroom. I'll help you finish studying then we can relax, that work?"

I nod, "Sounds perfect." Lee pulls away and grabs my hand before walking out of the bathroom with me in tow. Just enjoy the quiet before the storm hits.

_________________________________________

A/N: Goooooood day! IDK what time it is for everyone but I’ve decided that Monday’s and Thursday’s I will be posting new chapters to this story! I am really excited for you all to see what is to come! Let me know if you wanna be tagged for the next installment of Game Changer! ~CG

Masterlist

[thealexchen]

(Tried sending this earlier but I'm not sure if it went through) I saw your post of headcanons if Chris went with Sean and Daniel after Episode 2 and I loved them! I was wondering if you had anymore about him being in later episodes? Like how would Cassidy and Finn react to him? I love your posts and hope you're having a good day!

I received them, no worries! Thanks so much for sending a prompt, I haven’t done one of these in ages!

I really hate to think about Chris in ep3 because he’s such a sweet precious boy and he’d be doing hours of intense manual labor in pretty dangerous situations, but I know that if Chris were there, Daniel wouldn’t be as aggressive and disobedient. And…

- On the first few nights, Chris is extremely quiet and withdrawn. When Sean asks him what’s wrong, Chris starts crying and says he doesn’t want the others to keep drinking beer because they remind him of his dad. After that, the group never smokes or drinks when the kids are around. Plus, they save money that way.

- Cass plays covers of Bat for Lashes songs for Chris so he can recreate the feeling he got from lying on his parents’ bed and listening to his mom’s old records. He leans against Cass’s tree stump, closes his eyes, and listens as she plays “Moon and Moon” and “Death with Dignity” by Sufjan Stevens.

- Chris and Daniel continue to have superhero adventures in the “Red Woods, an evil forest where the trees drip blood!” They vanquish enemies and tell stories of their epic battles at the campfire every night.

- Sean bought Chris a sketchbook with his first paycheck, and Chris tries to draw the trees and sunrise every morning because he gets up way before Sean. As a thank-you, Chris drew a picture of the Spirit Squad all together, plus their new superhero friends: Finn the knife-thrower (superpowers are stealth, deadly accuracy with his knives) Cassidy the bard (superpowers are Siren-like singing and putting her enemies to sleep and superspeed).

- On the night where the group all share their worst memories, Chris finally talks in detail about the night he learned his mom died and “the worst Christmas of my life.” Everyone’s crying by the end, and they decide Chris and Daniel tie for the saddest stories.

- Chris helps Daniel train his powers a lot, and when Sean goes with Daniel, Daniel pretends to drop the tree and laughs, “Your face! C’mon, I wasn’t gonna drop it on you…” Sean asks, “Was this Chris’s idea?” “Nope! All mine!”

- However, Chris, being the idealist and less morally gray, sees Merrill and Big Joe as “the bad guys.” He encourages some of Daniel’s bad behavior (like sneaking through Big Joe’s house with him and getting them all fired), and is the one to convince him to do the heist. Finn forbids Chris from going with him and Daniel, but he sneaks out of the camp anyway because “the Spirit Squad sticks together!” Now Sean has to track down both kids.

- Sean is furious at both of them for sneaking out, and Chris gets truly angry for the first time since running away. “No! I left my dad. I’m not leaving you guys too! Daniel, break down the door! Captain Spirit can take these guys!”

- When the group gets caught, all Chris can say is “I’m sorry, Superwolf. I’m sorry, Silver Runner.” When Sean tells them to get out and run, Chris is the only one who runs. That’s how he avoids getting injured in the blast and getting caught by the cops— I imagine Charles reported Chris as a kidnapping victim after he ran away, so if he ran out of Merrill’s house, he wouldn’t be taken back to Charles at the hospital.

- Episode 4: Chris runs back to the camp, where Daniel shows up later, potentially with a gunshot wound. Jacob brings both of them to the religious cult, but that’s all bad stuff and I don’t really want to go into details about Chris getting brainwashed (or potentially getting a bowl cut *shivers*). 

And thank you! I hope your day was good as well! I love your icon of Majora’s Mask Link too!

[fromherlips]

you’re gonna live forever in me

did y’all REALLY think my ass wasn’t going to do something for this? i remember thinking that 2019 was so far away when i finished ‘in your atmosphere’ and now it’s here and i’m here and we’re here and i can’t believe that time has passed like this. in full disclosure: this is completely self-indulgent. i haven’t written anything in almost a year but i couldn’t resist. so, here we are, pals. many, many years later. happy end of nyfw!

New York Fashion Week was a spectacle that Eva had dreamed about since she was a kid. Growing up, it was a week long event she strived to be a part of, someway, somehow. She wanted to live and breathe the same air as the editors and buyers, cramped in the corner in standing room only or sat in the frow, brushing shoulders with fashion’s elite. It happened twice a year and determined trends, styles, moods, personalities, and so much more.

Eva’s first fashion week was just two weeks after she moved to the city. She didn’t know a single soul, but went to shows to cover for her boss, an influencer with enough clout to land her in the front row. Eva sat rows behind, not important enough to land a coveted seat, but she was just happy to be there. Things were different now. Seats were filled by Instagram following and not status in the industry, but she was stuck in the whirlwind of Manhattan (despite subletting a closet-less room in Crown Heights). Eva was left taking notes on her phone, geared up to write a review for her boss’ blog after their next show, typing furiously on her outdated iPhone (by New York standards) in the back of a luxury Lyft while they carted off to the next show.

By the end of her first day carting around from show to show and trying to keep up with her new boss who didn’t talk very much–not even on her Instagram Stories–but seemed to know anyone and everyone at the shows and events they attended, Eva was exhausted. She collapsed onto her stiff mattress, the cheapest she could find on Wayfair without blowing through the meager savings she had from college, too tired to go to the fridge to get water and heat up the pasta she had made the night before, and too burnt out to talk to her roommates who were perched on the couch watching whatever they were binging on Netflix at the time.

With her clothes still on, Eva rested her hand on her cheek, careful not to transfer any makeup onto her comforter. She squeezed her eyes shut, the feeling she’d been trying to suppress for months creeping up. It came to her in the moments when her guard was down, when she was too tired to fight the thoughts that plagued her mind. But in her moments of weakness, her mind always traveled back to the moment in his bedroom, both crumpled on the floor, sobbing like they’d never sobbed before. Back to the green-eyed, floppy-haired boy with tattoos scattered across his skin, the same skin her fingers had skimmed over, the same skin she felt beneath her, on top of her. Back to the person she loved the most in this world, the only person she wanted to curl up next to after a long day.

Harry was everywhere. There were the obvious places. On the radio when she took cars with her boss (she couldn’t afford them on her own), playing when she browsed through stores while she tried to make friends, on posters around the city promoting their newest single, one that Eva couldn’t bear to listen to anymore. He was in the Chloe perfume she kept on her nightstand, in the threads of her Wildfox sweatpants she debated on donating before she moved, in the sketchbooks she hadn’t touched since she moved. Harry was everything and then he was nothing and Eva was the only person to blame.

She hated that word, blame. But what else was she supposed to call it? She knew it was for the best, somewhere deep down within herself, even if she couldn’t recognize it anymore. But knowing it was right didn’t make it less painful. Knowing it was right didn’t make the image of his face, puffy and red and damp with tears, disappear from her memory. It didn’t make her stop missing him. It didn’t change anything, but it kept her hopeful, even if it didn’t feel that way most of the time.

Eva felt sad and lost and lonely and like she was failing at everything she set out to accomplish. She wanted New York City more than anything she wanted in this entire life. But she knew it wouldn’t be easy. So she cried into her brand new sheets after her first day of New York Fashion Week. She cried for Harry, she cried for herself, she cried for the unknown.

That was the last time she had cried during Fashion Week. Her life in New York still brought her to tears, but she was starting to learn that it was normal in her twenties and the breakdown she had during her fifth month living in the city was a right of passage that she accomplished early on. It took her six months to feel okay with herself, but not once did she doubt the decision she had made to move. She knew the city would knock her on her ass, both figuratively and literally (tequila, stilettos, and cobblestone in Soho don’t mix), but it was worth it, wasn’t it?

By her second spring/summer fashion week the next year, Eva felt confident in herself, in her work, in who she was becoming. She sketched more, she made friends, she invested in a mattress topper to make her sleep schedule less painful. She had also started dating a model (unplanned) who lived near her office (convenient) and had blonde hair and brown eyes and not a single tattoo anywhere on his body. She thought she had loved Paul but when they broke up ten months later because of distance (the irony didn’t miss her), Eva didn’t cry, didn’t dwell, didn’t spend months wondering if it was the wrong choice. She wasn’t angry or hurt or confused, she just felt lonely again in the big city, something easily solvable by brunch, happy hour, or casual movie nights with friends.

By fashion week in 2019, Eva had been in the city for over three years and was still settling into her position at Milly. She loved working as an assistant and adored styling for the now defunct print magazine that likely still owed her some money, but being a design assistant at Milly was everything she could have asked for as a 25 (going on 26) year-old. She was still close with Jillian and her old boss, which is how she somehow managed to score an invite to a Conde Nast party on the second night of fashion week.

She had gotten a dress lent from a PR company thanks to Jill and somehow managed to figure out her hair and makeup on her own. Eva painted her lips with crimson red, a stark contrast from the cobalt blue of her dress and white frothy collar adorning her neck. She’d slicked her hair back for ease (and because it was admittedly a bit dirty), hoping it would stay in place throughout the night so she wouldn’t nervously play with it. She wasn’t sure what to expect from the party aside from free food and drinks and hopefully some entertainment.

Eva spent the first hour wandering around with a glass of champagne in her hand, making eye contact with people she vaguely knew from other events or photoshoots but didn’t speak to out of fear of conversational rejection, something she knew well from living in Los Angeles for so long. It didn’t bother her, she liked the people watching and was just happy to be there, truthfully.

A seemingly familiar face caught her eye, but she figured she was just seeing things. Forever a lightweight, she was already two glasses of champagne deep on an almost empty stomach and was seeing things. Hallucinating. It could have been anybody.

She switched to water and grabbed a few hors d'oeuvres, silently chewing in the corner of the space while she tried to sober up. This wasn’t the night for reminiscing. This was a Conde-fucking-Nast New York Fashion Week Party, for gods sake.

At least half an hour had passed and Eva had made the rounds again after meeting up with Jillian and one of her industry friends for a legitimate conversation on Fashion Week plans and not something superficial (which was gratefully appreciated after her years of fashion week attendance). She was in search of another drink now that she was sure she was done seeing things.

Unfortunately, Eva couldn’t make it to one of the waiters making the rounds before she saw the familiar face again. This time, she couldn’t blame it on the alcohol because she knew it was real. He was alone now, swirling what was left in his champagne glass. He looked the same, yet entirely different, and Eva felt transported to a different time. A time when he was hers and she was his and they were tangled underneath the sheets of her bed in that shitty Los Angeles apartment that was too small for her and her things and their makeshift life together.

She felt nauseous then sad then nauseous again. Was the room spinning? It felt like it was spinning. She wondered if this moment would ever happen, if fate would put the two of them back in the room together (even if fate went by the name of Niall, her meddling friend that wanted his power couple back together). She even thought about what she might say–what she might do–if she was put into this situation. But now she was here in a pretty dress and wanted to bolt as far away from the boy whose heart she broke so many years ago, the boy who wrote a Grammy nominated album on how she’d ripped his heart out, the boy who probably deserved better but also needed to grow up.

Despite the fear and nausea, Eva felt herself walking towards the person she’d never thought she would see again. Did he see her? She thought he looked her way, but he didn’t start sprinting so maybe he’d looked right past her. She was still the same Eva, but her hair was shorter and her cheeks more angular. But then she could see his eyes fixated on her, watching her as she maneuvered through the party guests that seemed to gather in his atmosphere.

She didn’t have a line planned. Was she just going to say “hi” or “hello” or just silently stare and hope that was a sufficient greeting? This worried her as she approached him, her feet planting straight in front of the boy she used to love.

“Eva,” he said, no greeting required. “What’re you...hi.”

She tucked a rogue curl behind her ear, sweeping it back from her chin.

“Harry,” she replied, her lips curling into a sweet smile. “Congrats on the new album coming out in a couple of months. It’s nice to see you back with the boys.”

Congrats on the new album? Is that all she could say?

“I...thank you,” he replied. “It’s nice to, erm, be back,” he told her.

“Right, I can imagine,” she said, her heart thumping harder in her chest. Was she okay? Or was seeing Harry after all these years setting her into panic mode? “You lads are close. But, I-uh...how’ve you been, Harry?”

How have you been? Are you serious, Eva? What the fuck, she thought.

“Same old,” he replied.”What about you? I didn’t, um, didn’t know you’d be here?”

She quirked her brow. “In New York or at the party?”

“The party,” he replied. “Niall...he told me you were here a while ago.”

She nodded. Niall was their unofficial liaison, it appeared.

“I saw that you moved here,” she said. “Those damn trending headlines. Niall mentioned it once or twice or a dozen times as well.”

“Just needed a change of pace,” he explained with a shrug. “I’ve always liked visiting, Figured there could be no harm in living here for a bit.

“It’s a good place to be,” she agreed.

She knew she was staring, but there was something so mesmerizing about Harry. She was no stranger to his good looks and undeniable charm. The thing about Harry was that she still saw him everywhere. She saw his many haircuts, his new tattoos, the shift in his style. She saw his attempt to grow facial hair and the 90s haircut and the mismatched rings adorned on his fingers. But she still took the time to study his face and take him in for all that he was, finally in front of her after all of those years.

It didn’t escape Eva that this was how they first met. Well, kind of. He was drunk and slurring but still trying to be as helpful as he could be. Eva was burnt out and fighting imposter syndrome, wondering what this pop star was doing talking to her in the room full of people who were infinitely more interesting than she was. But now she was drunk (or at least buzzed) standing in front of the same boy in his pastel blue pants and ruffled shirt for the first time since that night in his bedroom, the night that changed everything for them, whether she liked it or not.

She wasn’t sure how long she had been staring, but Eva snapped out of her daze when she heard Harry speak again.

“Coffee,” he said, beginning to play with the rings on his fingers.

“Coffee?” she asked.

“I mean...we should get coffee. Or smoothies. Or…” he stammered, letting his voice trail off.

“I’m pretty busy this week,” she replied.

“Fuck, right,” he swore. “Fashion week...you’re right.”

“But give me your new number and I’ll let you know when I’m free when this week from hell ends,” she added quickly, fishing her phone out of her clutch. She tapped her feet nervously while Harry typed his number in. Niall had tried giving it to her but she didn’t trust herself with it. She’d have one too many drinks and say things she didn’t mean. Or worse, she’d let it sit and rot in her contacts, too afraid of what could happen.

Eva wanted to linger in his presence, soaking up every last second of his aura. But instead, she slipped her clutch back underneath her arm, taking two steps backwards as she waved goodbye, faintly smiling at the boy in front of her.

“Good luck, Ev,” he told her as she walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

It felt like she was walking through a daydream. She could barely register anything around her. She merely grabbed another glass of champagne, pressing the glass against her lips and leaving a deep red stain in its place. She found a semi-abandoned corner of the room, sipping slowly while she tried to process the moment. It was short, no longer than five minutes, but it felt as if she had been standing in front of Harry for a lifetime.

For so long, she wondered what she would say to him, what she would do, how she would feel. But nothing could prepare her for the actual moment when their lives collided again, intersecting like they had when they were nineteen and drunk and tired and two entirely different people. 

Their moment was over, but it didn’t feel as such. She felt something in the pit of her stomach, albeit faint, but it was there. It very well could have been the champagne, or hope, or a combination of both. Harry Styles had managed to orbit back into her life, or hers into his, but this time it felt different. She felt different. And that had to mean something.

[alkhale]

Locked Here for Forever (1/6) Dark!Sabo/Oc/Dark!Ace

(quick note before y’all come at me with torches)

This was a side project I’ve been playing around with while working on updates (THE UPDATES ARE COMING I SWEAR, I SWEAR) I was kinda... possessed? to write this and when it kept coming back to me, I realized I needed to get it out of my system. Doing that made me realize how big it was going to end up being so it’s divided up into parts. 

I’ve been wanting to explore a different variety of things. We can say “darker” themes, but I really just wanted to try my hand at playing with characters with honestly manipulative and sociopathic behavior. I’m not going on a limb to say yandere because that term is loose and often made to be thought of with stabby-stabby, stalky-stalky--but I think it can encompass a lot more? Possessive behavior, controlling, but I wanted to really go into manipulative behavior. Sociopathic because it’s not psychotic, it’s functioning and cold and hmm.

(Btw, to each their own, fantasies, kinks, we don’t shame here. But if anyone is ever putting you through what Hoku is going to be put through here and manipulating you into basically mind controlling you and this and that, it is not a healthy relationship and they are scum and you deserve better, drop their ass like a hot fucking potato.)

I decided to use Hoku because this idea originally came from another AU for Memos. (I’m sorry Hoku) Loosely based on the premise from the BL comic, “Points of Three”

It’s here on AO3, if you just want to read there too.

Rating: NSFW

Pairing: Sabo/Oc/Ace (Past! Kid/Oc), Dark!Ace/Oc/Dark!Sabo

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Manipulation (Psychological and Emotional), Past Assault, Past Trauma, Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Relationships, Use of Aphrodisiacs, BDSM, Dubious Consent, Controlling Behavior, Stalking

Chapter One: Points of Three

“From three points, it can’t ever end. They’ll always pull at one. One is always pulled between them. One point is always trapped between the other two.”   

Hoku shoved a pancake into her mouth.

“That’s the idea at least.”

The twenty-four hour breakfast diner was only half busy. A dingy place with wallpaper peeling in places but always clean and friendly. Cozy. The booths had tears at the seams, patched together by other patches. Establishments like this weren’t too popular all throughout their town, but the diner’s all-you-can-eat pancake and breakfast option did the job for their group’s ridiculous appetites.

Crumpled papers were splayed out on their table. Luffy had spilled a bit of syrup onto one of his math packets and it was in the middle of being patted down with water and dried to be somewhat presentable.

Her best friend’s face was currently in the middle of short-circuiting. His attention was waning thin. Luffy’s lips pursed, eyebrows furrowed as he hunched over the papers in front of him, one fork in his hand with syrup dripping from a soggy slice of pancake.

Hoku continued to chew, sick of these studies herself.

“So the answer,” Luffy said slowly. He rubbed the scar beneath his eye. A dumb thing he’d gotten trying to impress a man beyond both their leagues. “Is nothing.”

Hoku snorted. “It’s infinity, dumbass. It never ends.”

“Are you sure?” Luffy said, squinting. “You’re pretty dumb too. I think there’s just no answer. Hey, hey, let’s just leave it blank and then—”

“If you don’t do your half of the group project, Nami’s gonna kick your ass and then she’s going to come after mine,” Hoku said, looking a bit pale at the idea as she slumped forward onto the messy table as well, using her mouth to grab the edge of a pancake off her plate and slowly chew through it. “Dun cwah meh duhm, duhmash.”

“Shishishi, but you are!” Luffy snickered, kicking his feet out and mimicking her position. “We’ll just pay Nami money not to kick our ass and we win!”

Hoku groaned around a pancake at the dangerous word. She made sure strands of her white hair weren’t getting caught in stray puddles of syrup, lazily tugging it back up into a bun. “We’re broke, dumbass. She might be willing to take an IOU, but she’ll collect someday and…”

Hoku whimpered, wishing she could shove her face into the stack of pancakes beside her. “I need a jooooooooob.”

Luffy chewed in front of her, shoveling more pancakes into his mouth. Unbothered. He usually got off on the occasional odd job and Luffy always just had this… way of making things work out when they shouldn’t.

The diner was cheap. So it’d been her source of nutrition the past couple of weeks—aside from Sanji’s loving meal preps and Nami’s fruits constantly being brought back to her dingy apartment. The horrible, cold truth was that her funds were low. Financial aid covered for her classes and materials fine, but existing outside of school came off her savings and odd jobs or freelance work she picked up here and there.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have taken two years off,” Hoku said, squinting at her stack of pancakes as Luffy reached over and started eating them. “Might’ve landed me a better job…”

“Nah, you needed it,” Luffy said simply. “‘Sides, you had tons of fun. You don’t regret it at all.”

Hoku whimpered once more. “Ugh, you’re right.”

Hoku only stood at twenty-one, two years older than Luffy—but after her third year of high school, she’d chosen to leave Japan after her graduation ceremony and head back to her hometown, a small place in Hawaii. She’d decided on a two-year gap, getting in touch with old family friends of her late parents who were essentially relatives and just taking some time to herself after everything and doing a little self-searching but…

Hoku had come back and managed to enter back into college without much of a hitch. She and Luffy were now on the same pace to graduating with Nami and Usopp—if he or she didn’t fail in the meantime—Zoro was going to school part-time for police academy training, Sanji doing the same for his culinary school and full-time position at his father’s restaurant and at least all her buddies were still in school aside from Robin and Franky and Brook.

To be honest, her life was going pretty well so far, aside from finances. It’d been almost a year now since her break-up and the two of them were still on amicable terms and checked in with each other regularly, her friends were healthy and in her life, Shanks and his team were out exploring some new island and there’d be an interview on it soon they could tune into…

Hoku was happy.

But school aside—she was still unemployed and poor. No new jobs had been coming her way as of late and even Law helping her land that job with designing that new program promotion his residency had needed was gone to her rent in a blink.

“Why don’t you ask Torao to help you get a job at his hospital?” Luffy said loudly. “You can be a nurse or something.”

“I’m too dumb to save people’s lives,” Hoku said flatly. “And I’m an art major. That’s like… Telling a cat to go fly.”

Luffy opened his mouth.

“Never mind, stop there,” Hoku shoved her face into the sleek table, smelling the old wood. “You also need credentials to work in a hospital, Lu. Should I find a campus job? There’s gotta be an opening somewhere… Maybe I can see if the amusement park needs caricature artists or something--”

“But you hate that kinda stuff,” Luffy complained. “It’s boring. You’re never supposed to do the boring stuff ya hate.”

“But I’m broke,” Hoku said pitifully. “Maybe my pride can suck up being poor…”

Hoku turned so her chin was flat against the table, looking thoughtful. “Maybe I can gamble my way to being rich…”

Luffy chewed with a little more thought, making a constipated expression—he was really thinking about something.

Her phone vibrated with a little jingle on the other side of the booth. Hoku turned it over, making a little happy noise. They could worry about money later. She hated thinking about this kind of stuff. “Zoro’s out of class. Let’s meet up with him and Usopp for that movie.”

“I feel like I’m forgetting somethin’,” Luffy said, making a face. “Oh, man… what was it…”

“Answer your damn homework and let’s go,” Hoku said, stuffing her leftover pancakes into her mouth and waving her hand to the owner for a check. “Cuh mown.”

“Nothing, right?” Luffy said, about to press his pen in.

“Infinity,” Hoku said flatly, grabbing his pen and scribbling the horizontal 8 in for him. “Never ends. That point is always stuck. Kinda like insanity.”

“Like how you’re crazy.”

“You’re crazy, crazy, now c’mon. Let’s beat Usopp and make him pay for snacks.”

Luffy stuffed all the pancakes into his mouth, rushing out the door with his cheeks full. Hoku slapped their money onto the table and ran out after him, shoving extra napkins into her backpack.

. 

.

.

Hoku stared at the last page of her canvas sketchbook with a reluctant frown, a small sigh slipping past her lips.

She’d tried to be as conservative as possible with all the negative space—but this was it. She went through sketchbooks faster than her small funds could afford, but she couldn’t help but always put aside a bit for her work—it’s what you love.

The rest of her art classmates were packing up their things for the day. Stools squeaked across the smooth floors. Easels or clipboards sliding back into place. The model at the center stood up, stretching her arms over her head as their professor instructed them on what to work on this weekend and to finish last assignments up. They’d just finished another open studio and there’d be a big project coming up soon enough… She was going to need to buy the new canvases and oil paints for that… Shit.

Her fingers twitched. Hoku couldn’t help but smile.

She loved what she did.

Even if you’re bad for my wallet.

“Looks like you finally need a new book,” Hoku’s smile dropped, fingers stopping at the edge of her book. The girl beside her leaned over, smiling, “You’ve been needing a new one, haven’t you?”

I don’t even remember your name. Hoku hadn’t bothered. She made a fair enough effort with remembering the names of her classmates, but this one in particular had made it clear where she stood. Wanted to be some high end artist—was on her way, probably, since she’d been showcased in several galas but—

The hidden hint behind her words was clear every time she spoke to Hoku. Blatant. A teasing curl of her lips.

“Don’t you think that’s sad?”

“You’re always using the front and back of each page,” she laughed. “I mean, the drawings are great, but you can afford a new one or two, right? I’ll donate one if you’re that prudent.”

A few eyes glanced over at the easy confrontation. Hoku kept her face even. After this semester, you won’t even matter.

“You can afford the tattoos right,” she continued with a light laugh, tapping the corner of her left eye where Hoku’s heart shaped tattoo was inked in around her eye, smeared at the end. “Just save a bit for a new sketchbook and some supplies while you’re at it. Got to keep up with your studies, you know?”

“I’m sorry,” Hoku said, it was actually starting to bother her now. “What’s your name again?”

Someone’s pencil dropped behind them. He stooped down to pick it up, hiding his face.

Her classmate’s face flushed red. Her eyes flickered, back and forth, assessing the reaction of the people around them. Barely anyone was watching—who cared? They were all here to learn and to hone their skills. No one needed more drama.

Hoku’s lips pulled into a polite smile, revealing baby canines.

“Come on,” she said, laughing with a titter, “It’s been half a semester. It’s—”

“HOOOOOKKKKUUUUUU—” Thin but muscular arms wrapped tight around her shoulders. Hoku floundered for a second, almost tumbling back over her chair at the added weight. The smell of the sun washed around her and Luffy’s hair tickled her cheek, pressing in close as he jumped around, almost ripping her from her seat.

Warmth pressed into her back. Hoku’s shoulders relaxed, everything cleared. Her lips turned upwards into a wide grin.

Luffy was a destructive, bumbling dumbass most of the time—but he could always turn a mood into a better one.

Shanks rubs off on you too much. She thought fondly, a bit of stupid smile curling over her lips. Maybe that’s a good thing.

“Hoku! Hoku! You won’t believe this—come on! Let’s get lunch, I’m hungry. I’ve got awesome news! It’s gonna blow your mind and—”

“Calm down, dumbass!” Hoku snapped. A few of her classmates looked on in amusement. The girl from earlier had already retreated, saving face. Wiser ones started to move their things out of the way. “You’re going to break something again!”

Her professor didn’t mind friends coming in and visiting or sitting in on lectures. But Luffy’s regular presence barreling through the art department was considered a public menace and had to be dealt with accordingly. “I’ve never seen anyone launch themselves off the second floor and bounce around the way he does, so for the love of god please keep him away from the ceramics class—”

“Did you just finish class?” Hoku said, adjusting herself to account for Luffy’s added weight. She walked with a backwards slump, leaning as Luffy dragged along the floor hanging off her while she gathered her supplies.

“Yup! Nami went to go get a table!” Luffy said happily. “Come on, come on, let’s go eat! I’m starving!”

Her stomach rumbled in agreement. Hoku pressed a warning hand to her stomach, using the other to shove her backpack over her shoulder and purposefully shove into Luffy’s cheek. “I’m hurrying, but what were you saying earlier?”

She shoved her stuff into her bag as quickly as she could, flipping her sketchbook closed and turning toward the door. Luffy was starting to clamber up her back and she wasn’t sure she could support him if he decided to test if she could give him a piggyback ride.

“Oh, yeah!” Luffy said, cheek squished against her knuckles. “I think I found a job for ya! And it pays!”

“You found me a job—”

Hoku’s foot tripped over the other, sending them both toppling to the floor in a massive heap of one screech and Luffy’s monkey-like laughter. A student quickly grabbed his easel, jerking it out of the way as they smashed into the ground.

“Shishishi, you’re such a klutz.”

.

.

.

“If it’s Luffy, it’s probably some weird job throwing yourself off a cliff for fun,” Nami said warningly, neatly filed nails digging into the tangerine in her palm as she peeled it. “You guys are always talking about that explorer—what if it’s doing something illegal or—”

“Throwing yourself off a cliff and getting paid is fine,” Zoro said. He ran a hand through his spearmint colored hair, light catching off his golden earrings. “Just make sure you’re not secretly being employed for some kind of drug smuggling. You’re both idiots, so it’d happen.”

Luffy didn’t even look the slightest bit bothered, simply grinning stupidly to himself as he shoveled food into his mouth. Hoku—a little calmer and more sensible after stuffing her face with the cafeteria’s economically wonderful meal sets—gaped at the two of them in disbelief, blatantly offended.

The four of them were gathered in one of Grand College’s many cafeterias. Usopp was cramming last minute for another exam and should be running over any second. Hoku crossed her arms over her chest, shoving another forkful of pasta into her mouth. Nami leaned forward, setting a peeled tangerine down and smacking Luffy’s grabbing hands away as she set to work on another.

“I would not get involved in something like that without knowing,” Hoku grunted. Turning to Luffy she added, “If it’s drugs, I need to know how much it’s going to pay first.”

Zoro put her in a headlock, pointedly shoving her face into his chest where his nametag from his police training could smash into her cheek. Hoku’s arms flailed around, smacking into his cheek.

“Nah, it’s way better than any of that!” Luffy said, throwing his arms out in excitement. He stopped for a second. “Hey, wait, that sounds kinda fun—”

“Get on with it,” Nami and Zoro chorused.

Luffy grinned, turning to Hoku—who popped her head out over the top of Zoro’s tightened arm—with shining eyes. “Ace and Sabo are looking for someone to help them with this project!”

“Ace and Sabo?” Hoku’s eyes went round. A little box of memories peeled itself open, idle moments, pleasant laughter, warm memories wrapped around little flashes of awkward teenage encounters.

Hoku had known Luffy since she was a kid when his grandfather, a marine, had been stationed over in Hawaii at the time. Hoku’s parents had passed away a few years before that and after moving around, she’d spent some time with Mihawk until Garp swindled her into being looked after with Luffy…

She’d met Ace and Sabo young. When she was nine and they were ten--she remembered fighting all the time with Ace and Sabo being the genial, grinning mediator and those summers and years had been a great time and then she’d left to go live with Mihawk and eventually set up her own place. Their meetings were scattered in between coming to Luffy’s house with the three of them there after school—she and Luffy had gone to the same school for as long as she could remember—it’d gone on until high school, where meetings between them happened on occasion and then Hoku had left.

The two older brothers were great people—amazing even. Funny, easy to be around, always looking after Luffy first and foremost. She and Ace still butted heads and he could flip from a dotting older brother to an absolute menace but it’d been almost three years now since she’d last seen them.

Bright, golden blonde hair. Soot black waves. Hoku huffed over Zoro’s arm, resting her chin comfortably in the crook of his elbow. I wonder if they look any different… I think Luffy posted a picture not too long ago and they seemed well… She’d just never ended up getting in touch with them with everything she’d had going on.

It might be nice to see them again.

“I haven’t seen them in ages,” Hoku said thoughtfully. Luffy nodded his head so hard it almost snapped off. “How’re they doing?”

“They’re great!” Luffy said excitedly. “Never been better, and when they heard you came back into town forever ago, they’ve been saying they wanted to get in touch or somethin’ but they’ve been busy!”

“Your brothers?” Nami said, looking curious. “Isn’t Sabo working for that big designing company right now? The one that works with revolutionary protests through some of their lines?”

“Something like that,” Luffy said. “I never remember the name.”

“You never remember anything,” Zoro corrected. “I thought Ace was working part time as a firefighter. What kind of project would those two need help with? A fire proof line of clothes?”

Hoku looked interested. “That sounds kinda cool.”

Luffy nodded. Nami smacked the back of his head, urging him to continue. “Well, Ace does all kinds of stuff, but he models for Sabo’s work sometimes too. They’ve been doing a specific kinda work for some people.”

Luffy tipped his head to the side. His brows furrowed, crossing his arms over his chest in thought, “I think Sabo said something about… se… celery taste from one of their clients!”

“Selective,” Nami provided.

“Yeah, that! Anyway, one of ‘em wants something special done and Sabo remembered how good Hoku is with drawing and art and stuff!” Luffy said brightly. “I said you’re poor and you need a job—”

“Why’d you gotta say it like that, Lu?”

“And they were super excited and hoping you could help them out!” Luffy said. “See? It’s easy!”

“I’m not going to make your brothers pay me for something like that,” Hoku said, shaking her head in between Zoro’s arm. “They’ve done a lot for me before—they treated me like family when I was always bumming around at your place… I’ll just do it for free, what do they need? An ad? A—”

“Nono, dummy, they said they wanna pay ya because it’s a big job!” Luffy said. “It’ll take a lot of work or something and—ah! I almost forgot!”

Luffy grinned, shuffling around his pants’ pocket before he pulled out a crumpled, balled up paper. He handed it to Hoku, who reached around Zoro’s still loose and comfortable grip to fold it. “Sabo and Ace gave me this last week! It’s their numbers. Said to give them a call or text them if you were down to do it!”

“A week ago,” Zoro snorted. “Nice.”

“But I said we should all get together cause it’s been so long!” Luffy said cheerfully. He grinned, swinging his legs back and forth over the bench. “We can throw a party! Oh, man, we can make it huge and—”

“No parties until after midterms,” Nami said dangerously. “And whatever you decide, don’t forget we’ve got a girls day with Robin next week, Hoku!”

“Right, right,” Hoku said absently, staring at the two differently scrawled numbers—one in neat, even print and a more slurred, harder to read script. Ace and Sabo. “Well, I’ll text them and let them know I don’t mind helping out however. It’s the least I can do since it’s been so long.”

Hoku slumped, throwing herself half over Zoro’s lap. He shot her an unimpressed look and Hoku mimicked a limp fish.

“Maybe I’ll just work in the cafeteria,” Hoku said thoughtfully. “I can sneak meals and they’ll probably feed me too.”

“Sure,” Zoro said. “Like they’d let a klutz like you become a lunch lady. It’s bad enough that eyebrow freak cooks for anyone.”

Hoku made strangling motions at his neck. Zoro just shoved her face back into his lap, folding his arms on top of her head and yawning as she let out muffled screeches.

Luffy snickered. Nami finally relented and offered him a peeled tangerine. He popped it into his mouth and grinned, teeth shining and excitement bleeding into all of them.

“Oh, man, it’s been so long—this is gonna be great!”

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“Contributing to society yet, you unemployed bum?”

Hoku’s face shot up from the second helping of curry she’d been about to shove into her mouth without further consideration. Her face twisted, grumpy and angry—but only in the kind of way that came off as entirely defensive because the words thrown at her were blatantly true and painful, damn it.

“Hey, you jerk,” Hoku snapped, waving her spoon at the asshole in front of her. “When I start making it big, you’re going to eat those words.”

The currently sitting definition of tall, dark, and handsome. Changed out of his hospital gear and classical surgeon attire—because being a heart surgeon with an emphasis in being able to do surgery on just about anything else because he was a genius called for a lot of hours—and dressed in easy jeans and a black turtleneck. The fluorescent lighting of the homey curry restaurant caught off his slender piercing. His dark tattoos peeked out from the rolled up sleeves of his cuffs, the neatly printed letters staring back at Hoku as he held his too large cup of coffee—black as sin because he still had a shift tonight.

Hoku always had to wonder what his patients thought every time they saw DEATH staring back at them on the hands of their doctor before going under on the table. She got away with the snow white hair and tattoos because she was an “artist” so no one bothered her much.

Probably shit their pants. Or just cry.

Doctor Trafalgar D. Water Law did not look impressed.

“Maybe,” he said dryly, “if you don’t eat everything else first.”

Hoku flinched back as though she’d been struck. She shoveled more curry into her mouth, glaring hard at him from across the table.

“I keep asking myself why I hang out with you,” Hoku said. “You’re always taking your time and then when I think we’re going to have a nice time, you find some way to cut me open again.”

Law took a sip of his coffee, “You do it to yourself. And I hang out with you. Not the other way around.”

“That’s bullshit,” Hoku said around her spoon. “And ya know it, Torao.”

The two were about as far from each other on the spectrum as possible when it came to a small world. As a doctor and about three years older than herself—there could’ve never been an excuse for their paths to cross. It just happened one day that her art club had been assigned to help remodel and work with the children of their local hospital and overseeing the entire thing had been Hoku the klutz from her art club and Doctor Law, resident bachelor heart surgeon.

“You can’t paint monsters in the child ward, it’ll literally scare them to death.”

“Are you even listening to the kids? They want a wall of creepy and fun stuff so they can tell stories to each other.”

“You’ll give them all nightmares and it will reflect poorly on their health.”

“I’ll give them all a reason to run and they’re going to be dancing out of this hospital from how fit they are.”

And then there’d been a celebration party for finishing the joint project and Hoku drank a little too much—or maybe she’d just eaten something bad—and then she was throwing up on Law’s shoes.

Hoku had also been the reason why one of his buddies, Penguin, had managed to graduate in their shared anatomy class. Law was also fairly good friends with Kid—fairly because they always talked shit about each other but still hung out—and there’d never been a reason not to know each other anymore.

Besides, even if she told Law he was a bastard and this and that, she genuinely enjoyed his company. He was looking out for her here and there in his twisted, clinical, at times cold-hearted way.

“But no,” Hoku admitted bitterly, slumping back into her chair. Law leaned back in his own, satisfied as he threw one arm behind the chair next to him and watched her in silence. “It’s been months now and I’m just barely getting by on any project I can… Did you know I was thinking about working at the amusement park? Or the pier? I hate water. Why would I even want to spend more time there—”

“You’re afraid of water, you don’t hate it,” Law corrected. “It’s called aquaphobia.”

Hoku mimicked him.

Law kicked her knee under the table. She jerked it back in, nearly jostling their small little booth. Hoku and Law both grabbed their drinks to steady them.

“I mean, I’m not that bad,” Hoku rubbed her chin, shaking her head. “I think I’m one hell of an artist actually… I can go back into mechanics and pick up a job engineering for a while but…”

Hoku let out a small sigh. “No, that won’t work. It’s gotta be drawing after all.”

“Eustass-ya is coming back into town,” Law said, knowing what—who—mechanics made them think of.

Hoku looked up. Her face was neutral, amiable. “Oh, yeah?”

“Mentioned it,” he said. “Don’t know when.”

Hoku hummed. She played with a carrot on her plate and shoved it to the side. Law scowled. She grudgingly scooped it back up. “I’ll give him a call when he arrives. Maybe we can grab lunch or something.”

Law watched her over the rim of his cup. Hoku waved a hand at him. “We still check up here and there. I mean, when it’s not angry texting—but that’s all in good fun.”

Law’s brows creased in a suit-yourself sort of way.

“You can shift gears a bit,” Law said. “Get a teaching degree and why don’t you apply as an art teacher? You’d still get to do what you loved while working on individual projects. Quit when you’re ready.”

Hoku lowered her arms onto the table, her face a little more sober. “That’s… That’s probably the best idea, isn’t it? But I dunno… me? Teaching?”

Hoku laughed. She rubbed the back of her neck, dragging her fingers down the side and staring hard at her warped reflection on the metal table.

“I don’t think…” she said and stopped. Hoku shook her head, “I don’t think any parent would want someone like me teaching their kids.”

Law’s eyes flickered. His expression loosened, brows a little less furrowed, face a little easier to approach.

“Hoku-ya—”

“But you know what,” Hoku started up again brightly, eyes flashing in determination as she grinned, “there was this girl in my class today—making digs about this and that and just wait. I’m going to pick up an awesome job and come in with my regular gear because I’m not an idiot who blows her cash on fancy materials!”

Hoku’s chest puffed out in pride. She grinned, proud as a peacock and tipped her chin high in the air. “Long live homemade art materials!”

“You’re the only one who can get away with that,” Law said. “Barely.”

“I’m so confident I’m going to get a job,” Hoku said. “That I’m paying for dinner tonight.”

Law looked vaguely amused. He let his chin rest on his palm, watching her.

“So if I went ahead and ordered the deluxe beef curry set—”

“I,” Hoku said, using her best bluffing face, “wouldn’t even blink.”

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Law ended up ordering the set to-go. And paying for the meal—he simply stepped over Hoku’s embarrassingly fallen form when she tripped on her way to the cashier—and handed the food to her after dropping her off in front of her apartment before he took off for his night shift.

“Eat,” Law had threatened, rolling up his window and ignoring her cursing and ranting like she were no more than a fly at his car. “Skip meals and I’ll check you into the hospital myself.”

Hoku threw up both her middle fingers, stomping all the way to her apartment door for emphasis. Law’s sleek car waited in the parking lot until her door opened pointedly wide and closed before pulling off.

“I never skip meals,” Hoku muttered, shrugging her shoes off and hobbling into the living room after setting the food down on the counter. “I love eating.”

Her apartment wasn’t a grand thing, but it was a little more spacious for the great price she was paying. Banged up. Creaky pipes and floorboards—but it held, sturdy and true.

The two bedroom apartment had been shifted so one was her actual bedroom while the other was her studio and guest room—she usually ended up sleeping there when she was working late into the night anyway. Photos were thrown up left and right. Stacks of papers and sketchbooks were scattered all over the apartment. A massive poster hung over her bed of a certain red-haired explorer’s greatest and her favorite excursion.

A small television set and coffee table. A sectioned off kitchen with an island countertop. Her sleek, comfy leather black couch which was a gift from Mihawk—

Hoku flopped down onto the couch, sinking deep into the cushions. She let out one long, low groan.

I’m such a loser. Hoku pressed herself as deep into the couch as she could, willing it to swallow her whole and never let her see the light of day again. You were supposed to come back from those two years and be different. You haven’t done anything.

Her phone vibrated against her ass and Hoku lazily tugged it out of her pocket, half-throwing it toward her face.

“LETS TRY THIS PLACE IT LOOKS GOOD!!!!!” Hoku snorted at Luffy’s text, a smiling touching her lips and scrolling down. Usopp sent a photo of Zoro asleep on their couch. Training must be rough. Nami texted her a reminder to make a reminder in her phone for her date with Robin and the three of them. A notice from her professor about the material list for class next week.

“Heard things are turning up for you. Keep me posted.” Robin.

Hoku’s hand shuffled through her jacket pocket. Her fingers closed around the crumpled piece of paper and she carefully smoothed it back out, staring at the two numbers.

Honestly… she only really had good memories of Sabo and Ace. Well, when she and Ace weren’t butting heads or strangling each other about something. Luffy loved them as much as he could love anyone, so they’d always been important people to her too.

Grade school, middle school, high school… Hoku rifled through the mess of memories. Coming over to their house. Running from their grandfather. Crowding by a television. After school runs to the best food stalls… all just classic, simple memories.

Hoku pulled up an empty message, typing in both numbers into a new group chat. Her fingers hovered over the letters, contemplating the kind of greeting that should’ve fit a gap this long… They couldn’t have changed too much, right?

Hoku typed, deleted, re-typed for several minutes before finally hitting send and dropping her phone onto the rug, rolling over and burying her face between the couch cushions. A minute, two, her shoulders went slack and she finally fell asleep.

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Another minute. A beat.

Her screen flickered to life with a response. A calm ten minutes later.

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Hey, Ace, Sabo!

It’s Hoku—haha, it’s been awhile, huh? Sorry for being so shitty at staying in touch. Hope you guys are doing well! Are you still holding the three of you guys together? Ace haven’t lost his head yet dropping dead somewhere? Lu says you guys have been busy.

He finally gave me your numbers and mentioned you had a project you needed help with. Don’t worry about paying or anything, I’d be happy to help out! You guys are like family, y’know? I don’t know how much I can do, but let me know. Let’s catch up. :)

Changed at all?

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Hoku,

It’s so nice to say your name again after so long! Took Luffy long enough. It’s been ages, hasn’t it? Ace and I are better than ever, well, trying at least. I’m so glad to finally speak with you again after all this time. I hope your trip was everything you needed and now you can enjoy a long stay back home. I could go on forever, but let’s save the rest for in person, shall we?

Yes! I’m not sure how much Luffy told you about it, but we’d love to discuss with you further. Face to face. When is the soonest you can meet? Ace is asleep right now, but I’ll let him know as soon as he wakes up. The lug.

Hope to be in contact with you soon,

Sabo.

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Two minutes passed and a second message was sent, accompanied by a warm, smiling face.

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Haven’t changed a bit. Missed you, Hoku.

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Shit. Hoku exhaled, adjusting her tote bag over her shoulder—Luffy had bought it for her on a random splurge, dotted with stars. Her head tipped to the side, as though looking at the beautiful building would change what she was seeing.

A few people walked past her, offering strange looks.

The dessert restaurant was famous. Newly opened, lovely. Two floors with nothing but booths overlooking the city and cozy cafes where people could gather to enjoy all kinds of sweets—for those not as inclined to sugar, they had an array of sandwiches and anything to all varying tastes.

Hoku had been eyeing this place for months now, enviously searching through images online or drooling into her pillow as she scrolled through food bloggers. She and Nami and Robin were supposed to finally try it next weekend when Robin came back from her latest trip…

Lucky me. Hoku whistled, shaking her head as she stepped up to the patisserie and opened the door with a gentle jingle of the golden bell on top. Now I get to go twice.

She’d woken up, creases in her face from where she’d shoved herself between the couch cushions, to several new messages. The only one that’d stood out, neatly typed in a way most people would never text like a letter, and addressed with his name since she didn’t have his number already saved—

Sabo.

Hoku had stared at the message with wide eyes, not quite believing what she was seeing, drool dried to her chin. Hoku’s eyes had brightened and she’d quickly responded, getting even a little excited because—it was Ace and Sabo—they were good friends. I missed them.

It was supposed to be nice--reconnecting with people you hadn’t seen for a long time.

Hoku’s eyes searched the crowds of people gathered together, focusing on the host stand. A host stand for a bakery, damn. Hoku seemed to be on the lesser scale of dress—high waisted shorts with her halter top tucked in—but I’ll be alright. The entire first floor could be seen from the second story where people could make reservations for secluded booths to enjoy their sweets and tea. We should be on the first floor...

Hoku stopped short. She stood there in the middle of the bakery, face calm.

I mean they… Hoku’s eyes slowly scanned over the crowd one more time, doing a thorough comb over. They can’t be… that different right? Am I crazy?

She stopped at every blonde and black haired male, craning her head, shuffling around the bakery and trying to peek around to get a look at different faces. Trying and failing to be as discreet as possible. No freckles. No scar on the left side of his face. Nothing.

Hoku shuffled through her bag, fishing out her phone.

Right time. Hoku checked the message thoroughly. Right place. Meet here… there aren’t any other instructions. Am I just first?

If she remembered right, Sabo was always so punctual… Hoku made a face, turning around on her heel. Should I just go get a table? I’ll just go get a table—

“Excuse me miss, are you looking for your party?”

Hoku’s phone slipped like butter through her fingers. Her foot shot out, trying to catch it and she almost toppled over completely, grabbing the nearest chair and steadying herself.

The host who’d approached her looked horrified, as though he’d almost witness an apocalypse occur right before his eyes.

“Hi,” Hoku said. A few people were looking. She bent down to grab her phone, shoving it into her bag. “I—what?”

“Your party,” the host repeated kindly. “With a Mr. Sabo, correct?”

Hoku stared at the host with round eyes.

He smiled, “He told us to look out for you. He’s already waiting at the table if you’d like to follow me, miss.”

“Oh,” Hoku said dumbly. She straightened out, staring at the host like an idiot. “I… I didn’t see him. Where is he?”

“This way, miss,” the host gathered up a menu and began his ascent toward the steps.

Hoku stared at the stairs. Stairs led to a second floor. The second floor was a fancy floor.

Hoku pressed her hand into her mouth, staring.

Maybe it’s the wrong Sabo?

“Would you prefer the elevator, miss?” the host said, looking worried. “Forgive me—”

“No, no, no, stairs are fine!” Hoku quickly scampered after him. The host smiled, leading the way up the winding staircase the short distance to the second floor. “I just—I thought he was on the first floor. Sorry. Thank you for your time.” Stop talking, you dumbass.

The host continued to smile, leading them past a narrow walkway of several private rooms and booths. You can see everything from here. Hoku eyed the bottom floor, wondering if anyone had watched her flailing around like a mouse. Or a fish. Or just an idiot in general.

They walked a short distance, coming close to where part of the second floor was sectioned off against the railing of the top floor. The other half of the floor opened up with wide glass windows, showing the entire city and the bay across the distance.

This is so nice. Hoku glanced around in disbelief. I can’t imagine the price tags up here, gotta tell Nami and Robin.

A single booth sat at the end of the walkway, pushed to the back. A perfect vantage point of the entire first floor and the breathtaking view on the side—

Golden blonde hair fell a little longer now. It still had its wavy sort of curve, kissing the sculpted, angular line of his jaw. His eyes still had that soft little light to them, curious as he surveyed the menu in front of him. His skin was fair, a burn scar over the left side of his face, around his eye. There was a larger one hidden beneath the neat, cream dress shirt he wore inside a dark, navy blue sweater.

He looked older—more mature, a redefined version of himself, as though someone had simply adjusted the resolution of a good photo, complimenting what already was. Dapper and gentle and charming all at once—

But still, maybe, the same after all.

“Sabo!” Hoku’s eyes went wide, an easy grin touched her lips and she strode forward. Hesitancy lined the back of her steps, careful. Even if we got along fine and were pretty close, it’s still been awhile and—how do you do stuff like this again?

His eyes flickered upwards immediately, finding her with perfect ease. They went a little round, brightening in an instant. His lips turned upwards into one bright, warm smile.

Some small part of Hoku quieted. His eyes were warm, almost hot. He was looking at her like finally, finally, something had fallen into place and it was all right—

Hoku balked for a second, uncertain. Her heart warmed at the sight, a flood of pleasant memories and—

And what?

“Hoku!” that’s really his voice. It’s been so long. Sabo stood from his seat, stepping around the table into the walkway. The host behind them set the menu down, backing off so they could be alone. Hoku almost reached out to grab his arm and ask him to stay, just to have another person here because—why would you do something like that, you’re so weird, it’s just a reunion with someone you haven’t seen in awhile—

Sabo’s shiny loafers stopped a few feet from her. His arms had been raised for a second, but his face quickly shifted with obvious hesitation, waiting uncertainty. His lips pursed, waiting in that dorky expression of his. Brows a little furrowed. Hoku stood there like an idiot, telling her mind to shut up and—

Hoku let all other thoughts melt away. It was Sabo. She knew Sabo. She knew him when he was missing a tooth. This is Luffy’s brother. He’s practically family. She gathered her footing beneath her, steadying.

Hoku stepped into his embrace, meeting him the rest of the way. Sabo’s entire face lit up, eyes warming.

It was a ridiculously...nice feeling, to be looked at like that.

Her arms came around his middle and Sabo’s arms instantly wrapped tight around her in a bear hug, wrapping around her shoulders and holding her snug. He almost lifted her off her feet. Hoku laughed, patting his back as Sabo held her tight for a moment, the smell of his cologne washing over her, smelling like something expensive and roguish. He laughed back into the crown of her hair, air ghosting past her ears as he moved his head to the side then, right by her ear.

“Hoku!” Sabo said. “It’s been so long! It’s so good to finally see you-—look at you! You got taller!”

“Says you,” Hoku snorted, pulling back a bit so she could crane her head up to his face. Her ear twitched. Sabo laughed, loosening his grip around her so she could shift more comfortably in his arms. “Look at ya—who said you could grow this tall, you jerk?”

“You look absolutely wonderful,” Sabo said graciously. Hoku stiffened in surprise. She shuffled a bit backwards and Sabo quickly released his hold on her, letting her back out of the hug. “You do! You let your hair grow out—it looks beautiful.”

“No, I just,” Hoku stopped, pressing a hand to her mouth in surprise. “I forgot how you were. You’re always saying stuff like that—caught me off guard, ya bastard.”

“With a compliment?” Sabo laughed, a warm, breezy kind of sound. Hoku’s lips pulled up at the corners. “You deserve dozens more with how long it’s been.”

“You look great!” Hoku punched his chest lightly with a fist. Sabo grinned boyishly, beaming down at her. “All dressed up too—couldn’t beat that royal look out of you, could you?”

“Decided to embrace a different kind of style,” Sabo chuckled. “I’m not missing any teeth this time, right?”

The image of a beaming, grinning blonde boy with scuffed up shorts, a creased hat and a gap where his tooth was missing—Hoku’s smile widened. Yeah, that’s right. This is Sabo.

Sabo took a moment to look at her, as though he were seeing her again for the very first time. Hoku’s nerves rattled for a second, a chill racing down her spine. You’re just nervous. Calm down, you dumbass. His face visibly softened. The chill disappeared. Eyes warm, he clasped his hands together in front of him.  

“I’m glad you’ve been well,” Sabo said softly, smiling. “It really is nice to see you again, Hoku.”

“I’m sorry I was so bad at staying in touch,” Hoku said, brows furrowing. “I should’ve called once or twice to check up on you guys… Luffy told stories every now and then and I guess that always seemed enough.”

“No, we should’ve made more of an effort on our part,” Sabo said. He guided her to the table and Hoku slipped into the seat in front of him. His fingers gently glided over her arm, over her skin, smoothly taking her bag and hooking it over the back of the chair. Hoku blinked, realizing she hadn’t even known that he’d been getting her bag—

For a brief moment, Hoku stilled. A force of habit. It only lasted a second, anyway.

Sabo’s frame towered over her. One hand resting on the edge of the chair where he was releasing the bag, the other steadying himself on the table but—

You’re boxed in.

And then Sabo was gone and she was free and Hoku relaxed even though she never should’ve been tense in the first place.

“I’m sorry Ace couldn’t come, he wanted to see you too,” Sabo said, pulling away with a frown. “He had an important shift today so he couldn’t get off.”

“We can definitely meet up again,” Hoku said surely. “With Lu next time too, catch up like old times. I want to see more of you guys for sure.”

Sabo smiled at her—it almost made her feel as though she were being praised for something. She’d said the right answer.

“Things just got so busy with work and you were in your third year,” Sabo said. He took a seat beside her, brows creased apologetically. “You were seeing someone at that time too, weren’t you? Relationships, school, it all gets so hectic.”

“That’s… yeah, that’s right,” Hoku blinked in realization. Sabo folded his hands together on top of the table, expression soft. Understanding. Kid and I were together and I was focused on spending time with everyone before I left and then….

Had she just forgotten about Ace and Sabo? Enough to not even give her best friend’s brothers a proper goodbye—

“That’s no excuse though,” Hoku said, brows furrowing. Had that really been what happened? Holy shit, Hoku. They’re like family—how could you do something like that? Kid had taken up a lot of her time sure, but she’d wanted to spend that time with everyone because she was going to be gone for so long. “Shit, I’m sorry Sabo—”

“Don’t even think about apologizing,” Sabo said, shaking his head sternly. Hoku’s lips pursed. “We could’ve called you just as easily as you could’ve called us. It’s a two way street. No one needs to apologize here.”

Even if you say that, I’m still going to make it up to you guys. Hoku huffed, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest in thought. “Doesn’t mean it didn’t suck.”

“Maybe,” Sabo said, a light chuckle. He looked so happy. It was hard not to keep staring at him, to feel happy herself. Infectious. A waiter came and swiftly left behind two steaming mugs and Hoku looked up in surprise. “Sorry! I took a guess at the menu—I’ve never been here before and I got what they recommended and looked the best…”

“No—you’re fine!” Hoku pulled the mug closer to her, eyes growing wide. She instantly grabbed for some sugar cubes and Sabo looked amused. “This is their apple tea, right? Ah, I’ve been wanting to try this, nice call.”

“Thank goodness,” Sabo seemed to deflate in absolute relief, melting down into his seat. Hoku snorted, staring at him in disbelief. “Sorry, I got worried for a second I ordered something awful--still like apples, huh?”

“Enough,” Hoku said. “My favorite is still—”

“Longan,” Sabo said.

Hoku blinked in surprise, looking up from the steaming cup in her hands.

Sabo smiled. He pulled his cup—coffee or an espresso by the smell of it—closer toward him. Sabo reached for the sugar jar. “I always think about you when I see them in stores—it’s such a weird fruit to choose to eat on your own, so I remember the time you had us all try it and—”

“Lu choked on the seeds,” Hoku’s lips curved fast into a grin, “I know what you mean. I always remember random things because of people too. You start to link people up with the stuff and places in your life.”

“Exactly,” Sabo said with a warm smile. He dropped a cube in, picking up the small spoon and starting to stir, slow and easy. “Come on, tell me all about it—how was everything? Luffy said it was something like a… soul searching experience?”

“Sort of,” Hoku laughed, pushing her hair back over her head and holding it there for a second. The apple tea smelled amazing. “I wanted to get in touch with some old family friends, help fix up the town I was born in… just spend some time there. It’s home, you know?”

Sabo looked openly curious, taking a sip of his coffee. “Are you thinking of settling there?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that,” Hoku shook her head, rubbing the back of her neck. “Settling is a tentative word anyway. I love it here to much and all my friends are here, you know? I like my apartment and what I’ve got going fine.” Just minus a steady income.

“That’s true,” Sabo said, looking thoughtful. “There’s just so much here… It’d make more sense.”

“Mhm,” Hoku said. “But it was nice. I needed it. It helped me with a lot of sorting out and growing, I think.”

“The growing I can agree on,” Sabo said warmly. Hoku made a face. “You’re lovely, Hoku. You’ve always been.”

“Stop,” Hoku laughed, wrapping her hands around the cup. It warmed her palms. “I mean, I can talk about my trip and stuff, but what’s been going—”

“Wait,” Sabo said, looking surprised. “You said apartment—are you living off campus?”

“Yeah, like Lu,” Hoku said. “They’re apartment was too crowded, even though they offered a room, so I found my own place.”

“Ah,” Sabo said. He dropped another sugar cube into his coffee. “With your boyfriend?”

Hoku smiled softly. Her eyes dropped down to her tea, staring at the murky red color. Nowhere near the bright, flaming red— “Your hair’s like hot cheetos.” “Keep talking and I’m going to shove you out of my car.”—“Ah, no, nothing like that. Just me. We actually broke up about… a year ago now?”

Sabo’s face shifted instantly. His brows creased, spoon pausing in the air. Apologies flooded his eyes, mouth opening in quick understanding that he’d just asked something like that—but Hoku waved him off, shaking her head and hand in turn. “No, no, don’t even start. We parted on good terms. I was supposed to only be gone a year, but I decided to stay longer and we had a bit of a falling out and yada yada.”

Hoku smiled, earnest, “But we’re still good friends. No drama or anything.”

“Still,” Sabo said, brows creased, looking ashamed. “I’m sorry for asking so insensitively like that. You don’t just go barreling through past relationships—sorry, Hoku. I didn’t mean to bring up any bad memories—”

“There aren’t any,” Hoku said.

Sabo dropped his spoon into his coffee, starting to stir again, slow, “That’s good. It seems like you both handled it well, then.”

There really weren’t. Even with all their fighting and butting heads, they always sobered up and acted out of each other’s best interests when it came down to it. He’d wanted her to come back—come with him—and she hadn’t known what she was looking for—

Don’t think about that now. Hoku shook her head. This is a different occasion.

Hoku’s mouth opened, eager to shift gears—

“Why’d you decide to stay the extra year?” Sabo questioned, stirring absently. Hoku looked up. Her tea was starting to cool enough now so that it wouldn’t burn her tongue.

“I just realized a year wasn’t enough to find what I was looking for,” Hoku said. “It got hard, making the decision cause I missed everyone so much, but it was a good one. I think it helped.”

Her gut twisted. Had it? She might’ve had a great time—gotten to see Shanks with his surprise stay, Mihawk came and they explored the island her mother had loved, her friends visited—but had it? Here she was now, still moving through life, still going about things but had it—

Changed anything?

Hoku thought about the lack of jobs. Thought about Law’s suggestion to switch gears. Am I even doing things right? Kid slipped into the back of her mind. Yeah, they hadn’t ended on bad terms, but had her decision even been a right one? Had there ever been a reason for them to—

Quiet black gloves, a soft underside of leather, touched her hand. Hoku jumped, eyes dropping down and realizing she hadn’t even noticed Sabo’d been wearing gloves. That’s new. Her eyes flickered back up and she realized his face was creased in worry, eyes watching her openly. “Hoku?”

Shit. “I’m sorry,” Hoku said, pulling her hands back. Sabo’s hand dropped onto the table and he glanced to it for a moment before looking back to her. Hoku used one hand to grab her cup, the other pushing her hair back out of her face from habit. “Got lost in thought—what’d you say?”

“I’m just glad you’re back,” Sabo said. He pulled his hand back, letting it rest in his lap as he brought his cup back to his lips. “Hopefully to stay. Have you had a chance to do everything you’ve missed since coming home?”

“Oh, plenty,” Hoku said, slumping in relief at the change in topic. Think happy. Think Sabo. Don’t worry about the other stuff. He doesn’t need that. Or deserve it. “The lot of losers has been making sure I do.”

“I can imagine with them,” Sabo said, looking amused. He let his cheek rest onto one hand, using the other to twirl his cup. “Luffy always talks about you guys when we meet up. Took him long enough to finally get us in touch again.”

“That’s right!” Hoku clapped her hands together. Sabo blinked. Smiling like a lost puppy. “The whole reason for this—Lu said you guys needed help with a project right? What is it? I don’t know how much I can do but I’ll try my best—”

“So you only came today because of that?” Sabo mused, tipping his head to the side, resting on his hand. Strands of wavy blonde fell a bit onto the side of his face. “I thought we were catching up.”

Hoku paled, her jaw went slack. “No—oh my god—no. You guys don’t have to pay me—I won’t let you pay me. I just wanted to help—”

Sabo’s laugh broke through. Breezy, curling past her ears. Hoku stumbled over her words, stopping as his gloved fingers hid only parts of his bright smile. “I’m sorry, I’m just teasing. You’re still so easy to tease.”

Hoku’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. She settled back into her seat, rubbing the top of her head. “Ah, jeez. You’re awful, Sabs.”

Sabo’s smile widened behind his fingers. His eyes were impossibly warm and Hoku stopped, staring. “What? You keep looking at me with that dumb smile—”

“I was wondering if you’d call me that again,” Sabo admitted, eyes softer now, still so, so warm.

Hoku blinked. She laughed, “You could’ve just asked. I’m sure other people call you that too. You’re so weird.”

“Maybe,” Sabo agreed, looking amused by her choice of words. “Hoku, what have you been up to aside from—”

“No, wait,” Hoku waved her hands, halting him.

Her eyes were on the table. Sabo’s eyes flickered briefly. He pulled his hand away from his mouth, adjusting his comfortable position to sit back in his seat. Hoku glanced back up to him to see a patient smile. It’d felt like the poor guy had to direct this entire conversation, Hoku didn’t even realize how much he was guiding it.

“The project,” Hoku said. “That first. I keep getting all twisted up with you. There’s too much to talk about. Let’s do that first.”

“Alright then,” Sabo said, a little laugh to his words. “It’s… Well, it’s less of a project and more of a personal request from a client of ours for a… specific piece of artwork.”

“That seems simple enough,” Hoku said, her hands curling around her tea to finally take a sip. “But last I heard, you and Ace are doing different kinds of work—is there a reason why they went to you?”

“There is,” Sabo said with a nod. He reached a gloved hand out across the table. Hoku blinked, curious, but Sabo waited patiently.

Hoku pulled her hands away from her tea. She limply poked Sabo’s gloved hand. The blonde laughed, shoulders shaking with the motion. “No, see, I’m not sure if you’re familiar or if Luffy told you, but I’ve been working with a designer company for a long time now. A close coworker and friend of mine designed these.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Hoku said, feeling a little stupid. The brand was labeled neatly, tucked away to not be too flashy on the inner seam of the glove. “Liberator, right? So the client met you two from this?”

“Catching on quick,” Sabo praised. Hoku’s cheeks flushed a bit and she rubbed the back of her neck. Sabo smiled warmly, “Sure enough, both of us are nowhere near a more… artistic sense of experience. I’ve been working and Ace models from time to time, but our client approached us from that line of work. We’ve been helping them out with their requests and they had a more specific one this time. They wanted a portrait. Or a series of them, to keep.”

Sabo sighed, leaning back in his seat. He laced his fingers together over the table. “It had us both stumped for awhile, to be honest. It seemed doable, but we didn’t know who to go to for something of this nature—but then we remembered Luffy mentioning you were back and town and he said you’ve been running into awful luck with work—”

Hoku sank lower in her seat, “How much did he say about that?”

Sabo’s face didn’t hold a hint of judgement. There was a fond sort of pity and understanding, he winced on her behalf, “You seem to be struggling quite a bit financially is what we got from it.”

Hoku grumbled to herself. Damn it, Luffy and your dumbass, big mouth. “Listen, it really isn’t that bad—”

“Don’t worry,” Sabo said, “I won’t pry. I want to. But I won’t. It’s not fair to come barging into your life after all this time and tell you whatnot just because.”

“I know you guys wouldn’t mean it like that,” Hoku said, feeling horribly touched at his words. And… relieved. He’d said exactly what she’d been hoping to hear. “You just care. You guys have always been sweet on those you care about.”

Sabo rubbed the back of his neck this time, looking sheepish. “It’s nothing like that—”

“No, no, it is,” Hoku said. “But anyway, forget about money. Keep goin’.”

“Well, it still has to do with money, actually,” Sabo said. “We both wanted you instantly because we love the way you draw—you’ve always been amazing at it, no matter what it was.”

Hoku’s chest flooded with unrestrained pride. She sank lower into her seat, covering her forehead with one hand and biting her lower lip. “I—I still have a lot to work on—”

“Hoku, look at me.”

Hoku followed the instruction, startled.

Sabo’s face was stern. His eyes held her in place, brows creased in that little way to show how earnestly he meant what he was about to say. “Hoku, you’re an amazing artist.”

Hoku grabbed her tea cup. Sabo opened his mouth, eyes flickering quickly with something—but she already brought it roughly to her lips, a bit sloshing over as she took a long, hard sip—it was delicious—and swallowed.

A bit dripped down her chin. Hoku laughed, a little too loud, flustered and embarrassed and yeah, it’s nice to hear all that but it doesn’t make it any less—I dunno. She was always shit at stuff like this. “Okay, I get it, you like the drawings—what’s the job—”

Sabo’s expression looked lost for a moment. Hoku blinked, realizing he seemed entirely zoned out. His eyes were following something on the corner of her chin and Hoku stopped, quickly rubbing at the tea that’d spilled down her chin—

“I’m sorry,” Sabo said, blinking back into focus. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face for a moment and then smiling at her. “I didn’t catch that. I lost my train of thought this time.”

“No, you’re fine,” Hoku said. “We’re even now.”

Sabo stared at her for a second before he said, a bit soft, “You’re awful at listening to directions, aren’t you?”

“A bit,” Hoku said. Sabo’s fingers curled around his cup.  “Keep going about that client. Needed an artist. What’s next?”

“Ah, yes,” Sabo folded his hands back together onto the table. “Well, we figured we were killing two birds with one stone by asking you. Help you out with your situation, and secure the piece we needed for this request. We’ll need you twice a week for an entire month, starting as soon as you can. It’ll only be in the evening, and we can work around your school schedule, but when you come in, how long it runs for may vary each time. We can supply any materials you’ll need, canvases and all, and all you’ll have to do is just draw.”

“That sounds…” Hoku said, “Really well-thought out.”

Sabo smiled, “We tried to be thorough with our planning to make sure everything went smoothly.”

“I… I don’t see any reason why not,” Hoku said, blinking. “You just need me to draw specific pieces—what is your client looking for? It sounds like there’ll be a model or a specific scene in mind. And honestly, Sabs, don’t even worry about the payment—I’d just like to help you guys out.”

“I have to insist you take the pay,” Sabo said, shaking his head. “It isn’t coming from Ace or I, honest. It’s directly paid from the client. And I have to say, they do pay rather handsomely.”

“Then you guys should keep the money,” Hoku protested. “I really can’t—”

“You’re the one doing the work,” Sabo said. “I have to insist.”

“But if they’re a friend of yours, I don’t want to make them pay,” Hoku said. “It won’t be too much trouble. I might not even be up to their standards—”

“Our business is strictly professional,” Sabo reassured. Fingers folded neatly together, sitting on top of the table. “You can take the pay, it really isn’t—”

“I’m not going to do the job if you guys are gonna pay me.”

Sabo stopped. Hoku’s face was set, stern. Sabo stared at her for a long, long minute, hands still folded so neatly in front of him and eyes quiet—

Sabo smiled, his face was playful, “Still as stubborn as ever.”

“Enough about money,” Hoku said. I’m sick of thinking about it, honestly. “What are they looking to have drawn? It doesn’t sound like it’s something off the top of my head. What’d they have in mind?”

“Ah, well,” Sabo looked a little thoughtful this time, contemplative. He seemed to be working through his words before he faced her evenly, an air of professionalism coating his friendly demeanor. “I don’t doubt your skills in the slightest, Hoku. I remember you’ve always been fond of drawing people too…”

Hoku waited, holding her cup in her hands. I’ve been taking forever to drink this thing. I keep getting distracted.

“I have to ask though,” Sabo said, “are you well acquainted with drawing anatomy?”

“Sure,” Hoku said, the cup at her lips. She’d assistant taught an anatomy drawing class. “All ranges. You’re right, people are usually my go-to for focus.”

Sabo leaned forward onto his elbows. His hands were interwoven together, placed over the lower half of his face. His expression was neutral.

“Nude models as well?”

Hoku nodded, not missing a beat. She’d dealt with the initial embarrassment of drawing nude models years ago from earlier classes. At the end of the day, it bled into a kind of intrigue to figure out how well you could draw people, at their rawest, at their most bare—it was intimate, and you wanted to make it beautiful. They all had the same body parts at the heart of it—when it came to her pencil and paper, there was nothing else to think about except the drawing. No strings attached.

I mean, Hoku felt an inch of heat creep up the back of her neck. It colored the top of her ears. It’s not like I’ve never been naked with anyone before… either…

Sabo watched her over the top of his fingers.

“I won’t scream or run out of the room if I see boobs or someone’s junk,” Hoku said flatly. Sabo’s lips turned up at the corners, holding back a laugh. “I’ve done nude shoots plenty of times, so don’t worry about that.”

“That’s good,” Sabo said, “See, our client is looking for something of a more… intimate nature.”

When you’re undressed like that in front of anyone, it’s already something intimate. Hoku nodded, following along.

“It’ll be an entirely private affair,” Sabo said evenly.  “Closed quarters. Our clients are trusted people. Strictly business. You won’t have to worry about having your name attached to anything either, unless you’re particularly proud of a piece and want to use it for anything.”

His reflection in the dark cup of coffee couldn’t be seen, less than half full. Hoku’s reflection warbled back against her tea.

“You’ll only have to draw,” he said. “The time frames will range though, forgive me on that.”

Hoku shook her head, “You really have nothing to apologize for, honestly.”

Sabo smiled over the top of his hands. “There won’t be any given cues. They’re looking for something… natural. Whatever catches your eye in the moment it all happens, you choose what you’d like to draw. Whatever stands out to the artist should be worth something, after all.”

Free reign. Hoku nodded thoughtfully. She’d done some works like this before—almost like hiring a photographer, but looking for someone to draw it instead.

Sabo let out a loud sigh. Hoku looked up, curious. His shoulders had slumped, face visibly relaxed as he offered her a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. Working this out with you has lifted a huge weight off my shoulders. You have no idea how much you’re helping us out with this. We… we really needed the help.”

I’ll do my best. These guys have always been nothing but kind to me. Hoku straightened.

“When do you think is the soonest you can start?” Sabo questioned.

“Whenever!” Hoku said eagerly. “I’m in school Monday through Thursday, but classes end way before the evening. I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”

“Today’s Wednesday,” Sabo pulled out his phone, opening up his calendar. “Will Friday be too soon? The timing is perfect since it’s the first of the month…”

“No, that’s totally fine,” Hoku said, nodding. “I can do Friday.”

“I’ll text you the time and address then and further information,” Sabo said cheerfully. He turned his phone over face down onto the table, focusing back on her. “You can send me a list of anything you might need and we’ll have it ready.”

“I have a lot of my own supplies,” Hoku said. “Maybe just let me know if there’s specific size or style your client is looking for. Charcoal, ink, graphite—”

“Classic pencil should do,” Sabo said easily. “They’re not too picky.”

“Will the client be the model?” Hoku said.

“Ace, the client, and myself,” Sabo answered cleanly. “Poses will range. The entire thing will be a bit like… a simulation, if you will. If there was a moment where something stood out and you couldn’t capture it, we have cameras recording in the room on all sides, so just let us know after it’s done and we can send you the tapes.”

Ace and Sabo… Hoku’s brows furrowed. Her gut shifted a little. That… That might get a little weird, won’t it? Drawing them naked is kind of weird.

“We really needed the help.”

“Will any of that be a problem?” Sabo asked gently, brows furrowed in worry.

Hoku’s stomach twisted a bit more.

You’ve drawn your friends in all kinds of ways before. Hoku reminded herself. You helped your classmates with their own projects—you’ve drawn people you know really well nude and different and all kinds of different things—it’s just that. No strings attached. It’s not really intimate at all.

“None at all,” Hoku said.

It was just another job. Pencil and paper. Nothing more.

“And Hoku?”

She looked up. Sabo’s face was earnest.

“If there’s ever a moment where it’s too much, you want to quit, or you just don’t feel comfortable,” Sabo said gently. “You can leave whenever you want. We understand. If you can’t handle it, don’t worry. It’s completely up to you.”

“Can’t handle it?”

“I’m sure I can handle it,” Hoku said, ignoring the old, bitter memory. The tightness around her throat. The sound of water rushing all around her. “Don’t worry.”

Sabo smiled.

.

.

.

Hoku flopped down onto the train seat, knocking her head back on the reinforced glass. The business man beside her didn’t even look up, eyes falling heavy with sleep. Same, man, same.

She shouldn’t be tired. The rest of the meet-up went… amazingly. They stopped talking business and just caught up like old friends. Hoku laughed a lot, ate a lot, constantly being fed this and that as Sabo ordered with reckless abandon—“But it all looks so good!” and when she’d tried to run to the cashier to pay because that’d been her plan all along—she was left staring at the smiling host from earlier as he held up Sabo’s sleek black credit card.

To be honest, she’d felt completely and utterly spoiled. A feeling that always had her on edge and made her feel funny because—I don’t deserve shit like this. Sabo had kindly offered to drive her home, but she had to put her foot down there—and even then that’d been a fight until Hoku had just booked it to the station, waving over her shoulder at a laughing Sabo left behind.

“We’ll meet up before the session starts on Friday with Ace to finalize some things.” Hoku lazily tugged out her phone, scrolling through the new messages. “Give you guys plenty of time to catch up and then get right to work.”

One month. Hoku pulled up her calendar. Aside from school and the impulsive or random hang outs with everyone—ah, gotta drop off food for Law—she had nothing planned. Because you’re an unemployed loser.

She could do this. It seemed easy enough. The only thing that didn’t sit right with her was the nature of how Ace and Sabo would be, but it was possibly they wouldn’t even be nude. Maybe someone wanted a beautiful drawing with two handsome men—yeah, I can do something like that.

It gave her something to do. Keep herself busy. Even if she didn’t take the pay, at least she’d be working.

A notification popped up and Hoku paused for a second before sliding it open. The photo opened up from the art platform she used to post new works and keep herself posted with—

This month’s. Working on the next.

His work was edgy. As always. The sleek slabs of metal had been made to look a chrome silver—they caught off the light, reflecting back the opening jaws of a monster made of his own creation but—

It was awesome.

Hoku stared at the new project. The train rumbled beneath her feet, shifting occasionally.

“Stick to your cars.” Hoku typed out finally, posting the comment with a face. She looked forward, the train fairly busy with other people all heading home from long days and late shifts.

She needed to get moving too.

Her phone lit up in her hands. Hoku smiled, pulling up the message. Luffy’s eager voice through the texts bled through instantly.

“HOW DID IT GOOOOOOO????”

“GREAT.” Hoku typed back. “GONNA HELP THEM ON FRIIIIIIDAAAAAAAY.”

Incoherent, misspelled words came back. Hoku stared, waiting for something to understand until a video was sent. She glanced around, lowering her volume in case and opening up the video.

The camera was violently shaky. Luffy was obviously running—his feet the only thing in view. The phone lifted up to where Zoro and Usopp were lounging on the couch and it looked like Sanji was in the kitchen—

“GUYS!!!!” Luffy’s voice shouted. The man beside her jumped. Hoku winced. “HOKU’S GETTING A JOB! SHE’S NOT A LOSER ANYMORE!”

Hoku slapped a hand over her mouth to stop her laughter. Usopp fell off the couch, startled from his doze. Zoro tipped his head back. “Bust out the booze.”

Sanji popped out from the kitchen, looking hurt. “Hoku honey, I said you could work at our restaurant—”

The video cut out with Luffy shoving a thumb up into the camera.

Hoku smiled, staring at her screen for a long time, holding it in front of her.

She could do this.

She had to.

.

.

.

“We’ll meet an hour before the session starts.”

Hoku stepped into the sleek, polished elevator. The apartment complex was unnervingly nice. She remembered muddy hills. Dangerous forests. Creaky houses and three loud boys. This—one of the clearly nicer apartment buildings in their city—wasn’t what she was used to seeing. Ace and Sabo were clearly doing really well.

“We’ll be doing this at our apartment. This is the address and the code. We have a… studio of sorts for this type of work. Everything will be prepared beforehand so don’t worry about having to arrange anything.”

Hoku adjusted the collar of her blank white t-shirt, tucked into the waistband of her light washed jeans. She pulled her bomber jacket tighter over herself. Her bigger canvas bag was slung over her shoulder, all her supplies shoved in.

“Is there a certain way I should dress?”

“Perhaps nothing too… flashy? Just make sure you’re comfortable. No real dress code. You’ll be working for what might be several hours.”

Hoku’s fingers reached out, pausing at the button. Ninth floor.

Nine wasn’t a really lucky number by her books.

“Our client has already been informed, so don’t worry about anything. You’ll need to stay on the quieter side though, if that’s alright. Your station is positioned nicely in the room so you can move and get whatever angles you need.”

Hoku hit the button. The floor numbers lit up as the elevator lifted her to the apartment.

“We’ll start officially at nine.”

The wall gave way to glass. Hoku glanced to the city lights, flickering and shifting across the streets.

“You can have a moment to do anything you need before we begin. We won’t be able to stop once we start.”

The doors to the elevator slid open. Hoku stepped out, realizing with wide eyes that the entire floor was reserved for a single apartment. How big is this place?

Double doors waited at the end of the hallway.

Hoku shifted her bag and walked toward it, humming a bit to herself. Wonder if Ace is still annoying.

“We’ll walk you through anything else before we start. Answer any questions.”

Hoku stopped in front of the pearly white doors. She stared at it for a second, the tune dying on her lips. Something churned in her gut. A funny feeling.

It’s just another drawing session.

“Thank you again, Hoku. You don’t know what this means to us.”

Hoku knocked firmly against the door. She waited, shoving her hands into her pockets. This’ll be good for you. You need this change of pace. And besides, you get to do it with two good friends—

“You’ll be helping us, a lot.”

Hoku heard muffled footsteps on the other side of the door. A lock, two, slid out of place. The door opened inwards and Hoku looked up.

Eyes like charcoal. A little gray—almost silver in linings. A constellation of light freckles dusted over his cheeks. Sun-kissed skin. Soot black hair that framed the sharp line of his jaw and the familiar smell of something smoldering—like burning pine or with a little more bite to it—

Still a little roguish looking, wild. Still had that grumpy crease to his brows—

Portgas D. Ace.

Ace stared at her for a second and then promptly shut the door in her face.

Still a little piece of shit—

“What’s the password?” Ace said, muffled behind the door.

Hoku snorted. She kept her hands in her pockets.

“I guess I’m not wanted for the job,” Hoku answered. “Thanks for the interview anyway—”

The door swung open. Ace’s hand shot out, grabbing the back of her jacket just as she was turning. Hoku choked, arms flailing as she was roughly tugged back into the entrance of the apartment.

Ace’s bare foot shot out around her, kicking the door closed and twisting one of the locks between his toes—what the fuck you actual monkey—and then he was turning her around to face him.

Hoku spat her hair out of her mouth. Staring.

He had a shirt on for once. Tucked into a pair of black jeans.

That stupid, boyish grin split across his face, showing his always oddly sharp canines and making crinkles show up around his eyes. That dumb, happy, dorky grin—

Hoku’s heart did a funny thing, the kind of thing that reminded you just how much you missed someone and hurt you for not making an effort to see them sooner because—

“Hey, shooting star,” Ace said, voice deep and light all at once, clearly filled with mirth, “How’ve you been?”

“Hey, dumbass,” Hoku said, unable to stop the wide smile on her lips and not even trying to. “Been awhile, huh?”

Ace’s face soured at the name. He grabbed the back of her head, shoving it straight into his chest. Hoku let out a muffled squawk. Her hands shot out, smacking at his arms, but Ace promptly clamped them down firmly in a bear hug around her and lifted her off her feet. “I think you forgot who you’re talking too. Who said you could get that cheeky, huh?”

Hoku let out muffled curses against his shirt, getting a mouthful of cologne and cotton. Ace turned around, about to haul her out of the entryway until Sabo’s head peeked around the corner.

“At least let her take her shoes off,” Sabo said. Ace looked down to where Hoku was already struggling to shove her sneakers off with the other foot despite her constrained form. “You know how she is about that.”

“I have to make up for two years worth of contact,”Ace said simply, without any regret. “It starts now.”

“Make sure you let her breathe first,” Sabo said, amused. “Or you’ll lose her before that.”

Ace relinquished his hold. Hoku almost fell back, tripping over her shoes still half on her feet. Ace grinned, a deft finger sliding through one of her empty belt loops and stopping her from falling onto her ass. He tugged her back onto her feet and Hoku shot both hands out, steadying herself. Her eyes darted around, frazzled and flustered for a second before her face shifted into a deep scowl.

“I don’t miss any of that,” Hoku said darkly. “No wonder I never reached out to you.”

“No, you’re just awful,” Ace said. “Look at you. You look like you’re about to cry. Should’ve called if you were going to miss us that much, shooting star.”

“I look like this because I almost died from cotton suffocation,” Hoku snapped. Ace used one finger to dig something out of his ear, turning away from her. Nope. Didn’t miss him at all. Not one bit.

Hoku thought about tumbling down hills and climbing up trees and their stupid faces popping into classrooms and--

She sniffled. Nope. Not one bit.

“You’re still as grumpy as ever,” Ace said. He yawned, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Sabo said you got nicer, guess he was wrong.”

Hoku tossed her shoe at the back of his head. Ace yelped, turning around with wide eyes and grabbing the back of his head in pain. “You hit me!”

“I’m about to kick your ass too,” Hoku said, waving her other shoe.

Ace’s lips split into a wild grin. He turned, raising his hands to tackle her. Hoku readied her shoe, taking in the healthy, lively look in his eyes and the bright teeth and—

Her shoulders couldn’t help but slump a bit. Her brows softened. “You look good.” I’m glad.

She and Ace had always butted heads the most. Fought the most. Tousled with each other the most—but Ace had also been the one she couldn’t help worrying about from time to time because he’d been such an angry brat as a kid and—

Ace looked as though she’d slapped him silly. He stared at her, jaw stupidly slack and then his cheeks flushed a dark red. He slapped a hand over his mouth, stumbling back one step and fumbling for his words as he rubbed the back of his neck furiously.

“You can’t just say stuff like that,” Ace said hotly, “Aw, jeez—you’re cheating—”

“You’re such an idiot,” Hoku laughed, dropping her shoe and stepping into their apartment.

See? Hoku let any lingering, stray doubts fade away. Easy and comfortable. You’re going to be fine.

Immediately the space opened up to a massive living room. A shining coffee table in the center, sleek and new. Windows opened up to a massive view, curtains currently pulled open to showcase the entire city. A long, comfortable looking couch and a separate recliner. A book shelf, neat and organized. Sabo. A shiny new television screen and set and the space opened up to a massive island that shifted toward a giant kitchen—

“How much are you guys making?” Hoku squawked. Sabo chuckled and Ace grinned, crossing his arms over his chest with a puff of pride. “What the hell happened to leaking ceilings and broken drywall—did you rob a bank while I was gone?”

“Being awesome pays,” Ace said with a cocky grin.

“Our work leaves us comfortable,” Sabo said. He appeared at her side, clad in a navy blue turtleneck and black pants. He set down a pair of house slippers for her and smiled up at her. “Seems like you two are already catching up like you’d never left, and I hate to interrupt…”

“Ah, shit, it’s already almost time,” Ace glanced to his watch and back to the door. “Good thing we got everything set already.”

Sabo nodded. Hoku stepped into the slippers. Nice fit. The blonde offered to take her bag, but she waved him off. He curled his fingers back to his chest, looking amused.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Sabo offered kindly. “Take a seat on the couch, we can go over last minute details before we start.”

“No, I’m fine,” Hoku said, swatting Ace’s hands away when he playfully tried to herd her toward the living room. Sabo’s eyes flickered above her head toward Ace and Hoku made her way gingerly toward their living room. “Thank you though.”

“Take your jacket off if you’d like,” Sabo said. “The room might get a bit warm.”

Her jacket was making her a bit more comfortable, if she had to be honest. Purposefully not doing it seemed a bit rude to a second kind request from Sabo though. Hoku dutifully started shrugging it off and she almost jumped when two hands came on either side of her arms, pulling her jacket away from her with a gust of warm skin and heat.

“Still as jumpy as ever,” Ace said above her, teasing.

“Think I can’t take off my own jacket?” Hoku said, pointedly shoving her arms the rest of the way past his fingers.

Ace snorted. “You trip over air.”

Hoku scowled, turning away as her fingers slipped from her jacket sleeves. Ace pulled it away, watching her back.

He handed it to Sabo, who took it with nimble fingers, folding it once and laying it over the back of one of the dining chairs.

The long, leather couch was tempting, but Hoku wisely opted for the love seat placed in front of the coffee table beside the gas powered fireplace. Ace took a seat on the couch, throwing one arm casually behind it and getting comfortable while Sabo walked over to the two of them, taking a seat beside his brother as he set two water bottles down.

“I brought my bigger sketchbook,” Hoku said. “Just in case. But Sabs said you guys had the drawing table set up so I’ll work directly onto the paper and just let me know if your client wants it finalized on a better sheet.”

Ace took one of the bottles, unscrewing the cap. His eyes turned sideways to Sabo, “You two already went over everything, right?”

Sabo nodded, crossing one leg over the other and folding his hands together on top of his knee. “For the most part. You remember everything I told you, right Hoku?”

“Read it over a couple times just in case,” Hoku said. She ticked off her fingers. “Quiet as a mouse. I’m no more than just an observer after all, right? Pick a shot that stands out the most to me and draw that. There won’t be any guidance. Keep it all confidential for the client’s and your guys’ sake. Comfy clothes…”

She’d already silenced her phone. Pulled her hair back into a ponytail to maintain an air of professionalism for their client…

Sabo smiled, lids a little low, pleased. “Good job, Hoku.”

Hoku smiled idly at the praise. “Nothing to give me credit for—it’s a job. It’s the least I should do.”

Yeah. Hoku thought resolutely. You can do this. You’re helping a couple friends out.

Ace watched her over the top of his water bottle. His eyes traveled down the half-heart tattoo over her eyes, dipping to where her t-shirt showed a bit of her collarbone where a smattering of petals were tattooed over her shoulder.

“Any new tattoos?” Ace questioned curiously. Sabo glanced to him, pausing mid-way to grab his bottle.

Hoku didn’t look up from checking her materials in her bag, “Maybe one or two. You still got that gang of yours on your back—”

“Our client should be here in a few minutes,” Sabo turned to Ace. His brother’s expression shifted briefly before settling, head dipping a bit in a nod. “I know you’re a bit behind on catching up, but that is your fault for forgetting to call off.”

“It was last minute!” Ace complained.

Sabo glanced to the expensive looking watch on his wrist. He slipped a thin, flat looking box out of his pocket and casually pressed a button, watching it for a moment before he put it back into his pocket. Ace’s eyes flashed back to him briefly, but his attention swung back to Hoku, whose face had turned a bit constipated as she held up her phone.

“Sorry,” Hoku said, a bit sheepish. “Uh, blame Luffy?”

Ace grumbled without real menace, folding his arms across his chest. Sabo smiled well-naturedly, turning his focus back to Hoku.

“As I said, we already briefed our client on everything,” Sabo said. “So don’t worry. She won’t be surprised. You’ll be in your space and we’ll be in ours and you just have to do what you need to do. Don’t worry about anything that happens either—t’s all been discussed. Just focus on what you’re doing.”

Hoku felt the curiosity from earlier stir. She set her bag down on top of her lap. Ace tipped the bottle back, taking a long swig as his adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow. A bit of water dripped down his chin, past his throat.

“You said it was like a simulation,” Hoku said. Sabo waited, listening, “Is it… Is it going to be like acting something out? Like a play or a scene she’s looking for?”

“You want to see for yourself?” Ace questioned absently. Dark eyes watched her over the top of his bottle, clashing with his light voice—

Sabo shot Ace a chiding look, lined with a bit of bemusement. Ace shrugged.

Hoku’s eyes were on her memo book, scribbling a note to herself in. Look for a good moment. “Hired an artist, not a model.”

“Mmm,” Sabo rubbed his chin, curling his fingers beneath it as his eyes flickered in thought. “Acting something out… You could say it’s something like that. As I said before, it’ll be on a more intimate affair, so I hope you won’t be startled—”

“I won’t,” Hoku promised. She’d already braced herself by going over old sketches of different poses and angles in her nude studies and drawing sessions—she was expecting some of the ‘worst’ in a sense, and reminded herself that it was just—

Another drawing.

Even if you know these guys like brothers, she thought a little limply. Just wash it out of your brain later.

“Perfect,” Ace said simply. “Then there shouldn’t be anymore problems, right? Let’s get started.”

Sabo shot him an amused look. Ace clapped his hands together, locking them behind his head in an easy posture. Hoku nodded, gathering up her bag. “Lead the way—”

“Hoku?”

Hoku stopped. She looked back up at Sabo. “Yeah, Sabs?”

Sabo’s lip twitched. Something flickered through his eyes, concealed beneath gentle amusement and a hint of fondness. He leaned forward, making sure their gazes met.

“I just wanted to remind you again,” Sabo said, warmly, he seemed to wait a bit. Hoku turned fully to face him. He continued, “If any of this seems too much for you or gets too uncomfortable—we can stop. We don’t want to ruin anything or make things weird if this makes you uneasy—”

“I’ll be fine,” Hoku said, smiling brightly. “Don’t worry.”

“If it does get too much though,” Ace added. “Maybe hold off on saying anything till after. I dunno if Sabo told you yet, but it’s hard to stop once we get started—”

“Don’t worry,” Hoku repeated, shaking her head. “It won’t.”

“Then,” Sabo said smoothly. He stood up to his full height and Hoku adjusted her bag. Her eyes dropped to his hands, realizing he was wearing gloves indoors—for the drawing session? “Any other questions before we start?”

Hoku ran over all the instructions twice. This whole thing seemed a little more edgier than she was used to, intimately professional. But it was just another drawing session at the end of the day, right?

Sabo walked around the coffee table, even steps stopping beside her. He lowered a hand to her back, guiding her toward the hallway politely. Ace remained on the couch, watching them with half-lidded eyes as they turned toward the specific hallway—

Hoku snapped her fingers, looking up at Sabo. The brothers turned to her curiously.

“I know you said I had free reign,” Hoku said, eyes wide with realization. “But is there a specific… I dunno, look she might be going for? A moment in this whole thing I should pay attention too or keep an eye out for…”

Sabo tipped his head to the side, considering his answer. Ace tipped his head onto the back of the couch, fingers laced behind his head.

A slow, lazy smile curved over his lips. His canines peeked through. Ace’s expression was satisfied and amused all at once—as though he’d just told the greatest joke in the entire world.

“Probably,” Ace said, “the climax.”

.

.

.

The room—the studio—was massive.

The entire room fitted like a master bedroom. It seemed the entire apartment had several different rooms, using up the large amount of space granted by being the only room on the entire floor of the complex high rise.

Fitted with only two doors—the one they’d entered through and another door on the right that seemed to lead into a bathroom. The room itself was wide.The walls were wood and dark in color. Low, warm colored lights were fixed into the ceiling.  Sleek wooden floors fitted with a nice looking rug right in front of the main attraction.

A single bed.

A big bed. King sized. Plush, neatly folded duvets and silk sheets. It was a dark red in color, not too bold or flashy, prominent. It didn’t stand on a classic bed-frame, instead, raised up from the ground with a wooden step that went around it, making the bed seemed fixed into the floor. A dark, leather cushioned headboard sat behind it, tucked beneath heavy pillows.

There was a lounge chair in the opposite corner, a fancy looking recliner. Night stands were nestled on either side of the bed. One more beside the chair.

Paneled sliding doors to the left promised a closet. Hoku was still taking in the entire show of the room because—it was kind of daunting, really. She tried picking out with a more eager eye good angles, the colors contrasted darkly and richly, so she’d have fun with shading and contrasts but—

Intimate. Hoku thought about Sabo’s description. Definitely seems to be the right word.

She couldn’t help but wonder if this was the classic go-to for all their shoots. She kept calling it a room in her head because it’s what it looked like—but Sabo had said it was studio. It was possible they moved it around and changed it to whatever they needed to fit their client’s demands.

Her work station was nestled in the corner of the room. Almost it’s own little world. It was quite a good distance from the door. Sleek desks arranged for maximum workspace, though humbly recluse from everything else in the room. There were folded up light fixtures and equipment Hoku recognized for photoshoots propped up in case she wanted to change anything. Her work space was a very, very nice looking drawing table, fitted with a light and grooves for her materials, a slot for the paper and—

Hoku stood behind the desk, setting her things down. She played with the back of the chair—it was a roomy thing, arm rests. Wheels on the bottom so she could spin and move it around—

“Perfect view,” Hoku realized, staring at the bed from where she’d be sitting. Of everything.

She glanced up to the ceiling, noticing what looked like paneled boards. Light fixtures behind them? Hoku turned her head, noticing the reinforced hook fixed into the center of the bed’s ceiling. They must move things around after all for different shoots—

“Are you all set up?”

Hoku jumped, nearly knocking into the desk and falling over it. Her head snapped over her shoulder and Sabo blinked in surprise right behind her, pressing a few gloved fingers to his lips. “Oops, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, you just—” Hoku shook her head, laughing a bit as she tugged a quick hand through her hair. Sabo’s eyes followed the action briefly. “You’re like a ghost. I didn’t even hear you.”

“Ah,” Sabo’s lips turned upwards in amusement, lowering his hand beneath his chin. “I know what you mean. Ace and Luffy are always so loud, it makes you seem quieter than you are.”

“You look comfy,” Hoku said, eyeing the dark navy robe Sabo had changed into. Kept the gloves on though.

“I’m used to this,” Sabo said with an easy smile.

“Seems like it,” Hoku agreed, taking a seat in the chair. She adjusted it briefly, spinning it around once. Sabo’s brows quirked, looking as though he were trying to hold back a laugh. “Neat studio you guys have set up here. You’ve got a whole thing going, huh?”

Sabo hummed, playing with the back of her chair. “When it became apparent we’d be doing this fairly often, we figured it was wise to make the investment.”

“Private modeling sessions,” Hoku mused, leaning back in the chair. Sabo crossed his arms over the back of the rest, leaning his head onto them as he watched the top of her head. “You know, considering how good looking you guys are, I bet companies would be paying big bucks to have a couple sessions.”

“How much would you pay?” Sabo questioned behind her.

Hoku pursed her lips, pretending to think deeply on the subject. “I doubt I could even afford an hour.”

Hoku laughed, smoothing out her paper and leaning forward toward the desk. She tugged out her pencil case, flipping it open. “My art teacher would kill to have you sit in for a class—”

Her chair shifted. Sabo had pushed it forward a bit. The desk came close to her, not touching, but keeping her nestled tightly between the wood and the chair behind her. Hoku’s hands instantly shot for the edge of the desk, catching herself briefly—

“For however long you’d like, whatever you’d like, a session for you,” Sabo said, his voice was light, breezy. Easy. Not a hint of anything else. There would be no reason for there to be anything else.

“Would be free.”

Sabo’s shadow was light against her desk. Hoku stared at it for a moment, feeling strangely, quietly—was that feeling even really there? Did she really feel that for a second? No, no you didn’t. Why would you feel like that when—

It’s just them.

“So then,” Hoku said, turning her head over her shoulder with a grin. “I could have you two dressed up however and in whatever ridiculous pose I wanted—”

“I do look better in colors that compliment my hair,” Sabo said cheerfully. “And I like—”

“Navy blue,” Hoku jutted a pencil at his robe.

Sabo’s smile was so bright it almost hurt to look at. Something funny twisted in her gut. “Ace will be coming in with our guest in a second, remember everything I told you?”

“Mhm,” Hoku nodded. “You won’t hear a peep out of me. Won’t even be here.”

Sabo fondly ruffled the top of her head, “Good girl.”

Hoku scowled, swatting at his hand. Sabo chuckled, pulling away from her chair while giving it a bit of a spin as he walked from her station toward the bed. Hoku couldn’t help but hope he at least had something on under that robe because—

Luffy, this might be one of the weirdest things I’ve ever done but I swear to god I’m washing it out of my brain when this is all over. Hoku turned her eyes to the paper, already starting to sketch out the design of the room since she’d be aiming for something to take place on the bed. I’m going to do everything in my power not to have to draw your brothers’ dic—

No, don’t even worry about it. Hoku shook her head. No other thoughts. They’re just bodies. You just draw. There’s nothing else involved in it.

Easy.

The door clicked open.

Sabo turned slowly, standing directly before the bed.

Hoku looked up.

She was lovely.

Long, dark hair curled into waves against her back. Her nails were neatly done, manicured and colored like wine to match the tight, form fitting cocktail dress that showed off all her curves in all the right places. Her skin was a light, healthy tan. Her body was nice. Hoku could see what angles she should draw from immediately from how well her legs moved, long and lovely beneath her dress that barely hit her mid-thigh—

Her lashes were long and curled. Her lipstick matched the color of her dress. She looked older—probably somewhere around Law’s age. Ah, but his type is far away from women like this—

She stepped further into the room. Hoku realized she was still wearing her shoes—black heels, strapped up to her ankles. Her head held high. She walked with purpose. Hoku instantly felt a clear wall erected between them—Hoku was Hoku—this lady, this woman, was exactly what girls aspired to be. Beautiful, mature, seductive.

Sabo offered her a warm, polite smile. The woman’s eyes lowered, half-lidded and dark. Hoku watched her throat quiver with a swallow. Her pretty nails tugged at the hem of her dress briefly. Sabo hadn’t even moved.

The air in the studio shifted. It felt heavy.

Hoku held her pencil loose in her grip, uncertain for a moment, waiting.

“You’re late,” Sabo said, politely, “Hotaru-san.”

Hoku only froze for a brief second. That weird flinch you did sometimes when you thought someone was about to say your own name.

Hotaru’s lips pursed. Full. She bit her lower lip, eyelids fluttering and then her gaze turned quickly to Hoku.

Hoku flinched, gripping her pencil. Should she introduce herself? Thank her? Greet her? Her eyes darted to Sabo in a moment of panic, but he hadn’t taken his eyes off Hotaru.

“You don’t have to speak to her. Or interact with the client. Just do what you need to do.”

Hotaru’s face shifted. Clearly unhappy. A pout followed on her lips and Sabo looked amused as she strode further into the room. Heels clicking against the wood. Hoku waited with her pencil ready, a little nervous until she spotted Ace stepping into the room right after her, still in his clothes from earlier.

The door closed behind him with an audible click. His fingers smoothly twisted a lock into place.

Hotaru shuddered at the sound, breathing a little heavier.

Hoku swallowed. She hovered over her paper. Ace’s dark eyes caught hers from her station and he offered her a small smile, throwing her a wink.

Her shoulders slumped in relief. Hoku forced herself to relax. That’s right. They said it was like acting—they’re just models. You’re just drawing. Don’t worry about anything else. It’s just a job.

What are you getting so nervous for?

“You didn’t say she was going to be a girl,” Hotaru said finally. Her voice was high, her lips pursed in annoyance. Hoku’s eyes went round in worry. Sabo tipped his head to the side and she strode forward toward him, hands on her hips. “I told you how I—”

“You didn’t even take your shoes off,” Sabo said. Hotaru stopped completely in her tracks. His voice was even. Calm.

It could be heard.

“She was that eager,” Ace said behind them, walking forward with his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Hotaru’s face flushed dark in embarrassment, mouth opening and closing. “Came rushing right into the apartment.”

Ace stopped right behind her. He kept his hands to himself. “Why don’t you tell Sabo what you asked me to do when you came in, hmm? How I took off your jacket. Where you wanted to do it because you couldn’t wait.”

Sabo took a seat onto the edge of the bed. It’s risen level still left him lowered, but it didn’t feel that way at all—

A throne.

Hoku’s fingers twitched. This is a good shot—should I draw this? Her eyes flickered to her paper, ignoring the sweat that had gathered at the back of her neck. The nervousness that tugged at her fingers despite how steady she held her pencil.

It’s like acting. It’s a roleplay. They just need to get in character. The client must want something like this—

Hoku swallowed.

How… How far is this going to—

Sabo set his gloved hands on either side of him, leaning back onto his hands as he watched Hotaru in silence.

Hotaru bit her lower lip. Her cheeks were flushed a dark, cherry red. She turned her head to Ace and then to Sabo and she quickly spat out, “Fine—Fine, I don’t care. I just—Sabo, please—”

“Take your shoes off.”

Hotaru flinched, looking desperate. Ace didn’t move an inch, face set into an easy, uninterested look. Sabo didn’t seem interested in repeating himself a second time. Hotaru floundered for words.

Sabo smoothly slid out a thin, rectangular shaped box from the pocket of his robe. Hotaru shuddered, eyes growing round and fixed entirely on that little box.

Sabo set it calmly at his side, moving his hand from it.

Hotaru bent down. Her fingers quickly worked at her heels, tugging desperately at the straps and chucking her heels into another direction of the room. Ace looked amused behind her and Hoku’s eyes followed the heels, sketching them into the corner of the image. Giving herself something to do.

“You just have to watch.” She paused at the memory of Sabo’s words. “Closely. Pick which scene you think will be the best.”

Hoku’s brows furrowed and she hesitantly looked back up.

“There,” Hotaru said. She took a few steps and then she hit the floor on her hands and knees. Hoku stared with wide eyes. The woman crawled forward, her tight dress hiking up higher on her thighs with each movement. “I did what you asked, Sabo.”

Sabo remained silent, perched on the bed in front of her. Hotaru crawled up onto her knees in front of him and Hoku darted back to the paper. This isn’t a bad shot. Shows power and an attempt to overthrow. But Ace isn’t doing much in it—

“Look at you,” Hoku looked up at Sabo’s clear, resounding voice. It was directive. Her eyes dropped to Hotaru who bit her lower lip, eyes needy as she gazed at Sabo.

He kept his hands at his sides. Those blonde locks fell a bit into his eyes, framing that sculpted angle of his jaw.

He looked completely and utterly—

In control.

Hoku held her pencil tight, chanting a mantra in her head.

No one is even naked yet. She reminded herself. You’ve drawn worse before. This is some… powerplay or something. It’s an act. Calm down. Why are you—

“All worked up?” Sabo questioned lowly.

Hoku flinched for a second before she relaxed. He’s not talking to me. I don’t exist right now.

He raised a hand. Hotaru’s eyes followed every movement eagerly. Gloved fingers curved beneath her chin, raising her head up to look at him. “You normally put up such a fight. I could touch you and you’ll just roll over, won’t you?”

Hotaru’s eyes flashed. Her cheeks flushed but her hands rushed forward and Sabo’s eyes darkened. She fumbled for the bind holding Sabo’s robe together, pushing forward on her knees toward him. Her breasts pushed up against his legs.

Sabo simply watched in silence, as though he were watching a child try something in vain. A hint of amusement in his gaze. It was—

Condescending.

“Aren’t you the same though?” Hotaru said hurriedly. She tugged Sabo’s rope free and she pushed aside the folds of his robe. “You’re acting all calm and collected—but, but you want it too, don’t you? Look at you!”

Sabo’s chest opened up. Taut muscles. A defined ridge. Hoku’s eyes couldn’t help but move to the inch of his side that was exposed. His scar peeked through. Her heart clenched for a second at the memory of how he got the horrible burn—

His muscled abdomen dipped. Hotaru was almost panting at this point, eyes desperate as she fumbled around, licking her lips and the folds of his robe moved apart and—

Hoku’s eyes dropped down and she balked.

She’d drawn people nude dozens of times now. She knew what belonged where. She wasn’t—she wasn’t a virgin. She wasn’t bumbling and stuttering and a blushing idiot when she saw these things—usually when the pencil was in her hand and the paper beneath her—her mind even became almost clinical. It was another limb. Another part to draw—

Memories rushed forward. Her throat went dry. Hoku’s cheeks flushed red with embarrassment and her eyes instantly trained themselves hard on her paper, refusing to budge.

But this was—but he was—that—

Her gut twisted sharply, unsettled. Hoku’s throat went dry. She kept her eyes on the paper, on the paper—

“You won’t get freaked out or anything right?” Hoku flinched. But this is different. This feels—

Wrong. Weird. Private. Intimate. Imposing. Intruding.

She… She knew Ace and Sabo. She’d played with them as kids. Had funny, weird, awkward moments when they were teenagers—seen them with missing teeth and dumb grins—

But this is different.

“See?” Ace’s smooth voice, teasing, flooded the room. “She can’t even handle it.”

Hoku’s head snapped up instantly. Her cheeks hot but—No, no, that’s not it. I’m sorry, I’m not freaking out—

Hoku froze. Ace’s eyes were on Hotaru, a smirk on his lips. Sabo looked vaguely amused, leaning back on his hands as Hotaru panted on her knees in front of him, hands on his thighs and—

It’s just a drawing. Hoku said. She shut her mind down. Shut everything else out. You took this job. It’s not weird. It’s human. It’s intimate. It’s a scene. It’s like a play. Just draw the scene. Just draw. She gathered her footing back beneath her.

Hoku turned her eyes fully onto the scene unfolding in front of her.

Sabo’s length stood out from the folds of his robe. Hard. Erect. Revealing the muscled, toned top of his thighs. Hoku refused to study it in any more detail, keeping her eyes trained on Hotaru’s face. Hotaru shuffled forward, pressing herself flush between his legs. Sabo’s expression didn’t even flinch or shift. Neutral.

Professional.

There. It’s just another… Hoku’s neck felt hot. She felt a little queasy. Don’t think about whose that is. It’s just another body part.

“See?” Hotaru said breathily, lashes fluttering. “Look at you, baby. Look at how hard you are for me. This did something for you too, didn’t it? You liked this.”

Sabo watched her. Expression void. His eyes were dark and Hotaru pressed a kiss to his thigh. “Normally I have to work so… so hard to get you like this for me… I knew I did something for you. Aren’t I a good girl?”

Hoku’s gut twisted.

Sabo’s erection was hard. Swollen at the tip. Ramrod straight. Hotaru pressed another kiss to his inner thigh, as though seeking permission. Sabo didn’t even flinch despite the physical reaction, expression calm and collected. His lids were lowered, eyes dark and unreadable from where she was.

“You’re so big,” Hotaru said. Hoku’s ears went hot. Please stop. Oh my god. “So thick. You’re perfect, Sabo. I want it so bad. Please, let me make you feel good—”

Her hands inched up his thighs. Sabo watched in almost cold silence.

“What did it?” Hotaru panted. “The dress, baby? The shoes? The hair? I tried to do everything you told me to—was I too bad? What’s getting you off this time? What’s turning you on that I didn’t do before—”

Ace’s hand shot out like a snake. He fisted a handful of those thick, curly locks, tugging back sharply.

Hotaru yelped. Hoku jumped, almost hitting her knees into her desk. Her heart raced in her chest.

“Look at you,” Ace chuckled, dark, throaty. Hotaru moaned, hands flying up to where Ace held her by her hair. “Who said you could run that filthy mouth of yours? You’re so desperate, aren’t you? Crawling all over him like that—you’re dying for it.”

“Please!” Hotaru pleaded. Her cheeks were hot. She tried to turn around to Ace, hands flying to the button on his jeans. “Please! Touch me—anything—please! I’ll be good. I’ll do whatever you want—”

Ace let her get far enough to unbutton them. She unzipped his pants, trying to pull him free from his confines.

Her work stationed seemed miles away and still not far enough. The room was hot—the air was heavy.

Should I be doing this?

Her eyes dropped to her paper.

“We really needed the help for this job.”

Job. It’s just a job. It’s an act. Job. Job. Job—

“Look at me.” Hoku’s pencil almost slipped against the papers. Sabo’s voice left no room for disagreement and she glanced up.

He’d thankfully readjusted the folds of his robe. Leaning forward with one elbow on his knee. His gloved hand covered the lower half of his mouth, holding it there as he watched Hotaru in heavy, shuddering silence.

Hotaru watched him, chest rising and falling with each breath.

“Are you in any place,” Sabo said softly. “To be making demands?”

Hotaru shuddered.

“We’re all here to do this for you,” Sabo said. “And you go and run your mouth like that… is that anyway to repay us?”

Hotaru shook her head desperately, eyes wet. Her cheeks were such a dark red, panting heavily.

Sabo had complete hold over her.

Absolute control.

Sabo reached over for the little box. His thumb hit a button softly.

The reaction was instant.

Hotaru tossed her head back, writhing with her hair still in Ace’s loose grip. Her legs shuddered, jerking this way and that. Hotaru moaned, back arching. She bucked into the air once, twice. Ace and Sabo watched in silence as the low hum filled the room.

Hoku pressed a hand to her mouth. Her eyes were wide at her paper. Her face flushed red in embarrassment and she folded in on herself. That’s—That wa—Earlier—

Suck it up, you wimp. It’s just a—

Sabo hit a second button.

“Oh, god!” Hotaru cried. She panted, chest rising and falling and her entire body twisted about, lashing this way and that as she tried to find some kind of purchase, any kind of relief for the pleasure coursing through her body from the little device. “Please—oh, please! Let me come, Sabo. Please, please—”

Hoku filled her head with any other thought. It’s just—this is just porn! This is literally just porn—Usopp! Usopp and—that time you walked on Usopp in the shower—

“You think she deserves it?” Sabo questioned curiously. Looking at Ace over the top of his fingers.

Hotaru’s pitiful moans filled the entire room. Ace gave her head a little pat, watching her squirm. “Why not?”

“Please!” Hotaru gasped, back arching sharply. Hoku flinched. “Sabo! Ace! Please! I’m so close—”

Sabo hit the controller. Hotaru moaned. Her feet skidded across the floor, the humming cutting out completely. She whimpered, hips bucking upwards uselessly as the convulsions ceased and Sabo leaned back onto his hands.

“Take it out.”

Hotaru’s eyes snapped open wide. Hoku choked. Isn’t that a bit harsh—

“Some people are into that.”

Hotaru’s lips trembled. She looked up at Ace pleadingly, but he merely carded his fingers through her hair, offering her a low smile. His canines peeked through. Hotaru whimpered, spreading her legs open as she lowered her hand down to her tight dress. Sabo watched her, hand resting over the lower half of his face, eyes shaded darkly.

Hotaru’s fingers disappeared beneath her dress. She tossed her head back onto Ace’s thigh with a moan, spreading her legs apart. Her eyes kept themselves on Sabo, seeming to hope it’d get him moving.

Sabo remained motionless.

Hotaru let out a little whine. Her fingers tugged and then a ribbon and a thin cord came out, followed by the egg shaped vibrator—

Hoku focused on her paper. She had the entire room sketched out in vivid detail. Shaded in and everything. She had enveloped forms but no real figures. No pose—

“Good girl,” Sabo praised. Hotaru shuddered, watching him hopefully. “Now on your feet.”

Hotaru’s lips parted in desperate protest. Sabo’s face was cold. Unrelenting. Her mouth fluttered shut and she whimpered, slowly gathering herself on wobbly knees and walking toward him like a newborn fawn.

Ace followed behind her, stopping at her back. His fingers dipped into his back pocket, pulling out a foil package. He handed it to Hotaru over her shoulder, slipping it into her hand.

The proud, confident woman that had walked into the room just moments ago was nothing like what she had been. Her knees quivered. Her hair was disheveled. Her lips wet and red from all her biting and Hoku could see the slick shine to the inside of her thighs where her dress had hiked up almost completely and revealed she wasn’t even wearing anything beneath.

She was at their mercy.

Hoku’s eyes flickered to the door and back to her drawing. The events transpiring were leading to one finale. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be seeing this—

“It’s just a simulation of sorts.”

Too raw. Too vivid—

“Sabo—”

“Alright,” Sabo said. Hotaru’s eyes brightened, a kind of desperate Hoku had never seen on anyone before. Not in a situation like this. So… pitiful? “If you want it, then you do the work.”

Hotaru’s lips quivered. She looked about to protest for a moment and Ace stepped closer, hands coming around her sides and dipping low where Hoku couldn’t see.

Hotaru jerked. She moaned, nodding her head rapidly. She struggled with the condom for a second, ripping it open and then she quickly stepped between Sabo’s legs. He shifted further onto the bed, the first move he’d made in what felt like ages. Hotaru followed after, unrolling the condom. She placed it between her lips and her head ducked down.

Hoku turned back to the paper, starting to sketch out the forms onto the bed. There. That’s it. You don’t have to watch the specifics—get the feeling of it.

Hotaru’s lips fell over Sabo’s heavy tip. She licked a long stripe up the side of his length, following a heavy vein and finally moving the condom back between her lips. She took his head into her mouth, moaning just at the fact that she was finally, finally getting closer to what she wanted. Sabo looked almost amused above her, robe pooling down around his elbows as he leaned back and let her work, not moving a finger.

Hoku’s eyes landed on the vivid scar against his left side. The way it carved up his ribcage to his shoulder. She drew that part carefully, softly, on the form that was starting to give more shape to Sabo. She thought about the scar. Focused on that.

Hotaru moaned around him. Wriggling her hips impatiently. Ace knelt on the edge of the bed. He swiftly pulled his shirt off. Muscles rippled across broad shoulders, traveling down to almost slender hips.

His hand reached down, tugging his pants down lower on his hips. He pulled his cock free from its confines, hard. Precum gathered at his tip. Heavy, hot in his hands. His finger dragged across the slit, moving around the heavy head. His slickened hand dropped down, starting from the base and slowly working his way up.

Ace’s head tipped back, barely breaking a sweat. His eyes seemed focused on something else, working almost lazily at his own. Sabo watched Hotaru continue for a second longer, the condom fully sheathed over his length as she pressed kisses to the tip and bent lower—

“That’s enough,” Sabo said. “Go on.”

Hotaru eagerly clambered forward. She panted, reaching up and struggling to unzip the top of her dress. Ace seemed to take pity on her for a second, tugging it down swiftly and she tugged it low, letting her heavy breasts free as she groped desperately at herself. Hotaru twisted one of her nipples, rolling her breast and gazing heatedly at Sabo.

“Am I doing it right?” Hotaru begged. “You like this, right, Sabo? Tell me, please.”

Sabo leaned back on his elbows, calm and collected.

Hotaru groaned in desperation. She readied herself, lining up with his tip and she shot him another heated look, lips quivering, waiting.

Sabo simply blinked, watching in silence.

Hotaru turned, cheeks flushed. Hair clung to her cheeks, to her lips as she let her back face Sabo and she faced Ace. His hooded eyes watched her, inclining his head as he worked at his cock and Hotaru whimpered.

Hoku didn’t watch. Couldn’t watch. Her ears burned.

Hotaru’s blissful, desperate moan flooded the entire room like a siren as she sank low onto Sabo’s length. She took him in entirely, taking him all the way to the hilt as she slotted her hips over his and braced herself on his thighs.

“Oh, oh, oh,” Hotaru repeated. She lifted herself up and slid back with a lewd slick. Hoku winced. “Yes. Yes. Finally—Sabo! Sabo, you feel so good. Baby, you’re so big—so big, so hard, so good. Come on, help me—ah. Sabo, help me—”

Hoku realized just how much a prude she must be after all. Even—even during sex, she’d never been able to utter anything like that-—

Sabo shut his eyes for a second. He tipped his head back, golden strands shifting around his chin. The most of a reaction Hoku had seen so far. She focused on that, ignoring what was transpiring in front of her and how—

Intimate this is—

She remembered every sensual thing she’d ever drawn. She’d drawn sex before—intimate depictions of models—it’s just that. It’s just people.

But no matter how hard she tried—isn’t this too much? She’d never done anything like this before. Panic seized her. She’d never witness something so personal like this where it was happening before her and making her feel so, so—

Uncomfortable.

Hoku froze.

“If you ever feel uncomfortable—”

“If it’s ever too much—”

“Can’t handle it?”

She swallowed. Her throat went dry. Hoku’s eyes hardened and she shoved her pencil to the paper. No. No it’s not. It’s not too much. I’m not uncomfortable. You can do this, Hoku. You have to. So what if it’s new—it’s just different. You wanted to change and try new things—

“Why don’t you put that mouth to use?” Ace said huskily.

Hotaru’s eyes fluttered open and she crawled forward eagerly. Ace was on his knees, hand slipping from his cock and sliding back behind Hotaru’s head. She lifted her hips desperately, bringing them back down onto Sabo’s over and over again, chasing the feeling each time.

The sound of skin on skin. The air heavy.

Hotaru opened her mouth obediently. Ace’s grip tightened on the back of her head and he pushed forward past her lips. His head tipped back, eyes shutting at the feeling before he rolled his hips back and thrusted forward, fucking himself with her mouth.

Hoku couldn’t help the wince. I don’t think I could ever—

Hotaru moaned. Pleasure lined every crease of her face. She worked desperately with her mouth, letting Ace fuck himself as he liked while she moved, Sabo not lifting a finger as she rode herself on him as fast as she could. It was rough, it was desperate and almost pitiful and yet she looked so pleasured—

Hoku’s fingers twitched. I could draw that. Ace was in the picture now. It was obvious the client wanted something like this depicted—it’s just like people who write harlequin novels or direct porn. Just draw it.

You’re not involved.

The single sentence seemed to free Hoku from every other thought. That’s right, you’re not involved. She wasn’t part of the picture. She was safe here behind her station. Look at it from perspective. She had no reason to feel anything else but—

Professional.

Hoku pressed her pencil to her paper, ready, at ease. The faces started to blur and sharpen. She saw bodies. Movement. A scene unfolding.

That’s all it was.

Hoku’s pencil started to move rapidly. She watched the scene less and less, glancing up and down back to it. She had her mold now. She didn’t need to think about anything else. Her mind focused on the drawing and nothing else. The sounds fell deaf around her ears, the actions—

Hoku drew.

Dark eyes watched her from beneath blonde waves. His gaze was heavy, dark. Sabo’s lips twitched and he let out a small sigh through his nose, leaning back onto his elbows as he watched Hotaru get off, riding him with reckless abandon while she took Ace in all the way to the back of her throat, moaning each time.

The perfect picture of nothing but carnal desire. Lewd. Filthy. Raw. The vivid fantasy of any man’s dreams.

Sabo’s eyes narrowed. His lids lowered. Not even watching the moving body riding him like her life depended on it. His gaze remained trained on the only figure out of his reach.

For now.

Ace’s eyes flickered up at the soft sound. His fingers were threaded through Hotaru’s hair, meeting his brother’s gaze over the top of her head.

Ace glanced to the side, watching the way Hoku worked, glancing to them with unfocused eyes and back to her work from beneath his hair. She was seeing them but not seeing them. Watching but not watching. Zoned out as she drew.

Disconnected.

His brows creased slightly. Ace’s grip on the back of Hotaru’s head tightened. He thrust forward with a little more force and she moaned. Loud. Shameless. She worked herself desperately, chasing her high as she came down over and over again on Sabo’s length, grinding her hips, twisting this way and that.

Hoku felt the drawing start to come together. She worked on the details around Hotaru’s face, shading in softer areas, trying to capture the look. Her body curved, meeting both Ace and Sabo so she didn’t worry about anything else. Hotaru was the most exposed.

Ace watched Hoku. His fingers threaded harder. Hotaru moaned desperately around him. His lids lowered. He watched her eyes flicker to and fro, watched her mouth move soundlessly, followed her lips, the way her tongue peeked out as she worked harder at something on the paper—

Ace shut his eyes. He grit his teeth. Heat pooled, fast and molten in his stomach. Hotaru worked faster, bobbing her head up and down while she sloppily lifted her hips to come crashing back down.

Hotaru popped off suddenly, lips bruised and swollen. She panted out desperately with a keen, “Come for me, Ace—”

Sabo pulled her down hard onto his length, driving himself deep into her. Hotaru’s voice cut off with a high, stuttering moan. Her eyes went wide, face flushing with pleasure and Ace grabbed the back of her head, muffling her moans as he thrusted back into her mouth.

Ace’s breathing quickened. His eyes darted back to the desk. More labored. Sabo’s eyes flickered to him. Ace bowed his head, thrusting faster and harder into Hotaru’s mouth without mercy. Tears peeked out from the corners of her eyes, moans punched out with every shift of his hips.

Hoku adjusted his expression based on the sound. Already far, far away from what was unfolding in front of her. Focused on the drawing. The room slipped back into a studio. The bed another prop. The people forms to draw.

Sabo sat up. Hotaru moaned around Ace’s cock at the shift, moving her hips erratically to chase the deeper feeling he’d done just seconds ago, trying desperately to imitate the pleasure he could give her—find it for herself—

Useless.

Sabo’s gloved fingers slid around her waist. His fingers found the swollen nub, working it fast and quickly between his fingers. Hotaru’s eyes went wide and she keened, swallowing around Ace’s thick cock as he fucked her mouth and tears and drool dripped down her chin—

Hoku barely blinked, figuring everything was starting to come down. The room would slip from its high. Her hand worked faster at the drawing. Almost there. Finish up.

You can do this.

Hotaru’s entire body shuddered. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Sabo’s textured fingers rolled a few more times expertly over her clit, stroking it as her hips jerked. She clenched hard around him, trying to tug him over the edge with her. Not knowing how far back at the starting line he still was.

Sabo’s eyes were hooded. He let her ride it out with another sloppy jerk of her hips and then gently, sweetly, patiently guided her twitching hips forward and off. His cock slipped out, still fully erect. It pulsed, heavy and hard. He felt each hot throb beneath the slickened condom and he sat up further as Hotaru fell forward toward Ace.

Hotaru choked. The muted sound muffled as Ace grabbed the back of her head and held her there. He let out a low, ragged breath, barely a groan. He shut his eyes tight, bowing his head low as he came.

Hot spurts filled her mouth and Hotaru’s throat bobbed rapidly, working to swallow it all as she shut her eyes tight. Her hips twitched. On her hands and knees as the bitter taste flooded her mouth.

Hoku erased a part of Sabo’s expression. It didn’t quite fit. She reworked at his eyes, focusing on finishing.

Ace’s fingers unthreaded her hair. He sat back on his heels with a breathy exhale.

Hotaru’s lips slid off him with a wet pop. She breathed, ragged. Her face was flushed a dark red with pleasure. Sweat rolled down her neck, past the swell of her breasts. Her hair disheveled, clinging this way and that. Dress creased. Her entire body shook with effort. A bit of thick white trailed down the corner of her mouth.

Hotaru weakly looked up, eyes wet and hazy. She started to turn over her shoulder. “Sa… Sabo… let me… help you—”

Ace’s large hand slid over her eyes. Hotaru shuddered, letting herself be pulled back into his lap and flush against him. Ace’s free hand snaked around her hip, slowly running a teasing trail right back down to her throbbing, wet heat.

Hotaru sucked in a sharp breath. She moaned loudly, tossing her head back. Eyes covered by Ace’s hand. “Ah, baby—again?”

Sabo leaned back against the cushioned headboard. His fingers nimbly tugged off the slickened condom, tossing it to the side of the bed. He pulled his glove off with his teeth. His hand tugged a small bottle off the nightstand with familiar ease, popping the cap and lathering up his fingers.

The blonde exhaled a long, heavy sound. Sabo relaxed back, slowly wrapping his fingers around the base of his cock. It pulsed beneath his slick fingers, throbbing.

Hoku glanced to his expression for a second and burrowed down into the desk, not even watching any further. It sounded about done—I’m almost done here too.

You can do this.

Ace slid two fingers with ease into Hotaru. She moaned, writhing in his lap, legs opening shamelessly despite the stimulation. Ace kept his hand over her eyes, nudging her legs open a little further as Sabo slowly started to stroke himself, watching.

“Want to help him get off?” Ace whispered by her ear. He nipped at her neck and Hotaru nodded desperately as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of her, working her to a second high. “Repeat what I tell you to say like a good girl.”

Sabo’s fingers slid from the base to the head, shifting. He ran a thumb over his slit, eyes following the soft top of white hair flickering in and out of his view. Pinning her in place.

“Sabo,” Hotaru said, listening to Ace’s heatedly whispered words. She gasped, breathy. “Sabo, I missed you so much.”

Sabo let out a heavier exhale. His teeth worked at his bottom lip. His hand tightened around his cock.

“I’m sorry I was gone for so—ah—so long,” Hotaru panted. “I’m sorry—” Ace shoved his fingers harder into her, hitting home. “I’m sorry! I won’t—Ace! I won’t… I won’t leave again!”

Sabo groaned. Hoku worked faster. His most… The most reaction from him this entire time.

She blocked everything out. No other sound slipped past. Completely in her own world.

Deaf.

His cock throbbed harder. Sabo shut his eyes, letting his head roll back as he worked faster, harder, pumping himself over and over again. His lips moved. His teeth ground together.

Ace whispered into her ear, thrusting his fingers up.

“Ah! A-Ah… Please,” Hotaru repeated. “Please… I wan… I wanna feel you. Missed you. I-ah-I’ll be good… so… so… teach me!”

Sabo’s breath quickened. His hand worked faster and faster. He screwed his eyes shut tight, muscles growing taut. Sweat rolled down the side of his chin, past his neck.

“I’ll do whatever you say,” Hotaru babbled. “I won’t ever leave again—oh, god, please—”

Ace shoved his fingers, hitting Hotaru’s spot repeatedly and she cried out the heated words whispered into her ear—

“I’m yours, Sabs!”

Sabo stiffened. His back arched. He tossed his head back against the headboard and shuddered, a low, sweet groan escaping his lips.

Hot spurts of come splattered onto Hotaru’s thighs. Painting them white. She panted, chest rising and falling rapidly as she sank back into Ace’s grip. Ace casually slipped his fingers out of her, wiping them off on the bed sheets as he pulled his hand off her eyes.

Sabo struggled to catch his breath for a second. He reached up with his other hand, pushing his hair back from his face. It slicked over the top of his head, remaining there. He inhaled and exhaled slowly before his eyes fluttered open, glancing to Ace as he watched his brother set Hotaru down on her side, a panting, blissed out mess.

Their gazes met. Ace and Sabo watched each other for a moment before their gazes swung to the side of the room.

Hoku stopped. She stared at the drawing that had finally come to life in front of her. Her eyes went round in disbelief, almost in awe.

For a moment—everything else fell away.

The studio, the people—she’d done it. You did it! Hoku, you did it! You finally made something new—

You handled it.

Pride flooded her chest, desperate and unbidden. The small achievement. This strange, harrowing finish line in the midst of something she didn’t realize she’d started—but you did it. See? You just needed to tune everything else out—

You’re moving.

Ace brought one leg up, resting an arm on his knee. Sabo tipped his head to the side, his hand covering the lower half of his face, hiding his mouth and the way his lips were turning—

Hoku touched the drawing. You did your job. You did it. You’re moving again.

The circumstances wild, crazed. She couldn’t think about anything else except that it finally felt like she was moving again and out of this rut.

Two pairs of eyes, hooded and smoldering stared back at her from the drawing, mimicking the pair watching her just over the top of her desk. Across the room.

The path beneath her feet started to shift. Hoku happily ran forward, eager to be moving.

She didn’t notice the fences sliding up on either side of her.

Didn’t notice the signs pointing where to go.

Didn’t know where she was going. Just happy to be going. Happy to have a destination again and not knowing—

There was no escape.

[orbmanson7]

So, I haven't really explained this to anyone yet, but things are gonna be a little ....different on this blog for the next few months.

Not by much, honestly, because I mostly just reblog stuff, not make many original posts...but I'm changing one particular bit of that.

My art

So, for those who've been paying attention lately, you know I have been very bothered by my stagnation and lack of progress in my art, particularly in the past few years. And I made my end-of-the-year ultimatum to either give up art entirely or start over from square one like a beginner.

It took a lot of thought, but I eventually decided to start over.

I've created a schedule for every single day for the next four months on how to keep upward progress in my art, but it's going to require me to draw things I hate drawing (realism 😩) and studying basics that I haven't visited in over two decades or not at all (because I'm self-taught).

But, knowing me, I am gonna struggle with this "revisiting basics" part the most of all, because when I already know how to do something, I hate having to learn it again, and so to keep myself accountable, I'll be posting something from my sketchbook work at least once a week.

This art will not look anything like what I've posted for quite a few years now. And what I've already started drawing this month for practice exercises happens to look...horrible so it won't be aesthetically pleasing, unfortunately.

BUT to keep myself motivated, I am still doodling things I actually want to draw on the side. Nothing digital this month, though (while I save up yet again for a functioning computer). I'm gonna do some small little projects along the way to try different mediums, new hobbies and crafting skills, but I'm gonna only really post anything once a week, and it likely won't look any good.

Just bare with me for a while on this. My hope is that relearning the basics will fix some fundamental issues I have (like never using references and same-face syndrome) and help pave the way to progressing towards simplifying my style, improving consistency, lessening my line mileage, and being able to animate a lot easier and efficiently.

Plus, it gives me a set timeframe to save up money, build a computer, get some new software to try out and get used to, and hop back into what I want to be doing with my art!

Fingers crossed it works, though.🤞